In Sheep's Clothing. A novel

Front matter

A ft0t)Cl. BY MRS. HARRY BENNETT-EDWARDS, AUTHOR OF 'A TANTALUS CUP,' ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. HJonDon : SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO., 3r, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 1880. [All Rights Reserved.] CHAPTEE I. And Irion sat at her bedroom window staring, as she had often stared, at the old grey cas tellated building away on the hill-top. In her happy moods its dreamy poetic loneliness fascinated her ; in her troubled moments its desolation frightened her — because of the ghosts which were said to wander there by night. To-day she was simply speculative. Where was the owner of those miles of tree-covered hill, the should-be master of that almost ruined house ? Was he alive or dead, that man-rejected alien, who had been driven with whips and scorns away from his people vol. I. and from his country ?

Even thinking of him made Irion feel cold and frightened. A man, the son of a good old English gentle man, the last of a proud old English family, a man whom the world had called great because of the talents which he possessed, and because of the rich promise of his youth. Such a man, and — a murderer ! He had not been hanged — not sentenced even; 'a quibble of the law and family interest had saved him,' the people said. But not one man, not one woman in all the county held him guiltless. Therefore they had driven him out from amongst them, curse pursued.* Irion had seen him once — she was quite a child then — seen him as he passed her in the street of Rockford, coming out of the justice court, committed for trial — condemned already by his once friends ! The first stones cast at him, as usual, by those who had fawned upon him prosperous.

He had passed by her in the street, and had laid his hand upon her head, saying to the man with him : ' What a very pretty child,' and looking straight into Irion's baby eyes. She was only five years old then, but she could remember having started away from his touch, and raced like a hunted animal across the road to the other side of the way, where some village boys and girls shouted to her that he had left blood stains on her hair. She had never forgotten it. To-day, twenty years afterwards, she could recall — a boy's face, hairless still, but stern, and hard, and evil, so she had thought it, trembling under the fear which his touch had brought upon her. And this was all she had known of Ulric Aylmer, except — that he was a murderer ! A boy of twenty years, and a slayer of human life ! The horror of it had fallen upon her then with unnatural intensity, and it had never left her.

Chapter II

And just before dinner-time Irion arrived in Park Place. Naomi Hurst had met her at Paddington, and driven her home in a dashing little pony carriage all her own. And nothing had gone amiss in the day's journey. The Hursts were _all very glad to see her, so they said, with necessary politeness. But they were not a demonstrative family, having had too much of the good things of life to rejoice over any. There was nothing new in a visitor, nothing to be excited about. If for Irion it was an event to visit London, it was none for the Hursts to have her there, so many visitors a-year being as necessary a part of their ' season ' as their dresses and their horses. Irion Floyd was of rather less account than some, she being only ' Naomi's friend,' and Naomi being only a younger sister. Let Naomi rejoice over her if she would, and let Naomi take the burden of amusing her.

Which Naomi accordingly did, in her own lazy fashion. So on arrival it was Naomi who took Irion up to her bed-room, where for a moment the country girl felt overpowered by the magnifi cence of her surroundings. But it was only for a moment ; they were not new to her this time, and in five minutes she was 'at home.' Hoav different this to her last visit ! Last year she had taken a month to get over the feeling, that like a frightened cat she should presently do some mischief amongst the glass and the china, with which her tables were covered, or put to unholy uses some sacred toy, of which she did not know the value. Such fears did not revive to-day ; it was her second visit to Park Place. And habit had become to her that second nature which profits us so much better than the first. Whilst she dressed for dinner, Naomi sat by the table and talked to her, telling her all the 'news.' How many invitations to balls were ' on hand,' how many were sent out by themselves, how many ' girls ' of last season had ' picked up ' husbands ; how many were ' disappointed.' What new actors were 'making a sensation,' what new singers ' setting the Thames on fire ;' and last and longest, clearest in detail, and most interesting in kind — what new styles of dress were ' coming in,' or ' worn !' It was all very amusing to Irion, fresh from the country.

In a month it would be as worn out for her as for Naomi Hurst. Only so many necessary phases of existence in June — things no more to be avoided than the east winds through the sunshine, or the London blacks, or its fogs, or any other of its natural evils. Naomi did not like ' the season ;' she did not like anything, but she went through Avith it as a duty by no means to be laid aside. Irion delighted in it all — even the fog. It was so new to her, and so exciting ; so full of beauty and colour, and movement. All that the young life yearns after — if it be denied it — drooping and dying for lack of it. It was endless amusement to Irion, only to mark what these people said and did for the filling up of their life's gilded cup, which somehow always seemed to Irion empty for all their struggling.

After Naomi had told her of the important business of life, speaking ahvays in a mono tonous tone, as if she were half asleep, she turned off to the unimportant comings and goings of other people ; outsiders, whose interests were in no wise one with her own — mere afterthoughts these — useful enough to supply halfan -hour's interesting conversa tion whilst waiting for the arrival of the next new dress, or a pause before dinner — as now. ' By-the-bye,' she said, lazily tossing her arms over her head, and throwing herself far back in her chair ; ' you don't knoAv that Gilbert is coming home next week ? He is though,' with expression and attitude quite unchanged, although ' Gilbert ' had been absent from his home for five years. ' As I never saw your brother, I naturally don't take any great amount of interest in him,' Irion answered ; ' more especially after hearing you all talk about him last year.' Then laughing ; ' You don't seem very much excited about his coming yourself.' She was pinning a white camellia in her dress, and talked merely for talking sake. ' Oh ! yes I am.

Gilbert is a good enough sort of fellow, or was when he went away. Australia may have spoiled him. I shouldn't be a bit surprised at any change. Young men are so absolutely the creatures of cir cumstance.' ' And young women are not of course,' Irion answered, laughing. ' Well, you see our circumstances don't change. Some of us are poor, and some rich. But that doesn't make much difference. We are all taught alike, and dressed alike, and married alike — with the slight difference of cost. And if any of us try to do something new we are instantly sat upon. So you see we've no chance of being anything but re spectable. Men are different,' she added, with the philosophy of resignation to an inevitable, which modern training teaches us. Naomi was not a pretty girl proper, but she was decidedly fascinating, well sha.pen, well posed, well dressed, with that lazy list lessness of bearing, which is so attractive to the old young man of to-day.

She was never moved about anything, except in private, the success or failure of a new costume. But as only her maid and her sisters were witness to these signs of human weakness, Naomi was not ashamed. How different Irion, standing side by side with her ! Irion, filled with dreams, and long ings, and young ambitions. Restless because of the incompleteness of her life. Always striving for something beyond. Always hoping for some destiny higher than was hers in the present. Irion, with her bright health glowing beauty, which startled Londoners by its brilliancy, and its country purity. Irion was older than Naomi, five years older; but she looked ten years younger because of the natural life she had led. Naomi at twenty Avas a woman ; Irion at twenty-five was a girl in all the freshness of her girlhood.

We are not what our years make us, but what our spirits, and our hearts, and our thoughts give us of age. ' And your brother,' Irion said, growing curious now about this only member of the family whom she had not seen, but whom she was about to see, according to Naomi. ' Is he coming home for ever and a day, or is he only visiting England ?' ' Six months I suppose, or as much more as he can get out of the good nature of his em ployers. Gilbert lives on the indulgence of his fellow-creatures.' ' Is he a successful man in — Melbourne, ia it?' ' Melbourne, yes. Successful enough in a way. He's editor, or something of the kind, of one of the great Melbourne newspapers. Head man he calls himself, and like most " heads," he does as little work as possible, being content with the pay, and taking a praiseworthy pleasure in seeing other people work.

It's so satisfactory to admire the intellect of our inferiors, you see — gives one such a good opinion of the race.' ' I prefer having a good opinion of myself,' Irion answered, amused ; ' I find so much satisfaction in admiring my own work. vol. I. Selfish, I grant you, but the only induce ment to accomplish anything, it seems to me.' ' Accomplish ! what are you going to ac complish ? Imaginative little enthusiast ! you may accomplish getting married, perhaps, if you have intellect enough. Not that I see the use of that when it is done.' ' It depends upon the kind of the doing. It may be the highest or the lowest of human destiny, according to its result,' putting a finishing touch to her hair, and looking at her self in the glass with evident content. ' You don't mean to say you really want to get married, really f Naomi asked with a spark of life, sitting up in her chair, and staring into Irion's eyes. ' I do though,' unhesitatingly. ' Why, what's the use ?

If your lines have been cast in decent places you are not likely to improve upon them. Ten to one but you get them into a horrible tangle — and then think of the trouble of putting it right again. No, my dear ; like Hamlet, " I'd rather bear those ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of." He was a wise young man, Hamlet, you know — there's the dinner-bell.' Irion looked pleased and hungry as the clanging fell upon her ear. She was half way down the first flight of stairs before Naomi had traversed the length of the passage leading from the bedroom door. Eating, like everything else with her, was scarcely worth the trouble it entailed. Only, alas, the hardness of fate ! if you don't eat you can't dress, and if dress were not, then in deed there would be nothing of worth and beauty in this great empty world.

There fore, Naomi ate as a part of her daily duty, and Irion ate as one of her daily pleasures. And for both of them their destiny was unaccomplished. There was no company to-night at the Hursts' table. They were all going out instead. Some to the opera, others to a ball, later, towards midnight, perhaps ; if they could muster energy enough for the undertaking (it was only at Mrs. P. Brown's), after an extra glass of wine at dinner, and forty winks in an arm-chair. But every- 2—2 In Sheep)' s Clothing. 20 thing in life depends upon inclination, and they could not have told you at nine o'clock whether they were going to this despised ball or not. What did it matter ? Irion was of the opera party. So to-night, only the family were at the dinner table — except Irion, whom they did not look upon as a stranger now.

At either end, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, inoffen sive old people enough, as their children showed society by a generous condescen sion toAvards their weaknesses. Good for the ordinary purposes of money-getting, and money-giving, and comfort-providing, but rather in the way outside their sphere. Between them sat Ormond Hurst, Esquire, barrister-at-law, and M.P. for the very Con servative and very respectable borough of Great Bribesend. He was commander-in chief of— well, the united forces of the world, if ranked according to his own estimation ! but commander of his devoted family as granted him by common consent. Next to him Mrs. Betrix, the Miss Hurst of other days, married, widowed and returned, as the proverbial halfpenny, upon the hands of her parents. Agatha Betrix ! a great beauty once, somewhat faded to-day, but by no means gone ; ' the handsome widow ' people called her still, and thanks to 'toilet necessities,' she deserved the title.

Oppo site was Miss Hurst of to-day, the only one amongst them who respected her old parents — apart from what was to be ' got out of them.' But Miss Hurst ignored society, wrote scien tific articles for magazines, and found time betAveen the issues for a little filial atten tiveness. Naomi sat by her side ; and last and least, at a corner, ' Baby,' as she Avas called ; a schoolgirl, and a nobody for the next three years. Conversation at dinner varied with the talkers. It was not brilliant. What is the use of brilliancy for family benefit ? One must nurse one's talents for an appreciative audience. One is never a prophet in one's own country. All this the Hursts knew, and knoAving they put theory into unblushing practice. Not that they were fools, or doubt ful of their own worth, especially Ormond ; but what would it profit him to show his wisdom to his family ?

If they didn't know it intuitively, they ought. It was in no wise worth his while to prove himself for their enlightenment. About the middle of dinner somebody mentioned Gilbert's coming home — as a matter quite by-the-bye — and treated as such by them all. Irion, interested, asked which day he would arrive in England, and where. But this was far beyond the reach of their curiosity. One suggested Monday next, another Tuesday, a third the end of the week. Irion remarked that it would be easily found out by inquiring at the shipping office in the city on what day the Colonial was expected to come in. Old Mr. Hurst merely answered her, with paternal affability, nodding and smiling at Irion : 'Quite right, my dear; very sensible remark on your part. You always do 'it the right nail on the 'ead ; I Avish we could say as much for everybody in these days.

It's the fashion to go knocking about 'ere and there and everyAvhere — never mind where ! You'll 'it the right spot presently, if you go on long enough ; or if you don't somebody else will for you and save you the trouble.' Then he laughed at his own joke, and Mrs. Hurst laughed because he laughed, whilst all the rest looked as if a great sin had been committed, of which it was their part to be ashamed. And Gilbert was forgotten. But Irion felt no surprise over their undemonstrativeness. She had seen it all before on a thousand greater and lesser occasions. Gilbert was not a new dress, or a new novel, or a new acquaintance of high degree. Therefore he was not a part of their life. He was not June, and he was not 'the season.' ln Sheep's Clothing. 24

Chapter III

But the following morning there was just a perceptible degree of — not excitement — curiosity rather, about the return of Gilbert Hurst. After all there would be novelty in it, and novelty is the god of these days. They were all at breakfast, and Mrs. Hurst was reading them her letter. A custom of hers, and generally unheeded. What could there be in the correspondence of an old woman to interest or amuse the young ? Only to-day they were disposed to be gracious and lend an ear. The first words of the letter aroused their curiosity. ' Dear Mother (Mrs. Hurst read), ' Just a line to prepare your weak mind for an electric shock. Lewis is coming home with me! You know Lewis — the fellow I have written so much about. The mad man — awful swell though, I warn you. Will think you all emblems of pitiable ignorance.

He's bringing over his two-year old child with him — wants to have it brought out in London. Tragedy, of course — but elevated. His countrymen can't come it at any price. Prepare one of the attics for him. Turn out all the furniture, bed included. Lewis hates furniture, and despises a bed as tending to effeminacy. Goes in for Space, you know, and Causes, and Necessities. Queer fellow, but sound. Oh ! and he has a dog. Don't neglect the dog ; if you do, Lewis will just walk out of the house with less ceremony than he walked into it, and that won't be over much, I doubt. ' Tell Naomi she needn't waste her energies on a new rig-out for the occasion. Lewis never looks at women. They're not dogs you see ; if they were they might have a chance. But he's a right down good fellow when you have learnt to read him — kind of living allegory you know — means something quite different from what he says.

Don't think he's over addicted to me, but he tolerates me when I don't interfere with his " ways," as he calls them. As for my opinion of him, you know it already. He's just the only fellow for whom I have cared a brass farthing since I left Harrow, and if you, mother mine, are glad to see me, you will be glad to see him too, as the man who saved my life, and is my one friend in this beastly hole Melbourne. I have prepared you for a well-meaning aborigine. And don't forget about the empty attic, or dog's-meat. We shall follow this letter in a day or two. Love to all the girls, ' Yours, dear mother, ' Gilbert.' ' I like new people,' Naomi remarked sleepily, ' they're amusing for a day or two — till one knows them.' ' Civilised people — yes,' Mrs. Betrix ansAvered ; ' but one doesn't care for wild beast shows in these days ; they were very ln Sheep's Clothing. 27 well when one could get no more refined excitement.

I do think Gilbert need not have gone out of his way to introduce his colonial scribblers to us — uninvited. What say you, Ormond ?' ' Amuses him, and don't hurt me/ was the reply. Pate de sois gras, versus Caviare on toast, was a much more important question just then ; more personally affecting the speaker, Mrs. Betrix saw that there was no ' strong ' feeling about the matter on her brother's part, whatever there might be on her own. She was of the wise ones of her generation, who nurse their words for favourable oppor tunities, knowing when to be silent. There fore she reserved her further opinion about Gilbert's ' colonial scribbler,' till she should be asked it as a gift. That would come soon enough. ' Ormond always consulted her,' as she told herself proudly. ' And who may this Mr. Lewis be ?' Irion asked, much more interested than the people concerned, in his coming. ' A semi-civilised Aborigine, as Gilbert says,' Ormond Hurst answered her, ' one of nature's noblemen.

A fellow who has run all to mind, to the utter ruination of his body : seedy ties, paper collars, coloured shirtsleeves, that kind of thing.' ' Or sans collar, sans shirts, sans ties, sans everything — but paint,' Irion suggested, laughing. ' Most likely that,' Naomi said ; ' what can you expect of a native? All I hope is, that he'll have some originality to compensate for his presence. I like amusing people,' she added, sleepily, raising her eyes from her plate, as if even caviare failed to supply a certain deficiency in life generally. ' Do you ? I hate them,' Irion said, warmly, ' they're always so tiresome. They might be charming if they would only be amusing when one wanted them to ; but to be amused nolens volens, to be droAvned with amusement is worse than none at all.' ' That's a very sensible remark of Irion's,' said Mr. Hurst, finding himself replete with the substantial good of life, and putting his plate aside with the benignity of a mind (and a body) at ease. ' Very sensible indeed, my dear — amusing people are the greatest bores of society.

Spoil every dinner, from the City downAvards, they do. I do 'ate being amused over turtle soup.' Then Mr. Hurst left the table, and pre pared to go off to the City (he bore the broad title of an Australian merchant amongst his acquaintance). His carriage and pair had waited an hour for him at the door, but then it is the bounden duty of a carriage and pair belonging to that august personage, a City prince, to wait. The family looked relieved at his departure. He was always a sort of reproach to them — another necessary evil. Happily for them his city occupations prevented his appearing in ' good ' society with them. He hated all that 'nonsensical bosh,' and left the family to their enjoyment of it under the protection of his eldest son, whom he had made worthy to go hand in hand with the nobles of the country.

His absolute faith in this son, a firm belief in his infallibility, were the religion of Hurst senior's old age. And Ormond Hurst had never disgraced him. After breakfast Mrs. Hurst went to her boudoir. She was a quiet, inoffensive old lady, possessed of much tact, and a certain womanly quickness, which had made her fall into the ways of her children's society with considerable ease and grace. Pleasant to look upon, with a pleasant voice, and dressed to perfection, the young people had ' no objection' to their mother's chaperonage. These ' young people ' having finished their breakfast — somewhere about midday — went to the morning room, as usual, to discuss the dresses for the coming evening, or the bonnets for the Park, or the horse which should be ' shown ' to-day in the Row. To Irion all this meant work, real hard work ; to the others only idle talk.

Irion had but two ball dresses in the place of their twenty ; and these two, by dint of persuasion or force, must be made to answer every occasion — and answer it well too. For Irion had no idea of appearing as the proverbial poor relation amongst them. But clever fingers and a true artist's eye did greater things for her little, than milliners and maids for their much. Naomi always envied Irion her power of ' looking well ' in every place and time, ' without any trouble,' Naomi said, but it was not so. Irion was always taking trouble ; educating her eye and hand, exercising her imagination, and her ingenuity. She watched tbe flowers and the butterflies, and saw how they were dressed ; what colours lay side by side, and how nature had merged them cunningly, and Irion said : ' Why should not art go and do HkeAvise ?' She plucked the grasses and the leaves, and twined them into beautiful forms, and learnt from these Avherein grace lay.

It was work this, but pleasant work and pro fitable, since she could go to London, and in her poverty stand side by side with the millionaires ; proud that passers-by turned to look at her — not at them. What they wore was nothing new. It had been seen in Paris, if not before in London — it, or others of its kind. But what Irion wore was always individual, it had always something of herself, and her own imaginative nature written upon it; something suggestive and fancy-taking. Naomi would have given her fine clothes, or lent her anything, or ordered her anything from Worth's, or from White's, or from where she would — for Naomi was indolently generous — but Irion had no desire to follow in the foot steps of her richer neighbours. She found a greater delight, selfish again she would have said, in her own work.

So she planned, and sewed, and talked, whilst the other two, Mrs. Betrix and Naomi> lay back wearily on sofa and arm-chair. It ' amused ' them to listen to her. She told such quaint tales of innocent country folk Avho believed in everything, especially themselves. Of young girls and young men who dreamed of love in a cottage still. Love in 1879 ! ' It was as good as reading a novel, or seeing a play,' they said, ' to sit and listen to Irion Floyd, and to see her working like a convict all the while, and looking so fresh and so charming, as if it were twelve p.m. instead of twelve a.m.' A novelty this girl, and as a novelty — delightful. 'By-the-by,' said Naomi, presently rousing from a dream, ' is your novel begun yet, Irion ?' ' No ; didn't I tell you that I must know the fate of my fiend before venturing to slay him in effigy ?' 1 Has he never come to light ?' O ' Never, nor ever will I suppose now — happily for society.

People say he is still in tbe land of the living though.' ' I have not the least doubt that he is living and thriving in some business more profitable than romantic ; stock exchange, or bill discounting, or alderman, or the next lord mayor perhaps ! What does an infantine murder or two matter ? Change your name, make a lucky speculation, set up at Lancaster Gate with a wife and family. Who will ask any questions ?' ' Wife !' Irion interrupted, speaking scorn fully. ' Wife ! where is a wife to come from ? Who would be found in all the world to marry Ulric Aylmer? Marry a murderer! What woman would sell her soul to blood for the riches of a thousand cities, if might be ? Any vol. I. other crime I could imagine forgiven for love — any other. But blood ! human blood ! cold, heartless, passionless murder !

No, Naomi. No ! Ulric Aylmer will never get a wife, let all else prosper with him !' ' Excitable creature you are, Irion,' put in Mrs. Betrix, from her sofa. ' Of course he isn't going to volunteer the information that he is a murderer. The law acquitted him, do you see ? What more substantial proof of his innocence V ' Come down to Rockford,' Irion said, in dignant now, ' and ask them there. Stop at every cottager's door, at every squire's house, and ask whether Ulric Aylmer were guilty or innocent. There would be no difference of opinion, we all know him guilty.' ' By report, say by report, my dear, allow for twenty years of strengthening for the prejudice,' Naomi drawled, in an aside. But Irion did not heed her. She was riding her favourite little hobby-horse at a gallop, and nothing would stop it, so she went on : ' If all that came out after the trial had been known during it, even the law would have been forced for very shame, to turn a deaf ear to family interest.

Somehow thinga were not known till too late. But our people felt for all that. The outrage was against them. It was one of themselves who had been murdered. They never forgave, nor ever will. We country people don't forget so easily. They cursed his very name, and the curse remains to-day. Why, he would never dare to ask a woman to marry him, lest some day, some Rockford inhabitant should come across their path and tell her his story.' ' Inconsequent child ! does anybody remember any story for twenty years? except Jack the Giant Killer, perhaps. Who now, in a round-bellied, capon-lined, suppose we say Justice ! to be correct, would recognise a beardless boy of nineteen years ?' ' I believe I should,' quickly. ' Not his features perhaps, but something would tell me. I should have an involuntary shudder at his presence, and turn cold as — as the spiritualists are said to do in the presence of an unseen spirit.' She was laughing again now, partly at her 3—2 own earnestness over this old childish horror of hers, partly at the vacant and sleepy ex pression of Naomi Hurst's face.