Petrel Darcy; or, In honour bound

Front matter

PETREL DARCY "'I WILL NEVER CONSENT TO WHAT YOU l'Kol'OSEK THIS MORNINO. NEVER!'" [p. 12, PETREL DARCY OE IN HONOUR BOUND BY THEODORA CORRIE AUTHOR OP "IN SCORN OF CONSEQUENCE-*' " The earth is oui workshop. We may not curse iU we me bound to sanctify it." — Mazzini. LONDON S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. 8 & 9 PATERNOSTER ROW CONTENTS. CHAP. PAOE I " I WILL WISH YOU NO GREATER CUBSE THAN Success," ...... 7 II. Will you stay to Tea with me? . . .14 III. " I have not a Friend in the World," . . 24 IV. " It would be no Trouble, Sib," . . .40 V. " It's a Thousand Pities," . . . .54 VI. "All your Things have a Story," . . 69 VII. "So you are Peter's little Girl ?" . .72 VIII. "He's Harder than a Gravestone," . 76 IX, " I don't wish Him to become a great Friend of Yours," ....... 85 X. " I will always Love you, always !" . .95 XI.

"While he was yet a great way off," . . 103 XII. "All the News of Playfair Row,'' . . 112 XIII. "Is Mr Darcy at Home?" . . . .115 XIV. "He seems afraid to see too much of us," . 122 XV. Both Clocks downstairs had stopped, . . 137 XVI. " I am afraid I shall be too busy," . . VI CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XVII. "He has a masked Face, to my Mind," . . 146 XVIII. " Duty is a good Word, Miss Barrington," . 170 XIX. "Before the Touch of one Hand," . .180 XX. "The Eternal Haven," . . . .188 XXI. "I am not a Child any longer," . . 193 XXII. "I shall be sorry for this Summer all my Life," ..... -205 XXIII. " You have ruined your Prospects," . . 217 XXIV. " He will Live," 224 XXV. " Do not try to tell Me," .... 231 XXVI. "That Mockery is at an End," . . .237 XXVII. " Don't tell Petronella," ... . . 246 XXVIII.

"Write your Name," ■ . . . .257 XXIX. " Je vois Arriver un grand Movement," . 269 XXX. "YOU ARE NOT FIT TO BE ALONE ANY MORE," . 275 XXXI. " It is Never too Late," . . . .282 XXXII. "The River of the Shadow of Death," . . 295 XXXIII. " Come back to Me," ..... 300 XXXIV. Conclusion, . . . . . .316 PETREL DARCY.

Chapter I

"I WILL WISH YOU NO GREATER CURSE THAN SUCCESS." "What if you had taken advantage of the weak and defenceless and oppressed of the earth, and had bartered away belief in the soul, standing omnipotent in the most despised things ? " — E. Carpenter. It was a hot afternoon in July, there was not a cloud on the blue of the sky, not a rustle amid the leaves, not a breath of wind stirring: the whole world of nature seemed contentedly asleep, cradled in the lap of summer. The sunbeams fell dazzlingly on the west windows at " The Court " ; dancing to and fro on diamond panes, glinting on the .low glass verandah that ran all along one side of the house ; a very old-fashioned house, irregu larly built, deep in the heart of the country ; a house set with its face to the south and its back to the north, and completely surrounded by a carefully tended garden.

Beds of geraniums glowed crimson in the light ; velvet verbenas lay prone in the borders, pegged down beyond hope of escape ; roses were everywhere, dotting a sunny •stretch of turf at neighbourly intervals, while growing all alone, in one corner of the lawn, a magnificent beech stood up wide-branching and stately, giving a pleasant shade in the midst of the overpowering heat. PETREL DAECY. Leaning against the tree trunk, his cheek touching the smooth bark, one arm flung above his head, stood a young man. At first sight, the excessive stillness of his attitude might have seemed eminently in keeping with the quiet of his surroundings; but there was nothing peaceful in the expression of his face — rather a pain so intense, a wistfulness so pathetic, that one pair of eyes now watching him filled more than once with involuntary tears.

" Mr Godfrey, please, I have a message for you ; " the words were softly, almost fearfully, spoken, and the young man paid no heed to them : as a matter of fact, he was per fectly unconscious of any other presence besides his own. " Mr Godfrey " — the voice was slightly raised now, the tones not a little anxious — " the master is asking for you, and he says will you please come at once ; he is in the library, and, begging your pardon, sir, he speaks as if he did not mean to be kept waiting any longer." The young man turned an absent gaze upon the elderly manservant who stood opposite. " What did you say, Greaves ? Who wanted to speak to me ? " " The master, Mr Godfrey. Oh, don't look like that, sir ! We are all in trouble together, if I may venture to say so ; but there is no use in trying to move the young master, no more than the horse-roller.

The only way is to go along too, if one does not want to be crushed like new gravel. I didn't say where you were, sir ; I made believe to look as long as I dared ; but do please come in now, Mr Godfrey." And, as if fearing a negative reply, the old servant hastened away in the direction of the house. Left to himself, the young man stood for some moments gazing upward into the clear green depths, the checkered sea of leaves that drooped above his head, then with a heavy sigh he left the shadow of the tree,' " NO GREATER CURSE THAN SUCCESS." 9 crossed the wide lawn, and passing directly under the glass verandah, he entered a long low room that looked upon the garden. Once here, he came to a standstill, and the sound of his voice, determined and clear, rang strangely on the heavy summer air — " You sent for me, I am here."

The person addressed, a singularly handsome man of some thirty years of age, seated at his ease in a sloping chair by the window, looked up now at the young pale set face opposite. The two figures formed a great con trast, and so did the smooth low tones of the elder man's voice, opposing themselves to the other's abrupt utterance. " I sent for you, Godfrey, an hour since. I think you might have hurried yourself a little ; but that is a trifle. Why cannot you make up your mind to the inevitable without any more of this senseless delay ? Sooner or later we must have done with argument ; and what is more, I wish you to understand that my patience will not last forever." " What decision have you come to respecting Mi- Lancaster's little boy ? " asked Godfrey, curtly. The elder man picked up a paperknife and began bending it backward and forward.

" I do not consider myself bound to answer your question, Godfrey." An expression of indignation passed over the young man's face. " I believe you think that I have been blind all this while," he exclaimed ; " but I have not. I have guessed how you must have worked upon our grandfather during the past years. He was abroad, in failing health, and dependent upon you latterly. Do you consider it natural or right that the old man should have left you everything, disinheriting his own son; for it was disinheritance, nothing more nor less. The bitter knowledge of that unjust will, which he refused to dispute, killed my father, and you know it " (never once did Godfrey say our father). " You have affected to misunderstand me all along, but I must speak out now, and you shall hear me. My father was ill himself when the news reached him : he could not have lived many years, the doctors said.

Surely, even your covetousness might have waited a little while longer." The eyes of the elder brother flashed fire; between the long supple fingers the thin ivory paper cutter snapped suddenly in two. " Take care," he said, " take care, I will stand no more insinuations." "I am only stating facts," rejoined Godfrey. "My father outlived our grandfather by a whole month, and you know quite well what would have been his first act — an act of restitution." " Oh, yes, I know ; it would have been a pure bit of Quixotism, all of a piece with the rest." " Do you call it Quixotism to carry out a promise made to a dying man ? A promise unwitnessed, but binding by every law of honour and conscience. It is easy to deny everything, to affect incredulity ; but the facts remain. John Lancaster generously flung away a fortune to save my father from ruin — ruin brought about by your mad extravagance.

You must be aware that that money has never been repaid by so much as one penny." "John Lancaster had a right to do what he liked with his own money, Godfrey. It was a free gift un witnessed by any form of agreement, any letter even. There was nothing legal in the whole transaction ; you told me so yourself. It was a free gift from the one man to the other." " Put so latterly by John Lancaster's generosity, may be," said Godfrey ; " but never intended so at first, never "NO GREATER CURSE THAN SUCCESS." 11 so accepted by my father. It nearly broke his heart to think that you could wish such an arrangement to stand." The elder man changed colour, a little uneasily. :' John Lancaster is dead, and his wife too." " But John Lancaster's son is not dead," said Godfrey. " True, he is a mere baby, yet it was always my father's intention that one-third of the money in the family should go to the child, on our grandfather's death.

I promised my father, as he lay dying, that that debt should be repaid. The very knowledge of it rests now between us two. My father died happily, because he had my promise." "It is a pity that a boy like you should make an impossible promise. I, for one, will have nothing to do with it, and the sooner you understand me the better it will be for yourself, Godfrey. Talk of peace and com fort! What with your absurd ideas, and one thing fairly on top of another, I have had no peace since I came back.'' There was a short and bitter silence after this speech. Presently Godfrey spoke : " At last I do understand you," he said. " You have been away eight years, and your letters have deceived us all. India has not changed you. Will you ever think of any one but yourself, I wonder ? Have you no sense of justice left, that you can force me to take up your responsibility, single-handed ?

" The elder man smiled incredulously : " I force you to nothing," he said. " You cannot seriously intend to throw away your prospects, to wreck your whole future upon an undertaking that will outlast your life, and that can bring you nothing but poverty." " The promise I made to my father may be nothing to you," said Godfrey ; " it is everything to me. Let its fulfilment take me a lifetime, I cannot help it. It is only you who can do that. Hear me now, once and for all. That debt shall be paid some day in full, and in the meantime I will never consent to what you proposed this morning. Never ! " The elder man's face darkened strangely, the smoothness went from his voice at last, and his manner betrayed some excitement. " I should advise you to think twice before you refuse my offer," he said.

" You seem to for get that your own allowance depends upon me. Talk as much as you like about this chimerical obligation, I can form a pretty shrewd guess where it will all end. In a few months' time I shall have you back here again, begging for the loaves and fishes that you are now flinging so scornfully to the dogs. Believe me, Godfrey, genteel poverty is not at all in your line." " I didn't know you classed yourself among the dogs," said Godfrey, " and, as for the poverty, I mean to try it." He rose as he spoke, and glanced toward the door. With a sudden passionate gesture, the elder man rose too. " If you get into difficulties," he said, " do not expect me to help you. If you leave this house now, all inter course between us must be at an end. I give you fair warning, Godfrey. Go, if you choose ; but if you go, I will never willingly speak to you again."

A spasm crossed Godfrey's face. " I am going," he said, " but I give you my word first, that unless, of your own free will, you send for me, you shall never see me again. You have never been a brother to me, except in name, and you have no legal claim upon my actions either : I came of age last year. Have no fear for yourself, my father would not dispute that will, neither shall I. I have no time or money to throw away in a lawsuit which could only be hopeless. Since my father's death you have swept many things out of your life. I am your last reminder, I do not wonder " NO GREATER CURSE THAN SUCCESS." 13 that you wish me gone. I would not change places with you ; no, not for life itself. You have succeeded where any honourable man must have failed. And as you have begun, so you will go on.

I will wish you no greater curse than success ! " Just for a moment the two men stood facing each other, while the young indignant voice rang through the long room : then Godfrey turned away, the door closed behind him, and there settled upon the house a deep, unbroken silence.

Chapter II

" WILL YOU STAY TO TEA WITH ME ? " ' Ah ! lonely must his life be who would lead, and will not lie. — E. Carpenter. " 16 Playfair Row, London, September IS. " My Dear Dick, — Your long letter was forwarded to me from shire, and wandered about a good deal, or I should have written to you in return before this time. I am sorry that I cannot undertake your com mission. I left home two years ago, and I have not been near the old place since. You insist upon the de tails of my everyday life, and ask me who are my friends, so I will inflict my surroundings and myself upon you in full. I am living now on the first-floor of a very old house in this row. The rest of number sixteen is let to other lodgers, like myself, and they are all overpower ingly respectable. The ground-floor is given up to a bookseller and his wife, who use the premises partly for their bookshop, partly for a reading-room ; so you see I have no lack of handy literature wherewith to while away idle moments.

" On the top story of all lives a little lady with whom I have a bowing acquaintance. I believe she is a daily governess, but, so far, we have never spoken to each other. She is very thin and delicate-looking, poor soul ! and glides about rather like a shadow. The other side of my story is occupied by a music-master, Darcy by " WILL YOU STAY TO TEA WITH ME ? " 15 name. He is a widower with one little girl, to whom he is devoted ; otherwise, he seems rather ' alone in London,' like myself, and perhaps for this reason he rouses my interest, though I cannot say that we are very intimately acquainted so far. He plays the violin as I have never heard it played before, besides being the organist of a church near here. To my mind he looks much too good a fellow to be thrown away upon the shores of poor circumstances, and the drudgery of daily teaching.

This is a comfortable house, well-built and old fashioned. The whole street has an antiquated air. It stands a little back, just beyond the roar of the city, and is chiefly occupied by printers, publishers, and stationers ; the very atmosphere seems heavy with literary effort. Here am I planted, and I fancy I am likely to re main ; and as for what you term the ' drudgery of the stage,' it is pleasanter to me than could be any other drudgery. I am not at all pinched for means, nor likely to be so either, and there is nothing like plenty of hard work to keep one straight. Don't bother about me, old fellow ; but write again before long, if you feel inclined. You are the only college friend whom I have left. Mean time, good luck to your ' diggings.' — Yours ever, " Godfrey." " P.S. When next you write please address me as ' G. Southlands ' ; it is the name under which I am acting.

If it had not been for Langdale your letter would have been wandering still." " If I had only known ! " The exclamation came from Godfrey's own lips, as with a regretful gesture he gazed at the thin foreign sheet he now held in his hand. The envelope lying on the table bore an Australian post-mark, and the words " Not known here " were written across one corner. Posted some months before, the letter had come back to him— his friend was dead ! " I wished at the time that I could have been more explicit," the young man murmured. " But it matters very little now ; the last link of the old life has snapped, and here is the end of it." Rising to his feet as he spoke, he walked across the sitting-room, and con signed the thin sheet to the fire: then he stood very still for some minutes, his glance thoughtfully fixed on the flames that flickered in the old-fashioned grate.

A very striking face had Godfrey " Southlands," a face completely removed from the usual types of youthful humanity : perfect to the last line and curve ; yet the memory of a perpetual regret haunted the dark eyes, a faint bitterness lingered on the sensitive lips, and the whole expression in its restrained sadness contrasted almost painfully with the unworn-out line of the features. Opposite to him, on the other side of the fire, a small tray was laid out for tea. Teapot and milk jug, miniature in size, yet amply large enough for the solitary cup and saucer placed in front of them. The china was old, of a delicate and brilliant pattern, and the rest of the set, consisting of another cup and plate, stood now all by itself on one shelf of an upright chiffonier, at the far end of the room. Many a piece of old china holds some lingering memory, from the tiny mug put by in some tall nursery cupboard, to the solitary bachelor's tea-set, sole relic perhaps of happier times, when every separate piece was daily handled by slender fingers, long since gone to dust.

It was a cold, windy evening, late in December ; out side, the London world looked dark and foggy, but within, the warm atmosphere of this room could not fail to strike pleasantly upon the senses. It was rather a long room, lit just now by a brass lamp hanging in chains "WILL YOU STAY TO TEA AVITII ME?" 17 from the ceiling. The wide window-seats were deeply cushioned ; the wainscots were of carved mahogany ; the ruddy glow of a wood fire shone on oak-panelled walls and floor, while ever-changing lights and shadows flickered upward from the deep hearth, to fade on the lofty mantelpiece that rose above. Upon the slippery boards lay a handful of carving tools ; thrown carelessly beside them a piece of silk gleamed crimson in the light. Books were everywhere, some scattered on the floor, some heaped in corners.

Tall bookcases lined the whole side of one wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, filled to over flowing with a miscellaneous collection of faded bindings ; the offscourings, maybe, the forgotten favourites of many a bygone generation. An octagonal table exquisitely carved stood on one side of the hearth. In its centre, Btranded amid a sea of books, drooped a bunch of white lilac, striving to catch some reflection of its own white loveliness in the polished wood beneath. Despite a certain scarcity of chairs, a total absence of " knick-knacks," all about the long room there lingered an air of refinement, culminating, perhaps, in the outlines of the tall figure standing so quietly by the fire. The sound of a clock striking presently roused Godfrey from his reverie. He had just moved to the table, and was about to lay hands upon the teapot, when the sitting-room door, already slightly ajar, was pushed open, and a little girl hastily entered.

In her arms a tabby cat lay purring softly, as if well contented with its present resting-place. At sight of the child, Godfrey turned half round in some surprise, then rose to his feet. " Come in, Petrel. What a long time it is since I have seen you. Where have you been hiding yourself all this week ? " " I have had a cold," answered the child, " a very bad B one, but it is nearly gone now. Your kitty has been with me all the afternoon; I did not entice her, she came of herself. Papa has been out, and he won't be home till after my bedtime, but I thought I ought to bring puss back, or you would be growing anxious." " It is very good of you to take so much trouble about my cat," he said, gazing with praiseworthy gravity at the purring delinquent. " Now that you have brought her back, don't you think you could stay a little while ?

" " Oh, yes, I am sure I might. Papa did ask Mrs John Daw to look after me, every now and again, but she said she was too busy, and besides, I do not care to go down stairs. I wonder," meditatively, " why Mrs John Daw always talks about her feelings and her sorrows. There are plenty of pretty things in the bookshop for her to look at, and her father is always at home all day long." The unconscious wistfulness of this last remark stirred Godfrey's sympathy ; he hesitated a moment, looking from the child to the tea-table ; then he moved to the far end of the room, and, unlocking the cupboard, took from it the second cup and plate and placed them beside his own. " Will you stay to tea with me, Petronella ? " At this unexpected question the small face lit up with sudden delight — delight not unmixed with wonder.

" May I, really ? I should like to stay ever so much, if you are sure that I shall not be in the way. Mrs John Daw says little girls always are." " You will not be in my way, little one," said Godfrey ; " come and sit here by me." Even as he spoke he drew up a chair for his child visitor, and the two sat down together. The meal that followed might have interested an onlooker. The child ate but little, yet she lingered smilingly over her narrow slips of toast and butter, talk- "WILL YOU STAY TO TEA WITH ME?" 19 ing the while with a quaint brightness that seemingly knew no shadow ; and tea once over, she established her self on a low stool close to the fire, coaxed the cat into near neighbourhood, and then sat contentedly silent, while her host, picking up his tools from the floor, set to work upon a piece of carving.

" Would you like me to tell you a story, Petrel ? " " I should like that very much," was the emphatic answer ; " but please will you tell me first, is carving very difficult ? " " Sometimes ; not always," said Godfrey ; " it depends chiefly upon the design. What I am doing now is not at all hard ; do you see the small birds on this branch ? I want them to look as if they were just going to fly away. I generally carve for an hour or two when I can ; it helps me when I have anything fresh to learn." "But I thought grown-up people never did lessons. Can't you take your own way now that you are big ? " said Petronella, perplexedly. The faintest suspicion of a smile appeared on Godfrey's lips as, chisel in one hand and wood in the other, he paused to answer his small questioner. " I can take my own way, yes," said he ; " but supposing I don't want to.

What then, Petrel ? " " Why, then, you must be very good," was the prompt reply. " I do lessons every day, quite by myself, and I don't like them at all: parsing, and geography, and sums, and ' A guide to better things,' you know. Papa has to work hard, very hard ; he sets me my lessons, but he can't stay at home to teach me. It would be different if he were in the room ; but I suppose we must all do our sorrows, or we might grow selfish." No touch of self-pity lingered in the little girl's voice ; nevertheless, Godfrey felt curiously startled : the lesson of acquiescence, learnt so unconsciously by the child, he himself was even now struggling with in wild rebellion, in very bitterness of spirit. It was with more gentle ness than usual in his manner that he presently inquired what sort of a story would best suit his small hearer. '' Something about live creatures, please, and let them be living in the woods," said Petronella.

" I think the country is ever so much better than London." " I suppose you have not always lived in town. You must miss all the green, Petrel." The little girl shook her head. " No, I have lived in London ever since I can remem ber, but I have read, and papa has told me — he had a big house in the country before he grew poor — and sometimes I dream about the fields and flowers, not properly, you know — all mixed up. Have you thought of a story, Mr Southlands ? " For an answer Godfrey fixed his eyes upon the fire, while there fell from his lips that magical sentence, thousands of times repeated, yet never wearying to the mind of a child — " Once upon a time there lived." A complete silence reigned now in the sitting-room, broken only by the low tones of the story-teller's voice. Apparently there was something magnetic in the tale, or in the manner of its telling, for the child by-and-by abandoned her seat at the far side of the hearth, and, drawing nearer, leaned against her host's chair, looking up into his face with absorbed attention.

Her present sur roundings had utterly vanished ; far away from London streets and winter's cold she was wandering in a new world — a world of sunshine, of flowers, and of fairyland. The flickering light from the wood fire fell on two strangely different faces— one bright, lit up, spellbound with interest, fitly framed in a cloud of soft curls ■ the other deeply shadowed, thoughtful in expression' yet touched even now by a kind of subdued intensity. " WILL YOU STAY TO TEA WITH ME ? " 21 " And so they lived happily ever after,'' ended Godfrey at last ; " why, Petrel, have I talked you to sleep ? " Slowly the child passed one hand across her forehead ; with some visible effort she came back once more to reality. " Oh, I am not sleepy," said she, " only I never knew that any story could be so wonderful.

Mr Southlands, why do you call me Petrel ? " " Because," said Godfrey, " I think it is a prettier name than Petronella ; and, besides, you always remind me of a bird, when you fly about the passages on wet days, your feet go so lightly and yet so quickly. Then, too, stormy petrels don't mind rough weather ; they are just in their element, and keep on without thinking about it." Petronella failed to make anything of this last remark. " Mrs Daw always calls me Miss Darcy," said she ; " papa calls me little Peter (his name is Peter, you know). And the lady who lives on our top floor calls me Pet ; she is very kind, indeed ; she teaches me French, and she takes me for a walk sometimes on Sun days, when papa can't go. Do you know her ? " " I only know her by sight," said Godfrey. " I know her very well," said Petrel, nodding her small head the better to give emphasis to her words ; " she draws me animals sometimes, but she is not so clever as you are — she can't carve.