Netta. A novel

Front matter

NETTA THE STANDARD WORK ON AUTHORSHIP. THE AUTHOR'S MANUAL Being a Complete Practical Guide to all Branches of Journalism, Literary Work generally, and Book-producing, with Special Advice in Reference to Imaginative Literature. By Percy Russell. Crown Svo, cloth, 5s. (Sixth Edition, New and Revised, with Portrait of the Author). SPECIAL NOTICE.— -The New and Revised Edition contains Prefatory Remarks by the RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P., who has read and approved the volume. " The aspirant to literature may certainly read Mr. Russell's book with profit." — Spectator. S'OXTl - • "Mr. Russell has got upws, subject, with much care, and supplies a great deal of useful informations, advice and suggestions are sound and to the point." — Graphic. ! 93 " Cordially recon_n_endin*ilf. Russpil's rade mecum."— Literary World.

Miss M. E. Braddon writes :— " VoM counsel both to the journalist and the imaginative writer is full of wisdoms LONDON : DIGBY, LONG _. CO., 18 Bouverie St., Fleet St., E.C. N ETTA A NOVEL BY EDWIN ELLIOTT LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS iS BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. NETTA

Chapter I

I have no wish to pose as the hero of the following narrative. The events occurred some years ago, and although they moulded afresh my life and character, my part in them was little else than that of a listener. My chief task now is to narrate events in which I played no part, and which were related to me under conditions that I can never forget. If in describing the persons chiefly con cerned, and in picturing the preliminary scenes, I should intrude my own personality more than the circumstances seem to warrant, I can only crave the indulgence of the reader and plead the natural egotism of imperfect human nature, which always impels us to read events by the light of our own hopes and sentiments. Let me say a word or two about myself by way of intro duction before I commence my narrative.

My name is Frank Selby, and I was, at the time of which I write, a journalist upon the staff of a well-estab lished London weekly. Like most of my fellow-workers, I was entrusted with various tasks ; but in the summer months it was not unusual for me to be given a roving A NETTA, 2 commission in various parts of the country to describe anything that came under my observation which might be of interest to the readers of newspapers. The journal to which I was attached took notice of popular science, and I was expected to introduce into my articles matters con nected with the natural history of the district in which I might be staying. I was not altogether unfitted for this task, having dabbled in more than one of the natural sciences; and I was, perhaps, a little vain of the know ledge I possessed.

Finally, I will add that I was about thirty years of age, unmarried, possessed of a good physique and the ordinary amount of good looks, and was free, buoyant, and happy. So much for myself; and now for my narrative. Some five years ago my duties found me roving among the highlands of north Derbyshire, so famous for their cliffs and scars, their mountain streams and waterfalls, their valleys, ravines, and glens. I was staying at the pretty little village of Ryefield during the early days of June, when the delightful freshness of early summer is so invigorating. Elated with the glow of health, the lovely weather, the charming scenery, and the satisfaction of having fulfilled my tasks not without credit, I strolled one afternoon along one of the bye-roads towards a hill, the top of which I desired to reach.

Sauntering lazily along, stopping now and then to examine a moth or to pluck a wild flower, I was suddenly startled by a faint scream. It seemed to come from a field on my right ; but the thick, high hedge obstructed my view, and I hurried towards a gate which I saw a few steps ahead. In a moment I perceived what was the matter. An evidently vicious bull was tearing towards a terrified young lady, who was making all NETTA, 3 the speed she could in the direction of the gate. The animal being still a considerable distance off, and the lady not far from the gate, her position would not have been so perilous but for the fact that the poor girl was lame, and walked with a crutch! Without a moment's hesitation, I vaulted over the bars, and a few strides brought me to the panting girl, who was striving painfully with her crutch ; and then, without a word, I caught her in my arms (her weight was light), and made for the gate.

Luckily I was just in time, for I had to partly climb the structure with my burden, and then let her down gently on the other side. I did this, and then threw myself across just as the baffled animal came rushing up. The danger averted, we both stood some moments with out speaking, in order to recover from the excitement ; and I was enabled for the first time to look fully at the girl whom it had been my privilege to rescue, as she stood by the gate trembling, and trying to steady herself with her crutch. I can give no reason for the hesitation and em barrassment that I unaccountably felt as I thus stood silently before her, and which checked me in my usual ease of address. Certainly, I did hesitate, and during the short embarrassed silence while I was trying to find words appro priate to the occasion, I took in her picture, which im pressed itself upon my mental vision like a photograph, and which has never since been obliterated.

She was young, apparently about nineteen or twenty, rather small in stature and slight in build. Her infirmity had produced a slight stoop in her figure ; but in spite of that it was unquestionably graceful in its simple, close-fitting black robe. Her head was small but perfectly modelled, and was surmounted by a profusion of soft, dark, wavy hair, NETTA, drawn back from her face and sorehead, and simply held by a band of black ribbon. But her face, — what shall I say of it ? Beautiful ? No, it was not perfect enough for that. Pretty ? No, more than that. Refinement, intelligence, delicacy, purity,— these were the characteristics that impressed me at once. The face was rather too long and, perhaps, a little too thin for an ideal of beauty, but the texture of the skin was extremely fine and delicate.

The mouth might have been considered too large, but the curve of the compressed and quivering lips was strikingly beauti ful. The same delicacy and refinement was visible in the exquisite chiselling of the nose and nostrils ; and the eyes, — ah, they, indeed, were beautiful. Large, dark, so dark indeed, that they would have been black but for the tinge of brown that gave them their softness , they were well set beneath the clear white brow, which was now exposed to the hot rays of the afternoon sun; for her hat had been blown off and left to the tender mercies of the bull. Such, in a few words, was the picture on which I gazed, as she stood there trembling visibly, with one hand clasping the top bar of the gate, while the flush of excitement was gradually giving place to a threatening paleness.

Her lameness, her timidity, her shrinking reserve, touched and saddened me ; and then, as I looked closer, I observed a long, though indistinct, scar which ran from a little below the eye to the corner of the mouth, and I found myself wondering as to its origin. Shaking off the momentary embarrassment, I broke the silence by saying, " I trust the alarm you must have felt has not unnerved you?" For a moment or two she did not answer. Then, with NETTA, 5 a great effort and in a voice that sounded like a whisper, she said, " No, no, I am well, I am foolish." Then with a greater effort she added : " You are good — you are brave. I thank you, indeed, I do." " Do not speak of it," I answered. " I was fortunate in being near. But can I assist you further ? You are in danger from the heat of the sun with your head uncovered."

She put her hand to her head as if unaware of the fact. Then she looked hastily around for her hat ; and not seeing it, she quickly unfastened a small black wrapper she had on her shoulders, and threw it over her head. Her face was very white now as she stood quite still, leaning against the gate, the pallor showing out in strong relief beneath the black covering, while her large eyes were gazing at me fixedly. She did not speak, so feeling somewhat at a loss, I once more asked her if I could be of any further assist ance? She shook her head, and in the same low voice said, " No, you are good — you are kind ; but I do not need help now." Her effort to speak was so visible, and her manner so shrinking, that there seemed nothing else for me to do but to leave her, though I was loth to do so ; so raising my hat, I bowed slightly and bade her adieu.

She returned my bow with a natural and unconscious grace, but did not speak, though there was the same wist ful and, as it seemed to me, pathetic look in her eyes. Feeling that it would be long before I should get that look out of my memory, I moved a few paces away, and then, unable to resist the inclination, I turned and looked again. She was still standing in the same place, but had NETTA, resumed her crutch, and was taking her hand from the gate. I watched her make a step or two, feeling the strange piti fulness of the whole scene, when suddenly she seemed to sway and totter. I rushed forward, and in a second or two was by her side again, just in time to catch her as she reeled and fell. Her eyes and lips were quite closed, and her face and features seemed chiselled in white marble, as I looked down at her, while I held her slight form once more in my arms with feelings of strange agitation, distress, and embar rassment.

Then I gently deposited her among the grass and flowers by the wayside, and kneeling down, supported her with one arm, while I chafed her slender hand, and looked into her still face with a peculiar throbbing at my heart. Presently she gave a few short gasps, though her eyes did not unclose, and I saw by the tears that began to force their way through the closed lids that she was recover ing consciousness. I was glad to see those tears, for I knew they would bring calmness and relief; and so as I watched, I found myself wondering what her story was, and what was the history of that scar upon her face. Presently her eyes slowly unclosed, and again I was thrilled by the gaze of those large dark orbs, now bright with lingering tears. In another moment, with a gentle effort, she dis engaged herself from my arm, and sat up trembling, with her hands held closely over her face.

I rose from my knees and stood beside her, waiting for her to regain some self control, and still immersed in my own reflections. But my cogitations were soon cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps. They came from a lane a little way off running at right angles to the road in which we were in. Instinctively I turned to see who was coming. I had not long to wait, for the rapid tread became louder and louder, NETTA, 7 until the individual himself appeared at the junction of the two roads. It was a tall man with flowing white hair, who thus appeared upon the scene, and as he emerged, he stopped and looked quickly up and down the road. He soon observed us, and placing his hand above his eyes to shade them from the sun, he gazed long and intently at us. Then having apparently made up his mind, he came towards us with long, rapid, jerky strides.

As he approached, I had time to observe him, and saw that though an old man, he was remarkably vigorous, showing little traces of the in firmity of age, being but very slightly bent as he hurriedly walked along, smiting the ground with a strong stick which he grasped firmly in his right hand. As soon as I could see his face, I was struck with its remarkable resemblance to that of the girl at my side. The relationship between them was patent at a glance. I have never, before or since, allowing for the vast difference in age, seen parent and child so remarkably alike ; for though the one exhibited the spare ness and lines of age, and the other the soft delicacy of youth, yet the general shape of the face, the formation of the features, and the colour of the eyes, were identical. The expressions were, however, by no means alike, for his was restless and suspicious, and his piercing eyes glittered beneath his closely knitted brows.

Though it was a warm summer day, he wore a long dark cloak, and his head was covered with a black velvet skull cap, from under which his still abundant long white hair escaped and fluttered in the light breeze. At the sound of the rapid footsteps on the hard roadway, the girl looked up quickly, and recognising the new-comer, the colour rushed into her cheeks, and she essayed to rise. I begged her to remain still a little longer, but her agitation NETTA, and embarrassment became so painfully evident, that I hurriedly assisted her to her feet, and she stood for a minute or so, with her hand on the gate, trying hard to recover her self-possession as the old gentleman came up. "Netta, Netta," he said sharply, as he looked quickly from her to me, striking the ground noisily with his stick. " Who are you, sir ? and what are you doing here ?

" he asked, turning upon me fiercely, with his head bent forward, and his eyes darting fire. "Excuse me," I answered calmly, "but the lady was in some danger in yonder field, and I was fortunately near enough to be able to render her sqme assistance. I am sorry to say that she has not quite recovered from her very natural alarm." " Is this so, Netta ? " he said, turning hastily to the girl. "Yes, yes, father," she answered hurriedly, and in the same low restrained voice in which she had spoken to me. " He saved my life when I was in great danger, and he is strong and brave." And then in an undertone, she quickly told him the little story. I stepped back, not wishing to be obtrusive, as she stood without her crutch, which was lying in the roadway, but with her hand pressing on the old man's shoulder while she spoke with suppressed eagerness as she watched the play of his countenance.

As she spoke, the fierceness died out of his eyes, but his brows still remained bent. " Wrong, wrong, foolish, imprudent," he said, in an emphatic, jerky sort of way when she had finished ; and then turning to me, said in the same tone and with the same emphatic manner, " Sir, I thank you, thank you deeply for your bravery and NETTA, 9 presence of mind. My daughter also thanks you, eh, Netta ? " and he turned his eyes swiftly upon his daughter with, as I thought, a gleam of tenderness in them. The girl bent her dark eyes upon me and timidly held out her hand, while her face flushed and her voice shook as she said in a low tone, "Yes, yes, I do indeed. Please believe me, for I shall never forget." I took the small, trembling hand in mine a moment and pressed it slightly, as I said, " Hush, you make too much of a slight service.

The gratification was, and is, mine." I bowed and relinquished her hand, and then picked up her crutch and handed it to her. She took it from me, and then there flitted over her face for the first time a faint tearful smile, as she softly spoke another word or two of thanks. The old gentleman then drew her hand within his arm, and inclined his head in a dignified sort of way, as he also held out his hand and said, "Adieu, sir. We are not likely to meet again, but we shall both remember you and your most opportune help." He clasped my hand tightly and then dropped it, as he said to his daughter, " Come, Netta, we will detain the gentle man no longer." I raised my hat and moved back, while the old man, having bowed once more, drew his daughter quickly away ; not, however, before she had given me one more grateful look with those wonderful eyes of hers.

Seeing a stone by the roadside, I sat down upon it and watched the retreating pair, feeling peculiarly impressed both by the girl and her father, so unusual in all about them, their faces, their dress, their bearing. As they walked up the rising ground, their forms stood out clearly in the light of the declining summer day; the tall, sturdy NETTA, form os the white-haired old man bearing along, too rapidly as it seemed to me, the slight, fragile, halting figure of the girl. Soon they reached the cross road, and here they paused for a moment, the old man looking first to the right and then to the left, as if in doubt. The girl then turned round and looked back and saw me, as I sat watching them. I rose, and though she was too far off for me to see her face, I perceived her place her hand to her sorehead and afterwards extend it towards me.

I took it as a token of farewell, and once more raised my hat. At that moment the old man hurried her round the corner of the road, and they disappeared from my sight.

Chapter II

It was foolish, perhaps, but somehow the desire for further rambling that day had died out within me ; and slowly and thoughtfully I strolled homewards. I made several attempts to interest myself in the same way as in the early part of my ramble ; but in spite of my efforts, my surroundings would persist in growing blurred and indistinct, while there continually flitted before my eyes the white pensive face, the dark, sad-looking eyes, the quivering lips, and the slight graceful figure of the girl whose light weight I had for a few moments held in my arms. It was absurd, it was worse than absurd, but I could not prevent a quick throbbing at my heart as again and again I went over the incident in every detail. And yet it was nothing at all extraordinary, or heroic, and has occurred, times without number, in books and out of them.

Still, in spite of all I could say to myself, notwithstanding the consciousness that I had lapsed into a foolish dreamy condition, the face and form of the girl grew more and more distinct upon my vision, until, had I been artist enough, I could have transferred her picture to the canvas without ever seeing her again. In this unaccustomed dreamy fashion I walked home wards, and slowly as I moved along I had reached the village almost before I was aware of it. Ryefield was a pretty little place, with no specially distinctive features that need detain me in any detailed NETTA, 12 description. It was situated in the northern part of Derby shire among the high breezy uplands, whose rock masses are scarred and carved by the waters of the Wye and Derwent and their tributary streams into picturesque glens and ravines.

It was for the purpose of discovering the hidden beauties, which sometimes escape the eye of the ordinary holiday tourist, that I had chosen to stay at Ryefield, which lay a little out of the track of excursionists. It was a sleepy, easy-going, unchangeable little place, as most places are that are removed from the stimulus of the feverish strife that forms the life of cities and great towns, and whose ramifications are rapidly spreading into nooks and corners of our country, which one would have thought might have slept on forever in their olden peace. The village itself, as many villages are, was little else than a straggling irregular street, the houses being built upon no plan whatever ; most of them, I suppose, having come into existence at odd times accordingly as they were required, and built as the fancy, or convenience, of the owners dictated.

There were a few shops ; the village inn and ale-house combined was situated at one end of the High Street, and Mr. Strutt's, the grocer's, whose first floor was my temporary home, was near it. Mr. Strutt himself was a little, dapper, astute man of business, in striking contrast to his slow-going neighbours, who looked upon him with a hesitating admiration : for Mr. Strutt had acquired his activity and worldly guile in the unfailing school of London life. He had migrated to Ryefield in order to take possession of the house and shop that he now occupied, and which had been bequeathed to him by a relative. Here he brought his London notions and manners, and soon transformed the old-fashioned grocery into a spick and span store of the London pattern. NETTA, 13 He was quick and keen, a thorough Paul Pry, and an inveterate gossip.

As a rule he bored me, and I kept out of his way ; but thinking it possible that I might learn something about the object of my thoughts, when I reached home I strolled lazily into the shop and began to chat. Mr. Strutt, nothing loth, readily joined in, and it needed but an occasional word from me, when he had once started, to draw from him a detailed account of all the folks in the neighbourhood, with a minute description of their persons, habits, and occupations. I listened with apparent carelessness as he talked, though I was closely watching for anything that might have any bearing upon the subject of my thoughts ; but though he rambled on from one to another, nothing he said indicated the slightest knowledge on his part of anyone bearing any resemblance to that old man and his daughter.

There were the doctor, the lawyer, the parson, the Methodist preacher, a couple of neighbouring squires, and a host of minor person ages ; but with the exception of Dr. Morny, the medical practitioner, I felt not the faintest interest in any of them, and at last I yawned perceptibly. " Do you never have visitors ? " I inquired. " Why, not often, sir. We are out of the regular track of tourists, except now and then one like yourself, and at the present moment some of our own people are away. Sometimes the parson, or Lawyer Barnes, or Dr. Morny has friends ; but parson and lawyer are away, and Dr. Morny, I know, has no one, for he looked in here yesterday, and we had quite a long chat together. You don't know the doctor, do you, sir ? " " No, I know no one." '•' Of .course not. I beg your pardon, sir. But every- NETTA, 14 body about here knows the doctor and the two young ladies.

Miss Judith, they say, is as clever as the doctor himself. You'd like the doctor, sir." " Ah, yes, probably, but I shall not be here long enough to make his acquaintance or anyone else's." "No, sir? Well, more's the pity, for the doctor would like to know you. He likes to talk about London. You came from London, I suppose, sir ? " "Yes." " Ah, so did I. Duty, sir, took me from it, but I sigh for it every day of my life. Some people say it's smoky, and that you never see the sun. Well, all I can say is, I love its smoke. It never choked me, and I wish my lungs were full of it now. You have to be wide awake in London ; here they all seem on the doze. Well, good-night, sir, if you are going." " Good-night, Mr. Strutt." Thoroughly tired out with his incessant chatter, I went upstairs, and flinging off my hat, I threw myself into the easy-chair by the window, and stretched out my legs luxuriously, glad of the dim soft twilight that was now toning down all harsh outlines, and suggesting a fantastic unreality to things that was acceptable to me then.

Then, as the darkness stole on, the face of the girl that had so strangely fixed itself in my imagination came before me again with startling vividness, and I saw nothing else. Gradually my eyelids closed, and I slept and dreamed. In my dreams I saw, — stop, Frank Selby ! Cease your ego tistical prosing, and keep to your narrative. The next morning I was up betimes ; and the brilliant sunshine and the clear blue sky, flecked with light, fleecy wisps of gold and silver, and the genial warmth, tempered NETTA, 15 by a light breeze, effectually battled with all enervating dreams and fancies. As soon as I was ready, I started out, determined to make the best of the day before me. Half unconsciously I took the same direction as on yester day, and it was not long before I came to the scene of my little adventure.

I folded my arms upon the top bar of the gate, and for a few minutes surveyed the small field before me, across which a beaten track ran from the gate upon which I was leaning to a corresponding one opposite. Far away, on my right, yesterday's enemy, the bull, was grazing quietly enough, and, certainly, it did not seem a very risky task to get across. On the spur of the moment, I sprang over the bars, and strolled leisurely along towards the opposite gate, looking from time to time at the animal, in case he should show signs of mischief. He, however, took not the slight est notice of me, and so I cast my eyes round about to see if there were any traces of yesterday's encounter. Suddenly I perceived something dark lying upon the ground a little to my left, and upon getting possession of it, I found it was a leather-bound pocket sketch-book.

Hastily opening it, I saw that it was nearly full of sketches and drawings, most of them coloured, with an occasional sentence or two, written in a delicate, yet clear and decided feminine hand. Repressing my curiosity for a moment, I closed the book and put it into my pocket, with the intention of examining it when I found myself in a suitable situation. I felt a little excitement as I put the book carefully away, for I doubted not that it belonged to the girl whose face had haunted my dreams ; and I thought it likely enough that I should find in it some clue to her whereabouts, and the excuse of restoring it might, perhaps, lead to further NETTA, acquaintance. And then I checked myself at the thought that I, a roving journalist, could spare no time for acquaint ances, new or old. It would not do to encourage such an idea.

And yet, — I soon reached the opposite gate, which was unfastened, and passed through, where I found a footpath which soon brought me to the lane, out of which I had seen the white haired old gentleman of yesterday come into view. I had not proceeded far along this lane before I made another discovery. This time it was a small cedar box which I observed lying close to the hedge, almost hidden in the long grass. I picked it up, and pressing a small brass disc, the lid flew up, disclosing two articles inside. That which I examined first, and with an eager interest, was a plate of some natural mineral substance of a whitish colour, upon which was executed with exquisite beauty, a pair of portraits. They were those of a man and a woman. As I looked at the man's face I started, for though the interval of years was great, I could not but identify it as that of the old man who was at that moment in my thoughts.

True, the hair was dark, and the lines of age were few ; but the features, the expression, and the outline of the face were the same. The thin face was intellectual in the extreme, but the brow was knit and the lips compressed, while the expression was one of mingled hauteur and impatience. The portrait of the woman was in striking contrast, though her eyes and hair were dark, indeed, apparently black. She was young and wondrously beautiful, but with the voluptuous, sensuous beauty of the South. The eyes were large and lustrous, the eyebrows perfectly arched and pencilled, the nose was somewhat aquiline, but fleshy at the NETTA, 17 nostrils, the lips were full and brightly red, and just a trifle open, and the only fault in the general outline of the face, marring its perfect oval, was an over fulness in the lower part.