The Dawn and the Object. A novel

Front matter

NOW READY. In One Vol., Imperial Svo. Price 21s. A NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY TO MOROCCO, BY THE LATE THOMAS HODGKIN, M.D., F.R.G.S., &c, &c. Illustrated (from his Drawings taken on the spot) with Chronio- Lithographs, in the best style of the Art ; together with a medallion portrait of the much-lamented and talented Author, a photograph of his tomb, and a portrait of Sir Moses Montefiore, to whom (with his kind permission) the Narrative will be dedicated. By DAY and SON (Limited). T. C. NEWBY, Publisher, 30, Welbeck Street, Ca?endish Square. Extract from the Morning Post, Feb. 16th, 1866. A veiy ingenious invention has lately been patented by Messrs. Jay, of Begent Street, — " THE EUTHEIMA." It is nothing less than a self-fit ting and adjustable bodice, possessing the power of expanding to accommodate any variation of the figure, to obviate all undue pressure and necessity for alteration, and therefore expressly suited to the requirements of ladies in a delicate state of health.

" The Eutheima" is made in black silk, elegantly trimmed ; it is tight to the bust, with bands and epaulettes of crepe or of silk gimp and jet beads, but it can be made in any material. The elasticity is contrived by the insertion of welts of elastic webbing under the braces, from the shoulder to the waist, beneath the arms and down the shoulders under the brace ornaments. The set and style are excellent. The ladies appear to be quite ready to appreciate the peculiar merits and conveniences of the new patent, for, though but very recently introduced to the public, the Queen (the Lady's Newspaper) and Court Journal state that considerable numbers have already been sold. THE DAWN AND THE OBJECT, A NOVEL. IN TWO VOLUMES. ET EMMA DAVENPORT. VOL. I. fanto: T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1867. [THE right of translation is reserved.]

Preface

. The following pages were written shortly after the Italian war, of '48 and '49. All the details connected with that warfare, which are contained in this tale, were taken almost word for word from the journal of a young Englishman, who, at that time, held a commission in the Austrian army. And now that universal attention has been drawn towards Italy, some interest may be felt in tracing the proceedings of the Aus trian army, then holding Lombardy, under Radetsky.

PREFACE.

. 11 One of the characters here delineated is intended as a portrait. To those who were acquainted with the original, it is hoped that there will be no necessity to specify the one thus copied from life. And it is also hoped that strangers will find the other personages, who are merely productions of the imagination, portrayed so naturally as not to make the contrast striking between the real and the fictitious. With the exception of the events in Italy, the tale is a mere fiction, one character only, and not the story linked with it, being a truth. These pages, then, are laid before the public, trusting that they may receive all the in dulgence due to a first attempt in romance writing.

Chapter I

Thy life's ruling passion, Thy being's first aim, — What are they? Jewsburt. On a bright spring morning, a lady sat looking out of a dressing-room window, which commanded one of the lovely landscapes peculiar to English parks. The window opened down to the ground, on a broad gravel terrace, which, rounding the southern side of the house, terminated at the eastern end by some steps, which led into the flower garden; and at the other end joining into VOL. I. B the carriage drive, which led to the entrance door at the western end of the house. Below the terrace lay an undulating park, dotted with trees and clumps of plantation — the ground gradually descending towards the west, till it reached the level of a little brook. The carriage road and the brook left the park together, on either side of the pretty lodge, and were then, after two or three windings, lost to the sight among the trees and buildings of a small village.

In the other direction the park ascended much above the house, and ended in thick woods, which stretched for some miles along the side of the hill. The little village, which was about a mile from the house, had nothing to boast of, excepting its rural Leauty, and an old Norman church, which had not suffered much from the mutilations and re-buildings which so disfigure many similar relics. Be yond the village lay a fertile plain, bounded by some blue hills. Over this scene the eyes of the lady at the window wandered carelessly, finding apparently but little beauty in the familiar meadows and trees, though they were now wearing the exquisite and delicate colours only seen in early spring. Then rising, she took two or three turns in the spacious room. It was well and elegantly furnished ; in short, one of the luxurious drawing rooms of modern days ; and the grand piano and harp ■ — the open paint box, and portfolio, on one table, and the assemblage of books on another; the work frame, brilliant with the hues of some rich embroidery, showed that the occupant of the apartment had numerous resources at hand ; and yet how listless was her step !

And when she stopped before one of the large mirrors between the windows, how little satisfaction was in her countenance, at the reflection of the young and fair form presented to her gaze. Blanche Morley was the wife of the owner of Ilkwood. She appeared to be about four-and-twenty, for her skin had the smooth fresh look which rarely survives that period of life. She was not B tall ; her figure, though round and firm, was rather slight, and she bore about her that wonderful and unmistakable stamp of gentle blood, which never yet has been defined. Her hair was dark and glossy, and dressed in the plainest manner; her features were neither Greek nor Roman, but delicate and regular ; her forehead broad ; and her large soft eyes, and rosy mouth expressive of intelligence and sweetness of disposition.

Young, rich clever, amiable, and lovely, why should she not be happy ? Yet she did not appear so ; and all her blessings have not yet been described. A sound of voices drew her to the window, and stepping out on the terrace, two little boys ran towards her, followed by their nurse. Ah ! who can feel dull and listless when in the society of young children, more especially one's own? There is a modern writer who thoroughly felt this, when he wrote, " A babe in a house is a well spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love." I must describe the two, whose presence for a while chased the gloom from the brow of the young mother. Charley was four years old — a fair, English -looking boy, his long brown hair curling over his shoulder, his bright hazel eyes sparkling with fun, a smile ever on his lips, and his heart chiefly divided between a tiny Shetland pony, and his little brother, for whom he manifested a patronising, and at the same time a proud love, which afforded much amusement to his mother and his nurse.

He was well and stoutly made, and his deep chest and broad shoulders made him appear the picture of health. The younger boy, Raymond, without the gaiety of the elder, had a quiet, coaxing manner, which gained the hearts of those about him; and though Blanche gloried in her beautiful first-born, the little silent boy, with his dark eyes, and almost olive skin, was unconsciously her pet. The contrast in their looks — one so fair and strong, the other so dark and slight — was manifest also in their dispositions; but two more lovely and loveable children could not exist. So Blanche thought, as she looked at their rosy, fresh faces, and listened to their prattle. Charley described to her, with great animation, that they had seen two lambs jumping in the fields, and that nurse had caught one for them to pat, but that poor little Aymy was frightened at it, so he begged nurse to let it run away.

As she noted the eager manner of the beautiful child, and then heard the half-ashamed voice of Raymond, " But lamb kicked so. Aymy love flowers best; see my daisies !" an idea half arose in her mind that she was ungrateful to feel wretched, with those sweet things to cherish and care for; and when nurse took them away to their own apartments, she snatched up a bonnet and shawl from the sofa, and walked along the terrace and down the steps with something of her former vigom-. How much does a step betray of feelings and happiness, and how sad it is to mark the slow and listless gait of one who, perhaps, a short time previously had still the light bound of happy youth. One wearing hope unfulfilled, one unkind crushing of the heart's affection, and the step is subdued for ever. Blanche's foot had not yet quite lost its lightness, for she still hoped that things might change, and that she might yet find perfect happiness in this world.

Having left the house without any particular intention, she stood for a while uncertain ; then she thought it was long since she had been to the Parsonage, and she would go to see how old Mrs. Wood was, and whether she wanted any more supplies from her own poultry yard. So, leaving the gar den, she passed across the park ; and whilst she is on her way, we will speak of her husband. Raymond Morley was well spoken of by the world ; he had always made the care of his estate his first object and chief occupation, and prided himself not a little on the perfect order of his farms, his woods, the houses in the village, the church, and, in short, everything that belonged to him. He was proud of his wife, tc o, and thought he had shown his taste in choosing one so entirely faultless in appearance and manners ; he would have felt much annoyed had she failed in doing the honours of his house to per fection, at the numerous dinner parties which he thought proper to give to the neighbour ing families of the county.

But of her disposition and tastes, he knew and cared little ; and supposing that, as the mistress of a hand some place, and as his wife, she could not fail to be perfectly happy, it never entered his head that grandeur and luxury, without companionship, might be nearer akin to misery than happiness. So Blanche, tco la^, discovered that, for her own individual happiness, she had done a rash thing in marrying, at eighteen, a man of whom she knew little, excepting that all seemed to think highly of him, as an active and useful country gentleman. She found that singing and playing lost half their charm, when no one remarked whether the song or the fantasia were ill or well executed ; and that drawing became a wearisome labour, since no one blamed, or found merit in the performance. It was the same thing with all her occupations, and gradually her books even were abandoned, her flower garden less frequented, her aviary rarely visited, and, excepting the times when her children were with her, she became a prey to despondency and ennui.

The two little boys, meeting with no notice from their father, though he was proud of them, as well as of his other possessions , lavished all their love on Blanche, who, when romping with them, entering into their games, and listening to their childish talk, seemed to lose all memory of the dull hours she sometimes passed. But the children were wandering about the park the greater part of the day, and going early to bed, were of no avail to Blanche in the long evenings. And when her husband was at home, he was far too busy with accounts, b or agricultural essays and papers, or county business, to take any notice of her, so she sat, her fingers mechanically occupied with needlework, and thinking how much she should have liked a husband wTho could have talked to her, and called forth her energies and abilities.

When Blanche had left the park, she entered some meadows by the river side, and after these a narrow lane led direct to the little church, on the other side of which was the parsonage, a low, small house, nearly covered with ivy. Knocking gently at the door, a maid-ser vant admitted her into a pretty sitting-room, where sat the old lady she had come to see. " Welcome, my dear Mrs. Morley," said she ; uit is long since I have seen you, and I began to think of sending to enquire whether either of your little pets were ill. As for yourself, no one ever thinks it possible that you should be ill, you always look so bright and gay. But now that I notice you more closely, I do not think you seem so well as usual." Blanche did not like to acknowledge that she had given herself a headache, by wishing all the morning for what she had not, so, en deavouring to avert the scrutinjot the sharp sighted old lady, she spoke of the little gar den, which was beginning to look gay, with brightcoloured flowers.

" I don't know how it is, Mrs. Wood, but my own flower garden never looks half so pretty as yours." " It is because you do not feel the same interest that we do in ours. Yours is large, and has, I believe, more than one gardener to at tend to it, so as you have no trouble yourself with the plants ; they afford you but little delight, and the gardeners, perceiving your indifference, do not care to pet the flowers, as I do mine, for you know, my dear, it is my chief pleasure." " I am sure I should not have guessed that, for you seem to take a delight in almost everything ; at any rate, you are the picture of happi. S£3." As Blanche said this, in rather an ill-used tone, the old lady took up her spectacles, and prepared for another scrutinising glance, for she had long before perceived that the young wife, who was mistress of so much, had not yet learned to rule her own soul.

Blanche, however, avoided her gaze, and springing to the window, exclaimed, " Oh, Mrs. Wood, who is that girl in the garden ? I did not see her as I entered, for she is kneeling on the walk, and weeding quite as if she were at home." " She is at home," replied Mrs. Wood ; "you have heard me speak of my daughter Helen ? — that is she ; and I hope that her brother has persuaded her that her duty for the rest of my life, is to remain with me, in stead of pursuing the arduous life she has hitherto led." " Ah," said Blanche, " she has had the care of some little children somewhere, has she not?" " Yes; she has been for some time governess to the children of a gentleman, living far from this. She thought it right not to be a burden on her brother, for you know that although the only clergyman here, my son is but curate to Mr. Elliott, who holds the liv ing, and therefore, is not rich ; and Helen would not hear of his taking charge of more than me, especially as he might have children of his own to fill his house."

" And your son has never had but one little girl, has he ? It was very kind and con siderate, though, in your daughter, to think about not burdening him. I shall like to know her. " Dear Mrs. Morley," said the old lady, "I very much wish that you should know her, and excuse my saying that it is chiefly for your sake I wish it. I consider it very false delicacy always to avoid speaking in praise of one's own family. If God has made any one with remarkable abilities or endowments, why should we disparage his work, merely because it was to our care they were committed on earth? Therefore, I do not hesitate to say that Helen has the most unselfish and purest character that I have met with, and I think she might supply to you, what I feel you want, although she has none of your talents, and scarcely any accomplishments.

You will forgive an old woman for speaking so plainly, and allow me to call Helen." " Supply me with what I want," thought Blanche ; " she cannot alter my husband. I wonder what she means." Expecting to see a striking looking person, after the mother's eulogium, Blanche felt a little disappointment when Helen entered the room, for she had nothing very remarkable in her appearance ; she was not even very pretty, — certainly quiet and graceful, but Blanche thought her decidedly a common place looking girl; perhaps it was partly owing to the simple cotton dress, and rough gardening apron in which she was attired ; she had, too, a close dark bonnet of brown straw, which Blanche thought odious. Nevertheless, when Helen returned her greeting, Blanche could not but observe that her smile was peculiarly sweet, and that her eyes had the same calm penetration that had often disconcerted her, in old Mrs. Wood, Helen's mother, who now sate earnestly ob serving the two, and perhaps thinking that their characters were as different as their out ward appearance.

After a little conversation, Blanche asked Helen if she would walk back to the hall with her, but she excused herself, saying that she had promised her sister-in-law, Mrs. John Wood, to attend to the school for her that afternoon, she herself being gone to a cottage at some distance. " How good your sister is," said Blanche ; " how perpetually busy she is, with the school and the sick people in the cottages, and so on. I often think that I ought to help her, but I feel so awkward if I go to see any of the'.^, and do not know how to talk to them, and then Raymond is so careful that everything concerning their houses and gardens is in good repair, that really there seems nothing for me to do." "My dear," said Mrs. Wood, "when my son first brought his wife here, she made very much such a speech as that, having never in her life been accustomed to interest herself iii the poor, and that she does so now, is, I be lieve, the consequence of John's entreaties and instructions, most earnestly persevered in.

For at one time, he, poor fellow, I believe, had a great idea that his Mary would prove the wrorst possible wife for a man in his situa tion. I am, however, willing to allow that Mary's temper is wonderfully sweet, and that from her excessive love for my son, she has brought herself to do things which were utterly distasteful to her." " Indeed, yes, dear mother," eagerly said Helen, " with the highest credit to herself she has determined thoroughly to perform every duty incumbent on the wife of a country clergyman, and having been educated with such very different ideas, I really often wonder at her, and admire her ; and dear mother, I think you are sometimes a little hard upon Mary." " I suppose," said Blanche, " that Mrs. Wood never could believe any one quite good enough for her own excellent son, and you know it is proverbial that mothers-in-law never really like their son's wives, at least, so I have often heard.'' The old lady smiled good-humouredly.

" I dare say it is so," she said, " and I con fess I often provoke a little dispute with Mary, perhaps as you will do, Mrs. Morley, some twenty years hence, with the wives of your little boys. And now if you will give me the same invitation that you gave Helen, I will accept it, and accompany you a little way in my garden chair." " Oh, I shall be so glad," said Blanche, " for I hate walking alone, and shall rejoice when my Charley is a little older. I will then always have him with me." As Mrs. Wood arranged herself in the old-fashioned wheel chair, drawn by a stout village boy, Blanche begged that Helen would come the next day, and pass the morning with her, which she promised to do. Then, shaking hands with her, Blanche followed the chair into the lane, and she and Mrs. Wood proceeded slowly towards the meadows.

Chapter II

" Were the frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest." Montgomery. " You were speaking of your eldest boy," began Mrs. "Wood. " Do you intend keeping him at home entirely, or is he to undergo the rude discipline of a boy's school, for he is now old enough to warrant some consideration on these points ?" " Oh, indeed, 1 do not think he is," replied Blanche, " he is really quite a baby yet, and I do so much enjoy his childish ways, and it is such a pleasure to me to pet and spoil him, that I hate to think of schools or governesses ; all that will come soon enough, for I suppose some day or other Raymond will insist on his having a teacher of some sort, or his going to school." " You surely do not think only of your own enjoyment, in the bringing up of those two little fellows," said Mrs. Wood.

" I own that there is no greater temptation than, as you say> to pet and spoil a merry little child, but even, in so doing, you must have re marked the wonderful quickness and intelli gence they display even at two or three years of age. And though I am no advocate for early cramming and over teaching, I think a very little time each day of quiet talking may give them much necessary and useful know. ledge, without any forcing of their young minds." " And would you then really begin regu larly to give a lesson to such a little fellow as Charley?" exclaimed Blanche. "Why the very sight of his laughing face would at once put all lessons out of my head.'' " I can well imagine that," rejoined Mrs. Wood, half smiling, "but you would find, were you to try, that Charley would listen, did you tell him of the God that made himÆ the Christ that died for him, and the everlast ing happiness that awaits him, should he live well here.

A child will soon comprehend these things, and at any rate it is our duty to implant such knowledge in their heads, and the understanding thereof will come in time. Dear Mrs. Morley, you have in those babies, a ' talent of trust; ' the guidance cf two undying souls is a heavy and most responsible charge. But Mary would say I am beginning to preach, and here we are in my favourite meadow ; when I have reached the end of it, I must turn, as the ascent does not suit my mode of progressing." " How I wish that you could walk more," said Blanche, " indeed, that you had better health altogether. I might then persuade you to come often to the Hall, in the evenings especially'; it is so dull sometimes. Mrs. John Wood will not leave you, and now that you have your daughter Helen, 1 daresay she will be as difficult to get at, as the rest of you ; however, she has promised me to come up to-morrow morning."

" Yes, so I heard ; she knows that I much wish her to like you, and you to like her, and I assure you I shall encourage her going to the Hall whenever you desire it. I have not encouraged Mary to do so^ because she has numerous duties at home ; Helen has at present none but attending to me. I must now return, and hope soon to see you again," Blanche parted from her old friend, and pursued her way through the park. " It is very strange," she thought, " that I should be so fond of that old woman, for she always contrives to find fault with me, or at any rate to make me find fault with myself, which is still more uncomfortable. To day, she said many things which made me feel ashamed, though really I have now forgotten what they were, excepting about the boys, and I certainly will try to teach Charley something about his religion."

So musing, Blanche arrived at the flower garden and loitered about there for some time. Passing half-an-hour in old Mrs. Wood's society, always had the same effect on her; for the moment, she acknowledged to herself that she was deficient in many things, that she had been sadly wanting in consideration for others, and even sometimes a faint idea crossed her mind that the dulness and in difference that existed between her and her husband, were at least half her own fault. But these feelings soon evaporated, and Blanche had yet to learn for what purpose she lived. Startled from her reverie by the dressing bell, she hastened into the house, for her husband was punctual, and liked his wife to be properly dressed, and in good time. The dinner passed as usual, that is, everything on the table was in perfection,, and the two diners were rather silent, and seemed to think it a needless trouble to address each other, beyond an occasional remark.

At last Raymond looked up suddenly, and said, " By-the-bye, Blanche, I forgot to tell you that an old schoolfellow of mine, Horace Stanley, is coming here for a short time. He was my fag, and is very much younger than I am. I understand from his note that he had left his father's house in Westmoreland, thinking he must start immediately to join his regi ment abroad, but now he finds he has a month to spare, so wrote to me, saying that, if agreeable to us, he would spend it here. It is rather making a convenience of my house, to be sure, but as an old acquaintance, I cannot refuse the visit. Should he not choose to partake of my agricultural pursuits, or like to go with me to county meetings and so on, you must amuse him as well as you can." " When is he coming ?" said Blanche. " I do not exactly know, but perhaps this evening, or to-morrow."

" It is curious that I should have already made one new acquaintance to-day," said Blanche; "it does not often happen that two strangers come to enliven us on the same day." " Made a new acquaintance,'' repeated Raymond, " and who pray is it ? May I ask?" " It is Helen Wood, the sister of our clergy man ; she is come to stay with them for a long time, on account of her mother's bad health." " Plelen Wood ; I think I have heard of her, at any rate there cannot be anything objec tionable in the sister of so very correct a man as John Wood. You can, if you please, ask her here when we are alone ; but when we have company, unless you find her to be well dressed, and refined in manner, you had better, on those occasions, omit inviting her. " VOL. I. C " Oh ! I assure you, her manners are fit for any society in the world ; as to her dress, she was so busily engaged in weeding when I called there this morning, that I could not judge.

She had a large apron on, and — " " Weeding, was she ? Then, Blanche, you will find that her hands must be red and coarse ; now I must beg that you will make yourself perfectly certain that she will not dis grace you, if you mean to introduce her as your friend." " I do not feel at all certain that she will accept of me as a friend," said Blanche ; " but having seen her once, I have not yet asked her the. question." " And a most extraordinary question, I should consider it," Raymond said, rather crossly. " I much wTish, Blanche, that you felt your position more properly. Do not, I beg, talk in this sort of strain before Horace." " If I am to amuse him," said Blanche, " I must play and sing,so I had better go and practice a little.'' And she arose, for she detested what she thought a lecture.

" I have not touched any instrument for the last week." " You know it is my wish that you should keep up your accomplishments," remarked her husband ; " but as I do not like what you call practising, I will remain in the library till tea-time." Elated by the idea of having some one to talk and sing to, to walk and ride with for the next month, Blanche, with unwonted energy, mended the many broken strings of her harp, and played over her most brilliant pieces of music, studied her best songs, and, forgetting even once to run up to the nursery where slumbered the little boys she had only seen once that day, she spent the whole evening at her music. When the tea-things were brought, Ray mond entered with his hands full of maga zines, which, after taking his regular two cups of tea, he silently perused till his accustomed bed-time.