Giraldi; or, the Curse of love

Front matter

GIRALDI (SiralM; OR, THE CURSE OF LOVE. BY ROSS GEORGE DERING " I had once been shown a blue star, and wished to renew my acquaintance with it. I had to learn that there were no really blue stars, and the colour had been due to an imperfectly achromatic lens — a type perhaps of some other celestial truths of which we fancy ourselves perfectly certain." — Froude. " Nothing strikes me so forcibly with a sense of the ridiculous as Love. A man in love, I do think, cuts the sorryest figure in the world. . . . The love of a woman is a cloying treacle to the wings of independence." — Keats. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 1889. [Ail rights reserved.] tSaflsmtpne %>vtsg BAILANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. EDINBURGH AND LONDON IN TO THOMAS LOWESTOFT, ESQUIRE, OF BRAYBROOKE HALL, LINCOLNSHIRE, RECOGNITION OF HIS UNWEARIED ATTEMPTS TO DISCOURAGE ME IN MY LITERARY CAREER, AND TO DISSUADE ME, IN PARTICULAR, FROM PUBLISHING THE PRESENT WORK, Eifis Book IS INSCRIBED BY HIS VERY HUMBLE FRIEND AND SERVANT, R. G. D. Dering House, Co. Wicklow, May 1889.

Characters The Duke of Grandchester. The Duke of Moneysworth. The Marquis of Pulvilio, son to the Duke of Grandchester. Sir Jupiter Rampant, a retired Official. Dr. Urquhart, a Physician. Giraldi, a young Catholic gentleman of fortune. Eric Charteris, son to Lady Sharp. Rev. Chauncey Fairweather, the Rector of Heathercombe. Rev. Oriel St. Jerome, Curate of S. Simon-in-the-Slums. Rev. Arthur Tresham, Incumbent of the District Church. Rev. Jabez Insight, Independent Minister. Rev. Israel Doom, Baptist Minister. Rev. Issachar Leech, Orig-inal-Perfectionist Minister. Rev. Father Aloysius, Superior of St. Gertrude's Oratory. Captain Ricochet, a friend of Eric Charteris. Mr. Augustus Pound, a country Banker. Mr. Bawston Mass, an American millionaire. The Duchess of Moneysworth. Lady Gwendolen Honourbright, daughter to the Duke of Grandchester.

Lady Gloatover, > _ \ friends of Lady Gwendolen. Lady Turquoise, ) Lady Rampant. Lady Sharp, a widow. Edith Charteris, her daughter. Beatrice Heath, a friend of Edith Charteris. Margaret Ashe, a useful member of society. Naomi Insight, daughter to Rev. fabez Insight. Helen Jarvis, a schoolfellow of Naomi's. Mrs. Buxom, a brewer's wife. Deacons, Servants, Population, <&■=.. Scene — Heathercombe in Westlandshire. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAP. PAGE I. tresham loquitur I II. LADY SHARP AT HOME 15 III. MORE ABOUT HEATHERCOMBE 50 IV. THE HYACINTHS 64 V. FURTHER EXPERIENCES 8l VI. NAOMI IO4 1 VII. FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI I30, VIII. THE POISON IN THE VEINS 167 IX. FATHER ALOYSIUS 180 X. THE FIRST SUNDAY IN AUGUST 203 XI. NEMESIS GIRALDI; OR, THE CURSE OF LOVE.

Chapter I. Tresham Loquitur

I suppose there are few feelings more natural than the affection which springs up for places we have made our home for any considerable period of our lives. In my own case the sentiment rises almost to a passion ; and whenever the time comes for me to leave a house that has been my shelter even for no more than a year or two, it seems as though I were being torn in twain. The very chairs and tables appear endowed with a reciprocal regret, and to reproach one, in their dumb, sightless fashion, with un faithfulness to one's old friends; while every street and corner in the neighbourhood becomes eloquent with its own silent stories of bygone days and reminiscences. It may be that this is a weakness despised by men who have knocked about the world ; but I am convinced that most VOL. I. A GIRALDI. 2 people will plead guilty, if they are honest, to having experienced its influence at some time or other of their existence.

At any rate, such was certainly the case with me when the day arrived for me to give up my old Bromp ton lodgings, where I had read, smoked, and vegetated for four years, with no other relaxation than an occasional trip to Killarney or the North of France, and a flying visit now and then to my worthy relatives at Abbey Wood. Dull, sombre, and oppressively respectable as those lodgings undoubtedly were, long and eagerly as I had yearned for change and a more active sphere of life, yet, when I found myself beginning to pack up my pipes and books, and giving notice of my intended departure to Mrs. Rotheram, my landlady — (dear old soul ! she had a stroke of paralysis soon afterwards, and tumbled into the fireplace, dragging Heaven knows how many cups and saucers with her off the dining-table) — when I found how comfortless and deserted the old rooms looked, I experienced a pang most pain fully akin to that produced by a sudden attack of indiges tion.

It was so unexpected, too, this leaving of Mrs. Rotheram and my humdrum London life. Only a week before, I had been planning a trip to Somersetshire, and speculating how far a twenty-pound note would carry me, when, strolling meditatively one day down Piccadilly, I became conscious that some one was hailing me with an umbrella from a passing hansom, and heard a well known voice exclaim, " Hullo, Tresham ! the very man I was looking for ! " Whereupon, on closer investigation, I recognised the big brown face and flowing beard of Sir Jupiter Rampant, late Commissioner of something-or-other in Prince Edward's Island. Of course I was glad to find that for once in my life I was in demand, and as I knew Sir Jupiter to be not only the most good-natured person in the world, but a man of some small influence into the bargain, I readily accepted his invitation to take a seat beside him and listen to what he had to say.

"You remember old Sir John Sharp?" continued the worthy knight, pausing for me to nod an affirmative. " Well, you see, the living at Heathercombe which he gave to poor Owen became vacant some time ago, and has remained so ever since ; and as I suppose the people of the district are blessed with souls like the rest of us, it is certainly advisable that the hand-to-mouth system should not continue any longer. Now Sir John's amiable widow asked me the other day whether I thought I could pitch upon a — what was it she said? — a faithful gospeller or an 'acceptable' something, I can't exactly swear what — to put in Owen's place. She isn't a Churchwoman herself, GIRALDI. 4 you know ; but as the living happens to be in her hands, she is anxious to see the pulpit filled by an incumbent of strictly orthodox principles and without very much will of his own.

So if you can conscientiously declare, my dear Tresham, that you answer to the required description in both respects, why there's a precious field of labour open to you at once and three hundred a year into the bargain." Now here was a temptation. Orthodox, and without much will of my own ! All I could do was to throw myself back in my seat and survey the position. It certainly was tempting. I was a budding young Church of England parson, with a morbid horror of everything clerical. I detested the livery, and generally wore a loose lounge-coat, with, I am afraid, rather latitudinarian neckties. At college I had been repudiated by every school of theology that boasted a representative. The High Churchmen said I was Low, the Low Churchmen said I was Broad, and the Broad Churchmen said that whatever my other spiritual dimen sions might be, I sadly wanted depth.

I was well up in most of the religious controversies of the day ; had dipped into Spurgeon's sermons and other Nonconformist literature ; and had been suspected of a leaning towards the Church of Rome. I was familiar with the phraseology peculiar to the Plymouth Brethren, and had once in my life been spoken of by a muscular Methodist as a very weak brother. In view of all this, could I be considered orthodox ? It was true that I had signed, and (with certain allowable elas ticities of interpretation) believed in, the Thirty-nine Articles ; so much was in my favour. But then, on the other hand, I revered Channing as heartily as I abhorred Calvin ; and this was sufficient in itself to condemn any body as a heretic. Such were the bewildering considera tions which chased each other through my brain as the hansom bowled along the Knightsbridge Road and Sir Jupiter masticated the thick end of a large cheroot.

Then I began to think of Heathercombe, and tried to recall all I had ever known of the place and its inhabitants. First. there was that dreadful old Lady Sharp, who dressed in black bombazine that somehow always looked dusty and rough, and invariably spoke in short, cynical, snappish sentences, calculated to exasperate the mildest and meekest of men. I had a recollection of having seen her as a child, and distinctly remembered conceiving a strong antipathy towards her. Lady Sharp was a chosen vessel, and made great capital out of the distinction. In her benighted younger days she had belonged to the Establish ment ; but since her arrival at a knowledge of the truth, GIRALDI. 6 she had identified herself with a peculiar sect called the Original Perfectionists, the chapel in which they assembled being always spoken of among them as a "cause."

The " cause " attended by Lady Sharp was known in the neighbourhood as the Little Hill, in contradistinction to the Greater Hill, a " cause " of more considerable dimensions in the next town, which also belonged to the same denomina tion. Over this fold, and all the officers attached thereto, Lady Sharp reigned and ruled supreme. She patronised the deacons and had them to midday dinner on Sundays, the poorer saints being regaled on tea and toast in the kitchen ; while as for the minister, the Rev. Issachar Leech, he very nearly lived upon her. Then my thoughts turned off to Eric Charteris, Lady Sharp's son by a previous marriage, and an old schoolfellow of my own. It was, in fact, through him that I had gleaned all these particulars of his lady-mother, with whom, poor youth, he was leading a pretty miserable life.

Eric's father, Captain Charteris, died of consumption about four years after he had espoused the showy daughter of a decayed attorney, leaving two children to be brought up by a most injudicious mother. Ten years afterwards, Mrs. Charteris married a very old City alderman, with a comfortable income, whom she lectured and bullied so mercilessly that the unfortunate man died in eighteen months, as his only method of escape ; whereupon his widow found herself at the age of nine-and-forty the mistress of a spacious house, and a very handsome jointure wherewith to keep it up. Now between young Charteris and myself there had always existed a very cordial friendship. He was rather a fast lad, I am afraid, and occasionally given to language which, to put it mildly, might be termed unparliamentary ; a fair billiard-player, an inordinate smoker, and an excellent shot, with about as much capacity for instructive read ing or rational conversation as a rope-dancer.

In spite of this, however, a very sincere attachment had sprung up between us. With all his faults, Eric was as true as steel, and a gentleman to the backbone ; the best of sons, the best of brothers, and the best of friends. At the time I refer to, he was a tall, well-grown youth, just turned twenty one, with a fair, pale complexion, and large, grey, hand some eyes, full of amiability and kindness ; but irresolute, feather-brained, and self-indulgent to a degree. His sister Edith I had never met, but concluded that she was about as much of a divinity as women are generally said to be between eighteen and twenty-five. " Well, Sir Jupiter," I said at last, " I suppose the only thing I can do is to thank you more than I can express, GIRALDI. and accept your generous offer. If the future shows that I do not come up to the prescribed requirements, let the consequences rest upon my own head.

As regards Lady Sharp, I must trust to my native diplomacy, and hope for the best. As far as you are concerned, I can never feel sufficiently grateful." " Oh, that's all right," replied Sir Jupiter in his offhand style. "I considered you'd be the proper man, and I'm glad you've decided to accept. But now there's a point I want to speak to you about before you go ; so if you're not engaged, and will come straight home and dine with us — only my wife and myself — I can have a talk with you upon the matter at once." " If Lady Rampant will excuse my unorthodox coat, I'll come with pleasure," I replied ; for certainly a more un clerical-looking individual than myself at that moment it would have been difficult to conceive. But I was anxious to hear as much as possible about my new field of labour, and naturally was glad of any opportunity that might offer of rendering service to my kind friend Sir Jupiter.

Shortly afterwards we pulled up at his house in Marl borough Crescent, where I received a pleasant welcome from Lady Rampant, one of the most agreeable hostesses in London. She was one of those pale, elegant women who, without being handsome, attract more genuine admiration than nine-tenths of the professed beauties, and she now greeted me with a quiet kindliness which kindled into cordial warmth when Sir Jupiter told her at dinner about the arrangement of the Heathercombe affair. " I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear it, Mr. Tresham," she said, as she peeled her walnuts. " Sir Jupiter and I both agreed what a comfort it would be to us to think that Giraldi would have some one near him in whom we have such confidence as we have in you, and who will, I am sure, be so good a friend to him as yourself.

Of course it would never do " "Come, Alice my dear, you are forestalling me," inter posed her husband. "As far as I know, Tresham has never heard of Giraldi in his life, and it was on this subject that I wanted to speak to him. The fact is, Tresham," he continued, turning to me, " there is a ward of mine, a boy of eighteen or thereabouts, living with his tutor down at Heathercombe. He is of Spanish descent, and a Roman Catholic. The tutor is a most excellent man, as far as I know— one Father Aloysius — but under his influence the lad is growing up a perfect little monk, I'm told, and I don't half like it. I'm a GIRALDI. 10 staunch Protestant myself, and though I'm a trifle more liberal in my views than folks generally, I do feel a strong distrust of the Jesuit influence brought to bear upon him.

From all accounts, young Giraldi is very deeply attached to his religion, and spends half his time in studying ecclesiastical history and what not under his confessor; and while I wouldn't for worlds disturb the boy's convic tions, or put anything like controversy in his way, I should be very glad for some counter-influence to be introduced. A healthy religious feeling is one thing ; a morbid enthusiasm is another. By George ! when I think of all they tell me about that boy, my blood nearly boils over. Not because he's of a different religion from myself, but because he's so bound down, body and soul, to those priests. They may be well-meaning enough for aught I know, but I tell you the boy is simply under their thumbs ; he's like a bit of cobbler's wax in their hands ; his very conscience isn't his own, and if they tell him black's white, which I'm perfectly sure they do, he swallows it without winking.

It strikes me, therefore, that if a man like yourself came in his way, and just con trived to draw him a little out of his present groove, it would do him an immensity of good. I want you, out of friendship to me, to be a sort of companion to the lad ; to get him out riding or boating, to make him read books of a liberal and practical tendency, and, in a word, to give him a good routing out. I don't pretend to be much of a theologian myself, but still I have my opinions," con cluded Sir Jupiter a little vaguely, as he sipped his claret, " and all I want is to see Giraldi more of a man and less of a monk than I fear he is at present." "Yes, indeed," added Lady Rampant, turning her kindly brown eyes upon me as she spoke. " Giraldi will be a rich man one of these days, Mr. Tresham, and just think what it would be to see a fine English fortune fall into the hands of those dreadful priests.

I saw one of them once — a sly-looking man with a smooth face, and oh, so dirty ! To think of Giraldi getting so far as to consider cleanliness a sin ! You may laugh, my dear," said the excellent lady, as Sir Jupiter's good-humoured face puckered up in all directions with undisguised enjoyment of his wife's ideas on papistical ablutions, "but I'm perfectly serious for all that. I do plead guilty to an intense horror of Popery in general and priests in parti cular, and I would rather see Giraldi in his grave than become a dirty, shaven monk. Don't you think I'm right, Mr. Tresham?" "I assure you that what you have told me interests GIRALDI. 12 me greatly," I replied evasively, with a strong effort to keep my countenance. "I am most anxious to make Giraldi's acquaintance, and feel sure that we shall be excellent friends.

But has he no companions of his own age ? Does he never visit in the neighbour hood ? " "Well, as to that," replied Sir Jupiter, "I'm inclined to think he does. He's only been there a few months ; but I believe Lady Sharp condescends to patronise him occasionally, very much as she might a Buddhist or a Fiji Islander. But really I scarcely know. I am very slightly acquainted with Heathercombe. All I know is that it abounds with parsons of every hue and shade : great is the company of preachers. But what sort of people they all are, or what the society is like, I have no more idea than the man in the moon. It's an entirely unexplored field as far as I am concerned." " But is Lady Sharp as great an autocrat as she is repre sented?" I asked, a vague presentiment creeping over me that my future cure might not prove altogether a bed of roses.

"What I cannot understand about her is, that being so completely given over to this strange whim of Original Perfectionism— whatever that may be — she should still be so particular about the doctrines preached from a Church of England pulpit. She can never expect them to coincide with her own views." "You forget, Mr. Tresham, that she is a woman, and, like all the rest of us, is fond of power," replied Lady Rampant, laughing. " Lady Sharp is as inveterate a pope as any who ever wore petticoats, and has no objection to a little temporal power in her own sphere, although she does look upon everybody who is not an Original Per fectionist as a heathen man and a publican. She makes no secret of her suspicion that the Church of England is nearly related to Babylon ; so you must not be surprised if her surveillance is apt to become a little embarrassing at times.

However, I don't think you need be very much afraid. She's not a bad woman at heart ; only a trifle domineering, and perhaps a little — mad." Lady Rampant here rose from the table, and thereupon Sir Jupiter launched out. He was one of the most amus ing talkers I ever knew, and his fund of anecdote was inexhaustible. There was scarcely a single man of note with whom he had not come into contact at one period or another of his life — according to his own account — or a sphere of politics in which his influence was unfelt. We sat over our cheroots and Burgundy till nearly eleven, and when I came away, it was with a confused idea that the GIRALDI. 14 Premier was a mere puppet in the hands of Sir Jupiter Rampant ; that the Archbishop of Canterbury never issued a charge without talking the matter over with him first ; that the Lord Chamberlain invariably consulted him with respect to the licensing of plays, and that the stroke of policy to which we owed the acquisition of Cyprus did not originate with the statesman who is generally credited with it.

Sir Jupiter had evidently been a very powerful person in his day ; but that palmy period must have been long past. Whatever he may have been previously, I only knew him as the kindest and most genial of men, and the best raconteur in the town.

Chapter II. Lady Sharp At Home

One of the many crosses laid upon the sturdy shoulders of Lady Sharp during her pilgrimage through the town which is called Vanity was the necessity of periodically entertaining the gay world. Once a month the ample doors of Brookfield Hall were thrown open to receive her neighbours, and as she rather prided herself on never doing things by halves, however disagreeable they might be, she made a point of inviting persons of every possible persuasion, profession, and pursuit. On these occasions she was wont to emerge from her dressing-room in extra rustling crapes and more than usually funereal silks, telling herself that, having done her duty to the Church every day for a month before, she would not begrudge a few hours to the world she so despised. Her guests had long since made up their minds to take her as she was, and her evenings became an institution.

On the particular Thursday of which we are writing, her rooms GIRALDI. were more than usually full, owing to the rumour that the new clergyman, who had only arrived two days previously, was to appear for the first time on that occasion ; and it is therefore a good opportunity to introduce our readers to some of the more prominent members of society in the neighbourhood which forms the scene of this most veracious history. Brookfield Hall was a big red-brick mansion, standing in its own grounds, about a mile from the village — old, ugly, and comfortable. Everything about it was dingy and showed signs of wear, but the general appearance was pleasant and homelike enough. The rooms were spacious, the hall was lofty and well-proportioned, and the house well warmed and lighted throughout. Dull and quiet as it generally is, to-night there is a confused hum of voices mingled with sounds of cheerful laughter, and the ruddy glow of light which confronts us as we open the drawing-room door imparts a very lively aspect to the scene.

Let us take a quiet glance round the ottomans and sofas, and make our acquaintances at leisure. Imprimis, ensconced in dowdy grandeur amid billows of rustling crape, sits Lady Sharp; red, plethoric, and severe. She is nodding her head with a nervous motion peculiar to herself as she converses loftily with a pleasant looking brown-bearded man of thirty or thereabouts, who is evidently on easy terms and knows how to manage her. He is speaking half-chaffingly, half-deferentially upon some subject of trivial import, and Lady Sharp is snubbing him right and left, to his great apparent delight. At a short distance from her mother sits Edith Charteris, a frank and comely girl of nineteen, victimising herself for the entertainment of a ponderous German, who is shockingly ill at ease, but most immensely flattered.

His English is imperfect, and he is consequently a trifle slow to under stand, but his admiration paralyses him altogether. " Don nerwetter! das Madchen ist aber allerliebst" he exclaims under his breath, as Edith is called away to the other end of the room, and the stalwart Teuton, relieved from his ordeal, takes refuge in a photographic album. Under the principal chandelier stands, in an attitude of approved mediæval obliquity, the Rev. Oriel St. Jerome, the High Church curate of St. Simon-in-the-Slums, a well-meaning young man who combines a picturesque bias towards asceticism with a latitudinarian partiality for lawn-tennis, and submits to the hyperdulia of young ladies as a honeyed form of carnal mortification. This very worthy and harmless person is engaged in discussing church decoration, vol. 1. b GIRALDI.

Gregorian music, and other profundities of his profession with a handsome dark-eyed girl somewhat theatrically dressed in scarlet and white ; but she belongs to the dis trict church, and disdains to join in the calf-worship of St. Simon's. In a distant corner of the room we see another cleric, of a very different type from the youthful Anglican. This man is decidedly slovenly in his dress; his short beard and moustache are ill-trimmed and scrubby ; his eyes are weak, and protected by blue spectacles ; and his name is Issachar Leech. Writhing under the paw of Mr. Leech, who has pounced upon him unawares, is Eric Charteris — fair, tall, handsome, and unintellectual. He would give an hour of his life for a game at billiards with Captain Ricochet, the pleasant-looking man above men tioned ; but the fates are against him for the present, for Mr. Leech is deep in the account of a mission to the Mpongwes, and takes no note of time.

Then we have Mr. Augustus Pound, the wealthy banker, a yellow bachelor of sixty ; Mr. Buxom, the rather wealthier brewer, with his jovial wife, a lady of unusual circumference and placid smiles ; and Dr. Urquhart, the favourite medical practi tioner. Some are talking politics, some discussing the more important topics of the parish ; some are playing whist, others boring, others being bored; while for the entertainment of those who like to hear music without the trouble of listening to it, an excellent Erard is kept going vigorously at intervals. To enumerate everybody present would be as tedious as Homer's catalogue of ships ; but there is just one other guest, who, being an important person in our narrative, must not be omitted. Neither boring nor being bored, but sitting somewhat apart, absorbed in a magnificent volume of illuminations, is a young lad of nineteen.

His thick, dark, curly hair falls in not ungrace ful disorder over a clear, well-shaped brow ; his bright, soft eyes are of that dense grey which flashes coal-black when turned from the light, and the general characteristic of his face is an expression of almost childlike innocence. Alto gether he is a decidedly pretty-looking little fellow, though he is wanting in that manliness of appearance which is the usual attribute of English youths. When spoken to, he replies with smiling alacrity, but does not carry on the conversation, being glad to relapse into his close study of the brilliant book before him. He gives one rather the impression of living in a world of his own ; a casual glance is all he bestows upon the gay scene in which he finds himself, though his eye occasionally rests for a brief second upon the ecclesiastics present with an expression of mingled humour and perplexity.

GIRALDI. 20 "And what, my dear Lady Sharp," says the insinuating voice of Mr. Leech, as he takes a seat of privileged proximity by the side of his patroness, having at length released Eric from his toils, — " what, my dear Lady Sharp, is your opinion of the new young man ? " "Well, I haven't seen him yet," replied Lady Sharp, turning graciously towards her spiritual adviser. "He called yesterday when I happened to be out ; but I expect him every minute. You know that he was at the same school as my son ; though Eric was then a little boy and Mr.'^Tresham a big one. He is strongly recommended by Sir Jupiter Rampant, and there is every reason to hope that he will turn out well." "I am sure I hope he may," rejoined the pastor, with a deprecating smile. "But infidelity, as might be expected, is spreading fast among the so-called clergy of the Establishment, and young men without serious convictions are sadly open to its influence.

Is the young man sound as regards the essentials of the faith ? " "Sir Jupiter assures me that his views are beyond all question," answered Lady Sharp ; " otherwise you may be sure I should never have taken so decided a step as to present him with the living. Perhaps, however," she added thoughtfully, "it would have been as well if you had seen him first." " Oh, let us hope for the best," was the mollified reply. " How wisely things are ordered ! To think of the pulpit of a corrupt Church being at the disposal of so gracious a soul as yourself! And how blessed the thought that the proud Establishment is, through you, dependent for one of its ministers upon our own little body of believers ! " . " I fancy the Church people would scarcely share your gratitude for that," remarked her ladyship, with a sardonic smile.

" Why, of course not," replied Mr. Leech complacently. " But what a privilege for us ! How mysterious are His ways ! And yet, you know, the treasure is often put into earthen vessels. Supposing, now, my dear sister — of course I am only putting a case — but supposing that this young man should prove latitudinarian in his views : or even imbued with the poison of Romish superstition ? What an occasion for the enemy to blaspheme ! What a stumbling-block even for our own cause ! Have you given any thought to this side of the question, my dear lady?" " I have considered the question in all its bearings," snapped Lady Sharp, who did not relish being called an earthen vessel by anybody except herself. "Wasn't that GIRALDI. 22 the hall-door ? " she continued, as a bang was heard out side. " Perhaps here he is at last."