A New Othello ... Second edition

Front matter

dstRRObDS' 3/6 SERIES OF POPULAR NOVELS, By WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS. (Crown S710., Cloth.) Uniform with " A New Othello. i. LOUIS DRAYCOTT. By Mrs. Leith Adams, 2nd Edition. 2. GEOFFREY STIRLING. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 5th Edition. 3. BONNIE KATE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 2nd Edition. 4. A NEW OTHELLO. By Hon. I2A Doffos Hardy. 2nd Edition. 5. THE MAID OF LONDON BRIDGE. By Somerville GlBNEY. 6. EVELINE WELLWOOD. By Major Norris Paul. 7. OLD LATT1MERS LEGACY. By J. S. Fletcher. 8. THAT LITTLE GIRL. By Curtis Yorke. 4th Edition. 9. DUDLEY. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 10. THE WILD RUTHVENS. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 11. THE BROWN PORTMANTEAU, and other Stokies. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 12. HUSH! By Curtis V0EKJ&7- 3rdxEdition. 13. ONCE! By CuiiTijy^SfKE. 2nd Edit.on. 14. A ROMANCE OH MpOER^LONDON.

By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edititfi?. . J • 15- HIS HEART TO \VM)v*ByX^!i'Ss Yorke. 2nd Edition. 16. DARRELL CHEVASFrt&ZjB$-€uRTls Yorke. 17. BETWEEN THE SILENCES, and other Stories. By Curtis Yorke. [/„ the Press. 18. THE PEYTON ROMANCE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. =nd Edition. [Shortly. OTHERS IN PREPARATION. LONDON: JARROLD &> SONS, 10 & n, Warwick Lane, E.C. a i^obcl. BY IZA DUFFUS HARDY, Ant-Jwr of "A Woman's Loyalty," "Hearts or Diamonds?" " The Lore that Lie Passed By," etc., etc. SECOND EDITION. LONDON : JARROLD & SONS, 10 & 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C. [All Rights Reserved.] 1894. CONTENTS. CHArTER PAGF I. The Fairest Face ... ... ... 7 II. Fellow-Travellers ... ... 19 III. The Family Circle ... ... ... 34 IV. Doctor Fitzallan ... ... 43 V. Under the Spell ... ... ... 55 VI. " Home, Sweet Home " ... ...

G8 VII. Two Women's Hearts ... ... 80 VIII. She Shines Me Down ... ... 95 IX. "A Bright Particular Star!" ... 108 X. "Alas! How Easily Things go Wrong" 119 XI. " My Sin was that I Loved so Much " 134 XII. "Wounded Love will Turn and Sting" 147 XIII. Forgiven ... ... ... ... 162 XIV. "The Die is Cast" ... ... 175 XV. Cross Currents ... ... ... 186 XVI. Under One Roof ... ... 200 XVII. The Shadow of the Past ... ... CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XVIII. The Storm Clouds Gather ... 226 XIX. " It is the Cause ! " 239 XX. The Hand and the Will ... ... 255 XXI. In an Evil Hour 265 XXII. "As a Bolt out of the Blue!" ... 279 XXIII. "Murder Most Foul, as at the Best it Is!" ... ... ... ... 293 XXIV " I am Not Guilty ! " 302 XXV. Unto the Uttermost ... ... 313 XXVI. Beyond His Power ... ... 324 XXVII. Thou Hast Escaped Me ! ... ... 335 XXVIII. "One Traveller Returns" ... 346 XIX. "Like Sweet Bells Jangled" ... ... 361 XXX. "I Take it for a Sign" ... ...

Chapter I

the fairest face. " And Pelleas gazing, thought. ' la Guinevere herself so beautiful ? ' ': THE time is mid-day ; the season, spring ; the place, New York harbour ; the scene, the deck of one of the great Atlantic liners lying in dock, about to sail on her homeward voyage — a busy scene of crowd, bustle, and confusion. The whole length of the long wharf is black with people, ranks on ranks of lookers-on — loafers, idlers, interested or merely curious spectators — packed together in a solid mass, waiting to witness the departure of the ocean giant. Ashore there is an ear-bewildering tumult and turmoil, as carts, carriages, trucks, drays, and vans, which have brought passengers, passengers' friends, goods, chattels, and baggage to the landing-stage, are all entangled and jammed in apparently inextricable confusion, whilst all the drivers seem to be trying to outshout and outswear each other.

On board there is not quite so much noise, although as much bustle, as a moving multitude, thick as swarming bees, surge up and down the stairs, stream along the passages, and pour in and out of the cabins. Every passenger has a party, large or small, of friends who have come on board to indulge in adieux and an revoirs at leisure and until the last minute. " Not in single spies, but in battalions," do the Americans rally round their departing friends. None so poor and sc obscure as not to be "seen off" by someone ; none so lonely as to be left to set sail alone. Even the stranger who has " tarried but a day " in the hospitable city of New York, who has rushed through the "grand tour" of the Trans atlantic world without time to form a friendship or enjoy an insight into American social life, has picked up somehow a handful of acquaintances— and here they are, come to see the wanderer off.

On the deck, surveying the animated scene with that measured degree of interest which the travelling Briton generally permits himself to betray, are standing two men, English both, and English gentlemen too, as it does not need a second glance to tell. They are both of about the same stature, close on six feet in height ; and there is a certain family resemblance in feature, not in colouring, nor in expression, between them. One is a broad-shouldered, deep-chested, fair-haired Saxon, in the early prime of life, good-looking enough to pass muster in a roll-call of hand some men — more especially if the roll were called by the mothers of daughters — mothers parentally awake to his position and prospects. He has an air of lazy good-humour, and somewhat inert strength — inert only because it does not seem to him worth while to exert it.

The other is a few years youuger, and of slighter, although scarcely weaker build, lither in figure, quicker in movement, with darker hair and eyes, and more vivacity and mobility of expression, yet bearing that unmistakable family likeness to his fair haired and stalwart companion. . They are uncle and nephew ; but the equal affection and good comradeship between them is more like that of two brothers when brothers are also thorough friends. They are " not much addicted to conversation," these fellow-travellers. When they have got anything to say, they say it ; but they are not given to making talk for talking's sake. So they are standing side by side, contemplating the busy scene in sociable silence ; at least the uncle is looking on at the crowd iu general, the nephew at one of its individual items in particular — a woman, young, and tall, and fair, in an unexceptionable and becoming grey dress, who has caught and fixed his roving attention — when a third Englishman, who is lounging along the deck glancing about him in the moving throng, casts his eye on the elder of our two travellers and comes to a halt.

" Why, hullo, Carresford ! " Geoffrey Carresford replies by an equally eloquent and original greeting : " Hullo, Rockleigh ! " " Who'd have thought of seeing you here ? Going across ? " inquires Lord Rockleigh, with a vague jerk of his head in the direction wherein he supposes England to lie. " Yes ; we're homeward bound. Heard you were in New York, but didn't know you'd be going over on the same boat. This is Ray — don't you remember the youngster, Ray Percival ? " " By George, I do," replies Rockleigh heartily, holding out his hand. " I should scarcely have known him at first, though. Come and see Lady Rockleigh — she's just over there." Geoffrey Carresford accompanies him readily, but young Percival steals a glance over his shoulder at the face which has attracted him as he more slowly and even reluctantly follows, regarding the probability of losing sight of " that girl in grey " in the crowd.

" Here she is," says Lord Rockleigh. " Maude, I've brought my old schoolfellow, Mr. Carresford — and Mr. Percival," he adds, glancing round in search of his other companion, " to introduce to you." Then as Lady Rockleigh bows graciously and extends a daintily-gloved hand, her husband includes a young lady who stands by her side in the introduction, saying : " My niece — Lady May Rivers." Lord Rockleigh is by no means as favourable a specimen of English manhood as either of these two compatriots of his whom he has just presented to the ladies of his party. He is, to say the truth, au ugly little man ; but he has a wife who, with all the adjuncts of dress and those mysteries of the toilette into which the masculine mind does not as a rule inquire too closely, may fairly pass as a beauty. She possesses still — thanks to either art or nature, or a happy combination of both — as blooming a complexion, and as luxuriant golden hair as in her youth, which has certainly passed by, though it would be indiscreet to inquire how long ago it took its leave.

Lady May Rivers is young and fair — one of the fortunate many who charm without perfection of feature ; nay, more than that, who charm in despite of several little imperfections ; but the critic would be stern indeed who could sit as a Daniel in judgment upon that face, or could retain his critical faculties at all when looking into those eyes large eyes of soft and limpid brown, shaded by long curling lashes. The brown hair, touched with gold, just matches them in hue. There is a delicious dimple like a baby's in the rounded cheek, a sweet half-wistful expression about the full rose lips, which being always half parted, give her a childlike and guileless look. Her aspect altogether is one of alluring and appealing softness — than which nothing can be further removed from mawkishness or insipidity — brightened by little sparkles of half-demure, half-mischievous, playfulness.

A bewitching little woman is Lady May Rivers ; and Mr. Carresford mentally pronounces a favourable verdict on her appearance, whilst regarding her perhaps rather approvingly than admiringly. He is very well used to pretty women, and also to finding himself appreciated by them ; and he is not easily moved to anything more enthusiastic than the temperate but sincere approbation he bestows now on Lady Rockleigh 's early-widowed niece — for a widow this girl is, although she has cast off her weeds. She is in reality my lady's niece, not his lordship's, although the latter by adoption and affection regards and always speaks of her as " his " niece. Mr. Carresford smoothes his heavy tawny moustache as he looks down into the piquante alluring little face, and makes some casual remark apropos of their " all going across."

" Yes ; fellow-victims ! " she smiles. " Are you a victim, Lady May ? " "Unless the Atlantic deals tenderly with me." " I'm sure it — it ought to," he replies ; and it is the first time he has ever stumbled into anything even so remotely approaching a compliment on three minutes' acquaintance. " The ocean is unluckily feminine ; one can't expect chivalrous consideration from it," she rejoins. The voice is as demurely and archly sweet as the upward glance of her eyes ; but to promise chivalrous consideration for his own poor part would be far too great a stretch of demonstration for Geoffrey Carresford at his present stage of development ; so he neglects the tempting opening afforded him, and merely observes that he " hopes they'll have a smooth passage and all get along well." That he will "get along well" with Lady May Rivers he feels satisfactorily sure, even on this brief acquaintance.

Meanwhile, Raymond Percival (christened John Raymond, but always and only known among his own people as "Ray") is dutifully paying his homage to Lady Rockleigh, who accepts it graciously. He has more to say than his uncle Geoffrey — this is not going very far on Ray's behalf — and says it with more apparent interest. He has a winning smile, a bright frankness of manner, and just that mingling of self assurance and deference which seldom fails to please women, and does not fail with Lady Rockleigh now. There is not, however, much opportunity for cultivating the new acquaintance at the present moment, as a battalion of New York friends here make their appearance, laden with bouquets for the Rockleigh party ; and hardly have their floral offerings been presented, when the agent of the company brings the captain to be specially introduced to these his evidently favoured passengers.

They are speedily surrounded and swallowed up in a crowd of friends. Lady Rockleigh smiles on the captain, a big, bronzed, splendid old sea-dog, and speaks him fair, while Lady May, her hands full of flowers, is hemmed in by a circle of attentive cavaliers, out of which circle Mr. Carresford quickly drifts. Lady May Rivers is lovely, certainly ! but it is too much trouble to hold his own in the brisk fire of mixed badinage, sentiment, and travellers' small-talk which is going on around her ; so he falls aside, and presently looking round for his nephew, perceives that young man's brown tweed back dis appearing in the distance. Mr. Percival has indeed promptly returned on the track of his unknown beauty, and when Carresford comes up with him he has taken up his post, with his back against the bulwarks and a settled air of remaining there, his eyes fixed on the wide-open door of the companion way j ust opposite, on the threshold of which she stands, glancing up and down the deck as if in search of someone.

" Hullo, young man, what are you glowering at ? " Geoffrey demands in his bluff, hearty way. " That girl, the one in grey, Geoff," is the frank reply, given in a discreetly lowered tone. " Isn't she " he pauses for an adjective. "The one in grey? H'm, not bad-looking," says Mr. Carresford royally. The lady is tall, pale, slender ; to his cursory and indifferent glance, hers seems but a cold and colourless style of good looks, he would not go so far as to call it beauty. For a few moments she remains in full view of our two travellers ; then a couple of middle-aged ladies make their appearance on the scene and surround her with eager greetings. These friends are evidently the objects of her search, and with them she disappears downstairs and is lost to Mr. Percival's admiring gaze. The commotion on deck and ashore increases as the moment of departure draws near.

A bell clangs out the signal that the time has come to separate the chaff from the grain. Until this minute they have been inextricably mixed. Passengers and passengers' friends have herded together in sociable confusion. Now, as the stentorian shout, " All for the shore ! " rings along the vessel, a general flutter and hurry stirs the swarming crowd ; there is a hubbub of last words, a profuse display of pocket-handkerchiefs, wherewith some " contrive a double debt to pay," wiping tears and waving in parting salutation. Nobody cries over Messrs. Carresford and Percival ; they are on their way back to all the women who are at present likely to weep about them, now that they have set their faces for home, to mother and sisters waiting there. Neither does anyone weep over the Rockleigh party, although two or three men linger regretfully to the very last round Lady May Rivers.

Ray Percival, leaning over the bulwarks, watching the departing passengers' friends pour in a steady stream across the plank, observes the two ladies with whom his unknown beauty disappeared from his view pass ashore without her. So she is going across ! they will be fellow-voyagers ! As he is thinking this, and following these her friends or relatives with his eyes, they turn and wave hands in his direction. He looks round quickly, and a little way behind him stands the object of his admiration, the tall pale girl in grey. She is glancing along the serried ranks of passengers in front of her who line the shoreward bulwarks, wedged elbow to elbow, leaning over and gazing "with all their eyes ;" she is evidently in search of a place for herself. Mr. Percival pounces on this opportunity as a cat upon a mouse.

"Will you take this place?" he says courteously, fallino back to make way for her. She gives him a smile of gracious acknowledgment, a brief word of thanks, as she avails herself of his offer, and he manages to hold his position close to her. She immediately takes out her handkerchief, and he observes, with an unreasonable degree of interest, that its purpose is not to wipe away a tear, but to wave to her friends. She is smiling as she waves her farewell to the trio on shore. Evidently, whatever relationship they may bear to her, she is not broken-hearted at leaving them. Standing at her very elbow now as he does, he can enjoy, without any appearance of ill-breeding or staring, a thoroughly good view of the face that has charmed him at first sight. It is not a face to fascinate any and every man.

Not without reason has Geoffrey Carresford mentally pronounced her, on his first glance, "cold and colourless." The thick coils of hair rolled up under her hat are of a dead-leaf brown, without any brightening warmth of russet or glow of gold. Her lips are of the paler coral hue . not the more vivid ripe-cherry red. Her complexion, although fine and flawless, is of that smooth ivory paleness which lacks charm to those whose ideal is the transparently fair skin through which they can see the live rose-hues pulse and pale. Her hair grows low in large ripples over a broad white forehead ; her grey eyes look out with a calm, steadfast, somewhat dreamy look from under level brows ; her general expression, serene and sweet, has withal a touch of pride and seriousness, even approaching sadness. Her face has the clearness, the smoothness, the pure curves of early youth, but that expression is the look of womanhood.

It is " A face that never can grow old, And never yet has been quite young ! " Yet this pale, calm, colourless face, when once men gaze upon it and feel the spell of its beauty, seems to take the colour out of the brighter, fresher faces near. When once men meet the full look of the deep, soft grey eyes, they are apt to long to fathom those dreamy depths, and sparkling blue and vivacious black seem shallow beside them. Ray Percival is casting about in his mind for an excuse to address her, an appropriate remark wherewith to initiate an acquaintance, when another passenger, the gentleman on her other side, who clearly is not troubled with the British stiffness and shyness which occasionally embarrass our countrymen. takes the initiative, and opens conversation by a sociable and friendly observation : " Big crowd, eh, ma'am ?

" Receiving a smile and a monosyllabic assent in response, he continues : " Now I like to see a good send-off like this ! Seems to start us well. Been across before, ma'am ? " Another affirmative. Mr. Percival ought to be more grateful to this discursive fellow-traveller than he is, as example encourages him to join in the conversation by remarking, what everybody can see, that the gangway is withdrawn and they are " off." The excitement of the important moment of starting is most successful in breaking down all barriers of form and ceremony ; and in a few minutes he finds himself in full flow of small talk with his unknown beauty and with the loquacious passenger, who indeed plays the leading role in the conversation, as he is alike willing to confide his own feelings, plans, hopes, and fears, and to enquire into those of his companions.

He gives them a good deal of autobiographical information about his previous voyages, their objects and results, but the lady contributes no autobiographical details at all ; she is quiet and reserved, though not repellent in manner, and all the information that Ray Percival can gather about her is that she is American, but has spent some years in Europe, and that this is her third voyage. Meanwhile, a dozen yards further along the deck, Carresford has got a place in the front rank beside Lady May. " What have you done with all your bouquets ? " he asks her. " You had a whole conservatory full of flowers." " Some adorn the saloon, and some my cabin." " The favoured ones ? " " Are they favoured ? They will be thrown overboard to morrow, if not to-night." " Is that how you treat your favourites ?

" " They have their day," she replies with a soft laugh. " And are thrown over ? " " What other end is there for — bouquets ? " " People in poetry and novels treasure up withered flowers, don't they ? " observes Geoffrey, who never reads either a poem or a novel. " It depends a little on the giver," rejoins Lady May, who is pretty enough and bright enough to introduce little sugges tions of sentiment with successful and airy lightness of touch. Mr. Carresford, however does not rise to this bait, and she continues smoothly, "Dead dried -up roses all look so much alike that if one treasures them in the plural without docketing, dating, and initialing them, one gets so mixed ! " He meets her arch and laughing glance, in which an alluring softness always underlies the mirth ; he smiles too, and his honest blue eyes betray that he is well satisfied with the prospect of their being fellow-voyagers.

The giant vessel glides, slowly and stately, past the long crowded wharves, the last of which stretches out like a huge pointing finger, pointing the way to the open ocean. To the last inch the quays are black with people, flecked with fluttering white of waving handkerchiefs. Ray Percival, carried away by the infectious excitement round him, waves his hand kerchief vaguely and vigorously to no one in particular, exclaiming : " Good-bye to America ! " " Are you glad ? " his fair neighbour asks him, with a brief kindly glance from the large grey eyes. " Why should you think I am glad ? " " Because you are going home. You are English, are you not ? " "Yes," replies Ray, who does not mean to betray by his tone that he would be very sorry to be mistaken for anything else. * Presently, when the black crowd and the white handker chiefs have all faded into a dull grey blur, the luncheon-bell summons the hungry passengers to the saloon.

Mr. Carres ford and Mr. Percival find themselves honoured by places at the captain's table, where of course the Rockleigh party are seated, Lady Rockleigh at the captain's right hand, her lord opposite, and Lady May beside her. Next to Lady May sits Geoffrey, then Ray, and next to him, to his great satisfaction, his grey-eyed beauty, who favours him with a recognising smile as she slips into her revolving chair. The saloon is gaily decorated with flowers, the long tables brilliant with polished silver and glass ; beside each plate lies a gilt-edged menu and a copy of that interesting study, the passenger-list. The usual canary swings and sings in his gilt cage to cheer the voyagers. Next day it is probable that for too many of them he will trill and twitter in vain ; but to-day, gliding over the placid water of the bay, everyone seems happy and lively.

The regiment of well-trained stewards run about with military discipline ; there is a cheerful clatter of knives and forks, a brisk patter and babble of conversation going on, as friends and families talk together and solitary travellers make acquaintance. Opposite to the Rockleigh ladies sits a good-looking, dark and dapper little man, the Honourable Algernon Vesey, who has attached himself to their party for the voyage ; and between him and Mr. Carresford, lovely Lady May is in her element. Ray Percival makes the most of his opportunities with his fair unknown ; and perhaps nowhere on dry land is the development of an acquaintance so swift and easy as at sea. So many are the questions of personal and mutual interest on ship-board, that strangers become intimate, the merest acquaintances friends in a day.

Discussing the chances of fair weather or head-winds ; comparing notes as to their previous oceanic experiences, Mr. Percival and the grey-eyed beauty become quite friendly before the day is over — though not so friendly as Geoffrey Carresford and Lady May. Ray's unknown is of a very different type to the Lady May Rivers ; there is a staid self-possession about her, an appearance of hauteur which is really only a natural and habitual reserve, which offers a striking contrast to the pretty little widow's easy and fluent vivacity, with its vein of innocent coquetry, natural and unconscious as a child's. Who .has not seen a mere baby manifest the feminine instinct of flirtation in its naive little airs and graces ? Some women began coquetting in their nurses' arms, and will only coquette their last with the doctor who attends them in their final illness.

It is impossible for Lady May to look with quite the same eyes on a woman as a man — especially if the man be a good-looking one. Orphaned and widowed while still young, the tears that she has shed have left her lovely eyes bright as ever, and given even an added charm of softness and wistfulness to her smile. The late Rivers, although he was generally considered to be a fairly good match for the Earl of Noland's pretty, but dowerless, orphan daughter, was many years older than she ; and his personal appearance was scarcely such as seemed likely to win the first love of a young and romantic girl ; thus it was probable that those people were not far from the truth who said that Lady May, though she had lived happily with her husband for the one year of their union, and sincerely wept at his death, and worn her widow's weeds even beyond the conventional period, had never known real love nor real grief.

It is evening now, the last of land is lost to sight ; the moon is high in the heavens, and the giant vessel glides smoothly over a shining silver sea. All the passengers are on deck, except the unpoetic minority in the smoking-room, who prefer brandy-and-soda and cigars and "poker" to moonlight. Geoffrey Carresford is fortunate enough to be first in the field with Lady May, with whom he is enjoying a promenade, while Ray Percival has seized upon an opportunity and a chair next to the object of Ms admiration. They have struck a congenial vein of interest, and are deep in a discussion on the novelists and poets of the present day. It is a fortunate vein, for she warms to the subjects ; their views regarding Tennyson, Longfellow, Browning, and Swinburne prove to be generally in sympathy, if not in quite perfect unison ; and the stream of conversation is in free and promising flow.

It is a delightful hour to Ray Percival, he has glimmerings of artistic perception of the fitness of things ; and it is preeminently fitting that on so lovely a night, at the outset of their voyage, he should be in congenial conversation with so beautiful a woman. The moon climbs higher " up the purple walls of heaven," a broad track of silvery light seems to lead them on their way, and point like a promise to the far, far-off' land that lies before them. How pure and clear her features look in the pearly moonlight ! how deep and dreamy her eyes ! and as she turns and raises her head, how exquisite is that " Pure wide curve from ear to chin ! " Ray's admiration is at this stage so purely artistic, so simple an appreciation of what in his eyes seems perfect beauty, that he does not chafe in the least at the utter impersonality of their conversation.

As far as words go, he might be discuss ing Longfellow and Browning with his grandmother — though he probably would not have looked in that venerable lady's face with quite the same eyes. This couple, contentedly absorbed in their literary discussion, attract the attention of another equally contented couple passing by. " Who is that lady Mr. Percival is talking to ? " asks Lady May. p. " I don't know," Mr. Carresford replies ; "and I don't think he knows either. She sat next him at table ; she's a Yankee, though she hasn't much accent." " She is very handsome, don't you think ? " says Lady May. " H'm, I don't care much for those giraffe women — all long necks and big eyes and hollow cheeks ! " This description was in amusing contrast to the opinion which his nephew was at that moment mentally pronouncing : " She is just like one of Rossetti's beauties !

Never saw anything quite like her, out of a picture ! " Mr. Carresford's disparaging allusion to " giraffe necks and hollow cheeks " — an indirect compliment to Lady May, with her soft round curves and dimples and almost babyish bloom — is not lost upon her. She smiles, coyly pleased. She likes those big, fair, strong men, with a kind of Newfoundland-dog gentleness to women and children — likes, in a word, the Geoffrey Carresford type. And, for his part, he finds her — in his own way of putting it — " very jolly little thing — sort of woman a man can get on with — takes her share of talk, and doesn't leave all the trouble to him ! And," he adds to those unspoken conclusions, looking down at the dainty, piquante, mooidit profile, " pretty too — pretty as a picture ! " So, " All goes merry as a marriage bell !