Roy and Viola

Chapter I

"IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." PT.HE months passed on and a great -*- friendship sprang up between Lady Roy and Mrs. d'Arcy : it was the com mencement of a new era in Viola's life. Since her marriage, she had possessed no woman friend. Her mother's visits were short and rare— d'Arcy took care that they should not be fraught with much pleasure, and Viola was only too anxious to conceal from her mother the extent of her unhappiness. The poor lady could A^OL. II. B ROY AND YIOLA. only have deplored it without being able to offer any aid. Mrs. Sterling herself had suffered bitter disappointment : she had imagined and dreamed of a thousand benefits that she was to reap from the possession of a rich and generous son in-law, but her awakening had been speedy and sharp. Finding that d'Arcy's house was not likely to be a home for her, she took an appartement in Paris, where she gradually made a small circle of acquaint ances.

Madame de Ferias was exceedingly kind to her, and Mrs. Sterling's life was, at all events, a far happier one than her daughter's. Viola had only seen Netta a few times since her marriage — once the gay little lady had spent a fortnight with her in London, but had never repeated her visit. She found d'Arcy detestable — she would not say what she thought of him to Viola, but tried to seem as though she noticed nothing. But when she returned to her husband, she positively " IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." 3 cried as she related what she had wit nessed, and reproached herself for having pressed the marriage upon her friend. It is not easy to write one's grievances, and Viola was proud and only anxious that the Avorld should not know what she suffered. But slowly, insensibly at first, she drifted into confidences with Lady Roy until presently she came to have no secrets from her.

Then Lady Roy was a woman in ten thousand — she was almost devoid of curiosity ; extremely sympathetic, sparing of advice and most judicious when she did give it. She was as much attached to Viola as Viola to her, and she no longer entertained those fears for her son which had so disquieted her at first. Whatever he might feel for Viola, she, Lady Roy was sure, had only friendliness to give him in return. At first the mother watched her keenly — she almost thought that Douglas's evident admiration and devotion must call forth some return ; must waken some con- B_ sciousness in her; but after several months she failed to detect any symptoms of the sort. It was she herself who was the object of Viola's frequent visits ; some times, even, she seemed a little put out when Sir Douglas came in and interrupted their tete-a-tete.

After all these years of silent suffering — after the long agony of secret bitterness and resentment, the joy to this lonely soul of having a confidante was inexpressible. What could a man be to her by com parison ! A man would come and sympathise with her if she degraded herself so far as to ask his sympathy, and would then try to turn her wretchedness to his own account. That was the way she thought of men. But a Avoman, to whom, without indelicacy and without reticence, she might open all her heart ; a woman, who she knew by instinct would hold her confidences sacred, ah ! she was worth every man who ever drew breath, and the "IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH," 5 joy and comfort of her friendship made Viola, for the time being, insensible either to Sir Douglas's attractions or his admira tion.

Lady Roy kept her friend's counsel well ; not only for Viola's own sake, but because she was alive to the danger and imprudence of fanning her son's anger against d'Arcy and his sympathy for Viola by the story of her wrongs. "What on earth can you and Mrs. d'Arcy always find to talk about ?" he Avould ask, almost petulantly. " If I happen to come in after you have been closet ed for hours, you both look quite injured, and make me feel thoroughly de trop. What do you talk about?" " Oh, very often the children," replied Lady Roy. "And 'dress and — and other things,' eh, mother ? I fancy the ' other things ' play a very important part in the conver sation." " You see, dear boy, it is a comfort to her to have some one to talk to unre servedly," remarked Lady Roy. " I can understand that perfectly," an swered her son.

" But does this unreserved talk never come to an end ? What is it all about ? Is it about him ?" " She speaks of him, of course, some times." " This afternoon," proceeds Sir Douglas, " I sat in my room one hour and ten minutes by the clock after her brougham drove up, and then I thought, ' By Jove ! they must have finished noAV,' and I went upstairs. You both immediately stopped dead short, and, about ten minutes after,. Mrs. d'Arcy remembered that she had been keeping the horses an unconscionable time. I expect her servants must bless this house." Sir Douglas had been getting restless and unsettled for a lon_j time, and his mother was painfully aware of it. She " IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." 7 knew the reason quite well, and the very knowledge kept her from alluding to the change in him.

Mrs. Fitzallan had noticed it, My lady had noticed it, and both had asked his mother the same question. " What is the matter with Douglas ? Is he in love ?" Lady Roy had persuaded him to go and fish in Ireland, but he returned in less than a fortnight. He was constantly planning expeditions, but, when the time came, they fell through. If he lunched or dined with the d'Arcys, he invariably came back in a state of irritability former ly unknown to him, and launched out into the most unmeasured abuse of his late host. It is certain that liking does not always beget liking, nor dislike dislike, for d'Arcy persisted in exhibiting the greatest friendship for Sir Douglas. It was not only that he really liked the young man's pleasant, cheery manner, but he Avas per fectly conscious that most of his men friends and acquaintances Avere not of a very desirable or highly considered order, whereas Sir Douglas moved in a thoroughly good set, and was a universal favourite iu it.

D'Arcy Avas as glad to be seen in company with Roy as Roy was averse to appearing in his. " How the deuce," said one man, " can Roy have taken up with that cad !" " Oh," returned the other with a short laugh, " he has got a very good-looking wife." The world is so horribly sharp in pick ing up half-truths. If Viola's life was the happier for Lady Roy's affectionate sympathy, it was un brightened by any improvement in her relations with d'Arcy — he was just as overbearing, as coarse, as bitter against her as ever. The reign of Mrs. Fairfield still continued ; even Lady Roy, who was guarded in her expressions as a rule, and " IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." 9 Avho was for ever trying to pour oil on the troubled waters, had declared that she was an objectionable, underbred woman. She had fawned upon Lady Roy, but that lady had kept her coldly at a distance, and Mrs. Fairfield owed her a grudge in consequence.

Viola found the woman more intolerable every time she saw her. It was the knowledge of this, perhaps, that kept d'Arcy so constant in his attentions to her. One evening, he had taken three stalls for the play. Mrs. Fairfield was to be their companion as usual. At the last moment Viola revolted, pleaded a head ache, and retired to her room. D'Arcy came and stormed, swore her headache was nothing but an infernal lie got up to spite him, and insisted that she should dress and go. Viola, however, declined — she felt stronger since she had possessed a friend. " By !" said d'Arcy, as he slammed the door violently, "you shall be sorry for this." A vague uneasiness crept over Viola — when her husband threatened, he was alwa}7s as good as his word. She almost wished she had gone — in the shaken state of her nerves, she was an easy prey to terrible imaginations.

The cracking of a piece of furniture in the night — some slight noise would set her heart beating with wild terror : she could have cried out sometimes in the dark in an agony of fear. It Avas no actual dread ; merely the state of her nervous system — many of her sex know the feeling only too well. D'Arcy's retributions were always swift and sure. It had been arranged that, the following day, Viola should drive Lady Roy a few miles into the country to the house of a mutual friend : d'Arcy was present when the arrangement was made. In the morning when she ordered the " IF HE LOVED HER AVELL ENOUGH." 11 carriage, the butler informed her that Mr. d'Arcy was going to drive his coach in the afternoon. As he used her barouche horses for wheelers, Viola at once under stood Avhat this meant. He did not come in until she was seated at lunch Avith the children.

" Have you forgotten," she asked him, " that I am to drive Lady Roy doAvn to Twickenham to-day." "No," he answered with one of the looks with which he was wont to favour her. " You can have the brougham and the chestnut. I am going to give Mrs. Fairfield a drive to make up for her disappointment last night. Howson," (to the butler), " tell Nurse to have the children ready at half-past three to go with me — punctually, do you hear ?" He spoke in his most hectoring and determined tone. Viola turned positively sick at heart, but she was resolved, cost what it might, that her children should not be taken out to act as chaperon to this woman. She could not eat a morsel of lunch — her whole frame was quivering with nervous excitement. But whatever d'Arcy might do, she made a point of having no discussion with him in the presence of either her servants or children.

The moment lunch was over, she said in a suppressed voice, " Reginald I wish to speak to you for a moment in your room." "All right," he replied, and followed her with a smile of triumph on his lips. " The children shall not go with you and that woman," she said, the moment the door closed behind them. And she looked at him with the resolute expression that once or twice before had daunted him. "Shall they not?" he answered, lighting a cigar, " who is to prevent them ?" " I will." "Indeed? How?" "IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." 13 " I shall forbid Edwards to dress them, and I shall stay to see my orders exe cuted." " Ah," remarked d'Arcy. " Now per haps you would like to hear Avhat I shall do." His manner was quiet, but there was something even more unpleasant and intimidating in it than his usual bluster.

" If Edwards does not have the children ready to go with me at half-past three, she Avill go out of the house herself, bag and baggage. Do you understand me ? As I stand here I take my oath to that is Avhat shall happen if you interfere with my orders." Viola stood staring dumbly at him, all her hatred and indignation concentrated in her face. A madness seized her that she must pour out all her contempt and loathing upon him, but how could she match him in words or fury ? — she could only debase and degrade herself, and, with a sudden instinct, she fled away out of his presence. His scornful laugh resounded down the passage after her — she caught his last words in her flight. " You see I can be even with you." Viola threw herself down by her couch. She held her head in both her hands, and rocked herself to and fro, crying, " Oh God ! what have I ever done in my life to deserve this ?"

She was impotent, helpless ; she could do nothing against her tyrant. The children were devoted to their nurse, an excel lent, trustworthy woman : and d'Arcy, she knew, would turn her out of the house at a moment's notice, as he threatened, if she disobeyed him, utterly regardless of how the children might be affected by the loss of her. Viola heard their prattle as they went by the door in highest spirits at the prospect of their drive. Presently she rose, rang for her maid, and dressed. The brougham was at the "IV HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." 15 door ; with a swelling heart she entered it, and drove to Lady Roy's. Her friend was waiting in the drawing-room ready dressed, and was surprised to see the brougham, and Viola alighting from it. She went to the door to meet her, but hardly had Viola crossed the threshold than she gave way, and broke into a passion of sobs and tears.

Sir Douglas, who had heard the sound of the carriagewheels, and knew that Mrs. d'Arcy and his mother were going out to gether, ran upstairs to speak to her. He came into the drawing-room by the back way through the conservatory, and paused aghast at the window. Viola had flung herself on a low couch, and was uttering long gasping sobs, and Lady Roy knelt beside her, with one arm round her, one cheek pressed to hers. Neither was con scious of his presence, and Douglas drew back. Oh, those sobs ! they followed him downstairs, and haunted him — they filled him with a murderous hatred of that cruel, cowardly brute ! Who else could have caused them? " Do not let anyone go into the drawing room," he said to the servant, and then he shut himself in his room, and paced up and down in restless misery.

Presently he heard the butler tell Mrs. d'Arcy's servants that they were not wanted any more at present, and could go home. A few minutes later, his mother put her head in at the door. "Are you going to drive your phaeton this afternoon ?" she asked. "Not if you Avould like the horses. Why?" And then, without waiting for her answer, he cried, " Oh ! mother, what is it?" " That odious man," answered Lady Roy, with a gesture of disgust. She was too indignant this time to conceal her feelings. "What has he been doing?" and Douglas's face greAv quite haggard as he spoke. " IF HE LOVED HER WELL ENOUGH." 17 " I will tell you afterwards," she said. " I do not want to leave her now. But if you would let me have the horses and the open carriage, I want to get her out into the air. It is the only thing when her nerves are in this state."

"I will go to the stables myself," returned Roy. " When shall the carriage come round?" " In half an hour. I hope, dear boy, that it is not putting you out of the way." " Not in the least," he answered eagerly. " But if it were " He does not finish the sentence, but his eyes do. If it were, they say, what is there in this world I would not sacrifice with all my heart for her good and pleasure ? Half an hour later, the two ladies, Viola thickly veiled, drove away from the door in the direction of Battersea Park. When Lady Roy left her at her own door, she was soothed and comforted. VOL. II. c "My dear child," Lady Roy said at parting, "try to bear it. Heaven knows how deeply I feel for you, but I should not be your friend if I advised you to resist your husband. What can you do against him ?

But he can break your heart. Think of your children ; endure your fate for their sakes ; think what he might make them suffer if they had not you to care for them. And when you feel a little less bitter, try, my love, try with all your might, to be patient and gentle — who knows but that iu time you may exert a happier influence over him ? Pray, and I will pray for you from my heart," and Lady Roy pressed her hand tenderly, Avhilst tears stood in her kind eyes. By the time Lady Roy reached home, it was nearly eight o'clock. Sir Douglas was dining out. On his return, he went straight to his mother's room — the light under her door told him that she was not in bed. She knew why he had come, and sent her maid away. Then she asked him a few questions about the dinner. He took the arm-chair that was especially placed there for the midnight visits with which he not unfrequently favoured her.

" What had that brute been doing to her ?" he asked, the moment the door closed upon the maid. There was no object in making a mys tery about the matter, since Douglas had been witness of Mrs. d'Arcy's distress, so Lady Roy told him the simple truth. And, for her own gratification, she was obliged to speak of the husband in terms of repro bation and disgust. Douglas's hands clenched, his brows contracted ; a look of positive suffering overshadowed his face. " Can nothing be done for her ?" he said, gazing into his mother's face with some thing of the old look that he had been wont to regard her with when, as a child, he had thought her almost omnipotent. c2 " What could one do ?" she returned, answering his look. He was silent. Ah ! he had visions of a thousand wild possibilities, but they were not to be uttered.

" You see," said Lady Roy, " she is utterly dependent upon him — so is her mother. If he were willing to be separ ated from her, no doubt something might be arranged on the plea of incompatibility of temper, but he is not willing — he would not hear of it. And if they were separ ated, the children might be given to him ; at all events, the boy would, and she is positively wrapped up in that child." Sir Douglas heaved a deep sigh. " Mother," he said presently. There was an unusual diffidence in his voice, and his eyes, which always sought those of the person to whom he spoke, were bent on the carpet, — "is it impossible for a man to be the friend of a woman ?" It was on Lady Roy's lips to reply, *' Yes, if both are young and handsome, quite impossible !" but some sudden, un accountable impulse made her change her answer, and she said in a firm voice — "No — not if he loved her well enough."

" If he loved her well enough !" repeated Sir Douglas, riveting his eyes on his mother's face. " If he loved her well enough to forget himself, and to think only of her !" A sudden flush swept over the young man's brow, a light kindled in his eyes — to his mother he looked the incarnation of goodness and nobleness. He rose and came towards her. "Good night, my dear," he said, stooping to kiss her. She put her arms round his neck — tears were in her eyes. " God bless you, dear boy ! Good night !" she said. And as she watched his stalwart figure crossing: the room to the door, a bitter yearning seized her. "Oh," she thought, "is my boy's life to be wasted on a chimera !" Sir Douglas went away with a joyful heart; with a noble fire rushing through his veins. Those words of his mother's had given him an inspiration.

"If he loved her well enough !" He said them over and over again to himself. It was a grand thought. Why, if no longer in these degenerate days a man can prove his devotion by valiant deeds, should his heart not be capable of chivalrous emotions ! Why could he not do his love true and knightly service, though it Avere but service of the lips and heart ! Ah, Sir Douglas, if you but knew how hard the task is to which you set yourself with such enthusiasm — how harder far the con stant struggle to keep self under is than any feat of strength or valour which knight of old was called upon to perform, — you would hardly equip yourself for the fray Avith such a gay and gallant bearing. Bethink you — you must sacrifice all and never hope for guerdon — you must waste your life and starve your heart — for what !

He thought of her loveliness and then he thought of her as he had seen her to day in all the abandonment of her despair and misery. Every time that recollection crossed him, it sent a sharp pang through his heart ; even whilst he had sat at dinner Avith a pretty woman chattering gaily to him, he had seen that drooped form and heard those agonised sobs. Now and again in the last few months he had realised the fact that he loved the wife of another man, but he altogether repudiated the idea that his love was like other men's love ; his case like the case of other men. Why, it was not twelve months since that a friend of his had come to him with a story of unhappy love — he had sat in yonder chair and leaned his arms on the table and cried tears of passion and misery, and a few months later Douglas had seen him bending lovingly over another woman, and when something was hinted to him about his late passion, he had curled his lip and made some flippant remark about the object of it.

Ah ! far different was Doug las's We ; so different that he could have confessed it to his mother, perhaps, but to no one else in the world — to breathe it to a man would have been profanation. Already he thought of the first step towards serving the woman he loved. Her husband, for some reason or other, appeared to entertain a great regard for him — if he could only get influence enough over him to make him treat her different ly ! It was a sickening thought, that of constant association Avith a man who was in every Avay repellent to him ; but if it were for her sake ! Sir Douglas sought his pillow with a light heart, recking little of the gigantic task he had set himself; confident with the gallant confidence of youth, and little forecasting the suffering and heart-sickness that lay before him.

Chapter II. Roy Doubts

" /^OME down to Tattersall's with me, Douglas, like a good fellow ! Oh ! hang the women ! Let them go to the deuce !" It is hardly necessary to give the name of the speaker. " I promised to take them to hear " (a celebrated preacher), returned Sir Douglas. "Humbug! They can hear a sermon without you — not much in your line either, I should have thought ! — and I can't choose a horse without you. Come !" " I can't A-ery well," said Sir Douglas again. a D'Arcy's under-lip went out, and his brows knit like a spoilt child who has been denied something. " I'll go up and hear what they say about it," said Douglas, and he went into the drawing-room, where his mother and Mrs. d'Arcy were sitting. " Should you mind going without me ?" he asked, glancing from one to the other. " D'Arcy wants me to go and look at a horse."

"Oh! no; do go Avith him!" exclaimed Viola eagerly. Lady Roy looked a little disappointed, but her son surmised that this was on account of the spiritual loss staying away might entail on him. "I will see you into a hansom," he said. " You will have one advantage in dispens ing with my company " (laughing). "You ROY AND VIOLA. won't be subject to the miseries of a four wheeler." " Nor you either," rejoined Viola smiling. " You know you are only too glad to get out of going." So Sir Douglas returned to d'Arcy. "All right," he said. " I am going with you when I have put them into a hansom." " Aren't three men enough to get a cab for them ?" growled d'Arcy, pleased, never theless, at having gained his point. " No," answered Douglas with decision. " They are both nervous, and servants never stop to look Avhat a horse is like."

" A pretty fool your wife will make of you when you get one," remarked d'Arcy, with grim humour. Sir Douglas made no answer, but weut off in quest of the cab. When it arrived, and whilst he was putting the ladies into it, d'Arcy stood on the steps and made facetious remarks in the excellent taste for which he was distinguished. Douglas shut the doors, and went back into the house to brush the wheel-mark off his coat. "You seem to be fond of footmen's work," remarked d'Arcy. "Yes," answered Douglas, coolly. "It is always a pleasure to a gentleman to wait on ladies." If he chose to make himself useful to d'Arcy, and to frequent his society, he did not allow him to take liberties. His man ner was quiet, but d'Arcy understood him pretty well by this time. " Light up and come along, old chap," exclaimed the latter, in his most affable tones, and they started for TattersaU's. A month had elapsed since Douglas entered upon his service of love, and already he began to know something of the dangers and difficulties thereof.

It was not only the husband whose eyes he had to veil, but the world's eyes, and, most of all, the eyes of his heart's mistress. ■SO ROY AND VIOLA. He had a naturally caressing manner to women ; it was his wont and pleasure to fix his eyes (and very speaking ones they were) on such of the fair as he took de light in. How, then, could he conceal what he felt from Viola, Avhen his eyes dwelt upon her lovely face ? They must not dwell there, that was all. He must come to the house as the friend of its master, a man whom he hated and despised, whose society was irksome, well-nigh in tolerable to him ; he must sit by aud see his scowling glances, hear his rude words to his wife, and make no sign any more than if he were dumb and blind. But already Douglas had some little reward for what he endured.

In his pres ence d'Arcy behaved better to Viola, con tradicted and opposed her less. Roy's good breeding and charm of manner seemed somehow faintly to inspire him with a desire of imitation, and his temper was certainly less violent and overbearing in the young man's presence. Douglas had taken up his own line at once ; he knew enough of his man to be aware that no one could ever have a chance of get ting on Avith him unless d'Arcy respected and was a little afraid of him. If he at tempted to take a liberty or was rough, Douglas showed at once by his manner that he did not like it, and had no inten tion of putting up with it, and d'Arcy thought all the better of him in conse quence. He hugged to his breast the belief that Roy was growing attached to him. D'Arcy was not a man who wanted to stand alone and defy the Avorld — on the contrary, he would have been only too glad to be liked and thought well of, if his violent, ungOArernable temper and childish want of self-control had not stood in the way.

He was particularly fond of talking about himself, as most selfish people are, and in Sir Douglas he found a complaisant listener. The young man sat and smoked and thought ; half the time he did not hear what d'Arcy was saying, and only roused himself occasionally to make a gesture of assent. Sometimes they went up into the draw ing-room after dinner. One night he asked Viola to sing, and she complied. D'Arcy walked about the room and hummed or uttered remarks aloud to Douglas, who stood there making a violent effort to control himself. He was half mad with passion ; he could have flown at d'Arcy's throat and sti'angled him. When Viola finished her song, Douglas, who had got something like command over his voice by this time, remarked to d'Arcy, " Mrs. d'Arcy and I are both very fond of music — I don't quite see why it should amuse you to spoil our enjoyment."

Viola looked up quickly ; it Avas some thing new to her to hear anyone speak iu this sort of way to her husband. For far less she had seen him turn round and make an offensive rejoinder to a man who presumed to interfere with him. But on this occasion he merely answered, some what huffily, it is true, " Oh, all right. I'll leave you to enjoy yourselves together," and with that march ed out of the room. Douglas's remark was not the effect of calculation this time — it was the outcome of his irritation. At his age it was hardly to be expected that he should always have his feelings under perfect control. " Noav," he said, approaching the piano with a smile, and speaking in a light tone, " Ave can be happy — at least, I can." Then he seated himself in a chair at a little distance from her. " You will not expect me to thank you after every song, will you ?" he asked.