Calumny. A novel ... With illustrations by Marcus Stone

Front matter

CALUMNY. EVELINE, CALUMNY. % Kokl. by FEEDEKICK EASTWOOD, Author of " Sir Hakp.y Eaelsleigh, Bart.," &o. &c. SKitJj Illustrations bg MARCUS STONE, A.R.A. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny." Shakespeare iConboit: JAMES BLACKWOOD AND CO., LOVELL'S COURT, PATEENOSTER ROW. All Rights Reserved. TO my dear sister (!5mm;t, IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF MUCH GENTLE SYMPATHY AND LOVE, I DEDICATE THIS BOOK. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. A Duet 1 II. Eveline 10 III. An Affray - 19 IV. Alive or Dead? 31 V. An Awkward Stile ... ... ... ... ... 42 VI. The Portrait 52 VII. The Unknown 61 VED. Gipsies 71 IX. Poison and Antidote ... ... ... ... ... 79 X. The Model 91 XL The Verners 102 XII. Falling Leaves ... ... ... ... ... ... 115 XIII. A Discovery 127 XIV. Eavesdropping ... ... ... ... ... ... 136 XV.

Calumny 147 XVI. A Lady's Chamber 154 XVII. Watching 162 XVIII. Mother and Child 169 XIX. Cast Forth 176 XX. . The Wanderer 183 XXI. The Outcast 189 (Y CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXII. Brother and Sister ... ... ... ... ■•• 196 XXIII. "Good-Bye" 206 XXIV. Alone 217 XXV. The Model's Garret 223 XXVI. A Declaration 232 XXVII. Agnes 239 XXVIII. The Eve of Battle 248 XXIX. Death 257 XXX. The Night before ... ... ..'. ... ... 262 XXXI. A Friend in Need 271 XXXII. Divorce 278 XXXIII. Passing Away 288 XXXIV. Explanation 294 XXXV. Consummation ... ... ... ... ... ... 305 XXXVI. The End 309 Postscript ... ... ... ... ... ... CALUMNY. " l§t ibon us tbastc as ia, as pure as snofa, S^ou slialt not tstape (Calumug." *I»9«*9C»g«, CHAPTEE I. A DUET. About a mile from the village of Woodvale, which you, whose topographical knowledge is extensive, are aware is in the County of - shire, and therefore in the heart of Merrie England — about a mile from the village of "Woodvale there is a lane.

In the middle of the lane there is a wall covered with ivy, and in the middle of the wall covered with ivy there is a door with a blistered face. The waU is high and thick, the door is low and arched. The red bricks crumble into dust when touched, and the ivy-roots are as thick as your arm ; from which facts you will not be very wrong if you surmise that it is not a new wall — in fact, it is rather an ancient wall than otherwise ; so, at least, thought an individual who, being an artist, ought to have been a judge of such matters, when he found himself, for the first time in his life, before the said CALUMNY. wall, one evening in the month of July in the year of Grace 186 — . So struck was this personage by the aforesaid wall that he crossed over to the opposite side of the lane that he might survey it better, and, with all the love for the picturesque of a true disciple of the brash, turned the eyes of art upon it.

Chapter II. Eveline

A little farther along the road in which the artist lay was the stone gateway of an extensive demesne. Some hours after he had fallen, but while, for want of assistance, he stiU remained upon the ground, there stood within the demesne two youthful figures ; they were a man and a newly-wedded girl. With waist encircled by his arm, her head lay upon his breast, while he bent tenderly over her, and spoke in the soft low voice of love. Above their heads were the huge gnarled branches of giant oak trees, so thick with foliage that they screened what little light the day had left and cast a deep gloom upon the figures. But dark shades were rising round those forms, blacker, far blacker, than the gloom of the trees. Night was coming upon them, and, as a cloak drawn by invisible hands, was twining round them like a winding-sheet, and fast wrap ping them in a deep, solemn, impenetrable darkness.

Her face hidden upon his bosom, the young girl did not perceive the black shades which were surrounding them so thickly, and which were fast blinding her husband's eyes. But he saw them, for the invisible hands slowly but surely drew that cloak across his eyes until he could not see her form, although it was leaning on him for its EVELINE. whole support, could not see the matchless excellence of its beauty, but in the dimness of his vision, which that cloak of night was causing, could only see a dark uncertainty with all its beauty gone. "And you will never doubt me, Arthur?" asked the young girl, in a soft sweet voice, while she drew yet closer to him. " Doubt you, Eveline ! oh, how can you ask ? Doubt you ! He said it witb a depth of feeling, as if it were an impossibility. "No, dear love; I may doubt myself, I may doubt the whole world, I may doubt the angels of light ; but never, never you.

No, not while I have reason to form my thoughts, and eyes to show me truth and purity, not while I have a heart, dearest, to beat with such love as mine. No, Eveline, I can never doubt you." " Say that again, dear Arthur. Oh, I love to hear you say that." It was strange how eagerly she spoke, and how she listened as he repeated it quite solemnly. " Never while I have a mind to guide me, never while I have a heart that doubt would break, never while I have a soul that doubt would jeopardise. But why do you ask, Evehne?" " I do not know, dear; I have a vague fear — a dread that someday — some day " A frightened cry broke from her. She had raised her face from his breast, and, for the first time, perceived the darkness that surrounded her. " Oh, how dark it is ! " she cried ; " how hideously dark !

Arthur, how fearfully black it has become ! " CALUMNY. " It is getting late, dear love," he answered gently. " But why do you shudder so ? You are trembling all over." "I do not know. It is the darkness, Arthur; the terrible darkness. It has chilled me here." She touched her heart. "It is the cold night air has chilled you, darling. I should have remembered it before. Let us go indoors." " It is the darkness, Arthur — the horrible darkness that hides you frorn me." They moved away. The dark shadows environing them grew more sombre yet ; cast themselves upon the path before them, and made a dreary walk of it ; cast themselves upon the path behind, and shut them out from view ; cast themselves round them and between them, until they wound them in a shroud of gloom. Alas ! alas ! poor mortals ; they were doomed to be enshrouded in a deeper gloom than that — enshrouded in dark, appaUing shades which rise to earth fiom Hell.

Half an hour later the man sauntered through the gateway of the demesne to enjoy a cigar and a sohtary stroll in the lane outside. Chance or destiny drew him to the place where the artist lay. I think that it was destiny, for had he been ten minutes later those two men might never have met in life. The artist had just decided that he must apply to the house for assistance, despite the annoyance to the young lady which he feared might ensue, when he perceived the lighted cigar glowing through the darkness and approaching him. He hailed it as a friendly beacon and cried out for help. EVELINE. " Are you hurt ? " asked the smoker, in a kindly voice. " Sprained my ankle," answered the artist shortly, for his long waiting and still longer fast had somewhat chafed his temper. " Can I help you ? " "If you will lend me your arm as far as the nearest cottage, I'll be much obliged," replied the artist gratefulty.

His good-humour returned with the sound of the other's pleasant voice, and he added, apologetically, " You must excuse my ill-temper, for I am as hungry as a wolf." " They say a hungry man is always an angry man, so it would be an anomaly if you were not," returned the other. Then, after a moment's reflection, he said, good naturedly, " If you like to come with me and get some food, my groom shall drive you home." " Yrou are very polite." " Be the same yourself, and stand on your feet. Take my hand." "You're a devilish good Samaritan, and I'm much obliged to you," said the artist heartily, taking the prof ferred hand, and rising from the ground; then, leaning upon the other's arm, he walked towards the demesne, slowly at first, for he was very stiff and moved with much pain, but more easily after a little exercise, so well at last that he was half-ashamed of giving his friend so much trouble.

They passed through the stone gateway, entered the demesne, and followed what in the darkness seemed a long avenue thickly lined and over-arched with trees. By the way the artist's conductor inquired the cause of his CALUMNY. accident, and rallied him upon the gallantry which had cost him so dear. So they were soon chatting with the freedom of old acquaintances, although neither had yet seen the other's face. It was not until they had reached a stately mansion at the end of the long avenue, and had entered a large marble-paved and well-lit hall, that they had a chance of examining each other's appearance. Then the artist had a good look at his new friend. He was a young man, not more than eightan d-twenty years of age, but with all the authority of fifty. His bearing and appearance proclaimed him a military officer, the heavy pointed moustache vouching undeniably for the fact, while his features bore the stamp of one accustomed to command — and to be obeyed.

They were strikingly handsome features though, and were none the less so because bronzed by a tropical sun. Yet over those features, and indeed over every lineament of the face, from the inflexible mouth to the clear grey eyes and noble forehead, there was a look of guarding thoughtfulness and deep reserve approaching melancholy, and proclaiming a brooding, uningenuous disposition. And yet there was no doubting the truthfulness and the kindliness of those eyes any more than the good-humour of the mouth — it was simply a mouth that had learnt to respect the secrets of the mind, and a face that had learnt better than to betray the secrets of the heart. He was removing a light overcoat he wore, and smiled when he saw how closely the artist was regarding him. " You are looking at me very hard ; 1 hope you are not EVELINE. contemplating a cannibal dinner," he said smiling ; " you look quite hungry enough to devour me."

" Then I beg to disclaim any intention of the sort," rephed the artist, with a laugh. " You look far too tough for a digestible meal. Served in India, have you not ?" " Five years." " Through the Mutiny ?' The worst of it." " What regiment ?" " The th." " The th ! Then you have seen some service in deed," said the guest, with the respect which every man feels for the brave. Then he asked, thoughtfully, " Did you know a man named Delmaine — Lieutenant Delmaine, I think he was then ?" "Intimately." " Did you, though ! I should like to have known that fellow myself. Plucky chap, was he not ?" " WeU — a — some people considered him so." " Egad, sir, I never heard of the man who did not. Why have you never heard the story of how he rescued a man and a girl from the Sepoys at ?" asked the artist, quite flushed with his enthusiasm.

" How with ten men — his others all disabled — he dashed with fixed bayonets into a hundred Sepoys, unbound the man, who was Re sident of the place, and had to carry the little girl off, bound as she was ; how every soul of the lot, excepting three privates and himself, was killed ; how he carried the girl through a storm of bullets to the English lines, where her father had tottered on before him, and then fell down, CALUMNY. insensible from loss of blood. Surely you have heard that story of the fellow's gallantry, if you have heard no others?" "Yes;" replied the other sadly, "I have heard that story." " Then don't talk about ' some people ' considering him plucky again, sir," said the artist half indignantly. " Why I read that the man had three wounds through that affair — a bayonet wound in his chest, a bullet in his leg, and a sabre wound, which he received somehow in shielding the girl when a Sepoy made a cut at her, somewhere— I am not quite sure in what part of him the sabre wound was."

" I will show you," returned the other quietly. He laid down the overcoat that he had just taken off, and rolled back the coat and shirt sleeves of his right arm, disclosing as he did so the scar of a deep wound, a little below the elbow. " That is where the sabre wound was." " There ? Y'ou the glorious fellow who did it all ? " cried the other, scarcely able to believe his senses. " You, really Lieutenant Delmaine ?" " No, thank heaven ! I really am not. But I am Arthur Delmaine, M.F.H.," he answered, adding with a smile, " which is considerably more to your hero's taste, I assure you." The artist looked at him for a moment, as if he doubted the reality of what he saw. Then he asked, " Did you ever hear what became of the Resident and the little girl?" " The Resident died a year ago. The little girl, as you call her, was married about a month since, and will be pleased to be introduced to you presently as my wife, if EVELINE. you will honour us with }Tour acquaintance and your name."

" I shall be but too proud. My name is Leyland — Richard Leyland, an unworthy dauber of canvas, or, as the newspapers say, ' an honest disciple of the brush.' " As he spoke, a figure appeared at the top of the broad staircase, and a young girl, not more than eighteen years of age, clothed in white, leant over the massive oak ban nister. It was she who a little while before had been overtaken by the darkness. A lamp above her head threw its light upon her now and showed a form of such rare beauty that, in the bright glare and the uncertainty of distance, it seemed to Leyland like a vision. Only for a moment did she remain. No sooner was Delmaine per ceived in the haU beneath than the beautiful face was bent eagerly towards him, and a pair of bright loving eyes looked down, as with the ardour of her youthful love she kissed a tiny hand, and then came quickly down the stairs to meet him.

She drew close to him, and, when he did not caress her, looked wonderingly up into his face. Then, for the first time, she perceived his com panion, and, with a tinge of deeper colour on her cheek, left her husband's side. While Delmaine was introducing him, Leyland studied her face with all the interest of an artist. The delicate features, almost Grecian in their mould, the soft eyes of hazel, rendered yet softer by their long jetty lashes which, except when raised, concealed them almost from view, the raven hair which hung in great ringlets down her back, were very beautiful, but there was something CALUMNY. about the face more beautiful than these; it was "th' expression over all " — the calm, sweet temper of her look, the fond, trustful, lovable expression " over all." Better than her beauty, better than the winning charm of all her actions, better even than her modest grace, was that gentle, sweet-tempered look that sat upon her countenance.

A moment afterwards a valet was conducting Leyland to a bedroom, that he might remove some of the dust result ing from his fall, but so much was he struck by that sweet expression of her face that he looked back fiom the top of the great staircase that he might see it once again. But her back was towards him, an arm was round her waist, and pressed close to Delmaine's side she was moving from the haU. Then the artist thought of the Great Poet, for in the two forms beneath him he saw " a fair encounter of two most rare affections."

Chapter III. An Affbay

While Leyland was being served with dinner, Delmaine still fingered in another room beside his wife, with aU the fondness and forgetfulness of a honeymoon. He was bending over her as she sat at work, and speaking softly, when he was warned by a discreet cough that a servant was approaching, and in another moment a footman appeared, whose pale face, usually the very type of deferential composure, was disturbed by a look of alarm and dread, portending evil. " WTiat is the matter, James ? " asked Delmaine " You look frightened." The man approached his master with a mysterious air, and in a voice of the darkest omen said, " Mr. Rabbits wishes to speak with you, sir." " Then tell Mr. Rabbits to wait until I am at leisure, and for the future to spare himself the trouble of ' wishing ' to speak with me at this time of day."

James looked with dire mystery towards his mistress. " He desired me to say, sir, that he asked pardon for disturbing you, but it was important he should see you at once." Then, with another mysterious look, the man whispered, " I think it's something about poachers, sir." 3 * CALUMNY. " Oh, ah ! that alters the case," replied his master, with alacrity ; and, with an apology to his young wife, he left the room. " Well, Rabbits, have you any news ? " The party thus addressed, clad in the velveteen and leather gaiters of a gamekeeper, stood in the hall, with his back to the interrogator, and, being engaged in the diverting amusement of balancing himself on one leg, was so startled by the voice, that the one leg slipped along the marble floor, and he only recovered his equilibrium with a struggle.

He was very lean and very tall, and looked like a rustic monument with a roughly thatched roof at the top. Beneath this roof Rabbits was accustomed to store his ideas, and to scratch them forth as they were required. On the present occasion he applied vigorously to it, and with such success that he had not scratched his head for more than a minute when he was enabled to reply — ■ " Great news, zur." " What, have they caught Lawler? " " No, zur, nor bean't likely to. Lawler do laarf at the p'leecemen he do, and they be frightened of him they be. It's us '11 have to catch him, zur." " We catch him ! I wish he'd give us the chance, Rabbits, he should not escape us again. The fellow is the worst poacher in the county." " Savin' one, zur, for which I humbly ax your pard'n. Do you mind Black William, zur ?

" " Black William ? Lightfoot, you mean — the man my uncle transported, was he not, Rabbits ? " "Him as you coort with your own hands, zur, when AN AFFEAY. you was a stayin' with the old gen'l'man. Do you mind, zur, how he did swear he'd have revenge on you when he did get his sentence ? " "Well, what of him, Rabbits? He is not in the country? " " Axin' you pard'n, zur, that's just where he do be, worse luck. His time was up a month ago, and he've been skulking in the town some days. And if you please, zur, I've come up for to tell you as how I expect him and Lawler and his gang to-night. My wife did get it for me from a friend of hers who did overhear it at ' The Chequers.' " " To-night ! At what time ? " Well, zur, they was to leave ' The Chequers ' at 'leven, so it'll be nigh twelve afore they're here."

" Veiy well. Tell your men to be ready. Ahd — let me see — we might have the grooms — policemen, you think, are of no use ? " " Not worth a tinker's cuss, zur, axin' your pard'n for the same. And we couldn't get 'em if they wTas. If we was to send down to the station for 'em, the darned poachers 'ud smell it, zur, and wouldn't come at all." " True. We shall be enough without them. Have your men round by eleven, and I'll join you soon after. Any thing else, Rabbits ? " The last question was caused by an uneasiness of manner on the part of that individual, which betrayed much mental perturbation. His hands had applied to his head in vain, had given it up at last in despair, and were now bestowing their attention upon his hat, which they CALUMNY. turned upside down and inside out, he looking into it the while as if in the hope of finding a missing idea tucked up in the lining.

" Come, Rabbits, if you've anything to say, out with it, my man. Oh, I forgot — a glass of wine or ale shah it be ? Get what you want of the butler, but don't detain me." " Thank'ee kindly, zur, but it bean't that at all. Might I make so bowld as to ax you not to go with us to-night ? It's a great liberty, zur, but it 'ud be a great favour." "Not go with you, Rabbits? What in the world are you thinking of, man ? " " I'm thinkin', zur, as how this here Black William be a desp'rate character, and as how he do owe you a grudge, zur. He say as how it have been his ruin, and as how he'll ' do ' for you if he have a chance." " Very well, Rabbits, he shall have a chance to-night." " But it bean't safe, zur ; it bean't, indeed. He be a ruined man, zur, and don't care what he do, he don't. I'm thinkin', zur, how the young missus 'ud take on if any thing was to happen : she be so young and tender-like.

He have sworn as how he'll murder you." " Threatened men live long, Rabbits. I will be with you at eleven." So saying, Delmaine left him, and entered the room in which his guest was at dinner, while Rabbits applied to the hair of his head. This proving unproductive, he betook himself to his feet instead, upon which, after one or two awkward slips, he succeeded in carrying his un gainly but honest self away. " I did intend to have driven you back to the village AN AFFKAY. myself, Leyland," said Delmaine ; "but I am afraid now I shall have to leave it to the groom. I have just learned that a gang of poachers will be on the estate to-night, and I mean to give them a personal reception." " You anticipate a glorious row, in fact ? "I do." " And want to leave me out of it ? " " Yrou ! Why, you're on the sick list, man.

You are lame." " Oh, hang my lameness ! You can give me a mount, or I'll go pick-a-back on that big gamekeeper I saw out side, up to the preserve, and I'll hobble along well enough after that." " WeU, I have no objection. If you want a broken head I'U not deny it you." " My head is not so easily broken, sir. I have one of the thickest heads in Christendom — at least my old school master used to assert that I had, and I have never seen any reason to doubt his veracity. I enjoy a row above everything, and if you didn't take me, why, hang me if I wouldn't join the poachers." " Then come by aU means. An aUy who can't run away is always valuable." It was then decided that Delmaine should feign to carry out his original plan of chiving the artist back to the village, in order to furnish an excuse to Eveline for her husband's absence, to which he well knew she would never consent if she guessed his real errand.

So, after viewing Indian curiosities enough to have stocked a museum, handling weapons enough to have CALUMNY. armed a regiment, slashing down innumerable foes with a bejewelled presentation sword, shuddering at the cord which had once bound Eveline's hands, fondly preserved by an ardent lover, and after finishing an exciting game of billiards, the artist and the hero quietly took leave of the unsuspecting girl, and set out upon their expedition. The night was black as pitch when they first got outside, for the moon, although now risen, was behind a dense cloud, and they could scarcely see a yard in front of them. " Wo'oa ! I've ran into something," cried the artist, with a sudden loss of breath. " Why, confound it, it's a man ! I thought you were the trunk of a tree, my friend, you stood so firm.

I hope I haven't ' barked ' you ? " " No, zur, I bean't hurt, thank'ee. I hope you're like wise. I humbly ax your pard'n for not seein' of you." " My own fatflt, my good fellow. I am as blind as a bat, first coming out of the light. I've only broken the bridge of my nose, so we'll say no more." " What, Leyland; spilt blood already ? " asked Delmaine. " Only my nose," rephed the artist, mopping it savagely with a handkerchief. " I can't imagine why a man should have a thing in such an infernally awkward place — it's al ways in the way. W ny the deuce shouldn't a man be able to smell with his mouth or his ears, instead of being obliged to carry such an awkward machine as a nose about with him ? I never had a ' miU ' yet, but my nose suffered. I always envied the Duke of Wellington on that account."

"The Duke of Wellington ? What on earth did you envy him ? " " His iron nose, to be sure. He was always known as AN AFFRAY. the Iron Duke, and I suppose his nose was the same as the rest of him. Just think what a glorious thing it must be to have an iron nose ! You may have your head ' in chancery ' a dozen times, and your nose never a bit the worse for it. I wonder if your keeper's nose is made of iron — I'll swear his back is. The fellow is the most hardened piece of humanity I ever encountered." " I am glad to hear it — there is no fear of him being 'cracked.'" " Like me, you mean to say. Complimentary remark that ! " said the artist, laughing at the dryness of the other more than at his own absurdity. "If you please, zur, I think as how we oughter be a going now, axin' your pard'n for the same," said Rabbits.

" Right, Rabbits — we are late. My friend here wants to join us. He is anxious to distinguish himself with the poachers — to have his head broken, in fact." " Then he do stand a fair chance of that, zur, if he be comin' along of us. The darned poachers is likely to count strong to-night, I'm toald." " The worst of it is, I'm dead lame, Rabbits, so I want some one to carry me as far as the preserve. I'll get on by myself after that. I am very light, a mere infant in fact, only twelve stone seven." " Well, zur, if so be as you're determined to go, and '11 get on my back, I'll be right glad to carry you. Every man 'U be a godsend to-night." The artist was forthwith hoisted on to the giant keeper's back, and they then immediately set out. They had not proceeded far when Leyland, from his height, descried CALUMNY. other figures, just visible through the darkness.

These proved to be their main body — two keepers, a groom, and a helper, and with this addition to their force they marched rapidly onward. They had left the carriage drive, and were now wending their way in single file along a winding path that led to a smaU wood, which the poachers were expected to visit. Strict sdence had been enjoined by Delmaine, who walked at the head of his party with the old soldier feehng evi dently strong upon him. This was evinced by the low stern voice in which he bade the too voluble artist cease talkiug or remain behind — a mandate which that gentleman com promised by whispering something in the ear of the unfortunate Rabbits of so facetious a character that he shook with suppressed laughter until the artist could barely keep his place upon his back, so that for his own comfort he foibore further conversation.