Dishonoured

Front matter

DISHONOURED. DISHONOURED BY £ THEO GIFT. Author of "Victims," "Peetty Miss Bellew," "Not for the Night-time," "Lll Lorimer," "An Island Princess," etc., etc. " Ohl my sweet, Think, and be sorry you. did this thing I Though earth were unworthy to feel your feet, There's a heaven above may deserve your love: Should you forfeit heaven for a snapt gold ring And a promise broke, were it just or meet?" LONDON : GEOKGE BELL & SONS, AND BOMBAY. 1895. First Edition, 3 vols., 1890. Second Edition, 1895. TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BROWNING WITH REVERENCE AND DEEP GRATITUDE I WHO LOVED HIM DEDICATE THIS BOOK. The Nest, Ladeeoke Grove, AprU, 1890. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. Left Behind 9 II. Epistolary 18 III. An Elopement out op the Common ... 29 IV. Stoneham 37 V. The Minister's Home 47 VI. The Minister Himself 54 VII.

A New Birth 62 VIII. On the Beach 71 IX. "I don't believe it" 78 X. The Paragraph in the " Standard" ... 81 XI. How John Rice broke down . . . . • . 93 XII. Cas de Consciences 101 XIII. The Quarryman of Purlstone Cove . . 110 XIV. The Minister's Sermon 117 XV. " A Shop 1 Why not ? " 128 XVI. How did she come by it? 139 XVII. "My Grandfather was a Grocer" . . . 148 XVIII. A Treaty of Friendship 157 XIX. The Testimony of the Kirk 167 XX. "The Testimony of the Rocks" .... 179 XXI. " It is no Joke to me " 189 XXII. Luke Keckwith becomes objectionable . . 198 XXIII. " Every Class has its own Etiquette " . . 208 XXIV. All in the Downs 217 XXV. Good-bye 227 XXVI. A Slip on the Downs CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXVII. From Hugh Leighton 243 XXVIII. The Story of an old Scandal . . . .248 XXIX. Two in a Cavern 258 XXX.

" Olive Benison I " 269 XXXI. " My Father would not have me now ! " . . 280 XXXII. How John Rice took his Sister's Counsel . 292 XXXIII. A Moment's Temptation 303 XXXIV. Good-bye to the Island ! 314 XXXV. Janet 324 XXXVI. "When Dayshine is Darkest" .... 334 XXXVII. " She has her Mother's Blood in her " . 343 XXXVIII. " At the End of Life, when you walk by YOURSELF AND REVIEW THE PAST " . . 354 XXXIX. Come Home at Last I DISHONOURED.

Chapter I. Left Behind

" Olive ! Olive ! do you know where the lunch-basket is?" " I've got it here, Mrs. Dearie ; you asked me to carry " Oh, to be sure I did ! And I've been looking for it everywhere. I couldn't think what had— Now, Eeggie, what is it? Your butterfly -nets? Oh, my dear, don't worry me. How should I know ? Nurse, mind please and be careful that the milk in baby's bottle has not turned at all before you leave Portsmouth, for, if it has, you must get some more at the station there." "Then I'm sure I don't know how, ma'am, with the child in my arms, and all the others to look after, unless a porter or Miss Benison — - " " Oh, yes, trust me ; I'll look after the milk, nuise," says the owner of the latter name ; adding, in answer to a clamour about " butterfly-nets and anemones'' from two boys of eleven and twelve : " Eeggie, Tom, come here like good lads, and don't tease your mother.

All your rubbish is quite safe. I tied up the nets myself with the umbrellas there ; and the anemone-jars are in baby's bath, wedged round with boots and shoes to prevent their breaking." "Olive, you're a trump ! " in enthusiastic gratitude. " I suppose one mightn't just lift the cover to see if they're alive? " "You young wretches! I should think not, when it took me nearly half an hour to pack that bath and sew the cover on. "What is it, Dolly dear? Phil teasing you? Come and sit on my knee, and he'll have more room. I think we are pretty well settled now, Mrs. Dearie." DISHONOURED. The girl — Olive Benison was not much more, having only passed her twenty-first birthday some twenty-four hours previously — spoke in a peculiarly bright, cheerful tone, the very opposite of the one in which the person she addressed, a fragile, vaporous little being, looking hardly old enough to be the mother of the five children then swarming over the deck of a Ryde steamboat, had been bewailing herself a minute before ; but Mrs. Dearie had not even the comfort of hearing her young friend's reassuring words.

She had disappeared for the moment into the deck cabin, which formed a convenient back and shelter from the sun for the bench on which Olive had seated herself ; and, not sorry for the relief of even a brief silence, the girl leaned back and allowed her eyes to travel to the green trees and snowy terraces of Ryde with the somewhat re gretful expression of one not a little sorry to leave them. Children are quick at reading looks, and the little damsel on her knee, a small, precocious person of eight, answered this one with a question. " Are you sorry, Olive, you're not going to stay for the regatta, like papa and mamma? " " Well, yes, dear, I am rather." " Why don't you then ? " " For a very good reason. Papa and mamma are going to stay with Mrs. Carbonel for it, and she didn't ask me." " Yes, she did.

I heard her ; at least, I heard her say to mamma, ' Of course your pretty young friend will come too,' and mamma said you couldn't, because something — I forget what — obliged you to go back to London to-day, but afterward she told papa that of course you couldn't stay because Mr. Benison — that was your papa, I suppose ? — had been a yachting man himself, and you might come across some friend of his. But why shouldn't you want to see the yachts racing because your papa was a yachting man? I thought people always liked to do what their papas do. Reggie does, anyhow. He says that's why he wants to go on the Stock Exchange when he's a man. I don't understand." " Nor do I, Dolly, so I can't explain it to you. I know one thing, however : you oughtn't to repeat what you hear people say, and I think I've told you that before."

" Well, but Olive, you said Mrs. Carbonel didn't invite you." " I know I did, because — " " because your mamma told me so," was on Olive's lips, but she checked herself, and added instead, "because I thought so. It doesn't much matter, any way." " Except that I did think it was nice you were coming with us." " All right, dear, you may think that now ; " and Olive leaned back, stroking the little girl's hair with dreamy fingers, and gazing out to sea with a strange look of puzzle and worry on the brows which shaded her dark eyes. They were beautiful eyes enough : large, clear, and brown, very full-orbed, and curiously instinct with that expression — wistful, alert, and intelligent — which one never sees so markedly as in the eyes of a faithful, affectionate dog. The brows above them were those of a clever woman, dark, very level, and almost too strongly marked for perfect beauty ; just as her nose, which began very well, and with a distinctly aquiline little bridge, destroyed all its pretensions to classicality by turning up at the end in a way which would have ruined the character of a Minerva.

Nevertheless, it was a good nose, and both in the dignity of the bridge, and the friendly inquisitiveness of the tip, had a sort of imperious briskness and inquiry about it not at all displeasing to the other sex. The mouth, too, was excellent ; rather wide, perhaps, but with pretty, curving lips of a healthy rose colour, and a set of teeth as even, white, and perfect as those of a two-year-old child ; an exceeding nice and kissable mouth ; yet one which could say sharp things withal, and, when set firmly, speak of a will so determined as to warrant the name of obstinacy. People who had not seen Miss Benison smile, indeed, some times said she looked severe ; but, fortunately, she was seldom long without a smile, and was, indeed, rather a mirthful young person than not. Her complexion was lovely, of that pure, smooth fairness which may tan under strong provocation, but will never burn or freckle ; and which was relieved by just a touch of pink in the centre of the cheeks and the linings of the small, shell-like ears ; and it harmonized well with the thick, waving masses of her rich, brown hair, the full yet delicate lines of the tall, supple, admirably moulded figure ; and the feet and hands, not by any means small or fairy-like, but perfectly shaped and coloured, and adapted, as hands and feet should be, as DISHONOURED. much to the work as to the ornamentation of life.

Taken altogether, indeed, she was a remarkably fine specimen of young English womanhood, freshly coloured, admirably put together, in perfect health, refined both by birth and nature, with no lack of energy and wit, and with great possibilities of deep tenderness and even passion lurking under the long dark lashes and in tl e curves of the full, richly-coloured lips : such a girl as any gallant old English squire might have been proud to introduce to you as " My daughter, madam ! " any manly, honourable young gentleman feel pleased to claim as " my sister." As for a wife or sweetheart — well, for all her twenty-one years and undoubted beauty, it must be owned that there was about Miss Benison something so essentially virginal, not to say boyish, something so peculiarly fancy-free in the slight abruptness of her manner, her joyous laugh, and the air of kindly, indifferent superiority which she manifested to the other sex, as, so far, to have held back any of them from venturing to solicit her to shqw her powers in either capacity.

It was a fine August day, and gloriously hot : too hot, indeed, to be quite pleasant for those waiting on deck for the steamer to start from Ryde pier for Portsmouth. The mellow, golden sunshine played upon the hot planks and white paint, the shining, oily, deep-blue water, the crowd of little boats around them, and the wet, black sides of the tall pier under which they were moored. Above, some where out of sight in the town, a band was playing, the faint, gay strains of the latest waltz of the day seeming to float over the warm air and blend with the laughter of a group of pretty, fashionably dressed women who were enjoying an impromptu luncheon on the snowy deck of a yacht hard by. A circle of serge and duck-clad admirers hovered round them, fanning them, holding lace parasols over their dainty heads, or feeding them with cold chicken, strawberries, and pdle de trusses.

The popping of cham pagne corks sounded now and then through the laughter and music and buzz of voices on deck and on the pier. Dolly slipped away to look for her father. The elder boys were fishing over the side of the vessel. Nurse had gone up nearer to the stern to gossip with certain other members of her fraternity, and compare notes as to whether an ominous dull blurring of the windward line of the horizon portended rain or only more heat. Olive, with the transient worry-line on her brow quite charmed away, was leaning back enjoying in mere restful idleness the scene and sight around her, when she was startled by a voice so near as seemingly to be addressed to her, and which, issuing from a window in the deck-cabin above her head, said suddenly : " It's rather hard, you know." " Oh, my dear !

" Mrs. Dearie's voice in answer was, as usual, rather fretful. " I can't see that it matters. It is only for a week ; and just think how inconvenient it would be if any one who had known them were to crop up now." " After nearly fourteen years ? " "My dear John, you were alive fourteen years ago, and you have not lost your memory now. Why should others be duller or more forgetful ? Of course at Norwood it is different ; but directly one comes to these sorts of places — " " But it was you who proposed coming here." " I know I did. One can't sacrifice everything to other people ; and, indeed, I never thought about it until that old Lady Maule snapped me up about the name when I was calling at the Carbonels'." " You should have told her it was a very common one." "But it isn't, and she wouldn't have believed me.

She said she had noticed the girl's eyes before. I'm sure I never felt so uncomfartable. John, what on earth made that unfortunate woman do such a mad thing as to take her away with her? " " H'mph ! I suppose her maternal feelings deserve credit for the act ; but I quite agree with you, it was a cruel kindness, and I don't doubt she has regretted it every day of her life since." " Rolf ought not to have let her." " I'm afraid Rolf was the last person who could say anything." " Then it would have been better to let her take his — their name." " My dear girl ! That would have been most abominably unfair to the child, even if there were no question of property involved." " She will never come into it now. Dear, dear ! I do wonder how people can be so wicked, so weak, so — " " Yes, yes, we all know that ; but it's too late to hark back on it now.

Of course, the whole affair was very DISHONOURED. wrong and shocking ; but if only Benison had not behaved in such an unheard-of manner— in refusing to divorce her, I mean— all these later difficulties wouldn't have arisen. You would have been proud, instead of grumbling, if you had had to chaperon such a charming girl into society ; and I shouldn't have had to puzzle my head over finding some sort of a decent husband for her, in order, as Rolf says, that his poor unfortunate Elora may not be harassed into regretting that one of those merciful childish ailments had not carried the girl off." " Oh, hush, John ! She couldn't 1 Flora may have been very wicked and thrown away her reputation ; but she's Olive's mother, and though, of course, the poor girl's a dreadful embarrassment to her, still to wish her dead — Oh 1 she couldn't — !

" It always afterward seemed to Olive as if she, not Mrs. Dearie, had uttered the last exclamation. Until a moment before, indeed, she had kept her old position, leaning back in lazy, youthful content, and hearing without taking the trouble to listen to the dialogue which, taking place just above her head, and apparently with the speakers in full view of her, seemed to have as little of secrecy as of interest in it, so far as she was concerned. That she, Olive Benison, could be in any way connected with it, was an idea which, not having any previous clue to its purport, nothing in it even suggested to her until the sudden mention of her father's name, giving, as it were, a new and more horrible and shocking key to the unregarded sentences that had gone before, startled her into an abruptly upright position, and the utterance of a low cry, faint and yet sharp, as of one pierced to the heart by some sharp weapon.

She made a quick movement as if to stand up, her face blanched to an almost deathly whiteness, her eyes dilated to twice their usual size and gazing wildly about like one who has seen some ghastly vision ; but something seemed to swim giddily in her brain, and she sank down while Mr. Dearie went on speaking and his wife answering, and she, poor girl, clutched feebly with one hand at her throat as if in an unconscious effort to remove the obstacle which seemed to be at once strangling her, and preventing her from crying out or stopping them. The conversation did not last more than a minute or two longer. Then the great bell rang out, warning intending passengers to hurry on board, and those otherwise minded to return to shore. Mrs. Dearie came hurrying out of the cabin to take a final farewell of her young family, and inflict a few dozen valedictory directions on the nurse ; while her husband added a brief warning to the elder boys to behave themselves and not be troublesome to Miss Benison, and then turned to look for the young lady in question, whom he found standing in the middle of the deck in rather a bewildered manner, not like her usual brisk alertness.

" Bell ringing for good-bye, " he said, cheerfully. " Seems rather a shame, doesn't it, to leave you to be bullied by all these brats while we are taking it easy ; but it'll only be for a week, and for my part I always think a regatta one of the most confoundedly slow things going. You've got those notes safe, by the way ? Yes, that's all right ; " as Olive nodded her head — speech still seemed impossible to her ; " and you'll remember to pay them into the bank as soon as you get home, and tell Leslie to open a private account for you and give you a cheque-book, and — what's that ? Time up ? All serene 1 Good-bye, Olive ; good-bye, chicks. Now, now, Fanny, do you want to be carried off too ? Come along ! " ******* They were gone. The steamboat's paddle-wheels began to revolve. The vessel slipped slowly and easily from the pier-head and glided out into the harbour.

Those on deck crowded to the starboard side, kissing hands or waving adieus to those on shore. The gay strains of the band seemed to float suddenly backward and grow fainter and fainter. Children ran hither and thither. Babies fretted, and nurses scolded and hushed. The air seemed to grow cooler, and little crisp ripples broke the scintillating blueness of the too calm sea, and fled away in streaks of foam behind the vessel's wake. Only Olive stood just where she was before, and where Mrs. Dearie's hurried farewell kiss had fallen on her cold cheek, her face quite white, her eyes dull and staring, her hands clenched together as though she were struggling against some unseen enemy. " Oh, it can't be — it isn't true ! I — I — I can't bear it," she exclaimed at last, half under her breath, and looking round her in a wild, despairing way ; but fortunately the words, though inaudible amid the prevailing din and DISHONOURED. bustle, had the effect of rousing her to a consciousness of where sbe was. , , , , A deep flush' came into her face, accompanied by a look of misery so intense as to seem almost unnatural on the features of any one so young, handsome, and well-off ia all outward appearance ; and she turned hurriedly away and sought a seat under the shelter of one of the paddle-boxes, where, cowering a little as if to shelter herself from observation, and with her face shielded by her parasol, she remained silent and motionless during the something less than an hour consumed over their voyage to Portsmouth.

The children found her out very soon, exclaimed at her paleness, and rushed back to nurse to announce that " Olive Benison was looking quite seasick ! " but for once even they got no attention from her. She only whispered, " Leave me alone now ;" and fortunately the varied distractions of the brief voyage were sufficiently exciting to occupy them without any real need for her assistance. But, once arrived at Portsmouth, the trouble, whatever it was, which had so utterly crushed Miss Benison for the time being, seemed to be either surmounted or put aside, so far as its first numbing effects were concerned. She came out from her retired corner no longer pale, but with a feverish scarlet spot in either cheek, took Dolly's hand, called to the boys to collect their small baskets and satchels, spoke briskly to nurse, and fairly swept the whole party on shore and up to the station with all her usual energy, saw to refreshments, luggage, and everything that was needed (including even the baby's milk), and having secured a carriage, and put all the rest of the party into it, had just stepped in herself, when nurse, who was counting the small parcels, suddenly exclaimed : " Where's your little portmantle, miss?

The one you said you'd have in the carriage with you ? It's not been left behind, has it ? " " Good gracious, no, nurse ! I told the porter only two minutes ago to put it in here. It has all my money and trinkets in it, you know, and I don't want to risk it in the luggage-van. Keep my place, Phil, will you, while I run and see after it ? " "Can't you make one o' them porters go, miss' You look quite red with running about in this heat," said nurse, pityingly. Olive shook her head. " They wouldn't know which it was,'' she said, " and it won't take me a moment. Boys, mind you keep my seat at the other end of the carriage. Here, Dolly, put my book on it ;" and off she flew. The ticket-collector came round the next moment, and having inspected the bunch of " return halves " extricated from the bulgy palm of nurse's glove, and been informed that another lady was " coming," observed that she had better look sharp about it, and went away again.

Reggie stretched himself out of the further window to look at the man who was tapping the wheels. Phil and Dolly squabbled as to which should occupy Olive's seat, and Tom threw himself at full length on the opposite one. The crowd thickened and surged round the carriage doors ; newspaper-boys with baskets of literature, and porters wheeling big trucks of luggage, jostled each other on the platform. A guard came briskly along, banging doors, after the fashion so familiar to the nerves of those inside, and had got his hand on that of the carriage in question when stopped by at least three voices exclaiming that he must not shut it — another lady was coming. "Coming! She ought to have come. Time's up and we don't wait for any one," cried the guard, angrily. Nurse stumbled to her feet, more angry still.

" But you must wait. It's a young lady as has took her seat already, and got her ticket in her haud. She only got out to look after her portmantle, which one o' your own men neglected to put in here. You can't leave her behind." " I shall have to, if she don't turn up this minute. What's she wearing, my good woman ? Pale-grey dress, sailor hat, and blue ribbon round it ? Don't see anything of the sort on the platform. Most likely she's jumped into another carriage. Stand baek there, young gentleman, please. Time's up ; we're off." And so they were. With a lurch, a prolonged scream and rumble, the train had started, and, whether poor Olive had got back from her quest or not, was gliding out of the station with the rest of the party en route for Londou. Dolly burst into tears, and nurse was crimson between indignation at the guard and excited protests that he must have seen Miss Benison jump into another carriage.

"He'd never have dared to start the train else." Reginald alone offered a cynical suggestion. DISHONOURED. "Do you think she did it on purpose?" he inquired, sourly. " To get rid of us, I mean ? It would be just like a girl. They're so jolly tricky even when they pretend to be real friends with you, like she did. Well, I know one thing; if she's got into another carriage, I shall too, and at the very next station. Catch me travelling with a nurse and a lot of kids, when Miss Benison won't ! "

Chapter II. Epistolary

From Mr. John Dearie, stock-broktr ;of The Hollies, Norwood, to Mr. Rolf Danecourt, litterateur, of Casa Bella-Torre, Siena, Tuscany. " Dear Rolf, — You will be surprised at receiving this through the consul, but I have asked him to give it to you personally because I know you and Flora open each other's letters, and, should it fall into her hands, it might give her a shock which would add seriously to the distress I fear she must in any case have o suffer. In three words, Olive has disappeared ! " I tell you this much abruptly because I don't want to keep you on tenter-hooks, and I use the sensational word ' disappeared ' because I honestly can't find any other to fit the circumstances. It happened two days ago. We had been spending our summer holiday at Ventnor, and on Friday Olive, with the nurse and children, returned home.

We were all to have gone together, but some friends of Fanny's, who live at Ryde, persuaded us to stay on a few days for the regatta, and we agreed. Olive was asked too, but there was a reason, which you'll appreciate, for our declining for her. Her father, as you may remember, went in a good deal for yachting in former days, and an old Lady Maule, living at Ryde, had, it seems, known him, and, hearing Olive's name, asked if there was any relationship. Fanny answered in the negative, but the incident made us both feel that, for the girl's own sake, it would be better that she should not stay there. If you or Flora think this over -nervousness, I am sorry ; but I hardly think you will " Anyhow the young people all started for London together by the midday boat on Friday. Both Fanny and EPISTOLARY.

I went down to the boat to see them off, and tl ey were in charge of our nurse, a most estimable, steady person, who has been seven years in the family. Olive had been as gay and lively as possible the whole morning, and I bid good bye to her the very last thing before the steamer started. That is the last, however, that I have seen of her. What happened next I can only give you on the authority of others. " Fanny had wired to our coachman to be at Waterloo with the brougham to meet the party, and had asked Olive to write on arrival, but naturally we didn't expect to get her letter till the day but one after; therefore tbe shock was the greater when, on coming in from an after-breakfast stroll on the following morning, we found a telegram from nurse, containing these words : " ' Arrived safe, all but Miss B left behind at Ports mouth, and not yet come on.

Please say if she is with you, as feel anxious.' " My dear Rolf, I hope you and Flora will believe me when I assure you that, if it had been my own daughter, I couldn't have been more horrified ; and even though the baldness of nurse's telegram left us free to conjecture that Olive's being ' left behind ' might have been due to her having met friends at Portsmouth who had persuaded her to stay the night there, the probability of her doing so seemed so unlikely, that I did not lose a moment in tele graphing to nurse to send me fuller particulars at once, and started for Portsmouth by the very next boat, in order that I might inquire into the matter myself. " To no purpose, as it seemed, at first ; seeing that not one of the officials whom I questioned at the station there knew anything at all about the matter, and, my informa tion being too meagre to give me anything to work upon, I was obliged to wait for the second telegram before going further.

Fortunately it was not long in arriving, and informed me that Olive had only left the train to inquire about her portmanteau, which had not been put in, that the signal to start had been given before she returned, and the train had gone off without her, the guard falsely declaring, in answer to nurse's remonstrances, that the young lady had jumped into another carriage at the rear. " This was something definite, and enabled me to make fresh inquiries, which resulted in a porter, whom I had not DISHONOURED. seen before, remembering that he had heard an altercation on the previous day between the guard and some woman in the 2.15 train when just starting, that the former had shouted out to him, ' See a young lady, grey dress, white hat, and blue ribbon anywhere ? ' and that he had glanced all along the platform in consequence, but had not seen any one answering to the description either then or after the train had gone.