Paul Romer. A novel

Front matter

PAU L ROMER Al! Rights Reserved. PAUL ROMER _r %>«/ BY C. Y. HARGREAVES »u Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? Richard III. Act I. Sc. 2, LONDON ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK dedicated to MR. WALTER BESANT in grateful remembrance of his kindness and valuable advice CONTENTS — ♦ — CHAP. " pAGE PROLOGUE, ...... 7 I. A PRETTY MODEL, . . . . 17 II. ' WHERE ARE THEY ? ' . . . . .34 III. THE DARK SIDE, ..... 50 IV. NOT EASILY PERSUADED, . . . .62 V. AN UNWORLDLY PAIR, ..... 73 VI. A CRUEL ALTERNATIVE, . . . .86 VII. A SURFACE CALM, ..... 102 VIII. 'DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND,' . . . .112 IX. SOME WILD SENTIMENTS, . . . 1 29 X. A PARTIAL RECONCILIATION, .... I39 XI. THE ICE BROKEN, ..... 153 XII. AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES, .... 167 XIII. IN VAIN ! ...... 184 XIV. GRIEVOUSLY WOUNDED, .... 201 XV.

A BITTER STRUGGLE, ..... 212 XVI. DEEPER AND DEEPER STILL, .... 223 XVII. THE GATES OF DEATH, ..... 237 XVIII. FOR LOVE OF KIT, ..... 248 CONTENTS 6 CHAP. PAGE xix. Paul's visitor, ....-• 25^ XX. A VICTORY, ....•• 265 XXI. A STRONG TEMPTATION, .... 27S XXII. EDGED TOOLS, ...... 287 XXIII. MISUNDERSTOOD, ..... 3°4 XXIV. NELL'S CONFESSION, . . . . ■ 3>7 XXV. ANOTHER VENTURE, ..... 33O XXVI. PUT TO THE TEST, ..... PAUL ROMER prologue Swiftly through the long hours of the silent night the train sped madly on, past sleeping city, lonely vale, meadow-land, and valley. The mighty throbs of its giant heart awoke a thousand echoes from their resting - places, while the bright red lamps which flamed like a glow of fire over the polished metals, cast a vivid spot of colour athwart the silvery radiance of the pale rays of a declining moon.

London — with its lights and crowds, its gaieties and sorrows, its toiling millions and pleasure seekers, its hurry, bustle, and confusion — lay far behind. Fields and hedges, towns and villages, murky dell or open stretch of country, succeeded one another in hurried confusion, as with rattle and roar the midnight express tore forward to the North. Roused from his slumbers by the shrieking of the engine as it plunged into the depths of a dark tunnel, somebody, luxuriating in all the comforts of a Pull- PA UL ROMER man car, flung aside his rugs, and, drawing up one of the blinds, set himself to watch surely as fair a dawn as ever graced this earth ! A solemn hush lay over the sleeping landscape ; that exquisite pulseless silence which ever precedes the birth of day, when nature, subdued, motionless, and silent, lies spell bound in the grasp of a power mightier than her own, a power which has given to all creation that wondrous, indescribable, yet resistless law of rest.

Prologue

9 sparkling drops ; the floating clouds joined hands with the sun's advancing bodyguard, and then, with a bound and a rush and a run, the heavens widened suddenly into a glory of blue and gold and white, and another day was born to the world. ' Exquisite ! ' exclaimed the young man, who until then had remained a silent but enraptured spectator of the beauties unfolding themselves moment by moment. 'What colouring, what harmonies, what delicate blending of shades ! ' and then, slowly, almost reluctantly, as if it were a sin to close one's eyes on the beauteous landscape outside, he flung himself once more amongst his rugs and fell asleep. The sun was high in the heavens, and pouring a glory of September radiance over field and wood ere Paul Romer reached his journey's end, and, quitting the little country station of Refford, found himself in a quiet, old-world village, carefully hidden away in the heart of a Northumberland valley.

Here for a moment he paused, staring a little absently at the old-fashioned cottages with their sloping roofs and tiny gardens, the winding country lane, where ropes of blackberries hung ripening in the sun, backed by field after field of waving golden corn ; and then, turning aside to ask the nearest way to the house which he wished to find, stood for a few minutes in pleasant, courteous chat with the old man who had given him the required information. PA UL ROMER 10 The birds were twittering overhead as he resumed his walk, rustling the copper beeches all around, singing a soft, glad music of their own, while now and then a ruddy leaf, loosened from the parent branch by an early touch of frost, fell fluttering to the ground, or touched him lightly on the hand. Twenty minutes' leisurely walk along the dusty lane brought Romer at last to a rustic bridge spanning a stream which bubbled merrily along, guarded by a miniature glen on either side.

Here he stopped, and, taking a cursory survey of the surrounding district, took off his hat, for the weather was still very warm, and then, drawing out a letter, leaned with folded arms upon the rickety ledge to study it in silence. The writing was irregular and boyish, with a total contempt for all orthodox formation of capitals ; going off into a twist here, or a curve there, which rendered the perusal a pain rather than a pleasure. 'Young fool!' Romer exclaimed, tearing it up into fragments, before consigning it to the shimmer ing stream below, and then he smiled a little satirically and continued his way towards a low, creeper - covered house, of small dimensions and rambling architecture, where the flowers grew in heedless profusion, and a goat browsed peacefully on the grass. There was an evidence of poverty about the place : the gravel path was un raked and weedy ;

PROLOGUE.

11 the shrubs were huddled together in desolate need of a pruning-knife ; and even the gate, yielding to Paul Romer's decisive push, fell forward in a drunken fashion, one hinge waving recklessly in the air, the other uttering feeble yells of protest at this unfair division of work. Not a sound save the quiet crop ping of the goat a yard away, and the twitter of a bird hidden from his sight, broke the intense silence, as the young man stood awaiting an answer to his ring. He pulled the bell again, then came a clatter of feet, a feeble struggle with the door, which flew suddenly open, and a country-faced girl looked at him curiously. 'Is Mr. Kit Creith at home?' ' He's at home, but he's ill in bed,' she responded, with a strong Northumbrian burr underlying the words. ' Would you like to see Miss Nell ? ' ' Thank you, yes,' he said, after hesitating a moment, half in and half out of the quaint little porch, which was wreathed from top to bottom with trails of golden hued Virginia creeper. ' Will you ask her if she will kindly see me for a few minutes on business?

Never mind my name — it is unimportant.' The girl ushered him into a low-ceiled room of unusual length, running apparently from front to back of the house, where the faded curtains and shabby, discoloured furniture spoke eloquently of rigid economy straitened almost to actual poverty. There was a deserted, unhome-like look about the room, as if a subtle sense of lately -endured sorrow lingered mournfully about it. The pictures were good, but the frames shockingly dilapidated, and in no way enhanced by the dingy paper which covered the walls. Piles of books lay on the floor, as if ready for packing, a few remaining still on the shelves ; while a large desk, open, and displaying its contents, con tained some dog-eared Latin volumes. Romer took one and looked at the title-page — 'Romney Creith, 1830.' ' Well, he has gone where no Latin declensions are wanted,' he said, putting it down with a half sigh as a light step sounded on the stairs, and then, when the door opened, he turned round and bowed gravely to the girl who entered.

Rather under than over the middle height, Miss Creith made up for her want of inches by an alert carriage and symmetry of figure, which was heightened by the simple mourning she wore. Her face was pale, and the eyes, looking a little defiantly into Romer's, were heavy with unshed tears. She did not ask him to sit down, but stood with one hand resting on the table, as if waiting for him to state his business and leave her. ' I trust you will pardon my intrusion, Miss Creith,' he began, his voice quiet and deliberate. ' First, however, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Romer — Paul Romer ; and I wrote to your brother a few days ago.'

PROLOGUE.

13 The pallor of Nell's face changed at once to a brilliant red. ' My brother answered your letter,' she said haughtily. ' Yes, but answered it in a way which left me no other resource than to call and lay my suggestions before him in person. I regret to hear he is not well, but — is it quite impossible for me to see him ? ' ' Quite. The doctor has forbidden any excitement, as he is suffering at present from sleeplessness, and we are doing our best to keep him perfectly quiet.' ' That being the case, of course, I will not press the matter. I must ask you to listen to me now, Miss Creith, for a few minutes.' ' If it is in reference to the division ofthe property suggested in your letter, there is no necessity to enter any further into it,' said Nell quickly. ' Neither my brother nor I could entertain the idea one moment.

Chancery, whether rightly or wrongly, awarded the estate to you. That settles it. We are both utterly weary of the subject, and have not the slightest wish it should be renewed.' ' But will you allow me ' — he began, a slight frown darkening his face. 'Most certainly not. My brother wrote you decisively, and I do not see that you are justified in attempting to undermine that decision.' 'And yet you must admit that I can be actuated by none other than a kind motive in so doing,' he retorted, stung by her manner. ' We do not wish for charity from any member of your father's family, Mr. Romer. My father suffered severely at his hands many years ago, and it will not easily be forgotten.' Nell was struggling to restrain her tears, and she glanced out of the window, from which a distant view of the churchyard could be obtained. ' He is at rest now ; but still we have each other, Kit and I.' ' And you think the world is easy to face ?

You make a great mistake, let me assure you of that, Miss Creith. What can you do, you two young things, left — as I gathered from your brother's letter — totally unprovided for? ' ' We can work.' ' Work is not always easy to procure.' ' We must take the risk.' Romer made a little impatient movement, checked himself, and spoke more gently. ' Miss Creith, let me urge you to think this over, and do not decide hastily. It is a very serious matter, and one which affects your whole future. I can make every allowance for the sore feeling with which you regard me now ; it is only natural — your loss is too recent for it to be other wise; but do try to put this on one side. Have you

PROLOGUE.

15 made any plan for the future? Believe me, I am not asking out of idle curiosity.' 'We are leaving here,' she said, lifting her dark, defiant eyes to his. ' But have you no friends ? ' ' We have — relations.' ' Surely they will do something for you ? Miss Creith shrugged her shoulders. ' The bread of charity, reluctantly offered by relations, has a somewhat bitter flavour,' she said, her lip curling a little. ' You will excuse me saying to you, Mr. Romer, that my time is not my own at present. I have a great deal to arrange, and my brother requires constant attention.' The hint was too broad to be quite disregarded. Romer took up his hat, a sudden accession of colour deepening his sunburn. ' Such a remark leaves me no alternative but to say good afternoon, Miss Creith. Accept my apologies for having detained you.

I am quite aware that I have transgressed the laws of etiquette in calling so soon after your great grief, but as my time in England is limited, I was obliged to waive a certain amount of ceremony. I have come over from Cannes for no other reason than to try and arrange this business amicably ; but if you will neither accept what I offer, nor allow me to advise you in what must be a very trying position, I can do no more.' He scribbled a few lines on his visiting card and laid it on the table. ' A letter forwarded to that address will reach me at any time during the next three or four months.' 'Thank you, but I do not think there will be any necessity for us to write to you,' said Nell in the same uncompromising tone. ' Our decision is final ; but, at the same time, I must not omit to thank you, both in my brother's and my own name, for the assistance you have kindly offered.

It is, however, quite impossible for us to accept it' There was silence, and then Paul Romer held out his hand. She looked so young, so childish, so pathetically helpless, that his heart was moved by a sudden thrill of pity. ' You will not refuse to shake hands with me ? ' he said gently. ' I admit that you have every reason to resent my father's behaviour, but it is surely a little hard to refuse his son the poor satisfaction of making such restitution as lies in his power. Good-bye, Miss Creith. I wish you and your brother every success.' And then, without another word, the)- parted.

Chapter I

A PRETTY MODEL ' Experience does take dreadfully high school wages, but he teaches like no other.' — T. Carlyle. He was sitting bolt upright on a chair beside the window, his shabby scarlet coat standing out a brilliant dab of colour against the darker leather of the upholstery, which had long since lost its pristine freshness, and his little wrinkled face contorted into a thousand lines and curves ; such a queer old face, too, with that curiously wistful expression in the brown eyes which forces itself irresistibly upon our notice whenever we come across a member of the monkey fraternity, either scrambling with ungainly gait behind some barrel-organ, or peering stealthily out from within the carefully barred cages of the Zoological Gardens. We are not very proud to meet them, these poor relations of ours, whose very resemblance to our superior selves is a standing humiliation.

They exercise such a curious fascina tion over us ; there is something so grotesquely human about their long skinny hands, their quivering, uncertain mouths, wreathed into sardonic grins, their eager, inquisitive eyes, seeming to gaze in mute defiance from under their bushy brows, that we would fain turn our heads aside, and try to forget their existence altogether. To such of us as hold the theory of the transmigration of souls, it must ever be a matter of anxious conjecture, when we gaze upon these half-brothers and sisters of ours, what was the long-buried sin, the punishment for which compelled them to return to this toiling earth and merge their manhood into the similitude of apes? Shall we also be called upon to dree our weird in a similar manner? or is it all a myth, a delusion, a phantasy of the brain of some philosopher, who first inculcated the mind of man with this uncomfortable, bewildering theory?

Whether Timothy was musing over former sins and delinquencies, as he sat there sunning him self in the window of Mr. Buchanan's studio, must for ever be a matter of conjecture. That he was unusually quiet and absorbed even Buchanan had noticed, turning round now and then to remark upon the fact ; but it is probable there was a method in Timothy's madness, for a long row of tiny corpses laid upon the window ledge testified that he had other objects in view than mere reflection respecting his enormities, and was improving the shining hours by quietly waging war against runaway flies, which wandered over the window. Some little distance away, upon a dais at the farther end of the room, a girl leaned in a negligent attitude against the wall, her slim feet crossed one over the other, her arms upraised, the hands clasped behind the curly head in a graceful, if somewhat wearying pose.

There was a listless droop about the corners of her mouth, a tired flush on the rounded cheeks, but she neither moved nor fidgeted, only a little sigh escaped her now and then, and the colour flickered in her face. Timothy glanced across the room sympathisingly, yawned heavily once or twice, demolished two more flies, and then, placing his lean hand upon his brow, appeared to be absorbed in the composition of a requiem for their souls. Somewhere outside a deep toned clock chimed out the hour of four, succeeded by a softer sound, like the twittering of a tiny bird — a baby's voice — ' Dada, my dada, me turn to dada ; ' but it grew fainter and fainter. Then a door banged, and all was still again. ' Mr. Buchanan,' said the model plaintively, and with a total disregard of the rules laid down by Lindley Murray for the guidance of the unlearned through the stony paths of grammar, 'are you nearly done?

I am fading away like a morning mist, and soon there will be only a shadow left' Buchanan looked up and laughed, laying aside his brushes. He was a young man, short, spare, and PA UL ROxMER 20 graceful, with a face full of good humour and pleasantry, the eyes shrewd, a trifle, it might be, obstinate. 'Just coming to an end, as the alligator remarked when he commenced upon the boots of his latest victim,' he returned cheerfully. ' I am sorry to keep you longer than your time, but I am so anxious to get on as fast as possible. There, I think that hand has worked up very well.' He left his chair and drew the easel a little forward. ' You are the very perfec tion of a model, Miss Creith, quiet, patient, immovable, and the picture should be a success. Come here and give me a candid, true, and unbiassed opinion of my work.

It is nearly finished.' ' But I am no judge,' she said, carefully unfolding herself and stepping down from the dais with some deliberation. When you have been standing a considerable time in an unnatural position, it requires great nicety of calculation to unfold your limbs and place them in their customary grooves without injury ; but, the dis entangling process over, Miss Creith crossed the room to survey Buchanan's work, whereupon Timothy descended also, and, taking up a standpoint of vantage near the picture, folded his tail over one arm, much in the same manner in which his superior half-sister will hold the delicate draperies of her train in a crowded ballroom. ' Does it satisfy you, that is the question ? ' the model said, putting her head on one side. ' Yes, and no. I shall never be fully satisfied with my own work, except as a whole.

Taking it in detail, I can see a thousand faults.' Buchanan put down his pipe and surveyed the picture thoughtfully. ' The eyes are very good, I admit that — natural and full of life ; but to me there is something in the lines of the mouth and chin which I have missed. It is the fault of the shadows.' ' But you only want it as a picture, not as a portrait?' 'True, O King! But it annoys me when I cannot reproduce a thing faithfully. I hoped so much from this, and now — Bother the thing ! Why is it, when one sets one's mind on achieving a success, it invariably turns out a wretched fiasco ? ' ' Just what my landlady said this morning, only she put it rather differently,' remarked the model, with a gay laugh. '" It's a world of disappointments, that's what it is, miss," she said. " My aunt, her as was buried last Thursday, that me and Andrew went to see laid decently by, she'd all along looked to be buried in a beautiful cambric cap and a pair of white silk stockings, as she'd taken the trouble to work clocks up the sides of; and there, they'd only put her on one of her oldest caps an' some thick woollen socks, as she wouldn't have looked at, much less wore, when she was living. 1 felt main sorry, that I did ; like as if she'd get to know, and be so troubled.

It's always the way, that it is." Do you know,' added the model pensively, with a quick change from the mimicry of her landlady's voice to a soft, sad tone, ' I felt so depressed when she told me this ; because, if one cannot look forward, without the fear of disappointment, to wearing a specially chosen pair of stockings in one's last toilet, it pro mises so very badly for our more important hopes and plans.' ' She seems rather a character, your landlady.' ' Oh, she is. She told Kit last night, when he was struggling in the throes of composition, with a row of rejected MSS. lying before him, as a perpetual monument to human vanity and ambition, that "her Andrew was a bit of a hauthor in his day, and used to write patent medicine puffs." The idea of following in his steps has come as a bright inspiration to Kit.

You have never seen Andrew, Mr. Buchanan, have you ? ' ' A negative and a query upon the same fact are not permissible,' said Buchanan, leaning forward to touch up his beloved painting. ' I have not the pleasure of Mr. Cave's acquaintance.' ' Kit always calls him the Ant, he looks so small and black, and so pinched about the waist. I remember, the night we arrived, he seemed to almost break into two halves when he staggered up the stairs under our modest luggage, which will be more modest yet, will it not, Timothy?' Miss Creith picked up the monkey as she spoke, and he sighed heavily, doubtless considering how small a share was his of the aforesaid luggage. Buchanan glanced from one to the other, showing his white, even teeth in a brilliant smile. ' Do you imagine that he understands ? ' ' Understands ?

Why, there is not a keener intellect than Timothy's in the whole of the United Kingdom. He is worthy to be promoted to the post of foreign ambassador, and combines abnormal shrewdness of the brain with an equal proportion of activity in the fingers. He can sew and arrange flowers, clean windows, dust or break china like a housemaid. This morning, directly he saw that it was raining, he got his hat and coat out of the cupboard, brought me my boots and an umbrella, and was ready to start in three minutes. He knows it is only on wet days that I allow him to escort me, because then I can shelter him under my cloak.' ' Why should you ? ' ' My natural modesty forbids me encouraging a crowd of street arabs to follow our steps, unless we had a barrel-organ to keep us in countenance. Some times I think it will not be long before Kit, Timothy, and I will have to invest in an organ, and grind for dear life in all the principal streets.

I wonder, should we make much?' 'Enough to keep body and soul together, and perhaps a little more. Cannot you hear of anything yet?' ' No, and I am beginning to despair. I have tried and tried, like Bruce of old, but the case seems hopeless ; yesterday I answered an advertisement in proprid persona. It was so delightfully vague I hoped against hope that it might be something I could undertake, and ran to this effect: "Required at once, a young lady for six hours a day. Apply ," a certain number in a street not far from Regent's Park. I went, and was admitted by a showy footman into a very showy drawing-room, where sat about twelve other women, all with that anxious, expectant look upon their faces peculiar to the female horny-handed creature of toil, and amongst them I took my place. When my turn came, which it did, after a period of waiting so tedious that it seemed like seven days rolled into one, I passed to an inner room to be interviewed ; and what do you think the situation was ? ' ' There are so many ways of earning a livelihood, I should not venture to guess,' said Buchanan, making a hurried dive after the monkey, who skil fully eluded his grasp. ' Take your foot out of the turpentine this minute, Timothy, and if you wish to A PRETTY xMODEL 25 paint your whiskers, at least try to keep some semblance of harmony.

Sulphur yellow and red lake are diabolical together. Please proceed, Miss Creith.' 'You would never guess,' continued the model tran quilly, quite unmoved by the vagaries of her protege. ' The advertiser, a lean, skinny, angular man, wrapped in an Oriental dressing-gown, ornamented with huge gold tassels, viewed me leisurely, as I proceeded in a stately, graceful fashion up the room. ' You won't do,' he said with a snarl. ' Your hair is too curly.' ' My hair,' I gasped, not quite seeing how that could affect the matter, unless he were a professional hair dresser and desired me for a block. Then he con descended to explain. He was engaged upon a treatise on the human hair, its natural sources of refreshment, and the peculiarities of its structure. He required, as an indispensable aid to the proper composition of this pamphlet, a young person who would be willing to subject herself to experiments ; that is to say, would allow him to have a supply of single freshly plucked hairs, for microscopic study.

For the loan of the head he would pay the dazzling remuneration of five shillings. I think he said it amounted to about half a farthing a hair, and I came away quite enchanted with the knowledge that I was of so much value. Not that it benefited me very much, because he would not engage my services. Kit was wild about it ; but then, poor dear boy, very little puts him out at present' Miss Creith seated herself in an American rocking chair, and swung thoughtfully to and fro, her eyes fixed on the painting appurtenances littered about the room in artistic confusion. There were brilliantly coloured shawls here, Oriental curtains there, tam bourines with floating ribbons, models of hands and feet, a Turkish slipper, reposing side by side with a jewelled sabre, which Buchanan had picked up in his travels.

Some choice engravings on the walls, an odd assortment of pipes, photographs on the mantelpiece, surmounted by an exquisite painting of a child's head ; the deep blue eyes, the smiling lips, too like Buchanan's own to admit of any doubt as to the relationship. It was full of an infantine beauty and sweetness, which had been transferred to canvas with a masterly hand, incited to its best work by the depth of interest in the subject. But Nell Creith was thinking of none of these things. Their very familiarity inspired her with forgetfulness, as she leaned a little backward, resting her toes lightly on the carpet at each movement of the chair. Buchanan wondered what brought that unusual look of depression to her face. ' I suppose you do not know' — she began, and then, stopping short, dipped her hand into a large jar of pot pourri at her side, drawing out some of its contents. ' Forgive me the theft — oh, it is delicious ! ' she said, burying her face a moment in the leaves. ' But " revenons a nos moutons."

I was about to ask if you knew of any publisher who could be beguiled into accepting and bringing out, at his own risk, a few MSS. for Kit?' ' I am afraid not,' said Buchanan, with a sincere sympathy, but his eyes smiled response to the gay laugh which had terminated Nell Creith's speech. ' I am afraid publishers are a difficult class.' ' Most classes are. At least, I find so, when seeking for some means to earn my daily crust. Now, if I were only an able-bodied young man, I should have very little difficulty in finding employment. The advertisements teem with requests for A. B's. They are wanted for indoor and outdoor, hall and cottage, hotels and stables ; there seems to be no end to the uses to which an able-bodied man can be put ; but I am only a girl, and nobody wants a girl who cannot speak four languages, play like Beethoven, sing like Albani, take down shorthand, and use a Remington type-writer, all for — twenty pounds a year!