When a Maiden marries

Front matter

a BY ANDREW DEIR AUTHOR OF " A MAN IN THE FJORDS," " THE GIRT. IN WHITE," ETC, ETC. "God did not make woman from man's head, that she should rule over him, nor from his feet, that she should be his slave, but from his side, that she should be near his heart." — The Talmud. " I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not." — Antony and Cleopatra. LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. CONTENTS

Chapter I The Rousing Of Bedcliff Lodge

The inmates of Redcliff Lodge were abed but not asleep. They were listening, intently tremulous. Most of them had heard the hollow galloping of a horse devour the highway : all of them heard it canter round the gravel-drive. The canter was suddenly muffled, and then as suddenly changed to a trot that was in turn muffled. This pianoforte effect was produced, as those now at the windows perceived, by a circus-like propensity in the horse to trample an imperfect girdle on the lawn. A watery moon played with a pair of dangling stirrups, glanced off the whirling shoes.and glintinglyusurped the saddle of a man. In the nearer approaches she showed a hanging bridle-rein, prophetic of mischief to an animal wrought to that state of terror that gambols from shadows. The horse was diligent, the lawn impressionable after rain : a conspiracy whereunder it was quickly yielding all resemblanca to a lawn.

" The brute ! " exclaimed a deep male voice at a lower window. " Oh, the beast ! " came in female accents from an upper. A " That bodes nae guid," droned an old woman's voice. " Wha left the gate open ? " "Preserve's!" muttered a nightcapped vision, taking the field from behind the house. It was observable that the speed at which the vision moved diminished in ratio with the space between it and the truant steed. When it reached the other end of the lawn the horse was plainly pursuer. A window slid up to emit the male voice aforementioned. " He'll catch you, Rab, if you don't move faster ! " "Woa!" cried Rab, seeking safety in the shrubbery. The horse flashed past, and Rab, who was gardener, had time to note the havoc it was work ing at his future expense. Aflame in the sudden recognition of injury so personal, he darted after the enemy, now pausing in the onslaught.

" Wowoa ! " he shouted again. " Stand, will ye?" It sounded like a question. The answer was a snort and playful airing of heels. The game continued. At such times the horse's terror was seen to be comparative. The serious aspect of the incident was lost in the ludicrous ; for in his haste the old man had dragged on his nether coverings under a nightshirt, which fluttered wantonly on the wind of his efforts. When, with the red, peaked nightcap, it showed against the moon, the whole picture was to the spectators irresistibly suggestive of a sort of rural circus, wherein Rab was clown. His exclamations were manifold and forcibly pro gressive, until the luminous idea took him that it were better to turn tables and chase the horse. Then they dwindled to an oft-repeated " Shu ! " with the motions of a woman driving hens.

More than once he succeeded in getting the horse to the The Rousing of Redcliff Lodge 3 gate whereout, with unwavering consistency, it refused to go. At last, derision-goaded, he was dashing in fearless resolve to lay hands on the animal when the gate swung wide, and he ran against a man so stout that there was a rebound. " Ho-ly sailor ! " cried Rab, aghast. " You villain ! you — you clown ! You — you — you robber ! " gasped the man, seizing Rab in sudden inspiration. " Give it up." "Od," said Rab, taking his breath, "that's juist whit A wis thinkin' masel'." " Put it out and I'll let you off." " Pit it oot ! Man, A hae been tryin' that fur the best o' hauf-an-hoor." " If you don't," bellowed the man, getting angry, " I'll do't for you ! " " Yer kindness is uncoammon — un-coammon. Let me tell ye, guv'nor, it's a gey dreigh joab, an' the suner ye begin the better."

" Why, it's my old friend," said the other, re leasing his prisoner. " No malice, Rab, no malice ! The hour, your guise, the shock to my system — physical and nervous — blinded me. 'Gad, they did. Play for safety, says I. Collar's my motto. Collar a running man — if he ain't too big, that is. Collar health, wisdom, happiness. Collar oppor-r tunity. Collar money — honestly, if you can, but — collar. When in doubt — collar. Collar everything but a woman. 'Gad, she'll brass-collar you if you do. Lor' bless you ! d'you know the secret " — his voice was pregnant with state revelation — " the secret of England's greatness ? Collar ! " "No' interrup'in' your discoorse, mister," said Rab, pawkily, "dis yer moatta apply tae horse flesh ? " And he pointed the question with an outstretched arm as the cause of it trotted round by the gate and shied off to the lawn.

"Oh, it's here, is it? Came to announce my arrival, I suppose — the — the quadruped!" "Ay," said Rab, "an' it's you, Mister Merriton. Hoanest sac', A didna ken ye. A declare ye're stooter than ever. Dod, A stoatit aff ye like cahootchy." " Hush ! " whispered the other, tragically. " D'you think they've seen — that?" His finger jerked horse ward. " Is the doctor afoot ? " A neighbouring clock chimed midnight on the inquiry, and a voice hailed from the house. A groan escaped him. " It's out ! Hide it I can't : gloss it I must." He raised his voice, moving forward. " Is that you, Robert ? " " It's Uncle Harry," said a girl's voice. " Just like you, Harry," greeted the doctor, " to come without a scrap of warning." " Guilty, Robert ; guilty I plead when guilty it is. Here I am, the same battered old coin o' the realm — battered but genuine, bless you ! genuine — you can tell 'em by the ring.

Heads up I'd have it. Fate keeps a-tossing, and down I comes tails. It's always tails. Guilty, says the world. Victim t'extenuating circumstances, says I. There you have it. Left town this morning : arrived Second City at nine ; took last train to Whelenburgh ; train blocked on the way ; too late for steamers ; too late for ferry ; lovely night ; thought ride round the loch would be enjoyable ; was enjoy able " — moving uneasily — " came to beautiful bit o' scenery ; got off to drink it in — " " Was the getting off your own suggestion ? " asked the doctor. There was a gurgling sound above. " Oh, Uncle Harry ! the horse's name was Fate, and you came down tails ! " "Is that my niece I hear? Ah, you The Rousing of Rede liff Lodge 5 wretch ! Now, what put that into your little head ? " " Read it, uncle, in nice big letters on your back."

" Ha ! ha ! my dear, that's what the Higher Education o' women does — lifts 'em out o' common sense. Common sense now'd tell ye that when a man's going to drink in scenery he wants to get into the spirit, like them astronomer chaps, you know. They're devout, all of 'em that ain't mad, that is, as somebody says. So down he gets on his back. How's he to know that, just when he's ready for the scenery, his ignorant beast of a horse'll be—" "Laying waste my lawn," interjected the doctor. Just then the subject of reproach jogged easily past them, out of the gate and down the road. " Maist provokesome ! " sighed Rab, who had been standing in meek attendance. " Bless my eyes ! " exclaimed Harry, " if the brute hasn't changed colour ! It's a chestnut now. 'Twas a light bay when I — we parted." Whereat there was distinct laughter.

" It certainly seems very changeable," the doctor agreed. " By the way, you aren't hurt anywhere, Harry ? " " Not physically, I ain't." " Ah, then, we'll take you in, if not your explana tions. Rab, just see to the gate — will you ? To morrow, or rather to-day, I think I shall crown you with cap and bells. Ruth, my dear, come down and get your uncle some supper."

Chapter II The Heatheril Family

Dr Heatheril was a little man, vertically, keen of eye and feature, aud on his head the grey had won predominance. Several things had come to him, as they will to men, to hasten this victory, but of these later. It was thirty years since he, a young practi tioner, had brought a younger wife to Rosevale. He had plucked her, as sweet a bud as ever blossomed, from a good old London stock, to transplant her in more genial soil. She had out-bloomed promise, expanding gratefully to the light of heaven, and strewing all the fragrance down his path a true wife can. He knew that out of her tending had come most that was not dross within him, and his love for her was graven on warmer tablet than the little granite one in the old churchyard. Among her many gifts to him had been a son and two daughters.

The son was never mentioned now. He had disgraced them. As a boy he was wild with the mere devilment, begotten of exuberant health and animal spirits. For sheer fun of it, he kept half the old men in Rosevale chasing him with big sticks and bigger promises. Swift of foot and ready of tongue, he brandished defiance in the face of the parish. One evil day he brandished a gun in the face of his little sister. Thereafter she was blind, and he sedate beyond his years. But with this terrible deed the Recording Angel had no concern ; for, like all weapons wherewith sportive little boys shoot their relatives, the gun Tom thought he pointed was not loaded. He was eleven years old at the time, and he valiantly set himself to a young life of atonement. Thenceforth he was never known to refuse a wish of poor blind Celia.

Their love for one another was a brilliant theme in the parish. He distinguished himself at school : he distinguished himself at Edinburgh University, and the bare thought of him made music in his mother's heart. He was to follow in the worthy footsteps of his father. His career lay glittering before him. A woman put her foot on it, and, the glitter dying, the path was lost. He had informed himself that she loved him, and the discovery that therein he had lied swept him back into all the old devilment on the deeper passions of a man. Seeking oblivion in alcohol, he found fiends to play with. He was ready with his fists as a prize fighter, albeit he was usually in the right, and standing for the weak. That his father threatened and his mother coaxed availed nothing. Celia pleaded, and he could not stand that.

He began to stay away then, lodging in different places. Finally his father packed him off to London with a note to Harry Merriton. "Keep him, Harry," it said, "keep him, for heaven's sake. It is a question of my practice — the support of my family — going, or him. He may behave better with you, and, at all events, his misconduct will not upset you as it does me. Try to get him into a situation of any kind. Send me a monthly account of what he costs you." Since that day they had heard little of him, save that he was in a situation ; his uncle becoming more and more reticent in the matter. This was the tale that led to one daughter sitting o c_» Wheu a Maiden Marries there at the breakfast-table, perpetual pathos blasted on a flower-sweet face ; this, too, the tale that set Ruth, the youngest, in a mother's place.

" It is on you, my child," her dying mother had said, " it is on you this charge must fall. Your father, your sister, ay, and if God will, my poor Tom too — my love for them must live in you, dear, and you will not let it die . " " Never ! " Ruth had sobbed, the words choking her, " never ! dear, dear, mother — anything — everything you would wish I will do ! " And the promise had been too sacred to die in the breathing. It was the standard whereby she shaped her conduct in the troubles that came to try her. Three years had passed since then, and it would almost seem as though that good woman had built her girls' constitutions with a view to the shock of her loss, so brilliant and full-blooded their recovery. Ruth was the darker, with eyes, as of intellect, that flashed to the core of things whither others lumbered travailingly.

Celia, no less acute of mental vision, was yet slower to kindle impression in that it burned within, not darting the quick light of understanding on the world. The girls looked forward with pleasure to their uncle's semi-annual visit ; for then, at all events, they were sure of amusement. And when you laugh two-thirds of your day you are not over miserable, however sad your lot in life. Harry Merriton's corpulence was of that sympathetic species that ripples wheu its owner laughs. His hair was dangerously red — a wanton freak of Nature that set all his relatives speculating as to its origin. Most who met Harry looked at him, then laughed. " Now, that's queer — ain't it ? " he was saying. "You gals don't look a bit the worse for your fright." " Our fright ! " pouted Ruth. " How generous you are, uncle !

" " Well, I suppose a man may be generous — mayn't he ? " " With his own, yes. It was your own, you know, uncle." " 'Gad, Robert, they'd have me believe I ran away from that horse. You don't grasp the situation, my dears. The horse ran away from me. 'Twas dum cowed, shaking afraid of me. An animal knows its master." "And goes back to him," added the doctor. " Did you know that animal's master ? " " Not I," said Harry, forgetting his last speech. " They were shut up when I applied. Why d'you ask ? " " Because I fancy he's coming up the walk at this moment." Through the window a foreign-looking man was seen puffing towards them, flurried, apparently, to red-heat. Harry fidgeted in his seat. " Toss away ! " he rattled, " toss away ! The old coin can stand it. You can't surprise him — couldn't if you sent the Zoo by telegraph t'enter tain him.

He knows wThat it'll be. Beast got into Sir what's - his - name's garden, wrecked quarter-a-mile o' glass and destroyed two thousand pounds' worth of the finest orchids in the country. Beast got into a park, killed six sheep and a cow, injured still gathering. Beast got out again, smashed two cabs and a donkey-cart, trampled three children to death on the road, and was dragged from the loch this morning. To hire of the beast — with extras — five thousand pounds. Pile it on. You can't beat that." It was a challenge to Fate, delivered with a solemnity too laughter-provoking for words. " Gentleman to see you, sir," the maid announced in the uproar. "Didn't catch his name, sir." " It's a pity you told where you were coming, Harry," the doctor said, rising. "He can't want me, but I'll attend as medical man on the field."

" Uncle Harry," said Ruth, beseechingly, and he hung on his step for a breath, " don't come down tails." He was the first to enter the study, and the visitor, who was pacing up and down, mopping a greasy face, pounced upon him, instanter. " Sair, I weell know who ees to pay." " 'Gad, I hope you will. It beats me." "I weell know who ees to pay ze damage." " Now, look ye here," snapped Harry, with the air of a man exposing fraud, " there can't be any children. 'Twas after midnight, you know." " Cheeldren ! you call zem cheeldren ! I weell know who pays ze breakin' ze plates, ze dishees, ze glassees — " " The brute's got into a pantry," muttered Harry. " Well, don't fume so. You've got my traps, my goods and — " " Che diavolo ! I got no traps. You sink me man to take ze rats. Huh ! you are too mooch ass !

You no understand. I am Ferenzi." " Yes, yes, I see that. It'll pass off. I allow for it. I'm not angry at what you say, but try to calm yourself. Sit down here and give me a list of the wounded — the damage. Is it alive ? " " Sair, you are beeger fool zan him. I am Ferenzi, Glasgow." " What . You're not the hotel-keeper at Whelenburgh ? " "No!" " And you haven't come about a horse ? " " Sair, no ! " " Then why the devil didn't j'ou say so ? " bawled Harry, relapsing into his seat with the deep-blown " Whew ! " born of lucky escape. The doctor laughed aloud. " Doctor Heazeril, it — " " This is the doctor." "Ah ! pardon ! Sair, it ees your son and — " The doctor was grave in an instant. " My son ? " he repeated. " Impossible ! " He looked at Harry, who waved his hand in self defence. " Don't blame me," he said.

" I've had no time to explain." " It ees your son," pursued the visitor. " I speak no imposseeble. Your son and hees friend, zey come in like ze wild beasts. Zey cry, ' Aw ! aw ! Oo ! oo ! A-a-h ! ' " He rolled his eyes, making the mysterious passes and gestures indicative of delirium tremens. " Come in where ? " asked the doctor. " My shop, cafe. Zen, verra fine genteelman, he sing fine song — senteemental song — and zey cry, ' Oh ! oh ! ' — doubling up as with pain — ' kill heem, kill heem ! Put ze ruffian out. Oh-a ! coffee and cognac — quick ! before we die.' Zen zey drink ze coffee and cognac, and no pay. Zey say, ' Chalk on your hat.' I take off my hat, and down zey slap on my bald head — so ! " There were earthquake vibrations in Harry's chair. " Zen zey say, ' Aw ! aw ! ' and lift ze table, and down goes everasing, ditty smash on ze floor. ' Genteelmen ! genteelmen ! ' I cry, ' whatt you sink my shop ?

Zis ees a respectable. Who ees to pay?'" " That's it," agreed Harry. " My wife — verra fine laadee — Inglees laadee — she sing good song, sol-ame song, and zey lie down — so ! " — he grovelled on the floor as he spoke — " and zey roll and cry ' Brandy ! brandy ! For heaveen's sake, bring brandy ! ' ' It was Harry's turn to laugh now, and he followed the contortions of the greasy bundle on the carpet with others after his own fashion. "Zen I get angree." The bundle sprang to its feet. "And I take zem— so!" The bundle seized Harry by the scruff. '"You go out,' I say, 'out my shop, you ditty rubbish buffas ! you ditty rubbish buffas ! ' And zey fight, and tumble me, and look up, roll zeir eyes, and say nosing but ' Aw ! aw ! oo ! oo ! A-a-a-h ! ' " The whole hysterical performance had been rushed within the space of a few minutes, and the leading actor finished, hot, sgape, panting and generally unhinged.

Harry, with a face that seemed to have ignited at his hair, was adjusting his collar. His sobering had been so sudden and complete that the doctor could not resist a laugh. " Can this be true ? " he asked. " Doesn't feel like a dream," answered Harry, savagely, still fingering the back of his neck. " You no believe," resumed the Italian. " Sair, I know somesings. Whatt you sink I see yester day ? I see zem play ze breegands wis ze tramcar. Wan, he stops ze horses, ze ozer, he joomps on ze car, and cry ' Hands up ! your monee or your lives ! ' And ze car no go wan step till zere come ze police. Joost yesterday have I seen zat." " I don't call that somesings," muttered Harry, recollection prompting. The doctor's dog-cart was heard and seen coming round to the door. " How much will cover the damage ?

" he asked ; ' a pound ? " " Ah, sair ! " " Two pounds, then ? " " Zat ees better." " Any fool'd know that," grunted Harry. " Well, I pay you two pounds and give you this writing that I shall pay you no more on his account. You have the remedy in your own hands." The sight of the money was as cooling water to the Italian, who scraped his thanks and shuffled out, congratulating himself on a substantial profit. Silence fell on the two men. Each felt the pain of the subject. " When — did he — leave you ? " the doctor asked, broodingly. " Three weeks ago — cleared out, bag and baggage, one evening before I came home. His young master came to see if I had any notion of his whereabouts, but I hadn't." Ruth's voice was heard at the window. " Uncle Harry, I don't think we can ever forgive you for that lawn."

"Look here, Robert, you wouldn't believe last night, but, 'pon my oath, that wasn't the horse I had." " H'm ! Optical illusion I'm afraid, but wire to the hotel-keeper about it. Ruth," he said, as he gathered up the reins a minute later, "just tell Rab not to touch the lawn till I return." Harry strolled to the post-office, the girls escort ing. This necessitated an explanation as to the visitor, who, he told them, had come from Glasgow on private business. " Never convey the bad news to-day that may be put off till to-morrow," he moralised, metrically, to himself. In due course the wires brought an answer. The horse had arrived safe and sound at two a.m. This, as he straightway pointed out to the girls, strengthened his argument that the animal rampant at Redcliff after midnight, and the animal that had jilted him were two.

Ultimately, he convinced them in a half -amused kind of way, while greatly testing a deck chair on the lawn. The August sun was more than kind, and the facile sentiment of him glowed responsive. " Ah ! my dears, no wonder everything blooms here — man and tree and beast, so to speak ! It's a sweet spot. You can't think how I carry it about with me in London. The pretty pointed wings, wi' the long verandah tucked away between, all snuggled in ivy, where we've sat o' summer nights and looked down on the water. It's a dear old place — God bless it ! — to make you love old Scotland." On which ecstasy he soared, with a struggle, to his feet. " By the way, Ruth, I asked that fellow to send on my baggage by the afternoon boat. Just remember to have it lifted, will you, in case I should forget. Now, I think I'll smoke a pipe of peace with Rab."

The garden lay beyond the lawn, a high bay hedge dividing ; and there, between the frequent intervals at which he came forth to gaze upon the turf disaster, Rab was working. " There won't be much peace in Rab's pipe if he put all the things into it you called him last night," laughed Ruth, stepping back. But the laugh froze on her face, fear-smitten. Over his shoulder, she saw a man thrust his face from the shrubbery, put his hand on his lips, and beckon her to come over to him. Harry wheeled round. The face had drawn back not a moment too soon. " What was that ? " he asked. Ruth felt her face burn. " I — I had such a pain when I laughed.' It was literal truth. " Come along, Celia ; we must be off." She drew her sister away to the house, watched Harry into the garden, and went out to the man.

" Oh, Tom ! " She ran towards him excitedly, then stopped. " My looks frighten you," he said, bitterly. " No wonder ! " " How tired you look, Tom, and how — " She checked herself in pity. " Wretched," he added. " Well, my looks are honest, at any rate. That's my condition — dog tired — tired dog. Any way you like, and wretched both ways. Don't tell that little porpoise you've seen me. He's a good old soul, though I led him a life. I say, Ruth, can you get me fifty pounds ? " " Fifty pounds ? Where could I—" " I must have it — fair means or foul. I'm des perate. Where does the old man keep his cash ? " " Tom ! " she cried, all a-quiver. " Is it in the old place ? You won't tell me ? Well, I see it is." He turned to go away. She sprang after him. " For all our sakes, for your own sake, Tom, you won't do that."

He laid a shaking hand on her arm. His eyelids gave the quick, quivering droop of conscious guilt before innocence. " Now, don't you give warning. Don't you try to prevent this. Don't you come between me and that money. If I don't get it I'm done for. You understand ? I'll be locked up." A huge drop gleamed like a diamond on her eye lash, and fell. " Mind you, Ruth," he said more softly, " I'm not so bad as I look. I've made up my mind that this is to be the last time. But if you interfere and drive me to extremities, you'll — you'll regret it all your life." " Tom ! " she cried again ; but she was alone with her new trouble, and tears could not wash it away. She hastened within to see to the dinner against the doctor's return. It was a wondering group that followed him in the afternoon, when he went down on his knees on the lawn, and took measurement after measure ment of the hoofmarks, finally cutting out a square turf.

What was he doing it for, they all asked. But that was a question the doctor could not answer ; for, in truth, he did not know. His weakness was to do things that did not suggest themselves to most men. Ruth puzzled over it, and it set her thinking of the other strange occur rence of the day about which she must soon take action. " Poor Tom ! How haggard he looked ! It was to be for the last time. The last time ! " Again, " Poor Tom ! " He was always going to reform. It would have been as idle to ask him as it were to put the question to ourselves what it profiteth to live forever on the brink of birth. Of the heavenly-earthly To-Be we die in our admiration. The beauty and flawlessness of the life we shall never lead dazzle and overwhelm us, shackling achievement.

Chapter III

A LITTLE SURPRISE "Marriage is capital punishment," ejaculated Harry, laying the evening newspaper across his knee and delivering himself between whiffs of tobacco smoke. " And better'n hanging. Gives 'em more time to repent, and doesn't disgrace their relatives — so much. 'Tain't so lonely, either. They mostly suffer in pairs, you see. Sometimes more — specially in countries where they can't get hanged. Parson ties the knot, too, and bids 'em be happy. T'other case he doesn't tie the knot, but tells 'em to repent like the devil — and that ain't much. Bulk of 'em let death undo it, but if it hurts ye wrong side the law you can have it undone without waiting. 'Gad, it's capital punishment. So's you're young and healthy and pretty, and a woman, and t'other party's rich and strong, and a man, it's a deuced sight better for ye than hanging, and that you'll find, Ruth, if you try."

The two were alone in the verandah. The abruptness of the transition from soliloquy to address was startling. Ruth had heavier thoughts, but she stared interrogation. She had noticed a controversy in the newspapers that would account for one side of the odious comparison. Also, she knew her uncle to be, through lack of experience, B a self-appointed and caustic authority on things matrimonial. But why the incongruous speech wedding ? and what was he working to ? His next utterance unfogged the matter. " Ruth, my lass," he said, " it's my opinion you're in love." She looked at him, curiously, and smiled. " What makes you think that, uncle . " " Well, when a gal sits mute as a mouse, a-thinking and a-thinking, and staring straight ahead with a look in her eyes that'd mesmerize a baby flea two miles off, but can't see a greasy cater pillar going for a walk with its hands in its pockets over her dress, if she ain't in love what other fix, I'd like to ask, is she in ?