A Scandal-or, Is It True? A novel

Front matter

SHORTLY. AT EVERY LIBRARY. WITHERED LEAVES a /lobel, BY RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL, from; the gkrman, By BERTHA NESS, Translator of Werner's "Riven Bonds " and " Sacred Vows." 3 Vols., 31s. 6d. "'Withered Leaves' is a highly effective novel, * * * * * cleverly constructed, full of varied incident, excellently written, and indicating the accomplished literary craftsman on every page.'' — Saturday Review. REMINGTON & Co., 5, Anmdel Street, Strand, W.C. A SCANDALon IS IT TRUE? a JJobrl, IN TWO VOLUMES. By ji . Elrjngton, " Skilled by a touch to deepen Scandal's tints, With all the kind mendacity of hints, While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles, A thread of candour with a web of wiles." Bykon. VOL. II. REMINGTON AND CO., 5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C. 1878. [All Rights Reserved.]

Chapter I. An Old Acquaintance

FctWIi -^*~E the actual trouble and annoy- I^Sej^ anco was over, Leon Hastings thought very litte more about his expedition to the circus with Mrs. Fitz-Eustace. He made his aunt laugh rather more than was good for her over the account of their adventures, and then it passed almost out of his memory, his head was so full of vol. n. t ? other things ; but I do not think Mrs. Fitz- Eustace herself ever forgot it to the end of her fussy little life. Very often in after years her friends grew weary of hearing the oft-repeated tale how Mr. Hastings took her to the circus, invari ably winding up with the remark — ■ " And we saw it all for a very moderate charge — for a penny apiece, my dear." When Leon reached Mrs. Woodward's house, after seeing Mrs. Fitz-Eustace safely home, he found, on looking at his watch, that Signor Moloni's entertainment had occupied a much larger space of time than he imagined.

He and Evelyn were to take the Beresfords and Clementina for a row that evening ; it had been settled for some time, and that they were all to have tea at the Beresfords before starting. ? 3 It now only wanted a quarter of an hour of the time they had fixed to meet, and although he made as much haste as he could, he was a good deal late when he came in sight of the little lawn of Beech Cottage. A group was already assembled under the beech trees when he entered. A light table had been carried out, and Geraldine was making tea at it, apparently intent on nothing else at present, with her serious mouth and bright laughing eyes ; Evelyn was beside her, waiting to hand round the cups. Mrs. Beres ford was dispensing delicious-looking straw berries and cream, and Clementina sat on the wooden seat, looking very handsome, and much less languid than usual.

But — Leon could hardly believe his eyes at first — but yes, there was no mistaking him, there lying at full length on the grass, the red sunset glow that was lighting up the ? 4 whole group and bronzing the leaves of the beech trees, falling on his dusty locks and yellow freckles, was no less a personage than the sandy-haired boy. He was devouring strawberries and cream with zest and a rapidity of despatch that would not have dis graced the Irish Mail, and looking for all the world, as Leon thought in his first disgusted sensations, just like a great yellow ugly dog. However, it was a very good-natured dog, and sprang up to greet Leon with a warmth that almost upset him ; unfortunately, it up set his own strawberries and cream down the back of Clementina's Skye terrier, who spent the rest of the evening in great bodily dis comfort in consequence.

" Take care, Rupert," said Mrs. Beresford in her gentle tones, but it was too late. • Leon abhorred this boy, partly for the boy's ? 5 father's sake, partly for his own, but he found it impossible to resist entirely such a hearty welcome. " Come along ! " cried that noisy boy, " come along, the strawberries are tip top." Mrs. Beresford laughed, as Leon shook hands with her. "You had better try them; Rupert is a good judge." And Leon, as he sat down, felt his vexa tion vanish in spite of himself." Wilfrid came running out of the house with some teaspoons, and sat down next James Rupert, with whom he had struck up a great friendship, why, it would be hard to say, ex cept that there was a hearty good-nature about this boy that won its way with people, in spite of his roughness and vulgarity. The two were a contrast; Wilfrid, quiet, hand- ? some, looking older than his actual age ; James, ugly, noisy, and altogether unformed looking.

Some one has said that misfortunes never come single, and so thought Leon when Dolphy appeared suddenly from behind a bush, and plunged down on his knee without a moment's warning. " Be quiet, Dolphy, or I shall send you home," said Mrs. Beresford. She spoke very gently ; but her words seemed to have a wonderful effect on Master Dolphy, for he sat down in a most decorous manner beside Leon. Altogether, they had a very pleasant time of it that evening under the beech trees. Mrs. Beresford seemed to throw off the melancholy that had become very habitual to her, and talked a great deal in the gentle voice that ? 7 both Leon and the sandy-haired boy thought so charming. Evelyn knew so much on so many subjects that he was always a pleasant companion ; Dolphy held his tongue, and consequently showed to the best advantage.

Leon was, perhaps, the most silent of the party that evening ; but he enjoyed himself very much, nevertheless. He was artist enough to like the sunset glow over every thing ; he liked the strawberries and cream, he liked to hear Mrs. Beresford and Geraldine discussing " Cranford Stories," with Evelyn laughing again and again over dear old Miss Matty and cousin Peter. Lying stretched out on the grass in lazy enjoyment, he forgot his animosity — forgot that the boy beside him was the son of his enemy ; forgot even a project that for the last few days had ? been rapidly taking root in his mind. If ho did think of it at all, it was with a pang of shame, that this boy, who was holding out the right hand of fellowship so eagerly to him, was the very boy whose inheritance ho meant, if possible, to wrest away, whose father he hoped to cover with disgrace.

But a yell of pain broke from the sandy haired boy. " You little fiend ! " he shouted, catching Dolphy by the leg. Dolphy extricated himself, and sprang up, flourishing an empty teaspoon, the scalding contents of which he had surreptitiously de posited inside James Rupert's collar. " Naughty boy ! " drawled Clementina. " Now my dear, I think you had better go home," said Mrs. Beresford, very decidedly. " I think it must be near your usual bed time." ? 9 But Dolphy evinced great unwillingness to depart, and had to be finally carried off in Evelyn's arms, kicking and struggling. While Evelyn was away disposing of Dolphy, James Rupert remarked in his loud tones — " I say, Wilfrid, I owe you something ; how much did you lend me for the ticket on Tuesday last ? " " Oh, about a shilling," said Wilfrid, get ting suddenly very red and confused, and administering a sharp kick to his school fellow, under cover of the table, as a warning to him to hold his tongue.

But James Rupert was not open to hints, and he exclaimed in an aggrieved tone — " I say, Beresford, what are you kicking me so hard for?" "Nonsense! " said Wilfrid, rather roughly, " Have some more tea." ? Mrs. Beresford made no remark, but she noticed with uneasiness Wilfrid's confusion and shifty manner. However, the tea had taken off Rupert's attention, and he let his friend alone. When his mouth was at liberty, ho addressed him self to Leon — " You are to come and stay at Arnadoon in the autumn, old fellow ; I know my father means to ask you; you must come — promise, I say." "I can't promise anything of the sort," said Leon, rather abruptly. Yet he felt half tempted for the moment. What opportuni ties for investigation he would have if actually on the spot ; but it was only for a moment- Then all his better nature revolted against the idea, that he should go and accept the Rupert's hospitality, and use that hospitality to assist him in working their ruin. ? 11 " Please say you will come ; it is such a jolly place," said Rupert, who only knew very vaguely the history of his father's suc cession.

Leon shook his head. " I don't think I can, thank you, Rupert ; I am not even certain that I shall be in Ire land at that time." The sandy-haired boy looked quite down cast; but it was time to go down to the shore, where Evelyn's boat was waiting for them. It was a pleasant row they had for a mile or two along the level coast, and then out for a little seawards ; but Mrs. Beresford did not like their going far in that direction, and made them turn in again towards the shore. Evelyn and Leon rowed, and then Wilfrid and James Rupert relieved them, but the latter had never rowed in his life before, which fact ? he concealed, and went at it with more vigour than skill, as, after catching a tremendous crab, he had to be hauled up out of the bottom of the boat by Evelyn. " Where is it ? " he said, looking round in a bewildered manner.

" What ? " " The crab," he said, and they all laughed. Then it turned out that he had only been once in a boat before, and never even touched an oar. " That being the case, you had better sit in the stern," said Evelyn, " and let me row. You have frightened Mrs. Beresford out of her wits." The sandy-haired boy looked rather put out. " You see," said Evelyn, " it does not do to drown people." ? 13 After that Clementina and Geraldine took the oars for a little, Evelyn teaching Geraldiue, for she was only a beginner ; Clementina could row very well. " I don't know how it is," said Clementina at last, " I am rowing so badly this evening, will you tell me Evelyn, what it is I am doing wrong ? " " Oh, you are all right," said he, carelessly, without looking round, " you can row quite well enough, Clementina."

Soon after this Clementina complained of being tired, and insisted on being put on shore ; they tried to persuade her not to go, but it was no use, she could be very obstinate sometimes. " Have you a headache ?" said Geraldine, when they saw she was determined to go, " I will walk home with you." " No thank you, I can go alone," said Clementina, languidly. " Oh, yes, of course," said Evelyn, " it is nonsense to spoil another person's pleasure. Clementina will not get lost going that far." " Thank you," said Clementina, haughtily, as he helped her out of the boat, " I appre ciate your civility," and she glanced scorn fully at him out of her half shut, handsome eyes. " No thank you, Mr. Hastings, I had really rather go alone." Her cousin muttered something about " freaks," as he pushed off the boat, but after a time he said rather uneasily, " I hope there is nothing the matter with her," for he wras fond of his cousin, though she irritated him.

They came in sooner from the boat after all than they had intended, it grew dark and chilly suddenly. Leon walked up from the shore with Mrs. Beresford, carrying her shawl. " Where is Geraldine ? " said Mrs. Beres ford, after a little, "and Mr. Warburton?" she added, looking back. Her companion laughed a little. " I hardly think they want us," he said, as they descried two figures that had dropped a long way behind. " What ? " said Mrs. Beresford, and then she stopped, as something began to break on her perception for the first time ; she had been very blind hitherto, she had had a dim idea that Evelyn Warburton was engaged to his cousin Clementina, without saying it in so many words. Mrs. Dilford had managed to imply something of the sort. Mrs. Beresford had imagined this was the reason he had lingered in Oldtown this summer, instead of going home as he had told her he usually did ? in July.

But now Leon's words seemed to open her eyes; it was not Clementina's society he sought, but Geraldine's ; it was with her he cared to converse, and it seemed to her, now that things flashed on her memory, that when with Geraldine, he over looked Clementina altogether ; then he was always finding excuses to come down to Beech Cottage — words, looks, a hundred little things she recollected, when her attention had been drawn to them by those few careless words of Leon's. If Evelyn was rea^y engaged to Clemen tina, this was not right, lift would not be dealing fairly by either of them, and would be unworthy of the high place he had held in her esteem hitherto ; then again it was only a few chance words of Mrs. Dil ford's that had made her think this, and she had ? 17 begun to discover that, whatever her good qualities might be, that lady did not always stick to truth.

Any way, Leon had said enough to rouse Mrs. Beresford's anxiety and make her thoroughly uncomfortable ; she did not know what to think or what to wish ; perhaps, after all, she was exaggerating trifles and there might be nothing in it beyond the natural liking on either side for a pleasant companion. She was so silent all the way home that Leon was afraid he had offended her, and tried to make it better by saying, " I am afraid you thought me rather cool to say that just now?" and though she said, "no, not at all," quite truthfully, he did not feel by any means sure that he had not made an awkward mistake. I think the most thoroughly happy person VOL. II. o ? 18 that evening, was he who had most personal disadvantages— the ugly, clumsy, vulgar, sandy-haired boy; in spite of these four un pleasant adjectives, lie enjoyed himself im mensely ; he was in the society of the three persons for whom he had acquired an intense admiration, Mrs. Beresford, Leon Hastings, and Wilfrid, and perhaps of the whole party, he was the one who best deserved to be happy, for in spite of his awkward ways ho was the most unselfish of them all.

But if James Rupert was the most happy, his friend Wilfrid was certainly the least so, for he had the pleasure of anticipating all the evening the question which came when he was bidding his mother good-night. " Where were you on Tuesday last, Wil frid, when you allowed me to believe you were spending the day at Rupert's house ? " ? 19 " Only to see a diorama," said Wilfrid, in a surly tone, " it wasn't any harm." Now a diorama was certainly a most harm less amusement, nevertheless Wilfrid's mother was very angry with him, very much vexed and disappointed, not because of his going to it, but because he had certainly acted a lie in allowing her to believe that he was spend ing the day with Rupert, and had missed the train by accident ; whereas Rupert's house was not in C at all, but at Arnadoon, and the going to the diorama with him had been a preconcerted plan, perfectly innocent on his friend's part, for he had got leave from his master to go.

When hard pressed, Wilfrid said that he was afraid of being prevented going, adding the rather inconsequent remark — " That John Dilford had said he was a muff." ? " And I quite agree with him," said Mrs. Beresford, angrily, " what on earth were you afraid of, that you should not speak the truth ? " Wilfrid shrank away to bed, frightened and ashamed, for the look in his mother's dark eyes made him quail. Mrs. Beresford stayed awake and fretted ;. it might be only a little thing, but it was the first time she had known Wilfrid to act in an underhand manner, and coming so soon after her vehement defence of him to his aunt, it was a great blow to her.

Chapter II. Only

A FEW WORDS. HE first week in August was wet, and Mrs. Creswell, a good natured, well meaning woman, whose one delight in life was visiting and receivings visits from neighbours, felt very dull and moped. She was sitting one dreary evening following a hopelessly wet day, contemplating the ghastly structure of green and white paper that adorned her grate. The postman's knock was a cheerful sound, and the servant brought in a letter for her ; she read it easily in the fading twilight, for it was written in a clear business-like hand. ? When Mrs. Creswell got to the end of her letter, she drew in her lips with that peculiar gasp some people give, when they hear of anything very dreadful ; the letter was from an old acquaintance of hers, Mr. Rupert, and was principally on business, but there was a little gossip thrown in at the conclusion, as a make-weight ; it wound up — " I believe from what my son tells me, that a distant relative of mine, a Mr. Hast ings, is at present residing in Oldtown.

Strongly as I object to gossip of any kind, I must warn you, as a friend, to avoid intercourse with him, as he is not a desirable acquaintance." Mrs. Creswell looked up when she had finished reading her letter, and saw that the clouds had cleared away, and the rain had ceased to fall. ? 23 " I think I will run down to Mrs. Gran ger's with that pattern," she said, " it has got quite fine." The Graingers received Mrs. Creswell with open arms, " so kind of you to come," they said, " not that we find a wet day dull," added the eldest Miss Grainger, " our minds always need cultivating ; alas ! they are very barren." " Try potatoes ! " said Mrs. Creswell, promptly; for, poor lady, when her friends got too deep for her, she had a habit of not attending to what they were saying, and now she fancied they were talking of their garden.

" Potatoes ? yes," said Miss Grainger, thoughtfully, " but I fear it is a subject would be easily exhausted." " Dear, dear ! we live in a bad world ! " ejaculated Mrs. Creswell, sinking into an easy chair. " We hope to open our Mutual Improve ment Society in October," said Miss Grainger. " I don't mind," said Mrs. Creswell, in her fat voice, " hearing that somebody one doesn't care for, and nobody knows anything about, has gone to the bad, but a neighbour — no, my dear, I mean nothing personal," for Miss Grainger was beginning to stiffen, " but poor Mr. Hastings — I feel for his aunt — poor, dissipated young man ! " " Dissipated ! " exclaimed Miss Grainger, moving her lips like a hungry tiger. " I don't think that was the word, by-the by," said Mrs. Creswell. " I have the letter here to refer to," and she felt for it in her pocket.

" No, I declare I have left it at home ; however, you won't let it go any ? 25 farther, but I thought it only right to warn you to discourage any attentions of his." " Thank you," said the 2nd Miss Grain ger, " but I think he must already know that we do not encourage his acquaintance." " But to return to what we were speaking of, Mrs. Creswell," began the eldest Miss Grainger, " Our minds — " " Oh, yes, my dear, I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Creswell, rising to depart in a great hurry, for she ran from Miss Grainger's mind as she would have done from a mad cow. " I don't believe a word of it ! " said Mrs. Fitz-Eustace, energetically, giving a vigorous twist to her cap strings, and dislocating her much-tried front. " I confess I am surprised, Jemima Twaddle, to find you taking to evil ? speaking in your old age."

Miss Twaddle ami Mrs. Fitz-Eustace had been intimate in their youth, and called each other by their Christian names ; John Francis had gone, and Miss Twaddle was spending the evening with Mrs. Fitz-Eustace, to console her for his absence. Miss Twaddle coughed and blushed. " At what period of our lives, Sarah, do you think old age commences?" she asked, mildly. " Period ? Fiddlesticks ! " said Mrs. Fitz- Eustace, scornfully. " I only know that I'm an old woman, and you are a year older. Have some more sugar in your tea ? No, you had better not, though, it will make you bilious. Aud now, Jemima, you will kindly give me your authority for what you said just now about my friend, Mr. Hastings." Like most persons who have an intense love ? 27 for asking questions, Miss Twaddle abhorred answering them.

Now she fidgetted and hesitated, " How point-blank you are, Sarah." "Your authority?" said Mrs. Fitz, ruth lessly. " Mrs. Dilford," began Miss Twaddle, ner vously. Mrs. Fitz-Eustace snorted. " Mrs. Dilford was visiting me to-day," continued Miss Twaddle, plucking up courage, " and you know she is peculiarly averse to scandal of any kind, but she was so shocked at what she heard from one of her servants, a most trustworthy girl, wdio had it from Mrs. Woodward's housekeeper, a most respectable woman, quite a Christian, and — " " Stop ! " cried Mrs. Fitz-Eustace, hotly. " Quite a Christian ! Better say quite a heathen. Slander your neighbour, if you ? like, Jemima Twaddle, you will suffer for it some day; but whatever you do don't slander jour religion." " I think I had better say no more," said Miss Twaddle, stiffly.

" Oh, no, pray finish your story." Once fairly embarked in it, the desire to finish was irresistible. " Mrs. Woodward's servant had it from the Miss Graingers themselves, and they — " "That will do," said Mrs. Fitz-Eustace, her wrath breaking out afresh ; "I see it all — a perfect tissue of malice and lies ! I say again, Jemima, I am ashamed of you, to gossip with servants, indeed ! " " But I did not gossip with servants," said Miss Twaddle, guiltily. "Mrs. Dil— " " It's all the same," said Mrs. Fitz, inter rupting her again. ? 29 Miss Twaddle sighed ; certainly taking tea with Mrs. Fitz-Eustace was not unalloyed pleasure. In spite of Mrs. Fitz-Eustace's vigorous denial of their truth, Mrs. Creswell's few words, with variations of the story as different persons took it up, did not die a natural death.

Oldtown was generally rather dull, and anything that made a little excitement was eagerly welcomed by most of the inhabitants. The tale grew and strengthened, creeping stealthily through the by-ways of Mrs. Dilford's innuendoes, stalking erect through the broad streets of Mrs. Creswell's good-natured horror, and spreading rapidly wherever Miss Twaddle's questions found an entry; for a certain class of people, who do not like to own ignorance about anything they are supposed to know about, considered themselves driven ? to draw on their invention to satisfy her eager queries. Leon was for some time quite unaware of the reports that were circulating about him iu Oldtown; happily unconscious that Miss Grainger ostentatiously rushed down a side street to avoid him, and he really thought Mrs. Fitz-Eustace was getting a little cracked when she said, " Never mind, Mr. Hastings, I will stand by you whatever they say !

" He had a project in his head at present, which continually occupied his thoughts, in spite of himself, almost ; for he knew it to be a wild, almost impracticable one ; yet it was in vain he tried to drive it away, it kept recurring to him persistently — this was to go to America to search for Ned Lyons. " As well look for a needle in a bundle of straw ! " said Evelyn, when Leon told him ? 31 something about it; nevertheless, the desire to go grew stronger every day ; tw.o things only kept him back, the fear of distressing his aunt, and the knowledge that he would have to trench on his own tiny capital for his expenses. It was no wonder that, with his thoughts so occupied, it should be some time before Leon discovered that the tongues of Oldtown had been meddling with his character, but he woke to the fact at last.

There were plenty of friends ready to tell Mrs. Woodward the cheerful tidings that her nephew was going to the bad ; it may seem strange that she, lovino- Leon as she did, and trusting him as she had hitherto done, should believe them ; nevertheless she did. After all, shut away in her room and hardly ever going out, Mrs. Woodward could only judge by hearsay of ? what was £oin£ on in Oldtown ; she had DO 3 noticed, too, of late, that Leon had lost much of his brightness, and grown moody and silent; her fears were awakened — if what she heard was true, Leon must be indeed changed. Had she spoken to him at once, he would probably have set her mind at rest in a few words, but unfortunately she held her tongue and fretted in silence, determining to show Leon by her manner that she was displeased, and then let him draw his own conclusions from it.

He was not slow in perceiving the change, it struck him painfully, she had grown cold and constrained towards him ; could it be that she was tiring of her goodness to him ? but, no, he put the thought away as ungrate ful ; yet, what had he done to displease her ? ? 33 And now he also began to notice a change in other people — cold looks met him frequently, now and then scornful words ; acquaintances, that had been friendly before, began to shun him. Dolphy came by one day, as he was nailing up a straggling rose tree in his aunt's garden. " Look out for your head ! " said Leon, throwing a handful of plums over the wall. But Dolphy ran past with his hands behind his back. " Come back you silly boy ; they are for ?> you. Dolphy paused, and, eyeing the fallen fruit regretfully, said dolefully — "I mayn't." " Why not ? they won't hurt you."

" No," said Dolphy, " I mayn't, because you gave them to me, — and you're a leper ! " VOL. II. D ? Having made this terrible announcement, Dolphy sat down in the middle of the ripe plums, and forthwith began to cry ; whether the artful boy thought this sort of laying down his arms would appease Leon's wrath, it certainly had that effect, for he threw over a ripe pear. " Don't roar, Dolphy ; there's a good boy, you can see I am not a leper yet." " It's not an outside leper," whined Dolphy, through his tears, " it's an inside leper ; my mamma says so, and that you're dissipated and swear desp'rate, and — and — Clem has had a merciful escape." " Does your mother say all this ? " asked Leon, in low, quick tones. Dolphy nodded. " They all says it," he gasped ; " every one says it, and I'm sorry, for I like you, and I ? 35 like plums; you're not angry, are you?" said Dolphy, with a fresh burst of tears, for there was a look in Leon's eyes he did not like.

" No, I am not angry with you, Dolphy, but you had better go home if your mother said so ; there, you had better take the plums, I don't think she will mind that." And Leon spoke the truth, he was not angry with the little, troublesome, mischie vous boy ; how could he be any better, brou°ht up as he had been in an atmosphere of meanness, arrogance and daily deceit ; but he felt for the moment as if he abhorred every one in Oldtown. Leon Hastings had always shunned the coarse vices of which he knew some to be guilty, with disgust; perhaps he did not deserve a great deal of credit for doing so, for they possessed no attractions for him ; unconsciously he had been intensely proud of his character as honourable and upright, and now, stealthily, by a few slight words, a whisper here, and a nod there, these re spectable neighbours of his had stolen it from him ; ay, stolen it, no less than he believed Mr. Rupert'to have stolen his inheritance ; and no law of the land could reach this theft ; there was no punishment for the slan derer and backbiter, no sentence condemned them, only those words which the honest folks of Oldtown listened to every Sunday of their lives, and sometimes on week days, too, now that Mr. Tremaine had come — " Thou shalt not bearfalse witness against thy neighbour." ;;> .7 r-