Faithful to the Last. A novel

Chapter I. The

Earl of Dunberry was, some fifteen years ago, what might be termed a ' popular man ' and he had estates which yielded him at least ,£20,000 a year. At the period at which our story opens, his lord ship was little more than twenty-five years of age, but, having at all times had access to ample means with little or no restraint put upon his actions, from the completion of his college career — at the same time being a youth of an observing turn of mind he had gained a somewhat wide experience in worldly affairs. He was universally liked, though of a generally listless temperament, easy going, and a hater of anything which might tend to produce fatigue ; a thorough aristocrat in all his ways and actions ; an epicure, and a man who A had helped materially to elevate leisure and idle ness to the dignity of a fine art.

In London, Paris and Rome he was known in every circle of high society ; he was courted by both sexes, and no assembly was considered complete in the season unless it was graced by his presence. To his acquaintances and friends, and especially to those of generous disposition, the doors of his mansions were ever open. The noblest dames joined his yachting parties. His coach at Hyde Park Corner was an object of the profoundest admiration, and his shooting-box was crowded every year by the crack sportsmen of society. Yet, with all his good and popular qualities, Lord Dunberry was generally admitted to have more than one vice. What man has not who has been nursed in the lap of luxury, and fed with a golden spoon ? His gorgeous pavilion at Richmond was the common resort of the privileged demi monde, and of women of a certain section of society who did not blush to mix with such characters.

Mrs Grundy will never object to one of her own class committing a fault or being seen in 'strange places,' if only she possesses the power and the discretion to conduct herself according to the pre scribed rules of conventionality. And most of those who responded to his lordship's invitations were women of tact, whose characters it would have been the most wanton folly to attempt to assail. Among the number of his admirers, there was, however, one who, being somewhat different from the rest both in taste and disposition, needs a few words of special mention in our narrative. This was Amelia Henshaw, the only daughter of Sir Richard Henshaw, of Wildon Grange, Yorkshire, and she was stated to possess an enormous fortune in her own right, besides being sole heiress to her father's extensive estates.

It was rather romantic the way in which Amelia became acquainted with the young Earl of Dun berry. She was crossing from the Strand one day at a point where the traffic is so great as to be quite bewildering. She attempted to reach the opposite side of Trafalgar Square, but in so doing was thrown down by a passing vehicle, and knocked under the wheels of an omnibus. The accident was witnessed by a great crowd of people, but only one man had the courage to dash into the roadway and seize the horses heads, at the im minent risk of his own life, and bring the vehicle to a standstill. The stunned and fainting girl was lifted from the ground, and carried to an adjoining hotel, where every attention was paid her. The young lady's rescuer was Lord Dunberry, and it was only with embarrassment that he accepted the heartfelt thanks of Sir Richard Henshaw, avowing that he had ' really run no risk, and had only done what anybody else would do in the circumstances.' Previous to this time, his lordship had never met Sir Richard or his lovely daughter — for Amelia was endowed with rare personal charms.

He knew that the estate bordering upon his own in the West Riding, belonged to a gentleman of the name of Henshaw, who had been a close friend of the late Earl, but he had always been too much occupied with his own guests, when residing in his ancestral home, to give much thought to the occupants of the Grange. And so, until this accident occurred to bring them together, they had never previously met. It was impossible for Lord Dunberry to look upon the form and features of Miss Henshaw and not be struck with the perfect symmetry of the one and the regularity of the other. But, on acquaintance with the young lady, he became aware that she possessed endowments which out matched even these. She had a heart and a soul capable of realising the sufferings of those less favourably circumstanced than herself — character istics which Lord Dunberry had never discovered in the women with whom he had hitherto entirely associated.

The friendship which sprung up between them was of a different nature from that which either had before experienced. It partook more of the love which a brother feels for a sister ; and Amelia seemed to always regard her lordly neighbour with those feelings which would have been aroused within her breast had there been an heir to her father's title, and she had not been an only child. The Earl treated her in a far different manner from that which he exhibited towards the rest of his feminine acquaintances. He paid her more attention, and showed more consideration and respect for her than he was known usually to show for the great majority of his lady acquaintances. This Amelia, who was quick to discern, soon discovered, and the fact caused her heart to beat a few pulses the faster, and the colour occasion ally to heighten in her usually pale cheeks. But whether these were the outward signs of a new-born love for her handsome young neighbour, successive pages must be left to reveal.

Chapter II. During

the whole course of Lord Dunberry's career as a society man, it is probable that no woman occupied so close a position to his heart as did Lily St Clair, and she was only an actress. But she was one of the most beautiful women of her day. She held a high position in her profession — being both a charming vocalist and an admirable dancer ; yet it is extremely doubtful whether she would have commanded the popularity she did, had it not been for her extraordinary natural charms. Lord Dunberry first met her at the Folly in London, which was a noted house for light opera and beautiful women. He retained a box there ; and, after the first appearance of the young actress, he had simply haunted the place. Captain Watson, at the Army and Navy Club, one night, asked what had become of ' Dunny ' lately ? ' Oh,' said young Harcourt, ' he's dead gone on the St Clair filly.

I saw him driving along the Row with her this morning ; and you can't get a word out of him when at the Folly, so intent is he in watching the actions of his latest charmer.' 'By Jove!' cried another member, 'the old chap's so heavily mashed that I wouldn't be sur prised to hear of his making a proposal to the girl.' ' A proposal of marriage ! ' laughed Harcourt. ' Nonsense ! Dunny's too wide awake to be trapped into matrimony by any woman's smiles — no matter how fascinating they may be.' ' You may think so,' chimed in a veteran colonel ; ' but I'm one who believes that no heart is proof against Cupid's darts. And, mark me well, our friend's turn will come at last.' ' My opinion to the letter, my dear colonel,' said Watson ; ' and, if it's correct that St Clair has got him within her toils, she'll carry her triumph to the end, or everybody is deceived in her.' ' But what would his family say ? ' ' Dunberry would care as little about his family's feelings and opinions on the point as I would of shooting a woodcock,' commented the colonel ; and he spoke the truth.

Meanwhile, the object of all these comments was standing in his library, wistfully gazing on the picture of the young actress, which stood upon an easel before him. The likeness in no way flattered the original. It was that of a woman of twenty-one years of age, fair-haired, blue-eyed, with finely-pencilled features and full mouth — between the ruby lips of which gleamed a row of white, pearly teeth. The bust was exquisitely formed, and the arms — which were bare to the shoulder — would have made a study for Michael Angelo. ' It's strange,' muttered his lordship, ' that this woman should hold such power over me. I never felt the same in regard to any other member of her sex as I do towards her. By Jove, I'm beginning to believe myself that there really is something in love, and that it's not purely imagination after all.' The picture had been drawn to his orders by an eminent artist, and Mdlle St Clair had taken great patience in posing, so that the painter might produce a true likeness, as well as set off her natural beauty to the best advantage.

It had only that morning been delivered at his lordship's town residence, and the Earl had had it carried with great care to his library, and there placed upon an easel, where it now stood, the object of his admiring gaze. He drew a chair towards him and seating himself, Yankee fashion, continued his soliloquy, his eyes fastened all the while upon the beautiful face painted on the canvas. ' If I married her,' he mused, ' the world would vote me mad — or something equally pleasant. But why need I regulate my acts according to the world's notions of propriety or what is right? If I were the opposite of what I am, poor instead of rich, a plebeian instead of a pat rician, the world would never trouble itself about my doings. And I love the girl ! Tush, I have always been used to taking my own course ; why should I hesitate to do so now?

If Lily St Clair will be my wife, and there is little fear of her refusing, I will place her on the level of the highest born in the land ; and let them cast the stone at her who dare.' The Earl rose from his seat, and pushed the chair to one side. He was a man of splendid physique, fully six feet tall, with massive shoulders, a head like an Apollo, and features which were handsome, approaching to beauty in a man who had not an effeminate trait in his character, and whose dark eyes and firm mouth spoke of a determined spirit that would brook no opposition to his formed will and desire. Before the hall door stood his mail phaeton, with a pair of horses of the purest blood, pawing the ground impatiently, and tossing their beautiful heads as if resenting their owner's delay. Presently the Earl appeared in the vestibule, dressed for his drive, and smoking a cigar.

He stood for a moment to deliver an order to his maitre d'kotel, and, then, springing lightly into the vehicle, took the reins and drove in the direction of Hyde Park.

Chapter III. Mdlle

St CLAIR resided in a charming suite of apartments at Albert Gate. She lived as luxuri ously as any society woman of the highest rank, and she frequently entertained distinguished visitors, who were attracted to her presence as the sun attracts its satellites. She was undoubtedly a lovely woman, tall in stature and graceful in her actions, with the carriage of a grand duchess, and features which were beautiful beyond description. On this afternoon she was entertaining at tete-a-tete tea a most distinguished member of the French Legation. Unlike her English admirers, this nobleman was somewhat advanced in years, being consider ably beyond the middle age. But he still held the opinion that he was not too far matured to serve as a suitable companion to the beautiful young creature who was entertaining him.

Mdlle St Clair was evidently aware of the great discrepancy in their ages. She reclined in her low-seated chair, with her rich gown folded about her supple limbs, and half-smiled at her guest's volubility as he addressed her in terms which were calculated to excite her vanity and her pride. 'You are a flatterer, I fear, my Lord Duke,' she said, as she poured out a second cup of tea for her visitor. ' Oh, no, mademoiselle,' he declared. ' Flattery would indeed be profane in the presence of such a charming young lady as yourself. If you were in la belle Paris, you would have all the gayest, the handsomest, and the most accom plished at your feet. But, then, you are not un acquainted with the ardour of my countrymen. They love everything which is beautiful, and noble, and grand. And you are all these.

And talented, too. Your vocal endowments are superb. Ah, it is a pity they should be lost upon the unsympathetic Englishman, who has no soul for music. Why do you not go to France, and stay there to be worshipped ? Genius is our goddess, at whose shrine we never tire of kneeling.' Mdlle St Clair laughed her silvery laugh, which was in itself the most charming music ; but, as she was about to respond to the old Duke's speech, a liveried servant entered the apartment, and presented to his mistress an ivory card on a golden salver. The young actress glanced at the inscrip tion, and a flush of pleasure suffused her satin cheeks. At a motion of her jewelled hand, the footman withdrew to take some message to the visitor, which was conveyed by the sign which his mistress gave to him. The conversation between the Duke and his fair companion only lasted a few more minutes, when the former, with many a gallant bow, took his departure.

No sooner had Monsieur le Due gone, than the tall, stately form of Lord Dunberry crossed the richly - curtained threshold of the room ; and his figure presented a striking contrast to that of the Frenchman who had so recently taken his leave. There was the slightest semblance of a frown on his brow ; but the first sight of the lovely form of Lily St Clair was sufficient to disperse any mo mentary crossness which might have come over him, and he lavishly kissed the hand which was extended for his welcome. ' Ever welcome, my dear Earl,' she cried, in the most musical of voices. 'You could not have arrived at a more opportune moment. Tea is just served, and I know you like such nectar as my chef provides.' Lord Dunberry took the seat indicated without comment, and sipped for some moments, in silence, the tea poured out for him.

There was a half-amused smile on the features of Lily St Clair as she noticed her companion's ab straction. But presently the silence grew irksome to her ; so, going over to his side on the settee, she playfully clasped her hands on his shoulder, and, looking into his face with her full blue eyes, smilingly inquired the cause of so much thought. ' The Duke,' she continued, ' told me that you had been hard hit at the club last night ; but, know ing you to be so wealthy and so careless of your money, it never for a moment entered my head that you would be so affected by your ill-luck.' Her words, uttered in the sweet, musical voice natural to her, roused his lordship from his reverie. ' The Duke,' he said, with a touch of sarcasm in his tone, ' did me exceeding honour to mention my name, in connection with my evil propensities, in the presence of a young lady.

I owe him infinite thanks for his goodness and his consideration. I presume he did not neglect to commiserate me on account of my bad luck ? ' ' No, he did not fail to do even that,' replied Lily to this interrogatory. ' His Grace expressed great sorrow that you should be given so much to gam bling. He spoke of your frequent visits to Monte Carlo, as if I was not aware of them, and finally wound up with a hint at the near approach of a day when you might regret the folly of your present actions. Interesting — wasn't it ? ' ' Very ! ' Lord Dunberry, however, was a man who took but a momentary interest in what his acquaintances said of him, so that the fair young actress's insinuations soon passed out of his mind. 'You said the Duke informed you that I had been " hard hit," as he was pleased to term it with his usual vulgarity.

Well, he was to a certain ex tent correct in his surmise, but not in the way he construed it. There, my dear child, you displayed a greater knowledge of character. I have been "hard hit." Only to-day was I convinced that there really is such a thing as sentiment. Hitherto I have been brought so much into contact with the world, and have been made acquainted so intimately with the shallowness of society, that I have been compelled to believe that all about me was deceit, hypocrisy, and corruption, just surfaced over with a thin coating of etiquette and good breeding. Love was a myth in my eyes. But now I have had reason to change my convictions.' As he spoke, Lord Dunberry drew nearer to the beautiful girl who sat by his side. He gazed with rapt earnestness upon her charming features, whilst his own were suffused with a colour which she had never before seen mantle there.

That colour was the outward sign of intense emotion within. Lord Dunberry, usually so calm and collected, was now the victim of the maddest passion that ever possessed the heart of man. As for Lily St Clair, it would have been im possible for her to describe her own feelings. She knew that something extraordinary was about to happen — something which might strongly influence the whole of her future life — something she would be called upon to decide or to express an opinion about. Yet, if she had been left alone at that moment, she could not have defined what that something was. It was, therefore, with thoughts far away from the actual meaning of the question, that she asked her companion what mighty change in the ordinary course of things had caused him to entirely reverse his opinion — to become so completely converted from scepticism to absolute belief?

For a second Lord Dunberry continued to gaze into her eyes, as if through their agency he would read her inmost thoughts — would penetrate her very soul. But Lily St Clair was an enigma in more respects than one. At length he took her hand into his, and, in a voice which only too well revealed the earnestness of his declaration, said, — ' Because, Lily, I myself have fallen in love — be cause I have tasted of the nectar which sets the heart aflame, which gives the soul no rest until the one desire of the heart which it creates is realised. Lily, I love you with all the true and ardent passion of a man who has for the first time in his life become acquainted with a sentiment which he had previously believed to have no exist ence except in the pages of sensational novels. And to-day I have come to ask you to be my wife.' As these words fell upon the ear of Lily St Clair, the colour left her cheeks, and she became as pale as marble.

Believing that a crisis in her life was about to occur, she never dreamt that it would take such a form. But she was not long in collecting her thoughts, and as soon as she was herself again, she replied to her lover without hesitation, and without exhibiting the remotest sign of em barrassment. ' Lord Dunberry,' she said, with just a tone of hardness in her usually sweet voice, ' I have known you now only for a few months, but during that time I have been so intimately associated with you that I have read your nature like a book. Certainly I have been deceived in one thing. Although I knew that your heart was not made of adamant, I never for a moment thought it was susceptible B of the foolish, the nonsensical, passion called love. Nay, do not interrupt me. I shall not waste much time on what I have to say.

I have remarked that I know you well. You come of an old proud family — one of the proudest and most honourable in the land. Your relatives, rather than stain their escutcheon, would perish by flame or flood. What, then, would they think, what would they say, if you, the Earl of Dunberry — the prince of their house — the first of the representatives of their line of ances tors — were to lead an actress to the altar — a woman whose only fortune is her beauty — whose name is known in every club both in England and on the Continent, but the secret of whose birth is known to none but two — the guilty parties who brought her into the world, to be a reproach to them for ever ? What, I say, would your family think of such a union ? No, no, Lord Dunberry, I can never be your wife.' Lord Dunberry heard in silent amazement this reply to his confession of love, and his request to be permitted to place this low-born ballet girl by his side and upon his own level.

He, nevertheless felt admiration for the sensitiveness of her nature, as he understood the lines upon which she based her refusal ; and, with all the inspiration of ardent love and sincerity, he pressed his suit, striving by the many arts and wiles of a man who has set his heart and mind upon the accomplishment of one object to make her change her determina tion — but all to no purpose. ' No, my lord,' she said, in response to these pleadings on the part of her lover. ' I have said that it can never be. And, why should it? Is not life pleasant enough as it is ? I like you — you like me. We are amused when in each other's company. If we were married we should be bored. You would be jealous if I looked at any other man but yourself, if you did not immediately tire of my company, and upbraid yourself for having been such a fool as to marry a simple dancing girl- Besides, what is marriage ?

It is only a kind of white slavery at best. You are tied by a bond, which, in a moral sense, is broken every day of your lives, to one individual. You have no freedom. Those four words " love, honour, and obey," forge a yoke of iron about your necks. The very house in which you live is like a prison, of which Mrs Grundy is the stern unbending portress. Bah ! Dunberry, dismiss from your mind this absurd and childish notion of marriage ; it is altogether too Puritanical for a far advanced man like yourself to hold, and let us remain as we have hitherto been. I like life too well — I love freedom too dearly to limit all the glories of existence to the narrow circle of an earl's coronet. Come, we'll dismiss the subject once and for ever'from our minds, and I'll dance you a measure.' Lord Dunberry's pride and spirit were wounded.

Within him raged a war, which his features did not betray, but which almost drove him frantic. Silently, as the gay young danseuse performed the various intricate figures of an Eastern dance, he accused himself of all the faults a disappointed man can lay to his own charge. But ' Dunny ' was something more than disappointed. He was humiliated ; and by an actress. The bare know ledge of the fact entered like iron into his soul. In a few minutes, Lily St Clair had finished her breakdown, and resumed her seat by his lordship's side. 'That is the dance I am going to perform at the Duchess of — — — 's social. Of course you will be there. So also will my old French duke. Do you know, Dunny, I really expected him proposing to me this afternoon. Would it not be excruciatingly funny to see the parchment faced old roue at my feet, offering to share with me his ducal estates, his high position, and all that sort of thing, and I to kick him from me like a ball?* And the girl laughed merrily at the idea.

Lord Dunberry, however, merely smiled ; and there was a depth of sarcasm in that smile which even she had never previously detected, close as their intimacy had been of late. Shortly afterwards, the Earl took his departure, answering in the affirmative, and with a show of gaiety which was well assumed, the re quest that he would be with her that evening at the theatre. Nobody who met him as he drove back to his town house that afternoon would ever have guessed what was passing through his mind, or that anything more than ordinary had occurred. So great a control had he over his own feelings that he did not betray even the slightest vestige of them outwardly. It was only when he reached his private room, and had turned the key in the lock in order to ensure privacy, that he gave vent to the passions which caused his heart's pulse to beat with more than ordinary violence.

Clenched were his hands, pale his face to the lips, and dark his brow as a thunder cloud, as he paced up and down the apartment, muttering his thoughts to himself. ' Fool, fool that I have been to make myself the object of such a woman's scorn ! She has laughed at me — I, the Earl of Dunberry, about whose imper turbability every club in London has talked, to be deceived by a wanton ; to have laid down my honours, my position in society, my all at the feet of such a creature, believing that she was worthy of the sacrifice ! God in heaven ! is it possible that I could be so demented ? Yes ; and I have been humiliated — that is my reward. She has laughed at me ! She will make sport of me, as she does of that old doting duke. Bah ! why should I say that he is doting ? Is he not as rational a being as I am ?

But her triumph shall not be complete. I must play my cards carefully ; and if it costs me my fortune, I will in turn humiliate her. I will break her, until she comes to my feet, and sues for mercy. Dame Caprice has given me the talisman — gold — which will en able me to do all I wish. St Clair cannot resist the power of gold — it is all she worships.' As Lord Dunberry drove to the theatre that evening, he pulled up at a large westend jewellery establishment, and purchased a handsome tiara of diamonds. An hour later, these gems sparkled and glittered in the wavy locks of Lily St Clair, and were much admired by her audience.

Chapter IV

On the first of September, there was a large and gay company assembled at Dunberry Hall. The highest families in the land were represented, and several foreign princes were among his lordship's guests. One of the latter was a dark swarthy Italian — a man with a long line of ancestry, and with a name known the Continent over in connection with gambling, horse-racing, flirting and every other sin which an idle and dissipated man can follow. The Prince di Maceridi cast his eyes upon Lily St Clair, who, of course, was one of the part)', and was charmed. He contrived to place himself by her side at every opportunity. If she played and sang, he stood by the piano and turned over the leaves. When she rode forth on one of her host's finest and most spirited mares, he was invariably her cavalier. They followed the hounds together — they drove together.

In fact, in every way the young actress seemed to encourage her admirer's attentions, and the Prince felt flattered and pleased with the favour. Lord Dunberry could not help noticing the growing intimacy between these two, but he regarded it with far different feelings from those which might have influenced him had Lily St Clair accepted his hand and heart when he offered them to her. He looked upon the couple with a cynical smile, which, when detected by the young actress, who could almost read the thoughts of her rejected suitor, made her feel desperately angry. ' I do not think he loves me one bit,' she would mutter to herself, and then she would enter into an animated flirtation with the Prince di Maceridi. 'Lord Dunberry,' said Miss Henshaw, one day when she and her noble neighbour were walking together through the silent and shaded groves of Dunberry Park, ' I want to ask you a question this morning.