Paul Creighton. A story

Front matter

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Chapter I

" Adieu ! she cried, and waved her lily hand." JUNE evening, and a girl, beautiful to look upon, is standing on the steps of a fine old mansion ; her name, Dorothy Mowbray, or as she was more often called in the neighbourhood, " beautiful Donna Mowbray." It is upon the steps of her uncle's house, that summer's evening when for the first time we see her, that she is standing, watching and waiting ; and so still, so statue-like, is B ■2 Paul Creighton. her figure as she thus watches and waits. listening intently, that she might have posed for Galatea, or some other of her statue sisterhood. Her gown is of white velvet. made Greek fashion and trimmed with gold. and clings gracefully about her slight, lissom figure. The only bright colour about her. indeed, is a large cluster of crimson roses, fastened, old fashion, into the bosom of her gown.

Her hair, which is of a pale gold, is twisted into a thick coil round and round the top of her head, and falls in a soft fringe nearly to her eyebrows ; her eyes are large, soft, violet eyes ; her nose, slightly aquiline ; her mouth, firm and small. The moon, then just rising from behind the trees, throws its soft rays, over her figure. making the diamonds gleam and sparkle like meteors in her hair and bosom. The view which spread itself before the eyes of the girl, as she thus stood, was superb and so still that she seemed the only living creature. As far as the eye could reach lay the sea blue and broad, then the town, the harbour, and the shipping, all lying in a panorama at her feet ; and behind her, forming a background, the magnificent park and the grand old mansion of Whitelake, old and rich with the traditions of many hundreds of years.

It is said, indeed, and with truth too, that no mansion in England can tell so many legends and stories as Whitelake. But it is not with the dead and their joys and sorrows that we have now to do ; we are not going to tell their histories. No, the trao-edies and comedies of their lives are over. Our business is with the slight figure standing on the steps of the old house watching. We shall find enough of tragedy in her story without trenching upon theirs. Briefly, then, she was the niece and adopted daughter of Sir John Courtenay and Lady Mollie Mowbray. For years she had known no other parents and no other home, and she was always called, always went by the name, indeed, of Donna MoAvbray, beautiful Donna Mowbray, of Whitelake. For some time she stood on the steps waiting and listening ; but there was no sound, save the faint rustle of the wind amongst the trees, to break the soft stillness of the June night.

Presently a cloud, passing over the moon, hid it for a moment, and threw herself and the house into deep black shadow. She waited no lomrer then, O 7 but walked slowly up the steps, saying, half aloud and half to herself, " He will not come now. No, it is too late, too late ! For a moment she paused to look once more at the landscape, now bathed again in silver light, then closing the hall door softly after her, walked quickly through a large lofty hall, and into the bright light of a long, old-fashioned drawing room : for although the light of the June evening had not yet faded, two lamps were burning, and from their rose coloured shades cast a soft crimson light, which reflected itself upon the old-fashioned furniture and lingered lovingly on the figures of Sir John and Lady Mollie as they sat in low chairs, like Darby and Joan, opposite one another in the long window, which was wide open, the air coming in heavy with the scent of the night-stocks, bavadias, and other sweet scented flowers.

The evening was sultry to a degree ; scarcely a breath of wind stirred the trees. Sir John sat with his eyes closed, the heat was so oppressive. In his youth he had been a good looking man ; now, he Avas quite white and nearly bald, but handsome still. Lady Mollie, too, had been a pretty woman, and had had more than her share of good looks, having been both a beauty and a belle in her time ; and she was pretty now, with the prettiness of old age. Donna, entering, stole softly on tiptoe up to her uncle, lookin 2; like a ghost in her white clinging drapery, and, imprinting a kiss on the crown of his head, said, in low, sweet, tratnante voice — " Now, you dear old uncle, of what pray are you thinking? Are you fighting the battles of your youth o'er again. 1 " — with an Paid Creighton. 7 emphasis on the word— " am thinking I shan't see Robert, toi que j' aime, to-night."

" And why not, darling ? " answered Lady Mollie, rising slowly in her chair, and yawning somewhat wearily ; " it's not late, is it ? " " Only nine o'clock, auntie, and here comes Garratt with the tea. Oh, no ! he's safe not to come to-night. " " Oh, if you please, my lady, " said Garratt, as he put the tray upon the table — but what he would have said is lost to this day, for a step sounded on the gravel, and a few minutes later the door was quickly thrown open and the figure of a young and handsome man stood in the brightly-lighted room. He, whom the girl had watched and waited for, had come, come at last. Tall, without being too tall, broad-shouldered and wellmade, with dark brown curly hair and clear blue eyes, a handsome nose, and firm mouth, was Robert Anthony Astley, the betrothed of Dorothy Mowbray.

Holding Donna at arm's length he ex claimed, "Well, Dodo, you are a swell to-night; you look quite fetching, my dear!" " Me or the gown ; which is it, Bob ? " and before he could reply the girl's sweet lips met his in a long fond kiss. " How is it you're so late to-nisht ; is it guest night at mess ? " Yes ; we entertained one or two fellows from the Twenty-Fourth. They are just quartered at Fort Romer ; marched into barracks yesterday. " " What are they like ? are they nice ? " " Phew ! what do you mean by being nice ? nice to you, if you appear before them in that too fetching get up, I promise you." '■ No, I did'nt mean that, " answered Donna, gently ; " I only wish to appear nice in the eyes of one man — Captain Robert Anthony Astley." " I know that, darling, and I was a beast to make such a speech."

" No, what I meant to say was, were they nice gentlemanly men, and all that. Do you like them ? " " Well, yes ; the colonel's a fine old fellow, and seen an immense amount of service, and the other fellows are nice enough, so far as one can judge. They don't much care for the appointment to the forts — did'nt expect they would. Did you ever see any good in those forts, sir, any protection to the town down below ? They cost an enormous sum of money, too, to build, and are not much good now the long range guns have come into practice." 4' No, my boy, I can't say that ever I did. One of the whims of the present govern ment ? " "Never mind the forts and the present government, Bob. Here's vour tea ; taste and see if it's sweet enough, and here's some Scotch cake, of cook's own making. She says, and with truth too, the captain's fond of cake."

"I am, it's a melancholy fact, but it's gospel truth. Mrs. Garratt never said a truer thing in her life." " What are you going to do to-morrow, Dodo ? I have nothing to do after morning parade and can come up after lunch for a ride, if you like. Anstruther's captain of the day, to-morrow." '• Then I should like," said Dorothy, putting her hand fondly underneath his arm, " I •should like it very much." " Then I will be here by three o'clock. Will that do ? " " It will quite do ; and now, sir, I must say good-night ; it's time I was trotting." " Yes, and haA'e a care, Bob, the roads are lonely and the weather's on the change. I shouldn't wonder if we had a thunderstorm after all." Donna stood on the steps, the light from the hall lamp shining on her slight figure, her face and head enveloped in a cloud of soft lace.

" Adieu," she said, kissing the tips of her fingers to her lover, and calling out, " don't forget three o'clock to-morrow, Bob ! " " God bless you, my darling ; I won't forget." And turning round in his saddle, he waved his hand in reply, and Dorothy heard the faint sound of the horse's feet echoing down the lane. He was gone. Mechanically she closed the door after her, softly saying to herself, "I wonder shall I ever be Robert's wife ? I could be Paul Creighton's to-morrow, did I so choose, but I don't choose," and the slenders fingers were clenched together. "Aye, and a hundred others." By this it will be seen that beautiful Donna Mowbray was the favourite of the whole county. Indeed it was said in the garrison that Dorothy had a hundred lovers of all ranks, but four in particular: Captain Robert Anthony Astley, of the 35th, to whom, however, she was now engaged ; the Honour- © © able Hubert Rose Leigh, of the 1st Royals; a Major William Henneage, of the Royal Artillery ; and a Mr. Paul Creighton, a neighbour and friend of her uncle's. A feAV moments later, prayers over, Dorothy A\ras in her room, a soft AAdiite dressing-ooAvn © © clinging round her slender figure, and her long golden hair falling round her like a veil © © o rippling doA\*n to her feet in a cloud of gold.

A short distance off lay the body of the young man Robert Astley, still and cold and dead. Murdered ! Whose hand had done it ? The call of the tattoo and reveille in the valley below Avould wake him no more. The hundred loA'ers, jealous of Robert Anthony Astley, Avould haA'e a chance now.

Chapter II

" To be a well favoured man is the gift of fortune."' D JOINING Whitelake, was the i estate of Creighton Manor or : Creighton Court ; it was a fine place, and had been held by the Creighton family for generations. Now, however, when Ave first begin to tell of them, they had nearly all died out, and the house and estate at present Avas held by a nepheAv of the late Mr. Creighton, a man of about thirty or thereabouts, Paul Campion Creighton, Esq. He, Avith the exception of a half sister, married in Russia to one of the famous Counts Volgorouki, was the last of his familv and, as I have already said, a fond loA'er of beautiful Donna Mowbray, and a great favourite, too, with her uncle and aunt. Indeed his uncle, the old Mr. Creighton, had been a lifelong friend of Sir John's, and both Sir John and Lady Mowbray faA'oured his suit to Donna and ardently desired the marriage ; but Donna had loA'ed Robert Astley and had lately become engaged to him.

Indeed the wedding day was already fixed. When we first see Paul Creighton, that same afternoon, he is standing in the wincloAv of a small room he calls his gun-room ; for amongst other things he is an accomplished sportsman and splendid shot. He is a tall man, rather aboA'e the aA'erage height of man, finely made, and well shaped, which shape is set off to advantage by the velveteen shooting iacket and knickerbockers he is wearing. His hair is coal-black and curly ; his face is handsome, every feature ; the eyes, large and dark, almost black ; the nose, A'ery long and A'ery straight ; the mouth — Avhat can be seen of it, for it is A'eiled Avith thick heaA-y moustaches, and saA'e for the moustaches he is clean sha\'ed — is set stern and determined looking. The face was not a bad face, and yet it Avas not altogether a good face ; there Avas a something in it Avhich could not be liked, try as one Avould.

He looked a fine specimen of a man, that afternoon, as he stood in his room, his coat off noAV, on account of the heat, and standing in his shirt sleeA'es cleaning his faA'ourite Colt's pistol. Presently it Avas done, and after looking it over, he loaded it and fired it through the AvindoAV, all six chambers ; cleaned it and reloaded it again, and then put it by carefully in the case. He Avas not liked in the neighbourhood ; he Avould neA'er be a popular man, neA'er. He was reserved, A'ery clever, an atheist, and a Liberal. He had been a great deal in Russia Avith his sister and her husband, and Avas hence a Nihilist, or Avith ideas A'ery much akin to one. This, hoAvever, he did not get from his brother-in-law, for the Count Volgorouki Avas a known friend and fa\"ourite of the Tzar. He was a man Avho could not get on with Avomen at all.

They did not like him ; they Avere afraid of him. No one ever thought for a moment of Paul Creighton Avith a Avife and children, although it Avas well knoAvn all over that part of Hillshire c that he loved Donna MoAvbray. Indeed Whitelake Avas the only house he ever visited, Avith the exception of dining oc casionally Avith the officers in the Hillview barracks. He loA'ed Donna Mowbray passionatelyr fondly, as such men do loA'e for once and always. No one could or Avould haA'e said Paul Creighton did not loA'e, could they but haA'e heard him that afternoon as he soliloquised aloud in his room. ''And so the wedding day is fixed and. Donna, you Avill neA'er be mine. And yet — and yet Robert Astley cannot loA'e you as I do ; cannot surely ! If there is a God — if there is — He Avould not permit men's hearts to be thus bruised and broken.

"I would gi\'e worlds could Donna be mine I Yes, worlds — all I possess — to hear those SAveet lips call me husband, to hold her in my arms, to hear her children call me father. And yet, according to the course of this Avorld, it can never be ; no, neA'er be. Yes, it might be, if " and the dark face of the man grew suddenly stem and Avhite. " I can see her noAV before me, as I saAV her the other night, her SAveet face with its fringe of golden hair, her rounded arms, her beautiful bosom only half A'eiled by the rich lace. I can hear her noAV as she said, ' Good night, Paul, you must be very solitary of an evening.' " HeaA'ens ! how solitary, how much more solitary, Avhen she is Aved ! No, no, it cannot, cannot be ! I could part Avith my life willingly, cheerfully, easily, but not with my love for her.

That Avill only cease when I pass into nothing — for there is nothing, no nothing, beyond this. Hoav beautiful she is, how lovable ! I would give all that I possess could I hold her in my arms for one single moment, feel her little head against my breast and haA'e one kiss from those sweet lips. But she will wed Robert Astley ; he Avill ha\'e her for his own, be her husband, the father of her children, and I — I must live alone, alone and solitary, for I can never loA'e again. Aye, and perish alone, die alone !"

Chapter III

" Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying, And this same flower that smiles to day, To-morrow will be dying." HE folloAving day rose clear and fine. Donna, at her chamber AvindoAV, vieAved it Avith gladsome eyes. " What a kwely day for a ride," she exclaimed as she opened both casements and let in the sweet fresh air off NorthdoAvn Hill. " I Avill be quick and dress, and I shall have time to get auntie some roses to fill her boAvls Avith the dew upon them." No sooner thought of than done. Going into her dressing-room she plunged into her bath. What is so nice, or so delicious, as a cold bath on a summer's morning? Very soon was she dressed, her long golden hair bound neatly in a shining coil round and round her head, and goAvned in a soft goAvn of grey, for Donna liked quiet colours, a large Gainsborough hat of white chip trimmed simply with India muslin, her hands encased in tan gloA'es, and armed Avith scissors and large flat garden basket, she proceeded softlv doAvn the wide staircase, through the conservatory into the gardens, and to the particular part knoAvn to all the house as My Lady's Rosery.

It was a square piece of ground long and large ; Avide too, and planted solely Avith roses. And here on this blithesome June morning Avas a whole Avealth of them, from the richest cream to the blackest damask. From one to the other flitted Donna, cutting here a tiny bud, there a half-opened rose, and here again a glorious floAver full-bloAvn, radiant in its A'oluptuous beauty. Oh, the delight of gathering roses on a O o C June morning, in an old fashioned garden with a deAvdrop lying loA'ingly in each ! In a short time Donna had as many as her basket, and her pretty chintz apron, could carry- — ■ Gloire de Dijon, Marshal Niel, Malmaison, Beaconsfield, Geant de Bataille, and a heap of others. In the bosom of her gown she placed a delicate and fragrant spray of pure white tea roses and then, Avith her SAveet smelling load, went toAvards the house and in through the long French AvindoAvs of the dining-room where Garratt, the old white-haired butler, Avas laying the cloth for breakfast.

From the Avails of the dining-room grim portraits of the lords and ladies of the house of MoAA-bray — Vandycks, Knellers, Lelys, to the later days of Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Rey nolds — looked down upon the pretty figure of the girl in her soft dress and large hat. Avith her basket and her apron filled Avith roses, standing in front of the old Avhite haired servant. He alone of all the servants in the hall kneAv tbe historv of the bright girl before him, and the old man loA'ed her like his own child. Tavo old fashioned bowls stood ready filled with Avater. Rare old china boAvls of* CroAvn Derby Avare with marks of a hundred years upon them. Donna's slender fingers soon arranged a fragrant bouquet in each boAvl, talking pleasantly to old Garratt meanAvhile. When she had finished she said, " I should like to have filled uncle's Sevres vase, Garratt.

Do you think I shall have time to get a few more ? " " Surely, Miss Donna ; Avhy, it Avants a quarter to eight yet." " Oh ! then, I'll just go back again to the Rosery and cut a feAV more, and don't ring the gong till quite eight, will you Garratt ? " " No, surely, Miss Donna ; I'll wait until you come back." With swift steps, Dorothy sped back to the Rosery and, once more standing amid the fragrant field, cut first a feAV choice buds and then a full bloAvn rose or two. Hither and thither she ran from bush to brier until she had got Avhat she thought enough, another apron full, and heating the big clock on the stables begin the first chime of eight, she once more proceeded slowly back to the house. She had nearly reached the front entrance on which the dining-room Avindows looked Avhen she heard a footstep behind her, and turning round, to her surprise and astonishment, she beheld Colonel Car ruthers, the colonel of the 35th.

Something in the saddened face of the man A\rarned Donna, she neA'er knew for Avhy or wherefore, that he had some bad news to communicate, and her face grew quite Avhite — white as the roses in the bosom of her gown. © "You haA'e something to tell me," she faltered forth in trembling tones, , and all the SAveet roses in her apron fell to her Paul ( 'reighton. 27 feet ; " something about Robert ; about — about Captain Astley ! " "Yes; try, try to bear it," and he took both the girl's small cold hands in his strong ones. "Tell me quickly," she said, and her face blanched still Avhiter. "He is dead, Dorothy," — unconsciously calling her hv her Christian name. "Found dead, murdered, on the road-side in Green Lane — shot through the heart." The sweet beautiful face of the girl greAv, if possible, whiter.

Her eyes opened Avide, wider, to their fullest extent. Her lips parted, but Avhen she tried to speak only a hoarse sound came. And then with gentle courteous gesture the man led the stricken girl into the house, from which the glad freshness of the summer morning had departed, and a shadow, chill and grey and cold, had fallen in its stead — fallen over the landscape, fallen over the interior of the mansion, and OArer the household ; but fallen AAdth cruel force over the once glad, brightsome girl, avIio lay in a crushed heap with her face to the Avail all through the long hours of that Avarm, blight, summer's day. For Avith her Avhole heart and soul had Dorothy Mowbray loA-ed Robert Astley. On the bed she lay Avith her face to the Avail, and the hours of the day glided by one upon the other.

Three o'clock struck and the poor girl remembered the ride and seemed to hear again the gladsome voice. Alas, alas, he Avould never call her name again ! But as the curv Avaned and faded Donna's grief greAv calmer, ancl toAvards evening she rose from her bed. " Dear old uncle and aunt, they haA-e no one but me, and they Avill be dull Avithout me. And bending doAvn she washed her face and hands, and taking off the tumbled dress she had jDut on so gladly in the morning, replaced it by a gown of soft black net, and descended Avith shaking, trembling limbs to the draAving-room. But she Avas reAvarded for the effort she had made by the joy of old Sir John and Lady Mollie, and of her own dog, a large bloodhound called Spy, given to her by her dead lo\'er. And although she only sat in her chair Avith the head of the dog upon her knee, yet she Avas there ; her uncle and aunt could look at her, and that Avas enough : they did not Avant her to talk.

But nothing could or Avould haA'e made Donna Mowbray selfish or unmindful of others. In silence the dinner passed, Avith old Garratt Avaiting, silent and sad. In silence the tea came in ; there AA-as no glad A'oice to disturb it, and poor old Garratt's eyes filled with tears Avhen he took aAvaA' the extra cup and saucer ahvays placed in case the captain came in. Mournfully the e\'ening wore on. In servants' hall and drawing-room alike had the chill, grey, shadow fallen, the shadow of a cruel death — a murder.

Chapter IV

"He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus Men o'er him wept." i^^f EANTIME the body of poor young \ IkwI $ Robert Astley had been remoA'ed AA'ith all care and tenderness to the nearest place contiguous to that of the murder, namely the old A'illage inn at Lissham, "The White Hart," there to aAvait the inquest. Laid upon a little bed, in a small room at the back of the inn, the face looked so perfectly calm you might have fancied he slept, and save for the ashy Avhiteness, the marble coldness, he looked to all out- Avard appearance as if he yet liAred. But the wrath and indignation, conse quent upon his cruel and sudden death, Avas universal, in the barracks, particularly amongst the men of his OAvn company Avith whom, since he had first joined, he had ever been a favourite. Just and up right, sIoav to blame, swift to praise, knowing his duty and doing it with a thoroughness appreciated alike by both officers and men, there were feAV in " The Royal Hillshire " so liked and bekyved as Robert Anthony Astley had been.

Alas, that Ave should have to say " had been " ! for he Avas noAV no more Avith the living © and had no portion Avith them under the sun ; but — "He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus Men o'er him wept." The 35th Royal Hillshire Avas a dis tinguished regiment ; much gallant service had been theirs both by sea and land, and there Avas not a finer or more distinguished man in the Avhole of the British army than their colonel, Claude Cleveland Car ruthers ; a man Avho feared neither fire nor steel, but Avho iioav shrank Avith all a soldier's kind-heartedness from the task which he felt Avas imposed upon him that morning Avhen he returned from Whitelake, of breaking the news of his young officer's death to his father, mother, and sisters. Brother he had none living, he Avas an only son ; this, the colonel felt, must be done, and clone at once, and personally D by himself.

No letter, no Avritten Avords, would do. No, he must go himself. No sooner had he entered his quarters than he sent for his servant. The message was quickly ansAvered by an old soldier AA'ho had seen many a campaign, many a bloody fight. " Look here, Shannon. I am about to take forty-eight hours leaA'e on important business connected with the murder ; tell Major Wynne I Avant to speak to him at once." "All right, sir; Major Wynne's but noAV gone into quarters." " Well, colonel," said the major, a big fine-looking soldier, " AAdiat's to clo, eh ? Why, where are you off to ? Something to do with poor Astley? It's a thundering bad business altogether ; hang me if I can make it out." " Yes, down to Cornshire, to see his father. Astley Place lies in such a remote corner of England, I shall get there some hours in adA'ance of a letter ; it's a two day's post doAvn there, I knoAV, if it's an hour."