The Cotton Lord

Front matter

THE COTTON LOED. BY HERBERT GLYN. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. M.DCCC.Lin. [The right of Translation is reserved."] CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. CHAP. PAOE. I. Changes . . . - . .1 II. Old Acquaintance . . . 15 OT. The New Lodges . . . . .27 IV. A Generous Offeb . . . 35 V. Found ...... 42 VI. Home again . . . . 58 VH. A Letteb . . . . .64 VIH. Returned . . . . 67 IX. Frank in Power . . . . .84 X. A Meeting . . . . . . 99 XI. More Trouble . . . * . .107 XII. Unappreciated . . . . 117 XOT. Found out . . . . .125 XIV. Preparation fob Flight . . 136 XV. The Nemesis . . . • .149 XVI. Unforeseen . . . . . . 163 XVII. Frank's Misgivings . . . . .173 XVIH. The Old Love 187 XIX. Brought Low . . .... .200 XX. Honest Dodging . . ., - CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XXI.

Coming ROUND . . . . .218 XXII. Mistaken Notions . . . . . 233 XXIII. The Peacemaker ..... 245 XXIV. Old Times again . . . . . 251 XXV. A Stern Parent . . . • . .259 XXVI. A Difficulty Surmounted . . . . 266 XXV1I. Summing up . . . . . .276

Chapter I. Changes

" Marianne, come down to your music lesson directly," screamed Mrs. Grey from the foot of the stairs ; " here, Miss Hall's been here three-quarters of an hour by my watch, and you've never been in the room ! " "Ellen is there, mamma, and she can't teach two at once," replied the young lady so summoned, appearing from above, fastening a comb in her curls. " But you ought to be in the room while she's having her lesson ; it does as much good as being taught yourself." " And sickens me of music altogether ; but it need not, for I hate it enough already," said Marianne, with a pout. VOL. II. " Go in, at any rate, as I bid you. I declare I won't pay money for what you don't receive; and the expense is really awful." "Well, I for one don't care how soon you give over. I want a music master; a woman has really no style."

"Oh, Mrs. Wills recommended Miss Hall as a young person of very superior education, you know, Marianne." Marianne muttered something decidedly derogatory to Mrs. Wills' judgment in such matters, and went into the dining-room, where the music lesson was proceeding, and where, from its vicinity, every word of the foregoing conversation had been distinctly heard. Miss Margaret Hall, music teacher, was standing at the piano, overlooking the younger Miss Grey. The only evidence she allowed to show that she had heard her name used, was an increased pressure of her lips against each other, and a flush on her ordinarily pale face. Personally she was, perhaps, but little changed since we last met her, save that there was that look of suppressed pain upon her face, and that she was a little thinner in figure ; but adversity is a wonderful teacher, and a stolid, practical patience seemed to have given place to Changes. 3 her old quick and excited manner.

Margaret had learnt what it was to be poor, and also the necessity of conciliating others, to enable her to live. Besides the pupils and their teacher, there was a gentleman seated at the window reading. " Oh, Mr. Iliffe, I did not know you were here ! " said Miss Grey, giving him her hand. " Will you not come into the other room ? I am sure you cannot read in this noise." "It does not disturb me in the least, I assure you, Miss Grey ; I availed myself of your mother's kind permission of making myself at home and coming in without ceremony." " It was hardly fair not to have told us, though ; mamma will be quite vexed when she knows it." There was a beautiful bouquet of hothouse flowers lying at Mr. Iliffe's hand, and Marianne pounced upon them. " What beautiful flowers ! may I look at them ?

" " Certainly ; I am carrying them to a friend of mine who once had them at her own command, but now seldom sees them." " Indeed." Mr. Iliffe resumed his reading, and Miss Grey went to the piano. The flowers ought to have been for her; perhaps on coming in, she thought they 1—2 were, for the owner of them was to her thinking a very timid gentleman, and might possibly be cherish ing feelings towards her that, though his modesty would not allow him to make an avowal, yet might declare themselves in some such delicate offerings. However that might be, he evinced no desire of any further conversation, but remained seemingly absorbed in his book during the rest of the lesson ; scarcely, indeed, ever glancing at the trio at the piano: at the close, when Miss Hall was quietlv assuming her bonnet and shawl, he rose too.

" You are not going, Mr. Iliffe ; we dine at two," said Miss Grey. " Thank you, you must excuse me to-day. I am engaged here to-morrow." " For the exhibition. Pray don't be late." Miss Hall took up her roll of music, and wished the girls good morning. Mr. Iliffe would not be included in the adieux. " I think we are both going the same way, Miss Hall," he said, quite as a matter of course, when they were out of doors. Margaret wanted to say they were not, for she had no wish Mr. Iliffe should know where she lived : once she had been proud of her home, but it was altered now ; and, judging Mr. Iliffe from his friends Changes. 5 the Greys, she thought poverty would be despicable in his eyes, as in theirs. " Yours is a wearing profession, Miss Hall. Sitting listening this morning has raised my opinion of womanly patience considerably," said Mr. Iliffe.

" I could not do it." " Call it indifference, and you will be nearer the truth," Margaret replied. " I am obliged to spend two hours in Mrs. Grey's dining-room, and I may as well do it quietly as not." " Is the improvement of your pupils no object to you?" " Yes ; but it would not conduce to their improve ment, I fancy, if I stormed and protested. Only fancy the result," Margaret said, with a touch of her old humour breaking out : " Miss Grey would regard me with a look of unutterable surprise ; Ellen would laugh ; Mrs. Grey would come to the rescue with a torrent of eloquence my poor efforts could never stem, and if I meant to preserve my dignity, I should have to wish them good morning, and lose my occupation." " No great loss, I should think," muttered Mr. Iliffe. "•That depends on circumstances ; to me it would be a great one."

Mr. Iliffe was silent : if she would give him her Tite Cotton Lord. confidence, he would be only too glad to receive it ; but if she wished to withhold it, he had no right to be curious. " You will pardon me, Miss Hall," he said presently, " but I have noticed you are fond of flowers ; I thought these fine when I saw them ; may I offer them to you ? " He hardly thought she would take them ; he had seen her repulse kind offers, and shrink from civilities, and it pleased him to see her face brighten as she took them and thanked him. " They seem like old friends," she remarked, as she touched them tenderly. " I am glad they please you," said Mr. Iliffe, simply. He was not a very young man, and had a grave, preoccupied appearance that may have made him seem older than he really was, and a quiet, earnest way of speaking.

" You are glad to see old friends again, then," he added ; " indeed, I think it is pleasant to all of us." " It depends on the associations they bring back with them ; we find the remembrance agreeable or not, as our memory clothes them. In my case I oblige myself to forget, lest I should become still more disgusted with the present." " But if the past was happy, why forget it? We Changes. 7 so seldom recognize happiness as being directly with us, that half our enjoyment exists in looking forward to happiness, or recalling it, as once with us. Ah, Miss Hall, don't think me inquisitive, but you have not always taught music ? " "No." " I knew your father, Miss Hall ; though you I never saw till lately." Margaret raised her head, looking at him some what defiantly. Of late she had been accustomed to near her father spoken of by those around her as improvident, extravagant, and heedless, and she faicied he would say the same.

" Well, sir," she demanded. He met the indignant eyes, and knew what she set. " He was very dear to me ; I have received such khdness at his hand, that I can never forget. As a boy I honoured and reverenced him, as a man I loved and honoured him still." Margaret felt the tears in her eyes; it was so inexpressibly dear to hear him spoken kindly of. She noticed, too, for the first time that Mr. Iliffe wore mourning. " You, too, have lost a relative, or a friend ? " " I have lost your father." The Cotton Lord. "Thank you, Mr. Iliffe;" she was more grateful for that one morsel of reverence paid to the dead, than she could have felt for a host of benefits to the living. "Have I now sufficient claim to be called a friend?" he asked presently. " Oh, yes," was the frank answer ; they were near her home by this time, and she gave him her hand.

Perhaps it may have been his intention to investgate and become acquainted with that same home of hers, and its inmates ; but as she seemed not to wish it, he accepted the signal of parting, and went his way alone. Margaret was following the train of recollections so unexpectedly started. What a length of time it seemed ; yet only six months had elapsed sin<e her father's death. In six little months lay tie heart-breaking, the despair, the struggle. Befoie such wild grief as Margaret's when she reached h«r home and found there the desolation of which the messenger had not been able to tell her, I, her biographer, stand back abashed. To me, great sorrow is always sacred ; it seems sacrilege to note down the wild gestures and reckless words falling from the lips of those lately bereaved. I would rather humbly bow my own head before the great Dispenser of joy and sorrow, close the door, and let the poor burstino- Changes. 9 heart seek a higher comfort and sympathy than we sons of dust can offer.

We may be sure that the moment grief seeks consolation from our sym pathy it has already lost its first poignancy and is partly healed. It is as with prayer : in every-day life it is sufficient that we pray publicly, but when some bitter draught has to be drained, when some sudden blow takes from us all we held dear in life, and we need heavenly comfort indeed, we seek our closet, pour out our anguish unseen and alone, and think we draw closer to God. When the trouble was generally known, and the first week of mourning past, it became necessary for some one to look into matters. Mr. Edward Fawton, Mrs. Hall's brother, took their affairs into his hands, went over everything in a businesslike manner, furnished a small cheap house in Manchester with some of the plainest things from Prestwich, and removed the family there ; he put up to auction the remain ing furniture, pictures, and books (except, indeed, such few as Margaret insisted on taking with her as being most closely associated with her father), realized their value, paid off the creditors, and invested what remained in some small safe pro perty yielding to the widow a yearly income of fifty-five pounds ; congratulating himself that by Tie Cotton L^ord. these means he insured himself from ever being burdened by her and her family, and gave her no chance of incurring future beggary by reckless extravagance in the present.

Mrs. Hall acquiesced in all he suggested; and though Margaret was too stunned by her loss to notice, or indeed care, much what he was doing, she certainly did make some little protestation about the smallness of the sum ; but was instantly silenced and put down by her uncle in a very masterly and businesslike manner. As regarded Mr. Pilliger, it was found on investi gation, that Mr. Wills had been wrong in representing that gentleman as having decamped with the whole of the capital he had obtained. Some little he may certainly have kept back, with a wise foresight of possible rainy days ; but the greater portion, it was ascertained, he had most undoubtedly' invested as he represented at the time to Mr. Hall ; on the speculation proving to be a mere swindle, in which he had been duped as well as his client, he had decamped .vith what he had in hand : as much, most likely, to escape Mr. Hall's wrath, as from a con sciousness that his own proceedings would not bear strict investigation.

When the Halls had settled down in their house Changes. 11 it very soon became apparent to Margaret that fifty pomids would not cover their house expenses, and leave them straight at the end of the year; and she set herself to devise some means of increasing their poor little income. For when some great affliction comes to us, it is curious how trivial the smaller evils of life appear; how calmly we look forward to them, how quietly bear them. Margaret Hall, bred up in luxury and wealth, never having dreamed of poverty as an evil likely to befall her, yet took this part of the misfortune with what her mother considered the most provoking calmness. It seemed as though all her regrets had been poured on the other trouble, and that for this evil she had none left. As the house was larger than they positively required, letting lodgings was the first idea, and Margaret considered, as it was near the town, that they would have no particular difficulty in getting a respectable tenant.

Mrs. Hall was horrified at the idea. A Fawton a lodging-house keeper! great heaven! what would Margaret think of next. A fit of hysterics followed the horror, and then an agitated call on her brother, entreating him to use his influence with Margaret and persuade her to change her degrading intention. But Mr. Fawton, as a man of business, could not Tlie Cotton Lord. 12 fail to see that Margaret was right. Clearly fifty pounds a year was not sufficient to live on: it was a great fall certainly, as Fanny said ; but the things of this world were so uncertain, and the hard-earned crust of independence was sweeter than the luxurious table of dependence, &c. &c. Mr. Fawton, standing on the soft hearth-rug in his fine drawing-room, could talk in a most edifying manner, admiring himself meanwhile in the large pier-glass pro digiously; but the fine sentiments and long words could bring little comfort to the poor widow, feeling now for the first time how our rich friends regard us when we are rich no longer, and sending her forth with bitter tears upon her pale face.

So Margaret had her way, and they advertised the front sitting and bed room as eligible apartments to be let. Whether they were too inexperienced, or were too eager for tenants, or whether it was a business totally unsuited to those not accustomed to take count of pence and shillings, I cannot say ; but certain it is that they failed most signally in the venture. They first got into the rooms a medical student, who, after leading them an anxious riotous life for five weeks, went off one morning with his carpet-bag and never returned to pay the three Changes. 13 weeks' board and lodging he owed ; and next a lady, who, after bating down their terms, so as to leave the very smallest margin of profit possible, and requiring all sorts of additions and alterations made in the arrangements of carpets, curtains, &c, discovered at the end of a fortnight that the place was " too quiet," and insisted on going without the usual notice, on the plea that the situation had not been properly represented to her when she took the rooms.

This carried them into the fourth month. When the medical student was gone, Margaret, determined to save, if she could not earn, turned away the young servant they had engaged, and did the house work herself : a piece of economy her mother resented deeply at first, till she saw how kindly Margaret took to it, and with what easy indifference she rolled up her cuffs and lit fires, swept rooms, and peeled potatoes ; when she reconciled herself by re membering that Margaret had always been her father's child, and, being troubled with no aristo cratic blood, could turn her hand to anything when once convinced of the necessity of so doing. It was upon the departure of the female lodger, and when it seemed probable that the little card hung in the window, signifying to all passers-by The Cotton Lord. that there were apartments to spare inside, would remain there for some time without procuring an applicant, that it first occurred to Margaret she might perhaps make some use 'of her knowledge of music ; and as this met with no particular objec tion on the part of Mrs. Hall, she applied herself sedulously to the task of finding some one in want of that useful commodity, a music teacher.

Chapter II. Old Acquaintance

Having resolved on this course, Margaret began to *■ o o look out for some engagement, and seeinoan advertisement one morning in the newspaper for a female music teacher, consulted her mother as to the propriety of applying for the engagement. That lady, so consulted, looked up for a moment from her embroidery to say, " I don't know really, Margaret: as your uncle thinks best, perhaps you may as well apply ; but really it seems useless to me, and you might as well stop at home for all the good you will do out. But do just as you like : don't let me dissuade jtou ; and really — there I've dropped a stitch, and shall have to unravel ever so much ! Do stand out of the light, Margaret, for goodness' sake, while I see if I can pick it up again." With this permission, Margaret went upstairs to prepare to go out.

Now that she was going among strangers, Tlie Cotton Lord. Margaret, standing before her glass, remembered, almost for the first time since her trouble, to look at her face and notice the effect the last few months had had on it. Not so much, certainly ; she thought it looked older perhaps, and paler, but taking down her dark hair from the plain, tight manner in which she had worn it of late, and letting it fall into its old thick curls, she smiled at recognizing the face she had used to know, as she might have done an old friend. Perhaps with the recognition came back the heartache that she had called selfish and condemned to be henceforward no part of her life. Where was Frank ? Had he heard of her trouble, and did he care ? She said not : she said he had never cared for her, and looked at the reflection of her own face while she said it, and would not heed the pain.

God knows he had done wrong to deceive a love like hers ; but it was past, and they might never meet, their paths lay so differently now : God grant her strength to keep straight in hers ! She put on her best black dress, and smoothed her hair in its plain folds again underneath her crape bonnet. " No lady will object to me on the score of too much beauty," she said, looking at her straight, ponderous eyebrows that seemed thicker and darker than ever. No. 4, Montpellier Terrace, was situated in one of those numberless streets that were just then springing up so thickly about Green Heys. They were smart, new-looking houses, small and shallow in appearance, and looking as though they did not at all necessitate the tenant's being a man of sub stance, or even being possessed of many earthly goods to enable him to occupy them.

They were trim, and bright with paint and colour, yet their aspect was that of general freedom from responsi bility; such a here-to-day and gone-to-morrow appear ance, that had any one tenant been my debtor, the very appearance of the house would have induced me to keep a keen look-out as to his general movements. " Not very promising," thought Margaret, when she found the house, and went up the gravel walk. A remarkably dirty servant-girl answered her ring at the door, and Margaret having ascertained that the lady of the house was in, sent in her name, and was shown into the front room. It, was very untidy ; papers and picture-frames were scattered about everywhere, and there was a greater scarcity of chairs and tables than anything else. On the table, among other things, was a glass of beer, and before the fire sat a gentleman in a dressing-gown, with a vol. n. Tie Cotton Lord. 18 leg on either hob, reading the paper.

He turned his head with languid indifference as Margaret entered, but, catching sight of her face, started up so energetically as to leave a portion of the dressing gown clinging to a nail that obtruded from the leg of the chair. " By Jove ! Miss Hall," he exclaimed. Margaret recognized him, and was almost equally surprised to see Mr. Wills. That gentleman threw himself back in his chair. " Quite startled me ; by George, you did," and fanned himself with a dirty handkerchief he extracted from some part of his voluminous costume. Mr. Wills was never goodlooking ; he had a broad sallow face, a low brow, bold prominent eyes, and thick lips; but now, unwashed and unshaven, he appeared disgusting. Margaret felt her face colour at the lengthened stare with which he honoured her. "Very sad affair," he said at last, alluding to Mr. Hall's death.

" Ah, he was always too confid ing in others, and never was very sharp in business matters." Mr. Wills' comment reminded Margaret of the living cur moralizing on the dead lion. In life her father had not had a more deferential follower than this man, and had disliked him because he affected such humility to him. " You came to see my wife, I believe ? " " Yes." " Ha ! by Heaven ! a strange coincidence," after which he resumed his beer and paper. Presently Mrs. Wills appeared, handsomely dressed and quite sparkling in the jewellery way, but with an appearance of having assumed all these splendours in a great hurry and completed some portions of her toilet in her passage from the dressing-room to the ground floor, from the fact of their looking very much awry. She was stouter and redder than ever, and a good deal of the colour had taken up a permanent residence on her nose, wliich did not improve her appearance.

" My dear, Miss Hall : Miss Hall, Mrs. Wills," said Mr. Benjamin, with a magnificent flourish of his hand and handkerchief. Mr. Wills, with his head on one side, studied the tall, darkly clad figure before him. " Any relation to your old friend, Benjamin ? " " Daughter ! " replied Mr. Wills, triumphantly. " Mrs. Wills, I admire you : I'm proud of you ! I'm proud of any woman who has a good memory for anything beyond the amount of her milliner's bill. 9 * The Cotton Lord. You have proved not only a solace and a comfort to me, but an actual saving: the moment I led you to the hymeneal altar, Mrs. Wills, pocket and memo randum books became an unnecessary expenditure ! " It was difficult to discern whether this compliment was pleasing to the lady to whom it was addressed or not, for she only said, " Bother !

" and turned to Margaret. " You apply in consequence of my advertisement, I presume ? " " Yes." " You are, of course, fully competent to teach the piano in every stage ? " said the lady, magnificently. " I studied under very good masters, Mrs. Wills ; and think, unless your daughters are already very proficient, I should be quite competent to teach them for a time." " For a time, certainly ; of course later they must have masters themselves, they are only young at present : the eldest is ten." " Gad, I should think not ! " put in Mr. Wills, who was watching them. "Mrs. Wills is quite a young woman : a girl, by Jove ! Don't you think so, Miss Hall?" "Benjamin! how can you be so silly?" said the lady, with a simper. " Silly ! Ask Miss Hall if I'm silly. Quite a girl I swear : quite a girl." " And as regards references," resumed Mrs. Wills, " you are, of course, prepared to show those, as a guarantee of your competency ?

" Whether that lady supposed Margaret carried about with her a number of acknowledgments of her talents, as quack doctors advertise their " testi monials," is uncertain ; but she flattered herself she was doing things in a businesslike manner by asking. " References," repeated Margaret. " I have never taught before, Mrs. Wills." " Indeed," said that lady, so drily that Margaret felt she had made a fatal admission. The attentive Mr. Wills, however, came gallantly to the rescue. " References ! ha, ha! bravo, Mrs. Wills! born for business ! I'll be Miss Hall's reference, my dear. When Mrs. Wills asks you that question again, just refer her to me." " Benjamin, I must really request you to mind your affairs. This engagement is my business." "Your business, my love; on the contrary, I am connected with Miss Hall both in friendship and business.

Her father loved me like a brother, and kept my portrait in his dining-room." Tie Cotton Lord. Margaret turned round in her old hasty manner and contradicted Mr. Wills' last statement ; softening her assertions a moment after by saying, at least she had never seen it there. " Of course not, my dear : you didn't know it, or your father either, I daresay. Do you remember the large historical picture over the sideboard ? I sat for the principal figure : the picture went into the world and your father got it ; and the other day when it was put up to auction, the auctioneer (damn his impertinence !) cried out, ' Look round, gentlemen, and you'll see the original of this striking face." Everybody turned and saw me ! the fellow thought I should be abashed ; but I made the company a polite bow, stepped forward, outbid the last bidder, and got the picture."

He concluded with a magnificent flourish of both hand and handkerchief, and Mrs. Wills returned to the subject on hand. " I should like a little time to consider your pro position, Miss Hall," she said. " Oh, certainly." " This day week, then, if you will call, I shall be able to conclude the engagement one way or another." Margaret rose, most perfectly acquiescent to this open proceeding; when Mr. Wills darted from his chair, and took up his position between them. " I can't have this ! Priscilla, you like Miss Hall ; I like Miss Hall. Why defer the engagement ? By Heaven ! Mrs. Wills, you are unreasonable to keep anybody in a state of suspense for an entire week." Margaret entreated he would not disturb his wife's arrangement for her sake, assuring him it would suit her perfectly ; but he was obstinate.

" Mrs. Wills, the engagement is concluded. It is only left for you to fix the days. Miss Hall can instruct her pupils." Mrs. Wills knitted her brows, and did not deign a reply. Margaret had it at her tongue's end to refuse the engagement altogether : she had wished that her past hfe might have been as little associated with her present one as possible; but the prospect of getting no other engagement stopped her, and she left the interview to terminate as it might. " Come, Mrs. Wills, you know I never act without a reason ; I have a good one in the present instance. What days shall we say ? " "Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I think will suit me best, then." " Will that suit you, Miss Hall ? " " Quite ; I have no other engagement." " We will consider it settled then." " If Mrs. Wills is quite agreeable.