Flora Cheviot: A novel

Chapter I

Answer, ye chiming waves That now in sunshine sweep ! Speak to me from tby hidden caves Voice of the solemn deep ! Hath man's lone spirit here With storms in battle striven ? Where all is now so calmly clear Hath anguish cried to heaven ? As the steamer from Liverpool to the Isle of Man, one fine summer's evening, approached the beautiful Bay of Douglas, two passengers, very dissimilar in appearance, stood side by side on her deck. The one was a very quiet and not in any way remarkable-looking young VOL. I. B man of about two-and-twenty, and very plainly dressed. The other was a showily dressed, remarkably handsome military-looking man of a few years older. The former was a Mr. Montague ; the latter Captain Stacey. It was owing to the latter's restlessness that these two fellow passengers had now in some degree become acquainted, as in wander ing about the vessel, and for want of better pastime, he had been looking at the directions on some of the luggage, and had thus come to see that on Mr. Montague's, who was himself seated by the side of it, occupied in reading.

On then finding that they were going to the same house — Rook Hall, a few miles from Douglas — he introduced himself, under that plea, to the other, after which a few common places were interchanged between them, and then the conversation flagged, for neither felt at all attracted by his new acquaintance nor perceived in him any congeniality, and it was not long ere Captain Stacey betook himself elsewhere to seek for society more suited to his tastes, leaving Mr. Montague, to his great satisfaction, in the undisturbed possession of his book. On nearing the Bay of Douglas, however, as we have said, these two passengers stood side by side on the deck of the steamer. This was Mr. Montague's first visit to the Isle of Man, and he now gazed with delight on the view spread out before him. The wide and gracefully rounded Bay, with its deep blue sea, was almost as smooth as a mirror, whilst the town beyond, with its handsome white stone houses in terraces, interspersed with gardens and plantations, and with church spires now and again showing strikingly, or half hidden in the landscape ; and further off, and all around, mountains, some smoothly formed and others of a veiy bold and rugged b contour.

There was only wind enough to form tiny wavelets and gently-flowing ripples on the water, and the atmosphere was so transparent that the whole scene, even to the tops of the most distant mountains, could be taken in at a glance. Captain Stacey had already been to the Island, and therefore it was not new to him ; besides which, being no admirer of scenery, he took no interest in that now before him. He was the first to speak, saying — " It will be very late for going to Rook Hall this evening." His companion, however, taking no notice of this speech, he went on to say — " Do you not think that if we go direct to Sir Maxwell Cheviot's this evening we may perhaps disturb the family by making our ap pearance there so late in the day ?" " Why, no, I should think not," replied Mr Montague, looking somewhat surprised; "the passage has not been longer than usual, and they cannot expect our arrival at Rook Hall to be sooner than a considerable length of time after that of the packet."

" Well, for my part," said the Captain, " I feel rather out of sorts with the voyage; and, besides, I find that my toilette has suffered so much that I must confess to you I really do not like the idea of presenting myself to my friends at Rook Hall, ere I have had time to recruit and repair the disorder of my accoutrements." His companion then looked at him, but could neither perceive any traces of indisposi tion on his handsome countenance, nor any deficiencies in his perfect toilette ; and, smiling, said that it would then be his task to announce his fellow traveller's arrival, and he supposed they would have the pleasure of meeting again on the morrow at Rook Hall. That not being at all the kind of arrange- FLOKA CHEVIOT. ment contemplated by Captain Stacey, he now, with apparent frankness, hastened to say— " But, my dear sir, you do not seem to understand that in the first place I exceedingly desire your company this evening ; and, in the second place, I wish you to join me in taking a car out to Sir Maxwell's in the morning."

Mr. Montague then reflected that although lie did not promise himse]f much satisfaction in passing the evening tete-a-tete with his present companion, yet having travelled direct from London, and being much fatigued, it might be better to do as he proposed, and accordingly consented. But the other's motive for making the proposition was, that he might have further opportunity for observing what he thought might be of use to him in carryino forward his own plans. Captain Stacey might possibly have felt annoyed in thinking that Mr. Montague was going to the same house as himself, had it not been that he had come to the following conclusions with regard to that gentleman : — Imprimis, that he was insignificant in ap pearance ; and as he was so perfectly un assuming in manner, and his dress and belongings so unpretending, he was most probably in a very humble position ; and, lastly, that as his conversational powers seemed very limited, it was presumable that his intellect was the same.

Having made which reflections Captain Stacey then con sidered that, as he himself was remarkably handsome, would appear to be in an excellent position, and was, beyond a doubt, most ex ceedingly intelligent and clever, any com parison between them could only tend to his own advantage. Mr. Montague being very reserved regard ing himself and his concerns, all that the Captain succeeded in discovering merely amounted to the fact that this was his first visit to Rook Hall, with the owner of which place, Sir Maxwell Cheviot, he was acquainted, as also slightly with his son, but that he had not yet seen his daughter. But Captain Stacey was unable to obtain any clue to his motive or motives in making this visit. Most persons would hardly have thought of supposing any motive, beyond that of pleasure and amusement, in order to account for such a visit in the summer season to this beautiful little island.

But Captain Stacey was in the habit of supposing that human actions in general had both hidden motives and avowed ones ; because in his own case it was so, and now the reserve of his new ac quaintance caused him to conclude at once that he undoubtedly had some secret motive for it. He smiled to himself, however, as he thought how vain it was to make the attempt of concealing from him anything that he wished to discover, and chose to take the trouble of doing so, and in the present instance he did choose to take that trouble — very slight he felt sure it would be. " For," he said to himself, " the man has not wit enough to hide from me that he does not wish me to know either his own position or his reasons for going to Sir Maxwell Cheviot's." It must be confessed, nevertheless, that during the short evening they passed together — for under plea of fatigue Mr. Montague retired early to rest — the Captain felt himself completely baffled by the cautious and per sistent reserve of his companion, which a good deal vexed him.

But still, his firm reliance on his own shrewdness was not in any way shaken, he thought it was only a matter of time. And as they, on the followb iug morning, together took their places in the car that was to convey them to Rook Hall, he, with self-satisfied complacency, said — " So it seems that this is your first visit to the Isle of Man, and that you are but slightly acquainted with the family at the house where we are going. I have the advantage of you in both these respects, for I know the Island well, and am quite intimate in the Cheviot family ; Herbert Cheviot and I were college friends." " Indeed," quietly observed Mr. Montague, with indifference. " I understand," thought Captain Stacey, " }rou feign such perfect indifference regard ing my affairs in order to deter me from making any inquiries respecting yours ; but all your precautions will prove as chaff before the wind of my penetration ; I have only to wait awhile, and notwithstanding all your extreme prudence, I shall have learnt every tittle concerning you and your affairs that it may suit me to know."

Chapter II

There's music in the dash of waves When the swift bark clears the foam ; There's music heard upon her deck, The mariner's song of home, When moon and starbeams smiling meet At midnight on the sea — Halleck. Rook Hall, the property of Sir Maxwell Cheviot, was a fine old mansion at the time of which we write, some ten or twelve years ago ; but the handsome grounds surrounding it were then in a very neglected state, and an air of dilapidation and decay had spread itself over the whole place. The stately avenue leading to the front entrance looked cheer less and melancholy, with the dead branches, broken by the weather or accident, still left hanging to the fine old trees, and swaying ghostlike in the wind; whilst the graveled road was overgrown with weeds and moss, aud encumbered with dead leaves and other refuse.

Inside the house, the lofty and noble looking rooms were not in a much more satisfactory state ; for all in them, drapery, hangings and furniture, though looking as if it had at one time been costly and handsome, was now fallen more or less into decay, and in general overlaid by one uniform coating of dust. The reception rooms seemed to be little used, ex cepting one, called the breakfast room, an apartment of moderate dimensions, and which formed the ordinary sitting-room of the family; which room was usually in a state of great disorder, and littered over with a variety of objects, and one striking feature of which was an untidy-looking book-case, whose always gaping doors the great con fusion inside would never allow to be closed. On the morning when our two fellow-tra vellers were on their way from Douglas, a party of five persons were assembled in this breakfast-room.

Sir Maxwell Cheviot, a fine looking man of about sixty-five, having a benevolent and intelligent countenance, but wanting in the characteristics of firmness and energy. His son, Herbert, a handsome, pleasing looking young man of about one-and twenty, but yet of an indolent and negligent appearance and manners. His daughter, Flora, a beautiful girl of eighteen, whose silken tresses, in disorder, fell in soft masses on her graceful snowy neck, and strayed over her fair smooth forehead ; the expression of her face was careless, frank and goodhumoured in the extreme ; witty also, and with a dash of pert sauciness; but running through all, might be seen an expression of good sense and right feeling. The other two persons composing the party, were lady friends of Flora's ; the one, Letitia Crosby, who, though only Flora's senior by about a year, owing partly to her thoughtful countenance and quiet staid manners, appeared to be by several years the elder.

The other, Lucy Bell, who though only by about six months Flora's junior, might have been supposed to be two years younger, so extremely girlish was she both in appearance and manners. Letitia Crosby was not, strictly speaking, at all handsome, but neither was she at all what is usually called plain1; and in fact, with her remarkably sensible and amiable countenance, was very agreeable looking. Lucy Bell was very pretty, extremely sweet-looking, with a beautifully fair rose-tinted complexion, delicately formed features, soft, childish-looking blue eyes, that gave to her face an artless, innocent air, a profusion of curly light hair, and a slender, well proportioned, girlish form; whilst her manners suited perfectly with such an exterior, being exceedingly simple and childishly confiding. It may be advisable to say here at once a few words regarding the circumstances and position of these two friends of Flora's. The mother of Letitia was a widow with several children, of whom this daughter was the eldest, with very limited means ; a prudent, sensible per son, and a good manager, by whom Letitia had been altogether well and judiciously brought up.

Lucy Bell's mother was also a widow, and had not a large income ; but Lucy, being her only child, she was nevertheless in tolerably comfortable circumstances. She was an amiable and somewhat weak minded woman, who idolized her pretty daughter, and spoiled her egregiously. Herbert Cheviot had quite decided that he was, and always would remain, perfectly in different to these two friends of his sisters. Lucy he considered stupid and insipid, and although pretty in a doll-like kind of way, not a sort of beauty at all to his taste. As for Letitia, he had made up his mind that she certainly was not pretty — though he could not bring himself to say that she was plain — had a great opinion of herself, and was rather a blue-stocking, a character for which he ex pressed a great dislike, and he did not intend to admire or like her at ah ; and yet he had come to do both, and that very seriously, and for which he often felt very angry at himself, the more so, as Letitia herself seemed quite indifferent, either to his liking or the way in which he sometimes behaved in order to hide his growing attachment ; almost studiously disobliging, and bordering upon rudeness ; differing from her on all subjects, and making himself so disagreeable that his sister would frequently think it incumbent on her to take her friend's part, and reprove him.

Whilst Letitia, whom he would have much preferred to see become angry, remained calm and apparently unconcerned ; and the consequence was, that he felt angry with her, angry with himself, saw that he had been in the wrong and behaved ill, and usually ended by feeling his admiration and attachment still further increased. In the meantime, Letitia was far from being, as she appeared, indifferent to Herbert Cheviot ; but supposing that he rather disliked her, and would assuredly never think of marrying her, disapproving moreover of the unprofitable life he was leading, and considering his indolence of character as a great and serious defect, she was obliged to confess to herself that even if he had wished it, it would not be a desirable thing for her to become his wife. Nevertheless, she could not help but like him, and often felt deeply hurt at his treatment.

Herbert doubted not that he would ulti mately be able to conquer this attachment, which he certainly would not have avowed, and only sometimes acknowledged to him self. Just at the present time, the three young ladies were occupied at the piano in playing and singing. It was a very untidy looking piano, with torn and soiled music books scattered over it, and some on the floor beneath. Sir Maxwell, seated in a large easy chair, was calmly reading a newspaper. Whilst his son, indolently lounging on a sofa, held in his hand a pamphlet, but which he did not seem to be reading, when his sister, turning from the piano, and addressing him, said — " What have you done with the new book we received the other day, Herbert ? I think you had it last, and I want to lend it Miss Crosby, who is very wishful to read it."

But Herbert was then in one of his moods of irritation and unreasonable anger against Letitia, because she was the innocent cause of making him angry with himself; therefore, feigning not to have heard his sister's question, he did not reply, but calling to a dog that lay stretched on the hearthrug, and tossing a glove into the air, he said, " Now, Pompey, catch it !" Letitia well knew and felt that this in attention was meant to show a disregard to her wishes ; she coloured slightly, and a scarcely perceptible expression of pain passed over her face. " Will you please attend to what I am saying," said his sister, " and tell me where that new book — " " How am I to know what book you are talking of? Pompey, that was not well done ; you must do it better than that, or you don't get this sugar," he said, holding up a piece of sugar, taken from a sugar basin left in a slovenly way on a side table.

" Why, the last new book, to be sure. Mr. Charles worth's new story. Letitia Crosby much wished to — " But here the room door was thrown open, and a servant announced — " Captain Stacey and Mr. Montague."

Chapter III

Lies a calm along the deep, Like a mirror sleeps the ocean, And the anxious steersman sees Round him neither stir nor motion. Not a breath of wind is stirring, Dread the hush as of the grave. Goethe. On that day at Rook Hall, during dinner, Captain Stacey and Mr. Montague were seated ou either side of Flora Cheviot, the latter guest having been welcomed by Sir Maxwell as the son of a late much esteemed friend of his, and as such presented to the members of his family and his other guests, but with out any further comment, whilst the Captain was received by the hospitable host with his usual well-bred urbanity. Captain Stacey was attired with great elegance, and, indeed, looked remarkably well ; and exerting to the utmost his really brilliant powers of conversation, strove to render himself as agreeable as possible.

But, notwithstanding that to the eye of a super ficial observer he would doubtless have seemed to have perfectly well succeeded in this attempt, he had nevertheless signally failed; he remained, however, for the time unconscious of this failure, owing to the fact of Flora being, as he was obliged to confess, a great flirt. He had, it is true, engrossed so much of her attention as to leave her little to bestow on her neighbour on the other side ; but that little had sufficed to make a much greater and more favourable impression upon her than he had, with all his efforts, effected. She experienced besides an intuitive esteem and regard for Mr. Montague that in the case of the other was completely wanting. This was the first time that either of these gentle men had seen Flora, as it so happened that on Captain Stacey's former visit to Rook Hall she was at school.

Captain Stacey merely thought her a pretty girl, and such as he had seen many ; but he was besides no great judge of female beauty, thought little of it, and did not now appreciate Flora's. But what he did appre ciate, and which made much more impression upon him, were the costly jewels that she wore, and of which his keen eye at once noted the value, the massive old silver plate with which the dinner table was well supplied, and all the adjuncts, that would lead an observer to come to the conclusion that the owner of Rook Hall was a man of wealth. Flora now had her beautiful hair gracefully arranged ; and the rest of her toilette showed not the traces of disorder that it so often bore ; whilst her swan-like neck and snowy arms were adorned, but not overloaded, with a few well-chosen jewels ; and her charming face was radiant with health, intellect, and happiness.

Mr. Montague thought her very lovely ; she appeared to him, in fact, the most lovely being that he had ever beheld. Lucy Bell was seated between Captain Stacey and Herbert Cheviot ; and to obtain which place she had in some degree manœuvered, for the Captain's appearance and manners had quite dazzled and captivated poor Lucy ; but she soon felt very much mortified on finding herself completely neglected by him. She had been told by her fond, meek mother, and an old servant, that she was superlatively beautiful, and would doubtless have numerous suitors ; and although she c vol. I. affected to disbelieve the greatest part of all this, she nevertheless believed much of it ; and now, when on approaching her eighteenth birthday, she had not yet received a single offer of marriage, she seemed to forget how very young she still was, felt much disappointed, and even latterly had begun to experience some degree of uneasiness regard ing her prospect of being, what she called, well married, by which she meant wealthily married.

On first seeing Captain Stacey, Lucy had at once decided in her own mind that he was undoubtedly a man of wealth, and that she would do her best to attract his notice ; which in truth amounted to making herself appear more silly than usual, and very much disappointed did she feel on see ing that all her efforts were in vain. Some feelings, too, of envy and jealousy towards Flora also mingled themselves with her dis appointment. Herbert was seated by the side of Letitia Crosby — a circumstance that he persuaded himself was purely accidental — and being in one of his irritable humours, made himself as disagreeable to her as he well could. And the consciousness that it was so only added to his ill-humour, which Letitia, although a good deal annoyed, as might be seen by her changing colour, bore with her usual patience and self-possession.

After dinner, when they were assembled in the drawing-room, Mr. Montague noticed that Lucy Bell looked somewhat sad, and seemed to be rather neglected ; and he, there upon, kindly drew near to her, and tried to engage her in conversation. But she was in no humour to allow herself to be drawn out by a nobody not worth the trouble of trying to please ; and he was soon obliged to relin quish the attempt in despair. Sir Maxwell then requested his daughter to c let them have some music, when she at once, in an unaffected manner, complied ; and, taking her place at the piano, accompanied herself to her own singing. When Mr. Montague heard Flora sing, he was so much delighted with her fresh voice, both powerful and sweet, as well as with the great musical taste and talent she displayed, that seating himself near to the piano, he was quickly quite absorbed in the enjoyment of listening to her.

Captain Stacey evidently took little plea sure in the performance ; seemed to lose his flow of spirits, and to become uneasy ; for Flora, like a flirt as she was, thinking that she had bestowed sufficient attention upon him during dinner to last for some time to come, had shown, since they entered the drawing room, a decided inclination to forget his presence ; and, besides, he did not half like Mr. Montague's all-engrossing attitude of attention. "However," he said to himself, " Miss Cheviot shall see that it is not only to herself that I can play the agreeable," and approaching Lucy Bell, he, with what he intended to be a most fascinating smile, politely invited her to take a seat nearer the piano, in order to hear the music better, and then seated himself by her side. This seat was exactly opposite, and in full view of Flora, if she should happen to raise her eyes.

But so exceedingly fascinating had poor Lucy found the Captain's gracious smile and flattering manner, was thrown into such a flutter of delighted vanity, and was so extremely anxious to appear to the best possible advantage, that she quite lost all command of even the very small share of wit she possessed, and made such stupid replies, or talked such nonsense and giggled so sillily, that he was soon forced to come to the conelusion that, in case Flora were to notice them, it would most probably be to remark how absurdly they were behaving; having made which reflection, he unceremoniously left Lucy and joined Letitia Crosby, who was also seated near to the piano. Letitia was just then feeling very sad, for never before had Herbert shown himself so captious and unreasonable to her as he had done at dinner on that day ; and since the}' had been in the drawing-room, he seemed studiously to avoid her, and had now quitted the apartment.

So much depressed did she feel, that as Flora concluded a rather plain tive air, she had some difficulty in restraining her tears. Therefore, when now accosted by Captain Stacey, she felt the necessity of exerting herself to the utmost to control hor ill-timed emotion, feigning more interest in his observations than could reasonably be supposed, and when he laughed, she forced herself to laugh too ; but it was a louder laugh than a natural one would have been. At that instant, she saw Herbert re-enter the apartment, and then immediately quit it again. After which, she became so absent, that Captain Stacey soon found that she neither understood nor attended to his con versation ; and he at length left her side, as little satisfied at the result of his efforts to make himself agreeable as in his recent trial with Lucy.

Meanwhile Herbert was walking rapidly and in the dark — for the night happened to be a very dark one — in the grounds at some distance from the house, and in a very dis turbed state of mind. He was endeavouring to come to some settled resolve in regard to his future line of conduct, repeating to him self that he neither would nor could longer endure to remain in his present position. He debated in his own mind the advisability of quitting the island for a considerable length of time, going a long journey. But there were serious obstacles in the way of execu ing such a plan as that, even had he felt within himself the requisite resolution to have carried it out ; for, indolent though he was, he was still a great assistance to easy-going Sir Max well, whose affairs were always in much con fusion.

And not only did he not think it right to deprive his father of that help, but also he dared not think of what the conse quences to the family might be, supposing he were to absent himself. " But I cannot longer continue this struggle — it is intoler able ! I must make some change !" he ex citedly exclaimed ; and at the same time the tumult of his thoughts causing his movements to be more heedless and precipitate, he struck his forehead with such force against the trunk of a tree, just where a branch had been broken off, that the jagged remains pierced the skin and entered the flesh, whilst with the force of the blow he was thrown violently to the ground, where for some moments he lay stunned, and bleeding from the wound. After awhile he rose, and the pain in his head being so great as to prevent him from being fully conscious, staggered to the house, entered the hall, and then immediately swooned.

Shortly after which a servant, with a look of horror and consternation, throwing open the drawing room door announced to those assembled that " Mr. Herbert was lying in the hall covered with blood, and either dead or dying." It is easier to imagine than describe the scene of confusion that ensued. All with one accord rushed to the hall. Sir Maxwell was in the first instance so overpowered by what he there saw as to be quite incapable of rendering any assistance ; and it was Mr. Montague who raised Herbert from the floor, and laying him gently on one c of the long seats, recommended efficacious re storatives to be applied without delay. These were soon procured ; and whilst they were being administered, Sir Maxwell regained his presence of mind, and despatched a servant for the nearest medical practitioner.

Meanwhile Letitia, seeming to forget all others present — in her distress and grief at seeing Herbert in this state — threw herself on her knees by his side, seized one of his droop ing hands between both her own, and burst into tears. As Hei'bert had only swooned, the restora tives soon had the desired effect, and he recovered his consciousness ; and what he then first clearly became aware' of was that Letitia was on her knees by his side, holding his hand and weeping over it. But no sooner did she perceive that he had opened his eyes and was regarding her very tenderly than, blushing very much, and covered with confusion, she quickly rose and retired behind the group around him, so as to hide herself from his sight. She had, however, already done him a great deal of good, and what with that and the restoratives he now recovered rapidly, and soon made light of the accident, and jestingly recounted how it had happened.

The doctor then arrived, and having exa mined and dressed the wound pronounced it to be unimportant, but recommended that Herbert should at once retire to rest — a re commendation that Sir Maxwell urged him to instantly follow — but he would not consent to do so, ere he had sought out Letitia and spoken a few words to her apart. Her reply to which, though short, was evidently quite satisfactory ; for, notwithstanding he was pale as death, and his bandaged head adding to the ghastliness of his appearance, he then retired with a bright and happy face. When Captain Stacey retired to his room that night he was in very ill-humour, and muttered to himself, " It matters not that the girl is an arrant coquette ; I want her fortune, and have it I will." He then proceeded to unpack a handsome valise, and first took thence a handful of papers that seemed to have been thrust in hurriedly and just before closing it.