A Losing Hazard

Front matter

BY COURTENEY GRANT, AUTHOR OF "LITTLE LADY LORRAINE." "O! . . . . region all'too fair For self-delighting fancy to endure That silence only should inhabit there. Wild beasts, or uncouth savages impure ! But, intermingled with the generous seed, Grew many a poisonous weed ; Thus fares it still with all that takes its birth From human care, or grows upon the breast of earth." Artegral and Elidure. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON RICHARD B_iNTLEY AND SON, 1875. {All Rig'.ts Rtscrved.\

Chapter I

" She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, And humble cares and delicate fears ; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; And love, and thought,' and joy." AVORDSWORTH. N excited crowd, a blazing sun, and a race being run This was in Holland; September, 1863. Time after time the drivers rush along the course : the painted wheels flash by ; the bright harness, the waving tassels, the gay streamers, the white reins glitter rainbow hues, vol. 1. back to the spectators ; the men throw up their hats, forgetting their national phlegm, the women laugh and exclaim, and smiling, shake their gaily bedizened heads as their favourites pass ; handkerchiefs are waved, and " Who'll win ?" is the cry. This is the great race of the day ; five competitors are beaten out of the field ; only four remain. Jan Krusemann, the proud old boer, whom everyone loves and respects ; Heer Van der Pyl, who is engaged with the Englishmen here at the works ; young Van Bruynesteyn, the neighbouring lord ; and Baron Roeland van Franckenburg, every one's favourite, and everyone's friend, who is landlord to old Jan Krusemann, and who owns nearly all the country round.

The excitement became intense. Party feeling rose high. Heer Van der Pyl was beaten. " Another gone, Miss Vincent !" said an Englishman, who was standing by a lady's pony carriage, looking on. " He seems dis appointed too !" he added, as Heer Van der Pyl brought his hard drilver gracefully round, and made him stand on a line with the other defeated ones. Miss Vincent turned sharply to look at the vanquished hero, and made a little mock grimace of sympathy, as she caught his eye. " You seem interested !" said her com panion, for the race had begun again, and she was watching it intently. There was an inflection of bitterness in his tone. " I am, Mr. Randolph. Which will you back ?" " Which do you want to win ?" asked he. " I do not care !" said she, with a sudden assumption of carelessness.

" Ah ! he is beaten \" she exclaimed, turning first red, then white. " Oh no ! I was wrong ! See ! Roe land is still victor !" " Roeland !" muttered George Randolph. " You are familiar !" " One forgets !" she answered laughing. " How cross you are to-day ! Who is that coming towards us ?" i — A tall young man was threading his way through the crowd, and approaching them. " My old friend, Guy Travers. He came last night. He is here to work with me." " Oh ! to stay ?" asked the lady, slightly arching her brows. " Yes ; I hope you will like him. You say I am cross to-day," he added, changing his tone. " So I am ; I hate to see you here. It is no place for ladies." " Nonsense. I am English. V/e do what we like. This country is so dull, I must have every inch of license that I can get hold of."

Just then, shouts and cries rent the air. The race had dwindled down to competition between old Jan and young Roeland. At first Jan wanted to withdraw, but Roeland would not hear of it. Adrian van Bruyne steyn, with his vanquished horse panting its heart out and flecked with foam, was inciting them on. " Jan, I am not victor yet ! Shall we divide honours ?" " Mijn Heer, you are victor, assuredly. My poor horse cannot win." " Ah ! Jan — you will not run against me !" said young Roeland, sorrowfully. " You shall not say that, Baron Roe land !" said the old boer proudly, and again he turned his horse back to the starting post. Clara Vincent, George Randolph, and Guy Travers standing together, watched them. A curious smile flitted over Miss Vincent's countenance as Roeland passed at a slow negligent pace.

There was time, however, to look at her face, and the blood rushed into his as their eyes met. Randolph saw the reflection, sure enough ; but when he turned quickly to look for some sign on her countenance, he was disappointed : her fea tures were as smiling, as calmly pure, as the sky at summer noon. So once more the race, flew by. But two of them this time. Roeland, firm, calm, placid as a rock — with light hand, quick eye, and ready arm. Jan, hot, nervous, and anxious about this rather unseemly competition against his young master. "Roeland!" "Jan!" "Jan!" "Roeland!" called the countrywomen, while the mai dens laughed and trembled, and sighed for Roeland to win, though they knew they ought to wish Jan to be first. But then old Jan did not matter so much, and Baron Roe land was so young, and so handsome, and always smiled so brightly to them as he lifted his hat !

So f Over ! In at the winning-post ! Roeland first. The men crowded round him and shook him by the hand. He sprang to the ground. Jan was coming in leisurely after him. He had not hastened when he saw that he was beaten. Three hundred and sixty-three yards in twenty-two seconds ! It is quick work ! " Good, good, Baron Roeland !" said old Jan, smiling down upon him. " Bravely won !" " And bravely run, friend Jan !" said Roe land as he seized his hand. " Next year you will beat me !" They all pressed round Roeland : con gratulations, and praises, kind words and smiles, were showered thickly upon him. " He is the hero of the day !" said Guy Travers, in his rdle of spectator of the 'pro ceedings, for he knew no one here as yet. " Come and be introduced to him !" said Randolph, and Miss Vincent put her ponies in motion, while the young men walked beside her.

They could not get to Roeland ; he was standing listlessly among the farmers, smiling, and answering cordially the civil speeches addressed to him on all sides. His manner was always winning ; it was finished, considerate, natural, the manner of a thorough man of the world — a combination of perfect ease, and careful courtesy ; an open confident smile, a speech somewhat reticent. " Roeland's father should have seen him to-day ;" said an old countrywoman, who was standing: in the crowd. "He would have been proud of him." " Alas ! Vrouw Jagdmann. The Baron is far above such cares now. He is in heaven, past the winning-post, and at rest !" " Young Roeland must be sad all alone in that great house of his !" " When will he take home a wife, I won der ?" said another. The boerinen around laughed and blushed.

They were not sure whether it would be so nice when a Madame Roeland came to the great house. Just then a Jagdwagen drove up, and stopped on the outside of the throng. A pretty blonde head with a blue feather appeared. " I wanted Doctor Saltichus. Is he here ?" The boers and peasants ran about for the pretty lady. " We cannot find him." Roeland saw the carriage and hastily left his elevated position. " What is it, Lisa ? What is it ? Have you come to give us our prizes ?" " No indeed !" laughed she. " I came for the doctor ; my mother is not so well to-day, and I was anxious ; he is not at his house : where can he be ?" " Send back your carriage with a message for him, and come and give us our prizes. We want you I" Roeland was not used to have his will disputed. A glance around showed the girl George Randolph and Miss Vincent standing together.

She let her eyes fall with a sort of question ing look back to Roeland. He still insisted that she should come, so, taking his hand, she jumped to the ground and walked with him to the little stand where the prizes were ar ranged, waiting for distribution. Up went the caps and handkerchiefs again. The boers were delighted. Miss Vincent was English, and had no right to give the prizes, but Freule Lisa van Hovenaar was Dutch. She had been born and bred at Franewyk ; this was charming ! It was a compliment to her as well as to them. How clever of Baron Roeland to think of it ! " Other ladies come alone as well as I, I see !" said Miss Vincent laughing, as Lisa van Hovenaar passed the pony-carriage with Roeland. " This is my first appearance at one of these gatherings," answered she in English, "and this is accidental.

Roeland is going to make me a public character to-day." They had been boy and girl together : he knew how the people loved her, and he wanted to please them. She stopped to greet George Randolph : he presented his friend. "Welcome to Holland, Mr. Travers!" said she gaily. " You have brought us the sunshine to-day ! May we keep you both a long time!" " You deserve it always !" said Travers, more gallantly than cleverly. She, passing through the throng, smiling and speaking to all, seemed to him like a young chatelaine of the olden time, or like an angel in woman's guise. An open frank smile, a face of more than average beauty, youth and wit, are passports to open quickly the portals of all hearts. " I won, Miss Vincent ! Not a word of con gratulation ?" said Roeland to Clara Vincent in a low voice.

" I did not think you would win. I have no word for you here !" Her face was cold and haughty. " Not here ? Afterwards then — at Bergen end ?" said he eagerly. " Afterwards — at Bergenend !" assented she slowly, and stooping to arrange the carriage rug as she said it. He left her with a triumphant smile on his face. She too smiled as she watched him walking away, triumphing also ! Lightly Freule Van Hovenaar stepped up to the platform, and acclamations rose into the air on all sides. The old women clapped their hands, while their laced caps nodded to and fro in wild approval : the men shouted, and called her name, while the boerinen thanked their stars that they were not grand ladies to-day, and wondered whether she would have to make a speech, and if she were not very frightened. She was dressed in blue and white ; a short white petticoat slashed with blue, and the blue dress looped up tastefully over it.

A pair of tempting little boots showed beneath. Freule Lisa was not frightened. She had known nearly every one all her life. They were mostly her dear friends, save indeed the English workmen ; — -and there was quite a colony of them here, working at the reclama tions and the harbour — these she was not quite so sure about ; but, then, they were all under George Randolph. And he — well ! George Randolph was a very handsome young man ; clever too, and a hundred things besides. Freule Lisa had never seen any one whom she admired half so much as George Randolph, and she was rather afraid of him. One by one they came up to her — these excited happy victors, and the pretty little hands gave the prize, while her laughing lips spoke some merry word, and asked kindly after the good horse, which probably she had heard more or less about for some weeks past.

Some of the competitors were strangers from Gelderland and Friesland, some from Dordrecht and other places. To these she said she hoped that it was only the first of future meetings, the first of many good fights. " When does your turn come, Roeland ?" said she, rather wearily. " Last. Look, you have a large present to give me ! Will you give me nothing besides, and what will you say to me ?" " Say, Roeland ? You know how glad I am ! One need not say that ! Old friends know beforehand each other's thoughts!" He smiled, pleased. " But will you give me nothing besides ? Nothing from you ? You should have seen us ! I wished for you !" "Did you?" " Make me a promise that some day the prize I want shall be mine." " Hush ! Dear Roeland, you pain me talk ing so." Another winner waiting, and Roeland turning away, sullen and angry.

He stepped down, and went over to Miss Vincent's carnage. Then Lisa looked for George Randolph ; but he did not come. She stood up there alone. " Baron Roeland van Franckenburg," called out the crier in a loud voice. " Roeland ! Roeland !" rent the air. Graciously Lisa van Hovenaar stood wait ing there, with the great silver cup in her hand that he was to have. Somewhat penitent, he came quickly back, and stood at her feet, looking up with smiling humility. * " What will you say to me ?" asked he in a low voice that no one could hear. She smiled. " Baron Roeland, my friend," said the young girl flushing and raising her clear voice, " I am glad to give you this ! I am glad you have won. But I am sorry that my hands should be the means of giving you the prize that Franewyk offers you. I am not worthy to do this.

Take it from them all, from all our kind friends, who are so glad it is yours ; your triumph is theirs. For their sake, win more, Roeland, win always ; and remember in the future that in your life's race Franewyk's eyes are on you, and that every prize you win, harder to hold as greater to strive for, will show your gratitude as well as your worthy ness for all the affection and friendship that surrounds you to-day." Some of the words fell too low to be heard except by those near. " Bravo ! — Bravo ! — Good ! — Well said !" resounded on all sides. Franewyk was beside itself with joy. Was there ever a village so blessed? had any place such lords and ladies — so clever and so good ? Roeland bowed low over the cup. " You shame me, Lisa," said he in a low voice. Then smiling, he said as he stood beside her: " My good friends, I can but thank you.

Freule Lisa van Hovenaar has shamed me with her fair words and bright promises of a brilliant future. I neither deserve the one nor, I fear, can I act up to the other. But you may be sure, the prizes I shall try for, I shall clo my best to win, and if the competi tion be as honest and as pleasantly exciting as it was to-day, my life would seem a light one : if, too, your praise meet me at the goal, as earnest, as sincere as to-day, that alone is sufficient to incite me to strive. However it be, I shall hope to work, and to win as I de serve. No man should hope for more than that ! My friends, this is the first time I see you all together since my father's death. You know how I miss him : you too must miss his kindness and justice. Let me strive to fill his place towards you all as best I may.

Let me thank you for your kindness and sympathy to me under his loss, for your universal friend ship to me ever since. " I have touched on a grave topic ! I ask pardon. Let me change it, and bring smiles to all faces, both Dutch and English, by naming the fair lady who has graced our day here with her presence, and who has made our prizes trebly valuable to us by presenting them with her own hands, and giving us her kind thoughts and wishes besides. Freule Lisa van Hovenaar, receive our thanks ! Little friend, am I wrong ? you must be thanked, you know." He said that in a low voice, turning to her with a polite bow, hat in hand. " You are very tiresome, Roeland. I hate hearing my name shouted about like that. Take me away !" Right good English cheers there were among them, bravos, hurrahs, and everything else that a joyous crowd could think of, arrived at the end of an annual holiday, and trying to spin out the fun as long as they could.

Then the band began to play, the women gathered together their cloaks and baskets, and departure was the order of the day. Roeland put Lisa into her carriage and \^ol. 1. turned to seek his hard-drdver. He had an appointment that must be kept. Just then, Miss Vincent's ponies took it into their heads to consider the band an out rage — the crowd moving by was a crowning insult — and they asserted themselves by kick ing and plunging, curvetting, and threatening every moment to upset the carriage. George Randolph was there, he tried to reach their heads. " Don't touch them ! Quiet, Pegasus ! Quiet ! Quiet !" She managed them ad mirably. " Let your servant drive, Miss Vincent, or shall I ?" " No ! no ! It's all right." Just then they swerved quickly round and bolted. The servant had been standing beside them, and she was alone ; but he could not reach her or catch her up.

Like the wind they went. The shouting, rushing, tearing crowd behind her only made them worse. The lanes are soft and sandy in Holland, narrow too, but to-day she was not A LOSING HAZARD. 19 likely to meet any one. Every one was behind her. Down under the over-arching boughs they went ; the sun glinted through them on her handsome face ; down, jolting over this, sinking into that, speeding along they went. Clara Vincent did not scream or lose her nerve. They had done this before. They knew her voice ; she believed she could stop them when she liked. " They will tire soon," she thought. On, on. She rather liked the excitement of it. " My hard-dravers /" said she to herself. Then she came to an open space ; a sort of common with heather and rough sandy soil. She had better stay this headlong career.

" Stop !" said she. " Stop, Pegasus ! wo, my pretty Paddy ! wo ! gently, my man !" They slackened their speed, perhaps all the more willingly that she had not fought against them. Pegasus arched his neck and began to think he had been a fool. 2 — " Gently, gently !" said her soft voice. Paddy, all flecked with foam and trembling with excitement, re-assured. So, gradually, she brought them under control, and then turned neatly into a narrow sand lane to the right. Here, hidden from view and sheltered from sun, she walked them slowly for nearly a mile. Rounding a sharp corner in the road, she suddenly came upon young Roeland, who was waiting for her.

Chapter II

" AVhence golden harvests, cities, warlike towers, And Pleasure's sumptuous bowers ; Whence all the fixed delights of house and home, Friendships that will not break, and love that cannot roam." Wordsworth. EORGE RANDOLPH and Guy Travers on the top of a sand hill. They had walked off after the race, eager to be alone, to talk over the past and the future. Boys together, one with expectations, the other without, they had never forgotten their early friendship, and now, when Fortune had administered a sharp blow to Guy Travers, and had despoiled him of his inheritance, reducing him to a level with George, his old friend had written to him at once, and had suggested that as he was doomed to industry somewhere, he might as well come and work with him and make life pleasanter to both. Ergo, here they are.

Travers had arrived in Holland, that morn ing. George Randolph had come down from Amsterdam by a morning train, after meeting with his directors, and now, as he walked with Travers, was explaining that he was anxious to catch a glimpse of the harbour before night, as there had been a storm during his absence, and he was nervous about the result. At Franewyk one hears nothing. " So there was a smash, old fellow, and everything has gone ?" said Randolph, as they walked up the sand hills swiftly, now slipping back a step or two in the soft sand or on the bright moss, now planting their sticks firmly into the ground and making way. " No ; not everything ! But much more than one can spare. And my father could A LOSING HAZARD. 23 not bear to sell the old place. ... I have sisters, too ! I could not live idly there.

Jack's in the navy, you know. I felt I must do something. Amuse oneself one cannot with a broken down family like that around one. At least I couldn't." " Neither the heart nor the money, eh ?" " As you say. If one has the money one has not the heart. I shall be best satisfied by putting my shoulder to the wheel if you will let me try. I have always liked and admired an engineer's life. He fights against, studies, and subdues Nature and the elements. Noble enemies to have !" " The elements of knowledge must be mastered also, though. Tell me, Travers, how did it happen, this smash ?" " A system of fraud had been going on for some time. One of your saints as usual ; wealthy, charitable, and prosperous — the head of the bank — Sir Anthony Lewis by name — and then it all blew up ; he had gone too far.

He ended by shooting himself, and disem barrassed his family of his precious person at the same time that he bequeathed to them poverty and disgrace." " And you ?" " About a shilling in the pound, I fancy." By this time they had reached the top of the hill. Randolph was silent ; he was scan ning the horizon for his pier. Travers studied the scenery. There had been a storm in the night, thunder and lightning, and since, in the morning, the rain had poured down heavily. The undergrowth was drip ping ; pearls and diamonds twinkled and trembled on twig and branch ; the green moss and bright flowers made fitting accom paniment to the chorus of glad brilliance around, while the shadows flitting lightly over, deepened the beauty of earth's changing countenance. In the distance, out beyond the line of hills the sea rolled and stretched, now bright, now sullen, now smiling, then suddenly frowning, like a coquette who has just won another triumph and scarcely knows whether to be satisfied or not.

Below, nestling in a nook of the hills, safely protected by them from the caprice of the sea, was the village of Ryssenwyk. To George Randolph, who so earnestly soughtfor beauty in this home of his adoption, who longed for some relief from the flat monotony of Holland, it had some times brought a vision of Switzerland, and of its pretty villages. Quod volumus, facile cre dimus ! In some degree, he was right. The sand-hills are picturesque, and the cottages of the fishermen close under their sides, with little paths winding up from them — short cuts to the ocean, that finds the poor people subsistence — have something tender, pathetic, and confiding about them, that might well strike an eye weary of universal flatness, and seeking, as George did, for relief from the dull round of practical utility with which he had somewhat too much to do.

Here and there, hares scurried about, chasing each other in play, or frightened by some distant sound. On the hillside a goat was browsing, and below, some partridges rose whirring into the air. " I cannot see it, Guy," said Randolph anxiously. " Come on to the next point." Travers, roused from his study of scenery, prepared to follow. " How long have you been out here, now, George ?" " About five years. We shall get on faster now the Government have taken us up. I believe it goes against the grain with Bennett and Bradlaw, the contractors, and my chiefs, you know. But Vincent is satisfied. The capital advanced would never have sufficed. Now the work will be done quicker, and more satisfactorily to me ; better for the place, and for England's future fame." " And for your's, George." " Individuals are apt to get sunk in this sort of undertaking.

But perhaps, as you say, I am more likely to get some credit now, than when working only under the shadow of Mr. Bennett's capital. The responsibility will be less difficult, too. It has often been anxious work, explaining intricacies and ne cessities first to my masters, and then managing them to get permission to carry them out." " Perhaps I may be of some little use to you, George." " Yes. I shall have your friendly counsel, at least. Your predecessor, Munro, was a knave as well as a fool." Travers was silent. At home in England, with his five days a week, his friends, and his shooting, he had often wondered over George's solitary career. Looking over his letters, he had felt interested, and even am bitious, too, about the reclamations of land, about the barring out of the sea, about that — to him, then, mysterious — Maeslem Meer.

" The magnitude of such works is never known, never appreciated, save by those who have the doing of them !" Randolph did not answer, and again Travers fell to thinking how often, in the early days, complaints had gone over the sea to his friendly ear about the management, tact, and diplomacy required ; about explanations to be given — dearly loved schemes to be sacrificed, and self to be controlled. " You see I have always been alone here — virtually alone and unbefriended. Vincent is all very well, but he won't stir an inch beyond what he sees, and that isn't far. The others, who, in fact, have reaped the benefit and gained the credit of my brain-work and men tal strain, only come over now and again, and the brunt of the anxiety and responsibility is thrown on my shoulders." Guy Travers smiled.

" I know — yes !" said Randolph, impulsively. " A friend coming to live in the desert with one is no light matter. Solitude has weighed heavily upon me ; I am delivered from that to-day." He threw up his head and strode on quicker. " Look here, Guy !" suddenly exclaimed he, and stopped, pointing on in front of them — the bright changing scene of cloud and distant sea, the nearer jewelled moss and flower seemed pranked in smiles for them. "It is all very peaceful, isn't it ? this little world — what am I going to bring upon it ?" " I am coming after you, George, by the next train," said the other. " These are the old fits of compunction. I know them well. Just as you are getting on, success dawning, and so on, you turn round, dissatisfied. Here am I, the one man with the power, the will, twisting the rest round my finger — -oh, go on ! let us have it all.

But I know it." " Ah ! you forget. Suffering much, sacri ficing much, toiling much — you forget that ! Why should I break this silence, people this desert, mar this harmony, bring sin and sorrow here ?" Why ?" echoed Travers, sarcastically. Not for any pleasure of mine, certainly." No, certainly not." No ; each heart echoed it. When ships should pass in proud procession on the horizon, and gay flags should flaunt near the shore, when houses should have sprung up, and wealth, civilization, and commerce were flourishing here, when simplicity had gone, and all the hot-bed of sin was firmly estab lished past rooting out, when luxury was rife, and pleasure had taken the place of the dull works and the dreary desolation around, then — he would be far away, engineering some where else, gardening and sowing like seeds on some other spot of God's earth, which had been till then forgotten, perhaps, for it — who knows — blissfully ignored.

An unwel come thought, if pursued so far as this. " It must be all right, George," said Guy, looking straight ahead, and stopping, for he had made his point, and had reached first the summit of the hill. " It must be well." " Is it well ?" answered the other, musingly. " May towering pride and irrepres sible ambition for oneself and one's profession spur one on thus ruthlessly to subdue even the elements to obedience, and dash souls thus selfishly to ruin, till God Himself puts His veto on it, and stops us ? He limits the waves— are we . By Jove ! it's gone." Travers' eyes followed the direction of Randolph's gaze. It was too true. There was no sign of pier or harbour — only that endless expanse of changing swaying water. The two limitless beings, stricken with sudden defeat, stared at each other for half a second in blank dismay.