Lady Louise. A novel

Chapter I. The

S T.A P Y L T O N S . Featherstone was the name of a large old-fashioned house, situated in the pret tiest part of South Erie, a cheerful country district, about an hour's journey from London by rail. In front of the house was a large garden, bright with flowers of every de scription, and intersected by winding paths bordered with box ; there was an ancient summer-house, like a gigantic beehive, a conservatory, a hothouse, a shrubbery, VOL. I. i and an archery-ground. The days of croquet had not yet arrived. At the back of the house was a well stocked kitchen-garden and orchard, walled in. On one side were the stables, coach house, out-houses, and poultry-yard ; on the other, the dairy, laundry, some green meadows, and a cricket-field. The house itself was long and low, only two stories high, the front of it being almost covered with westeria, jessamine, and climbing roses.

On one side of the porch was the dining-room, large, bright, and handsomely furnished, but showing signs of habitation in the halfworn carpet, littered tables, and scattered chairs ; the French windows opened into the garden, above which it was only raised two steps. On the other side of the porch was the drawing-room, oblong in shape, and elegantly furnished, containing every The Stipyltons. 3 variety of sofa, easy-chair, and lounge ; bright with mirrors, lace-curtains, and knick-nacks ; altogether less useful and homely than the dining-room. Beyond this was the library, whose windows of stained glass threw rich and varying colours on the well-filled book shelves ; then came the breakfast-room, which looked out on the cricket-field and a shady lane beyond. The kitchen, pantry, and other domestic offices looked towards the vegetable garden, and on the upper story were all the bed rooms.

The house and grounds belonged to Mr. Stapylton. His father, an eminent barrister, had been twice married, and by his first wife had one daughter, Sara, who inherited her mother's ample fortune. The present owner of Featherstone was the only child of the second marriage, and some ten or twelve years younger than his half-sister. But for many years past, Henry Stapyl ton the elder and his two wives had slept calmly in the family vault, in the little snug church-yard of South Erie, and they have nothing to with this story. The present owner was a married man verging on fifty. He had followed his father's profession, and was still an eager man of business, and doing his best to make his sons the same. Mrs. Stapylton was five or six years younger than her husband, but looked quite as old, which was partly caused by her old-fashioned method of dressing and wearing her hair.

She was small and rather stout, cheerful and bustling, a great contrast to her tall thin quiet husband. The routine of her daily life never varied ; those who knew her well could tell exactly how they should find her employed at different hours of the day. Breakfast was served at eight o'clock with re morseless punctuality; at half-past Mr. Stapylton stepped into the carriage which was waiting at the door to convey him to the station, for he went to London every day. Then Mrs. Stapylton, in her morning gown of brown holland, with a huge chatelaine hanging at her girdle, and a basket full of keys in her hand, would make her appearance in the kitchen regions, for she was her own housekeeper, and a careful though liberal one, seeing that there was plenty of everything with out any waste. When she had looked round and given her orders, she went into the dairy, and having inspected that, she would send her maid up for her sun bonnet, or a straw-bonnet with a blue shade in front, an ' ugly,' as they were called ; having put on one of these and a thick pair of garden-gloves, she would go into the vegetable garden and orchard, and see what was ready for use.

The poultry yard next claimed her attention, and then the front garden, in which she remained until luncheon, at half-past one, directing the gardener, snipping, clipping and planting. After lunch she donned a silk robe and went for a drive, or paid visits, except on Wednesdays, when she remained at home to receive visitors, and Saturdays, when she gave a weekly archer)7 party. In winter it was much the same, except that the holland and morning gown was exchanged for a woollen one, the sun bonnet and garden gloves for a quilted hood, a muff, and a pair of goloshes, and the Saturday archery party was replaced by an indoor musical one. Mr. and Mrs. Stapylton had lost many children in infancy ; all that remained to them were twin sons, now young men of twenty. Valery was studying civil en gineering, and Hilary was in his father's office.

On first seeing the twins, strangers would exclaim at the wonderful likeness between them, and think it would be im possible to know one from the other ; but on looking again, they would perceive a difference, scarcely knowing in what it consisted. They were of the same height exactly, just under six feet ; the same build, strong and well made ; the same features, broad forehead, straight nose, firm chin ; the same fair healthy complexion and dark hair. But a close observer would notice that Hilary's eyes were of a deeper blue, clearer and brighter ; his mouth less stern ; his manner gayer and more winning. Valery was perhaps the father's favourite, he was steadier and worked harder ; Mr. Stapylton had regretted many times that he had not taken him into his office instead of Hilary. Valery went regularly to his tutor, shirked nothing, came home at reasonable hours, and was always pre sent at his mother's parties.

Hilary was rather given to extravagance; he used to get into debts and scrapes, and come to his father to help him out of them. He would often absent himself from the office, and come home late at night, and occasionally disappear altogether for two or three days at a time. Of course these irregular habits were a source of great irritation to his father, who was always holding Valery up to him as an example which he might follow with advantage. But Hilary was very decidedly the favourite of his mother, though she did her best to conceal the fact, and made no difference between her sons. Valery felt this to be unjust, for he could not help knowing that he was a far better son to her than Hilary, who used to be greatly annoyed at his father so frequently comparing him with Valery, to his disadvantage.

Thus the intercourse between the brothers was not so cordial as it should have been. There was another reason for this, far more weighty than the two I have mentioned. The twins had fallen in love with the same girl, for it is an indisputable fact that some woman, consciously or uncon sciously, must be at the bottom of every quarrel. Mr. and Mrs. Weston, with their only daughter Emily, had taken a small house (a ' desirable villa residence,' as it was termed in the advertisements) in the neighbourhood of Featherstone. Emily was a very pretty little flirt, and rather mischievously inclined ; certainly she managed to entangle the affections of the two brothers in a very short time. She bestowed her smiles on which ever was nearest to her, and contrived to make them furiously jealous of each other.

So matters stood. I have not yet said what became of Miss Sara, Mr. Stapylton' s half-sister. She remained unmarried, and kept her brother's house until his marriage ; when she left him and set up an establishment of her own in Worcester, where some of her friends lived. Here she remained for many years, but came up once or twice a year, to spend a month with her brother and his wife. At the time of which I speak she had grown tired of Worcester, quarrelled with her friends, had given up her old house and taken another in Devonshire, and was staying with Mr. and Mrs. Stapylton while her new home was being prepared for her reception.

Chapter II. Hilary And Valery

It is time that I introduce you personally to the Stapylton family. The afternoon drive was over, the dining-room win dows were wide open, for it was a warm summer's day. Mrs. Stapylton was seated at the table, surrounded by work, flannel, print, and calico ; she was employed in cutting out and putting together various useful gar ments, intended as a gift to the village clothing-club. It was wonderful to note the quickness and precision with which she put together curious and unmeaning looking pieces, until they formed one harmonious whole, or the swiftness and dexterity with which she selected exactly the thing she wanted from her overflowing work-basket. Chignons were not then in vogue, and Mrs. Stapylton wore her hair smoothly braided beneath a cap ; her dress was of slate-coloured silk, her ornaments few but costly.

In a high-backed arm-chair sat an elderly lady, with her feet on a stool ; her gray hair was very much frizzed, and her cap trimmed with pale green ribbons, decidedly youthful-looking. Her hands were covered with valuable rings, and her brooch was of such dimensions, that her nephews were in the habit of alluding to it as the warming-pan. Her dress was black, but her shoulders were wrapped in a pale green satin scarf. She was very tall, thin, and pale, with good features, but a fretful expression. This was Miss Stapylton, the boys' Aunt Sara. ' It is really very extraordinary, Julia,' she was saying to her sister-in-law, ' that my house is not ready for me yet.' ' From your own account, Sara,' replied Mrs. Stapylton, ' it must have been sadly out of repair, and papering and painting take a long time.' ' I could have done it myself in half the time ; but I always find that, once these people are let into one's house, there is no getting them out again.

They are like that wicked creature in " Christabel," they wait to be invited ; but then, once over the threshold, you must keep them. But really, Julia, it makes me shiver to see you sitting in that draught. When you get rheumatism, you'll know how to pity me. Every bone in my body is aching at this minute ; I shall be thankful to get into a house of my own. I never saw a place so full of draughts as this. The windows and doors seem to be open night and day all over the house ! Ugh ! Those boys, they never shut anything after them. One would suppose they had been born in a barn without a door to it, as they say in Ireland.' Mrs. Stapylton rose and half closed the windows. 'I am sorry you are so anxious to leave us, Sara. I wish I knew how to make you more comfortable. Hilary, I confess, is rather tiresome about doors and windows, but you must allow that Valery is always attentive and careful to close them when you are here.' ' Don't talk to me of Valery or his attentions ; I know the value of them.

Hilary is worth two of him any day. And don't think you can hide from me that you prefer Hilary in your heart. Call those boys alike, indeed ! I can't see much likeness. It will be long before Valery is half as good-looking as his brother.' ' Oh, I don't think that, Sara ; their features are exactly alike, the difference is in the expression.' ' Just as you please ; but if you would take my advice, Julia, you would look after them both a little more.' ' But how can I? Young men of twenty are not infants — except in law. And no one could be steadier than Valery.' ' Oh, that's all very well, you know what I mean. One of them seems to be always dangling after that little flirt, Miss Weston, — if it isn't one it's the other.' ' Oh, childish nonsense ! ' said Mrs. Stapylton. ' You look upon it in a wrong light, Julia.

The boys are very serious abc ut it ; they are jealous of eaoh other, and no longer agree as they used to do. You should speak to them ; Valery will soon be home.' 'Indeed, Sara, I don't wish to inter fere ' ' What, with your own sons ? Absurd ! Oh ! that draught ! Dear ! dear ! when will my house be ready ! ' ' Well, Sara, but you know you have to find a companion before you go there.' ' No, I think I shall wait and look few one when I get home ; it will be less trouble.' ' What a pity that you parted with Miss Ray ; she had been with you so long, and seemed a pleasant person.' ' I was tired of her,' replied Miss Sara ; ' she liked her own way, and asserted herself too much ; and, after all, she didn't read aloud very well, and vol. 1. liked nothing but novels. I shall look for a very much younger person now; I think I should like a girl to train.' ' But, Sara, you require a great deal.

Very few persons would do as much as Miss Ray, or read to you so late at night.' ' What nonsense, Julia ! I never required her before eleven in the morning, as I always breakfast in bed. Who is this com ing up to the house ? I declare it's that impudent little Emily Weston.' Almost as she spoke a young girl in a light muslin dress came in through the open French window. ' Oh, Mrs. Stapylton,' said she, after shaking hands, ' I have come to practice a little with the targets, as I don't wish to disgrace myself again as I did last Saturday. May I go at once ? ' ' Of course you may ; you will find everything ready, and Valery will soon be at home to assist you.' ' Oh, I don't want any assistance ; I didn't know he was coming home early. You needn't tell him I'm here, for I want a quiet practise,' and off she went. ' You see it isn't Valery she cares for,' said Mrs. Stapylton. ' Julia, you are a simpleton.

Can't you see through that girl ? She came here on purpose, knowing that Valery would be home early. Little flirt, I don't think she would make at all a pleasant companion.' ' The boys think differently,' said Mrs. Stapylton, laughing; 'but she wouldn't suit you, for she's not fond of children, and Miss Ray was always obliged to have that little boy Edgar so much with her.' ' No one need complain of that,' said Miss Sara. Now in her youthful days Miss Sara had been engaged to a young officer, but they had quarelled, and the match had been broken off. Captain Burne married some one else, and went to India, where he lived and died, leaving one son, who was brought up in England. This son also went into the army, married and went to India, where he soon died ; his widow came home with a little boy.

Miss Sara had never lost sight of the Burnes, and when the young widow died, leaving the child unprotected and penniless, Miss Sara, in her somewhat eccentric charity, took him and made her house his home. He was now ten years old, very childish, very delicate and lame. ' No one need complain of Edgar,' said Miss Sara ; ' but see, there is Valery, what brings him home so early ? No, it is Hilary ! Why have you left the office so soon ? ' ' I haven't been there to-day.' ' No ? What irregular habits ! Where have you been ? ' ' Oh, in town, Aunt Sara.' His aunt shook her head. ' Miss Weston is practising for Satur day,' said Mrs. Stapylton. ' Oh, then I ought to go, mother. So good-bye,' and replacing his hat on his head, he went towards the archery ground. Miss Weston looked round, but on seeing Hilary, went on with her amusement ' At last I have an opportunity of speak ing to you, Miss Weston.' ' Well, I hope you have nothing particular to say, for I must practice ; and oh ! look ! that touched the bull's eye ! ' But Hilary had made up his mind to speak seriously, in spite of her trifling.

For some time she turned off everything he said with laughter and nonsense ; but when he told her that he loved her dearly, and could not be happy unless she consented to be his wife, she could no longer affect to misunderstand him. She refused him promptly, and with very little ceremony. But he was not to be easily shaken off; he continued to urge his suit earnestly and fervently. ' Can't you take no for an answer? ' ex claimed Emily, at last, flinging down her bow and walking away. ' You refuse me because you love Valery,' said he, following her. ' How dare you say so ? ' cried Emily, and at that moment Valery appeared. ' You cannot think how tiresome your brother is,' she said, reassuming the natural serenity of her voice and manner. Valery gave a half-angry glance at his brother, and drew Emily's arm within his own. 'You mustn't mind Hilary, he doesn't mean it.' ' But I do mean it, and it's really too much if I may not even speak to Miss Weston, and you are to walk off with her in this manner ! ' 'You must get accustomed to it,' said Valery, laughing; 'see this pretty rose-bud, Emily, will you have it ? ' ' You let him call you Emily, you let him give you flowers !

While, if I ' ' What's the use of your raving like that, Hilary ? You are so passionate. And if Emily prefers me ' ' Miss Weston, you don't prefer him, — say that you don't ! ' Hilary, this is too much. Miss Weston is engaged to me, and I beg that you will not annoy her any further.' ' Engaged ! ' cried Hilary, falling back a step or two. Valery said nothing more, but with Emily still clinging to his arm turned into a side path. For some time Hilary remained leaning against a tree and endeavouring to collect his scattered thoughts, for he felt half stunned. After some time he turned towards the house with a heavy sigh, and walked in again through the open windows. ' Has Miss Weston gone,' asked his mother. ' No ; Valery came, and I left them, as I saw I was not wanted.' ' I believe you boys are jealous of each other,' said Mrs. Stapylton, laughing. ' I declare you are as bad as Jim, the stable-boy, who ran away and enlisted because the dairy-maid preferred the gardener.

If you paid more attention to your work and went oftener to the office, you would have something else to think of.' ' What's the use of going to the office ? Father says I'm more trouble than profit, and that I give him more worry and annoyance than all his clients put to gether.' ' Well, but dear Hilary, you must know that you are a great trial to your father. ' ' Can I help that ? ' ' Why, of course you can. You could go regularly to the office and work steadily. You could keep out of debt. Now, look at Valery.' 'Oh, it's always Valery! Valery! No one ever seems to think of me ; I am sick of it' ' I wish you were sick of getting into debt.' ' Oh, that can't affect any one, as father says he won't pay any more. He says I'm not fitted for office-work, yet he won't get me anything else, and I hate it — oh, how I hate it !

Grind, grind ! slave, slave ! from morning to night ! ' ' Surely, Hilary, you cannot say that is what you do.' ' My dear, dear, mother,' said Hilary, coming over to her, and seating himself on the table beside her, 'none of you understand me. None of you know how I hate that office. I feel as if I go into a prison when I go there, and after working there for a day, it seems to me as if I had been shut up for a year. I believe I would rather go into perpetual penal servitude than settle to it for life. I want light, and air, and exercise ; I can not live without them. Mother, dear, you know that I love you, and you must for give me if I am a wild, tiresome, ungrateful fellow. It is my very nature that drives me, and I cannot help it. When I have been regularly to the office for a week, something in me forces me to run wild for a few days.

Valery 's a good fellow ; you must love him all the better, and love me no less.' He rose and kissed her, then left the room, turning first to bestow a smiling nod on Aunt Sara, who was listening silently to the rather obscure case which Hilary had been making out for himself. ' Mark my words, Julia,' she said, in an imposing manner, ' if Henry keeps that boy to the office he'll be the ruin of him. I have always told you that he is totally unfitted for it, and some day you will see your mistake.' Meantime Hilary had gone up to his own room and was filling a small black hand-bag with various things which he took out of his chest of drawers. When it was full he closed it, then taking his hat and cane, walked quietly down the stairs, and went out by the back way. As he passed out into the little shady lane, he turned round once to look at the house, then walked steadily to the railway-station, took a ticket, and was soon whirling away from his home.

Mrs. Stapylton was surprised that he did not make his appearance at dinner, as he had been at home in the afternoon ; but when he did not return next day, she concluded that he was indemnifying him self for the three days he had spent at the office during the past week, and would be sure to appear in two or three days more. Two days passed, and he did not appear ; a week passed, a month passed, still nothing was heard of him. His father and mother became seriously alarmed ; rewards were offered and detectives employed, but without success. All they discovered was that a young man answering to the description had sailed for Australia about the time Hilary dis appeared. No farther information could be gained, and they were fain to comfort each other with the assurance that he had gone abroad, and would most likely do well.

Valery gave up civil engineering and went into his father's office, where he soon proved a more efficient clerk than his brother. But Mrs. Stapylton grieved long for Hilary, her favourite son. Her hair be came greyer, and the lines on her face grew deeper, and though she went about her daily business with her usual regularity, the bustling activity that distinguished her in former days was gone, and a silent but perceptible despondency had taken its place. Miss Sara shed many tears for him, but to the mother she appeared rather a Job's comforter. ' I told you so, I told you so,' she would say ; ' had you but taken my advice,' etc., etc. There seemed to be little or no prospect of her new home being finally settled, unless she went to superintend the arrange ments herself, so after rather a prolonged visit, she took her departure, thankful, she declared, to escape from the draughts of Featherstone.

Chapter III. Beechdale Manor

At Beechdale Manor, in Loming, a lovely part of Devonshire, lived Mrs. Elrington, a widow lady, with her son and two daughters. She had lost her husband six or seven years before. Her son Arthur, now about eight and twenty, had been educated at Eton until his fifteenth year, when he was sent abroad with a tutor to* make the grand tour, perfect himself in the continental languages, and finish his education at a German university. Arthur was self-willed, and his tutor very injudicious, so that he had his own way almost entirely. When his tutor left him, at nineteen, he went to a German university, but quitted it at the end of a year. His father then de sired him to return home; but Arthur had been promising himself plenty of amuse ment, now that his education was com pleted, and begged for another year, which was granted.

But soon rumours of very wild doings, and of actions far from creditable, reached the ears of his parents. Mr. Elrington wrote and remonstrated with his son, and Arthur promised amend ment. But that was the only effect of his father's letter, for he made no attempt to reform. Mr. Elrington wrote again, desiring him to come home, and saying that his health was failing, and that he felt very desirous to see his son again. Arthur said that he was going to turn over a new leaf, and meant to devote his time to hard study, but to do this he must remain some months longer abroad. In about eight months his father threatened to stop his funds, and begged him to come home without delay, as he was ill. Arthur delayed some weeks longer, and had just made up his mind to return, when he heard that his father was dead.

He was very much shocked, and returned at once. At his father's death he came into ,£1,500 a year, and would have another thousand at his mother's death ; but while she lived Beechdale Manor belonged to her. He had expected at least £2,000, and to a young man of his extravagant habits, his actual income seemed barely sufficient. He came home almost a stranger to his family, and was idolised by his mother and vol. 1. . 34 sisters as long as he chose to remain. But this was not long ; at the end of six months he tired of the quiet country life, and went abroad again. At the end of two years he returned home for four or five months, then departed again, and was absent for nearly three years On his return he declared that he was tired of travelling, and meant to spend the rest of his life at home ; but as he had made the same remark at the commencement of every visit, but little attention was paid to it.

He was now in his twenty-ninth year, particularly handsome and graceful, very dark, and always well dressed. His sisters were totally unlike him ; it was difficult to. believe that they were related to him. Fanny, the elder, was twenty-three, very fair, with flaxen hair, eye-brows, and lashes, pale blue eyes, and colourless lips, pre senting altogether a washed-out and faded appearance. Jessie was nineteen, and not so plain as her sister; she had a pretty plump little figure, but not a single good feature ; her face, however, was pleasant and cheerful. Mrs. Elrington was a cold, silent woman, who spent a great part of her time at prayer-meetings and week-day services, and used frequently to lament that her daughters so seldom accompanied her on these occasions. One morning Arthur came down, as usual, late for breakfast.

His mother and sisters had already finished, and were dis cussing the contents of a letter which had come by the morning post. ' You are like a nest full of magpie?,' he said, seating himself at the table after a careless good-morning; 'what is it all about ? Jessie, hand me the toast. Why, it's cold.' ' I hope, Arthur, that you will not mind,' said his mother, hesitatingly. ' Never fear, I'll let you know if I do.' ' Do you remember, just after you left Eton, seeing your aunt De Winton and her little girl ? ' ' I have a faint recollection. Was she not your only sister ? ' ' She was ; but you know she has been dead many years now. General De Winton is still in India ; but the little girl Eva has been educated in England, and spent most of her holidays with us ; you never saw her, for you were always away.

She is sixteen now, and her father wishes her to leave school. He has asked me to take her until he can come to England himself and make a home for her. I will do so Btechdale Manor. 37 willingly, for we are all fond of the child. You don't object, Arthur? ' ' More sugar, Fanny. Why can't you learn to make my coffee as I like it ? Hum — well, what's she like? ' ' Oh, the prettiest, sweetest little creature,' said Jessie. ' Oh, then, by all means let her come. The beautiful is an element sadly needed in this house, — excuse me ; for you know, my dear sisters, although you are the best girls in the world, I cannot compliment you on your outward attractions.' This fraternal speech was received in silence and without any mark of disappro bation, for his sisters had become accus tomed to his selfishness and incivilities. 'Then it is settled,' said Mrs. Elrington;' Eva De Winton can come in a fortnight, when school breaks up for the Easter holidays.' ' One of you girls run and fetch me my hat and stick,' said Arthur, and off went Jessie. ' And I've forgotten my cigar-case ; may I trouble you, Fanny ? ' and away went the other sister.