Godiva Durleigh, etc

Front matter

GODIVA DURLEIGH. Site stood at a narrow slit ot a ■window, watching unseen for Rex. (See p. 7S.) (Frontispiece) Qodiva Durleigh A NOVEL FOR GIRLS BY SARAH DOUDNEY AUTHOR OF ttA WOMAN'S GLORY", "WHERE THE DEW FALLS LN LONDON", "THROUGH PAIN TO PEACE", "WHERE TWO WATS MEET", ETC. "Meanwhile to feel and suffer, work and wait, Remains for us. The wrong indeed is great, But love and patience conquer soon or late." J. G. Whittier $*0!t&0U HUTCHINSON «fc CO 25 Paternoster Square PRINTED AT NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND) BY H. C. A. THIEME OF NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND) AND TALBOT HOUSE, ARUNDEL STREET, LONDON, W.C. CONTENTS CITAPTER PAGE I. — HAUNTED BT A FACE 1 II. — THE SALTEKNES 8 IU. — A JOYLESS JOY 17 IV. — A DREAM 31 V. — SUNSHINE AND CALM 41 VI. — " I WILL TELL YOU WHEN THEY MET* 48 VII. — BEX'S EARLY DAYS 5S VIII. — "GOD HATH ALREADY SAID WHAT SHALL BETIDE". 66 IS. — DREAMS AND SUNSHINE 75 X. — "HOW MANY SIMPLE WAYS THERE ARE TO BLESS*. 85 XI. — "i HAVE FINISHED MY COURSE" 92 XII. — DAYS OF HEALING 100 XIII.

WHAT REX HAD TO SAY 107 XrV. — FAREWELL LOOKS AND WORDS 116 XV. — IN A NEW WORLD 125 XVI. — BY THE SEA 134 XVII. — A LITTLE BROWN BABY 144 xvin. — in st. Matthew's road 155 XIX. — CONCERNING COLINETTE 164 XX. — "ES HER TONGUE IS THE LAW OF KINDNESS" . . 174 XXI. — THE FIRST LINKS OF A CHAIN 184 XXII. — "SCARCE OTHER THAN MY OWN IDEAL KNIGHT" . . 193 XXIII. — AN INKY CHAPTER CONTENTS. CHAPTEE PAGE XXIV. — THE BEGINNING OF SPRING 215 XXV. — "THE WEIGHT OF THIS SAD TIME WE MUST OBEY". 226 xxvi. — "hope-lifted; doubt-depressed" 232 xxvn. — love's victory won 239 XXVIII. — "AND BY-AND-BY A CLOUD TAKES ALL AWAY " . . 246 XXIX. — " LOVER AND FRIEND HAST THOU PUT FAR FROM ME ". 253 XXX. — "LIFE'S BURDENS FALL, ITS DISCORDS CEASE " . . 260 XXXI. — "THEY SOUGHT HER BAITH BY BOWER AND ha'" . 268 XXXII. — REVELATIONS 281 XXXIII. — GOOD TIDINGS 296 XXXIV. — "IT IS NOT, AND IT CANNOT COME TO, GOOD" . . 305 XXXV. — "OH, TELL HER BRIEF IS LIFE, BUT LOVE IS LONG". 316 XXXVI. — "ALAS, HOW HARDLY THINGS GO RIGHT!" .... 326 XXXVII. — THE UNEXPECTED 336 XXXVIII.— GOING AWAY 345 xxxix. — Charlie's friend 352 XL. — WHAT GEORGE DID FOR CHARLIE 361 XLI. — OUT OF THE MOUTH OF THE LION 369 XLII. — "MY LOVE, HE STOOD AT MY RIGHT HAND" . . . 380 XLIII. — " SHE IS COMING HOME" 390 XLIV.— "LAY THY SWEET HANDS IN MINE, AND TRUST TO ME". GODIVA DUBLEIGH,

Chapter I. Haunted By

A FACE. " Don't go indoors yet, father. Let us walk to the end of the street, close up to the old water-gate. " Morris Durleigh turned from the door and looked at his daughter for a moment. Her eyes met his with a frank, bright gaze, and then something which made you think of a ray of light passed over his face. It was a face that was visited now and then with a sudden illumination, but its habitual expres sion was thoughtful and sad. " My good little girl, " he said slowly and fondly. " Always contented with your surroundings — never pining to stretch your wings and fly away from this ugly old street ! " " Not ugly, father. Look at those soft shades of grey in the stone-work of Duke Steenie's old water gate ! And see how sunshiny the Embankment gardens are this morning ! I like it all just as it is.

Why should I want to fly away? " It was a fine Sunday in February, and Bucking ham Street seemed to be touched with the first sunbeams of Spring. Days of snow and bitter wind A were yet to come, but here was a bright hour shining upon the London world after the gloom of a dark winter. Godiva Durleigh was a girl who always made much of her bright hours, and basked in the sunlight while it lasted. " You must not abuse our street, father, " she went on. " When I think of all the people who have lived here, I feel that they have left us a store of pleasant memories. My dear old gossip Pepys — my still dearer Dickens— and David Copperfield, in his ' young gen tleman' days! They have never deserted their old haunts; I assure you that I am always exchanging friendly greetings with them. " " I have no time to spend with dream-companions, Godiva, although they are very good company : 'With live women and men to be found in the world — Live with sorrow and sin— live with pain and with passion ; ' to make my heart ache, and keep my brain busy, I lose my hold on the beings of yesterday.

" " Dickens does not belong to yesterday, father, " said the girl with soft enthusiasm. " He belongs to this time and all the coming times. A man who lives in the hearts of the people is always a man of to-day." " Quite true, Godiva, " Morris Durleigh answered, and the light passed over his face again. They were standing at the end of the street looking through the iron railings at the water-gate. And presently Godiva saw that her father's eyes were gazing far away, over the gate across the gardens, into some invisible world beyond. She was familiar with this look of his, and always wondered what he was seeing. Sometimes he would answer the question which she seldom put in words ; sometimes he kept silence. After lingering for a few minutes, they retraced their steps to their own door again.

They lived in apartments ; the parlour overlooking the street was HAUNTED BY A FACE. the room in which Morris Durleigh wrote his leading articles, and did a great deal of hard working and hard thinking undisturbed by the turmoil of London life. After all, as Charles Kingsley said long ago, there is no place so good to work in as London. The small sounds that would irritate us in the country silence are swallowed up in the roar of the city. And in Buckingham Street there was really some thing like quietness ; even the piano-men had found out that they gained nothing by grinding in front of those dull-looking houses. Morris Durleigh's window was partially screened from the gaze of the outer world by large plants which were always in good condition. In spite of the smoky atmosphere they flourished bravely, and he liked to sit and write in the shade of their greenness.

Just before the door opened, Godiva asked some trifling question. But she received no reply, and one glance at Morris Durleigh convinced her that his mind was far away again. There was a look of trouble in his eyes which awakened her anxiety. ' Father, " she said quickly, " there is something the matter, is there not ? What is it ? " And as they crossed the threshold he answered in a reassuring tone — " Nothing is amiss with me, Godiva. Only I am haunted by a face. " To a certain extent the answer was satisfactory. It was a relief to know that her father was neither ill nor threatened with any personal calamity. As usual he had appropriated the trouble, real or imaginary, of some one else, and was groaning under the weight of another's burden. " To seek and to save " — to right the wrongs of the defenceless — to drag hidden cruelty into the strong light of day, and reveal it in all its hideousness — this was the work that he felt himself called to do ; and he did it with all his might.

" He will tell me all about the face by-and-by, " thought Godiva as she went flying upstairs to the top of the house. Her bedroom was under the roof, next door to Aunt Susanna ; and she would not, for the world, have exchanged places with the rich widow who was lodged lower down. She had learnt to love the room when she had first slept in it, a motherless child of ten, with Aunt Susanna watching over her slumbers. And now another ten years had passed away, and she was a woman of twenty, looking back on the child's sorrow as a sad tale that is told ; but the little room, with its simple comforts and decorations, was dear to her still. She put off her jacket and bonnet and stood in front of the glass to smooth the soft rough hair, which took obstinate little twists and curls, and refused to submit to bondage.

Godiva was seldom unnoticed, and yet you would have found it difficult to tell why she attracted your attention. The glass reflected a soft, pale, oval face, grey eyes with thick black eyebrows and lashes, and full lips that trembled at a word or a sound. But she was not thinking much of the face that she saw there ; she was thoughtfully going over in her own mind the words that her father had spoken. Would he suddenly announce his intention of start ing off in search of the person he had seen ? No matter how wild the quest appeared, she knew that he would go forth if the inner voice called him. The daughter never criticized the father's doings for a moment. She believed so implicitly in him and his mission, that nothing seemed too hard for him to accomplish. Even Aunt Susanna was silenced at once if she ventured to hint that Morris Durleigh was just a shade Quixotic.

Godiva ran downstairs, — a slim little figure flitting past the portly widow, who had just toiled heavily home from church. The stout woman looked after HAUNTED BY A FACE. 5 the girl with a passing feeling of envy, and then went back to her fireside chair, thanking her stars that she had a comfortable income without incum brances. She had always carefully avoided little Miss Durleigh, who was the daughter of a Com munist, or a Socialist, or a philanthropist; she was quite sure about the termination of the word, at any rate. Godiva, however, was utterly unconscious of the widow's precautionary measures ; but she some times bestowed a pitying thought on that poor Mrs. Naylor, who was obliged to walk so slowly, and did not care for books. The girl was so happy, and so perfectly satisfied with her life, that other lives seemed poor and tame beside her own.

Morris Durleigh said little at luncheon, and Aunt Susanna and Godiva talked quietly between them selves. But afterwards, when he had gone to the easy-chair in which he took his Sunday rest, his daughter came to his side with a gentle question. * Father, are you still thinking about that face ? " " I wonder if I shall ever cease to think of it ! " he said sadly. "It was a woman's face, Godiva. I saw her yesterday morning." " Was she young, father? And where did you see her?" * She was a mere girl. John Salterne had come to the office at one o'clock, and he dragged me out with him for a talk before luncheon. You know what a proser he is, Godiva. He started off on his favourite theme — this absurd philanthropy of mine, which is ruining my chance of success in life, and yours too." " Never mind him, father.

" "I wish I didn't mind him. If he were not such an honest man as he is, I shouldn't heed him at all. I can bear anything from a man I don't beheve in. But Salterne, with his exasperating dogmas and his detestable platitudes, is genuine to the core. It was while he was holding forth that I saw that poor girl. She was standing outside the railings in Savoy Street, and looking at the old chapel and the garden." "My dear chapel!" said Godiva softly. "It is a poem set in the middle of life's ugliest prose." " That is just what the girl was thinking. Only her thoughts were sadder than yours have ever been. The little sanctuary, with its grass and trees, reminded her of some place that she had known and loved in happier days. Poor thing, she was over young to have had a past! " "Was she pretty, father?"

" She ought to have been. God means all girls to be pretty and good, and they would be so if the wickedness of the world did not spoil them. Sin is always thwarting nature's intentions. I can picture that face in a moment of joy; it would then have been quite beautiful. But its look of hopelessness was beyond expression." " Do you think she was very poor ? Were her clothes in tatters ? " asked Godiva, her grey eyes full of tears. . " No, she was decently dressed in a long tweed cloak. Salterne was holding me by the arm, and pouring his hoard of maxims into my ear. I wish I had stopped short and knocked him down ! I wish I had done anything but what I did! The voice within me was louder than the nasal drawl of my dunderheaded old friend! And yet I let him drag me on." Morris Durleigh sprang up suddenly from his chair, as if stung by the sharpness of an intolerable pain, and began to pace the room with rapid strides.

Godiva went to him and put her arms within his. " Dear father, you may see her another day, " she said soothingly, although her tears fell fast. " How can one tell ? I refused to obey the voice, and it may not speak again. Even if I could rescue HAUNTED BY A FACE. 7 a thousand unhappy women I should never forget that one. A glimpse of the lost sheep was given me, but I did not lay hands on it and save it." " But, father, are you sure that she was quite friendless? A little thing will sadden a girl some times, you know." " Godiva, I have not studied human faces all my life without learning to read what is written on them. Some men spend their days in deciphering hieroglyphics on rocks. As for me, I don't care a straw about the history that a dead and gone nation has left on stone. I go about reading what sin and sorrow write on flesh and blood ; my business is with the living, and their life of to-day.

If I do not find that girl she may sink into some unfathomable abyss. I tell you she had come to the end of everything — love, hope, the very means of existence. And the memories that suddenly sprang up round the little chapel were driving her to despair ! Don't you know that the sight of grey walls and green grass is more than some hearts can endure?" He began to walk more slowly, and his voice sank almost to a whisper. " I will go to the street every day, " he said, after a pause. "She may be there again."

Chapter II. The Salternes

John Salterne was a sober, plodding City man with a slow brain and a kind heart. He spent a good many of his leisure moments in trying to pull Morris Durleigh into the beaten track, and never ceased to be astonished at the failure of his well meant efforts. It was really quite true that Morris was doing hard work for small pay — quite true that he might have made a far better income if he had hearkened to the counsels of his old friend. Honest John had done his best ; he had heard with horror of Durleigh's resolution to give himself up to philanthropy, and when he found that Morris had helped to start a new Radical paper, his indignation knew no bounds. "The Champion," he said, "was the most abominable publication that had ever issued from the press. He could not hope that it would succeed, even for Morris's sake.

The misguided man was deaf to all good, sensible, old-fashioned advice. He was living in a fever of wild hope and wilder effort, and by-and-by there would come the wretched consciousness of failure, and the final collapse. There was but one end for all these enthu siasts and dreamers." Morris accepted these dismal predictions with per fect indifference. When John Salterne pressed him too hard, he would sometimes say that it was not for him to expect a better fate than his masters had had. " It is the seed that lives and grows, " he said, " not the hand of the sower. " Nor did he des pond when the Champion proved unsuccessful. He went on with his work just the same, doing editing and leader-writing with unflagging zeal. It was his mission to speak for the people, to put their wants into words, to be their never silent voice.

" Oh, they are ready enough to speak for them selves nowadays," Salterne remarked cynically. " They don't ask you to take the words out of their mouth. " It was very seldom that Morris resented his old friend's plainness of speech. John Salterne was heavy and commonplace ; but a true man instinc tively recognizes truth, and John's steadfast integrity atoned for his dulness. In this case a warm heart was held in bondage by dim eyes and deaf ears. He was not quick to see misery, nor could he hear the endless wail of suffering humanity. He was utterly unable to understand Morris, and yet he was capable of loving him well, and trying to serve him after his own fashion. Godiva, too, was second only to his own daughter, although he never ceased to find fault with her name. But the girl rejoiced in being called after "The woman of a thousand summers back," who had proved her love for the people of her town.

In vain did John Salterne argue that the old story was merely an absurd fable; Godiva only pitied him for not realizing the golden truth that such a fable enshrined. Once or twice a year Morris Durleigh and his daughter went to dine with the Salternes at their house at Notting Hill. They both dreaded these festivals, and returned gratefully to their ordinary life after having been feasted at the Salterne board. If John was dull, Mrs. Salterne and Miss Salterne were hopelessly dense. They could not see anything to like or admire in the Durleighs, and always en tertained them with great reluctance. But honest John was man enough to be master in his own house, and his wife and daughter were elaborately polite to poor Godiva. They could not help icing their smiles and words a little ; it was so disagreeable to remem ber that Miss Durleigh's aunt was housekeeper in a lodging-house, and had been a second mother to her orphan niece.

One could not expect much refinement in a girl who had been brought up under such circumstances. If Godiva innocently referred to Aunt Susanna they were always ominously silent. Elizabeth Salterne talked persistently about the costumes worn at the drawing-rooms and fashionable weddings; and if Godiva tried to introduce the sub ject of art or literature she was sure to be coldly checked. Morris Durleigh was intimate with many men of mark; but Elizabeth refused to believe that his daughter had ever met any one who was worth knowing. She had no respect for the great thinkers of the day. The men who put their thoughts into pictures or poems were nobodies in Miss Salterne's estimation. Godiva used to resent this contemptuous indifference very bitterly sometimes, and it often cost her an effort to hide her feelings.

She did not know that a time was coming when she should be thank ful for this power of restraint, first exercised in John Salterne's house. The art of self-control (so much nobler than the art of self-defence) was destined to be constantly practised in her after-life. It happened that the Durleighs were engaged to dine with the Salternes on Monday, a most unfor tunate arrangement, for Morris and Godiva were both thinking of the unknown girl of Savoy Street, and the daughter was as much interested in her as the father. They had talked of her and thought of her till they could talk and think of nothing else. Godiva had a hopeful nature ; already she had rehearsed a meeting with the stranger; already she had made up half-a-dozen histories of her, and every history had a happy ending. Before she went to bed she had opened her heart to Aunt Susanna.

Aunt Susanna Hayward understood her niece very well, and never chilled her with an unsympathetic response, although she sighed sometimes over the girl's possible future. Godiva always followed her father's lead with intense eagerness; she had the true spirit of an enthusiast and partisan. There was no room in her mind for the thousand and one impulses and fancies which actuate most young girls. All her interests were absorbed in her father and his mission. She was a great lover of books; but her favourite authors were those who wrote of men and women, and their daily lives of struggle and strife, action and rest. Her imagination was powerful and vivid, but it seldom carried her out of the every-day world — that world in which Morris Durleigh worked with such unwearying zest. " I wish we were not going to the Salternes' to-morrow, aunty, " she said, with a deep sigh ; " it's such a waste of time, you know.

Their dinners always make us feel tired and depressed. Ten minutes of their society seem to weigh us down as no ten hours of our ordinary lives have ever done." "But they mean to be kind to you," Aunt Susanna replied ; " and I don't think they can help being dull." Godiva was brushing out her curly brown hair for the night, and turned round, brush in hand, with rather a repentant look. " Have I said anything ungrateful ? " she asked. "Well, I will try with all my might to like them better. No, I can't! I can't like people in whom it is impossible to kindle any flame." " I am afraid your father is all flame, Godiva. He is consuming himself." She started, gave her thick hair a little shake back, and fixed her clear grey eyes on Miss Hayward. " That was said like Mr. Salterne, aunty, only you express yourself better than he does," she said rather coldly.

"Of course father is consuming him self; he would tell you that he was created for no other purpose. But I think he will live quite as long as the Salternes, who do nothing but feed and pamper their bodies. I notice that there are all sorts of ailments peculiar to heavily selfish people." " Now I have vexed you, my dear. " Aunt Susanna was repentant in her turn. " Morris Durleigh is the grandest man I know. God bless him!" Godiva instantly went towards her and kissed her. Morris Durleigh went to his old friend's house with dreary resignation expressed in his voice and face. He always got on better with John when he was away from Notting Hill. Mr. Salterne at home was pompous and grandiose to the last degree. He treated Morris with good-natured indulgence, and spoke with such an air of patronage to Godiva that she lost sight of the real kindliness that lay hidden under the bombastic manner.

The truth was that John tried on these occasions to put the Dur leighs in a favourable light. He wanted the ladies of his house to see them to the best advantage. He endeavoured to throw all their peculiarities into the shade, and the result of all these laudable efforts was the miserable depression of his guests. The dinner passed off as usual. Morris talked little, and Godiva knew that conversation was not required of her. She was expected to listen meekly to the remarks made by the Salternes, and agree with all they said. On the whole she thought they were going on very well. No one had touched on any unfortunate subject; the talk had trickled monoto nously into safe channels, and she congratulated herself on the prevailing tranquillity. But it is always unwise to shout before you are out of the wood.

A few minutes later and Godiva's peace of mind had taken flight. They were all trifling over dessert, and a momen tary silence had fallen upon them. Mrs. Salterne was the first to break the pause ; she addressed Godiva with the affable little smile which she always bestowed on her inferiors. " You are happily spared any knowledge of domes tic troubles, Miss Durleigh," she said. "Some friends of ours have been shamefully robbed by a nursemaid. I think you have heard me speak of the Linghams, retired naval people, very well connected ? " Godiva dropped a meek little "yes." " Well, the captain spoils Mrs. Lingham entirely. She is a great deal younger than her husband ; a delightful person, but so unpractical. I told her from the first that she put too much confidence in her young nurse ; but she said that Joy had come to her with an excellent character.

I believe the girl had bewitched her." " She was clever in managing children," remarked Elizabeth Salterne. " And Mrs. Lingham, poor thing, is not able to cope with them at all. So she was compelled to leave them to Joy." "I disapprove of lazy mothers," Mr. Salterne put in. " Oh, my dear, we mustn't be hard on delicate women, " said his wife. " But let me finish my story. Poor dear Mrs. Lingham, in her trustful way, gave Joy a ten-pound note and sent her out shopping. While she was out, the Captain chanced to meet her, walking with a very fast-looking young man, and he came home and mentioned the circum stance. But his wife said at once that Joy had told her, from the first, that she was engaged to some one she had known from her childhood." "The girl had always assumed an air of candour, " said Elizabeth, with a cynical smile.

" I used to think sometimes that she was almost too ingenuous ! " " By-and-by Joy returned, " Mrs. Salterne con tinued. " But she had made no purchases. She came in, looking very strange and white, and said that the ten-pound note was gone. Of course the Linghams accused her at once of walking with the young man, and she admitted that she had met him. She also admitted, after close questioning, that she had given him her bag to hold for a minute. The purse containing the note was in the bag. " Morris Durleigh's interest was wide awake. He had fixed his piercing blue eyes on his hostess, and was waiting impatiently to hear more. " It's a marvel that she did return, " said Elizabeth. " I don't think so, " Mrs. Salterne replied. " She had lived with Mrs. Lingham a year, and had quite succeeded in winning her confidence.

She thought that her mistress would believe any improbable story that she chose to tell. But my poor friend had opened her eyes at last. " " She opened them rather too late, " said John Salterne. " Well, my dear, I never thought that poor Mrs. Lingham was keen-sighted. We are not all equally gifted. And then you know that the clergyman's letter of recommendation prepared her to trust in Joy. She was cruelly deceived. " "Who was the clergyman? Where did the girl come from? " inquired Morris Durleigh, with startling abruptness. Mrs. Salterne tried to assume a dignified expression; she wished him to understand that she was accustomed to be deferentially addressed. But he did not care a pin about her dignity ; he just wanted an answer to his question. 8 Joy came from a remote village miles away, " she said in measured tones.

" She had lived with the vicar and his wife, and had taken charge of their child. Mother and child died, and then the vicar (I don't know his name) decided to go abroad. He saw Mrs. Lingham's advertisement, and in structed the girl to answer it; and he wrote a let ter, as I have told you." " And what has become of her now? " Morris was more startling than evera and the lady of the house was seriously displeased. Her eyes sought her husband, but he was dissecting the core of an apple, and did not meet her glance. Godiva looked anxiously at her father. " I don't know, " Mrs. Salterne answered curtly. " Of course the Linghams got rid of her at once. At the last she made a sensational scene, and offered to serve them without wages till she had paid back the ten pounds. " " They got rid of her at once, " Morris Durleigh repeated slowly.

" And she was a country girl, without friends in London ? " " Oh, there was her young man, you know, " said Elizabeth, with a sneer. " As to friends, Mr. Durleigh, I suppose she had quite a large circle. I dare say if she had kept her place she would have carried on an organized system of robberies with her associates. " " Isn't it possible to take a kinder view of her case ? " asked Morris, fixing his piercing gaze on Elizabeth's face. " Oh, you can take any view that pleases you, " exclaimed Mrs. Salterne, reddening angrily, and rising. " We know that you always put on rose-coloured glasses when you look at the lower orders, Mr. Durleigh. " Elizabeth and Godiva rose also, the former flushed and scornful, the latter pale and troubled. The door closed on the ladies, and Morris Durleigh came back to his seat, and prepared himself to hear one of honest John's long lectures on the folly of philanthropy.