When Passions rule: a romance

Front matter

H "Romance BY FRANK HART OLon&on DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 18, Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. JEALOUSY ..... i II. CRIME AND VIRTUE - - - - 12 III. GETTING RID OF A HINDRANCE - - 22 IV. THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS - - "34 V. SIGNS OF A COMING STORM - - - 46 VI. SERVANTS OF THE LAW - - - 53 VII. A FRIEND IN NEED - - - - 6l VIII. A STORMY MEETING - - - - 69 IX. DISAPPOINTMENT - - - 8 1 X. SPREADING HIMSELF LIKE A GREEN BAY-TREE 90 XI. UNPLEASANT COMPANY - - - I06 XII. A VISIT TO MAPERLEY- - - - 1 26 XIII. A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES - - - 1 45 XIV. TO THE FRONT - - - - 1 65 XV. ULUNDI - - - - - 178 XVI. VISIONS ..... 186 XVII. A STRANGE MEETING - - - - 204 XVIII. SUCCESS AT LAST .... 214 XIX. RETRIBUTION - - - -

Chapter I. Jealousy

' Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd, Sad proof of thy distressful state ; Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd, And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate.' In the gloomy dining-room of Maperley Hall sat Sir Howard Breach, Baronet. Around the oak-panelled walls hung in grim array portraits of his ancestors. Facing the massive chair in which he sat was one distinguished from the rest by a jewelled rapier hung above it. Sir Howard gazed fixedly on the pale face. the firm set mouth, and haughty sneer, por trayed so vividly on the canvas before him. ' Yes,' he muttered, ' I am like him — like him in form, feature, and disposition. And he was one whose will none dared oppose, as that rapier could testify had it but tongue to tell. For with it in one foul night he rid the world of three who dared confront him. 'Yet here am I, proud — ah, prouder than he — proud as very Lucifer ! grovelling at the feet of a country maid, pleading like a condemned wretch for one ray of hope.

And none is given, not the faintest glimmer. Oh, the irony of fate! Here have I the world before me, and yet I must ignore its charms to chase with ceaseless desperation this mere butterfly, which compels me to follow, yet flits eternally beyond my reach. 'She does not love me; curse it! Is that her only reason ? Will a woman refuse the luxury that I can offer for love ? Never did one yet. But, then, she is no mere woman, she is a goddess, or I would long ago have crushed her resistance, and brought her weeping and fawning to my side. Never was a fairer woman made. Never did more passionate love peer through such dark, bewitching eyes. And yet that love I am denied ; whilst Ryan, country bred Ryan, sports in its sunshine unchecked and unopposed. ' Studying for the Church, the cur ! What a profession for a man to follow !

A parson — ugh ! I loathe the black flock, spreading their foul superstitions, robbing weak mortals of their happiness. JEALOUSY 3 ' Still, with all my raving, this woman loves him ; I saw it in her face when he left for Oxford. That look brought out the very viper in my nature, and made me long to add another crime to the long list that memory keeps con stantly before me. ' Oh, cursed memory ! why can't I forget ? Why not stamp out the past, and start afresh ? Then with this pure woman I would live as if old Parson Bentley's words were true — as if there were a life beyond this wretched world. But how can I hope to gain her whilst Ryan stands between us ? Must I bow the knee to him — I, the proudest of mortals — I, who would use the very devil to win my ends ? ' No, I cannot submit ; and why should I ?

For what would I not do, what not give, for one hour of that fair woman's love ? Anything, everything — even life itself, if need be ; for without her it is but a howling wilderness of misery and peevish discontent.' After this outburst of passion Sir Howard sat silent awhile, his thin hand pressed to his burning forehead, struggling, with all the malice in his nature, to weave a net that should entangle and bring within his grasp the woman he so madly coveted. Too excited to think calmly, he leapt again to his feet. i — ' I'll see old Bentley,' he muttered, 'and try to sift out whether Colonel Grant is aware of his daughter's actions. Bentley will be sure to know ; and if he is not aware, there still remains a hope : for Grant is no millionaire, and money with him will be a mighty power.' So in quest of this information Sir Howard made his way to the Vicarage.

The sun was shining brightly, the birds singing ; but he was in no mood to admire, and, on reaching the Vicarage, testily threw open the gate and stalked up the garden path. He could see the Vicar standing at the open French window ; but as he hastened to greet him, the old man suddenly reeled and fell heavily back into the room. Without a moment's hesitation the Baronet entered, and, seeing his friend apparently life less, and an open letter lying beside him, he stooped at once and read it : '6, Lincoln's Inn Chambers, ' February 28, 1879. Dear Sir, ' I write to inform you that the quarterly sums you have received from me, as interest on the estate of the late Dr. Grigsby Ryan, have been paid for the last few years entirely out of capital. JEALOUSY 5 ' Owing to gross monetary difficulties into which I have unavoidably fallen, I have bor rowed freely from the estate, hoping that I should have been able to replace the sum so borrowed at an early date.

This I have found impossible to carry out, and in speculating with the hope of recouping myself, one loss has followed upon another, until the whole of the estate has been absorbed. ' This sad state of affairs has necessarily brought me within the pale of the law ; but, as I am old and cannot face a prison cell, I have fled the country. ' I am much distressed at the ruin I have un intentionally brought upon Mr. Thomas Ryan ; but I take comfort in the thought that you, as the young man's guardian, will provide for his loss out of your own personal estate. 1 Should your regard for him lead you to take this view of the matter, seeing the terrible calamity that will otherwise fall upon him, I strongly urge you on no account to hesitate, but to act at once. Regretting the sad circumstances, ' Yours faithfully, ' Thomas Gregory Clamp.

Sir Howard read and re-read the letter ; then with a malicious sneer placed it again on the floor, and rang loudly for assistance. Collins, man of all work at the Vicarage, answered his summons, and the Vicar was placed on the couch. ' Now, my man,' said the Baronet, addressing the yokel, ' be off, and send Jane to me.' At the sound of this command the swooning Vicar opened his eyes, and, finding himself in Sir Howard's company, requested him to pick up the letter from the floor, and expressed his deep gratitude for the kindly assistance. He started to explain how he had fallen, but the appearance of Jane, the housekeeper, prevented him. 'You had better go for the doctor, Jane,' said the Baronet. ' But tell Collins not to leave the house till you return.' ' Very well, sir.' And she departed. ' Now, Mr. Bentley,' continued the Baronet, ' you must allow me to help you to bed.

I'm afraid you have had a rather serious fall.' His words were soft and sympathetic, but behind them was a motive, sinister and cruel. Ryan was penniless, he knew, unless Clamp's advice was followed ; and this he determined should not be, if it were possible by any means to prevent it. 'You are very kind, Sir Howard,' said the JEALOUSY 7 Vicar ; ' but before I go to my bed, I have something exceedingly important to do.' ' But not now, Mr. Bentley ; you are not in a fit state to do it. To-morrow will be quite time enough to talk of work.' 'Ah, but, Sir Howard, it is business that must be done, and done at once, without a moment's delay.' ' I forbid it,' said the Baronet firmly. ' If it is anything I can do I will willingly do it ; but if not, it really must wait till to-morrow.' 'Well, Sir Howard,' replied the Vicar, 'I much appreciate your good intention ; but as the matter is of vital importance, I accept your kind offer.

So please do me the courtesy to write from my dictation ; you will find some foolscap in the drawer before you.' Cursing beneath his breath, the Baronet obeyed, and sat, pen in hand, before the paper. The first words uttered made the blood start in his veins ; but, nevertheless, he wrote slowly and sullenly till the following was complete: ' This is the last will and testament of William Bentley, of Maperley Vicarage, Oxon. I leave the whole of my personal estate, and all that by right of law belongeth to me, to Thomas Grigsby Ryan and his heirs for ever. By this will I revoke a previous one made by me ; and to this I set my hand and seal this first day of March, one thousand eight hundred and seventy-nine.' ' Thank you exceedingly,' said the Vicar. ' And now will you do me the kindness to light that candle, and bring it to me with the will and the wax beside it, and then ring for Collins ?' Sir Howard felt bound to obey ; and the Vicar, with a thankful heart, carefully read the document through. ' Oh that I had remained at the Hall !' in wardly sighed the Baronet ; ' this might then never have been written.

As it is, the man I would curse I have unintentionally blessed.' But his regrets availed him nothing, for Collins had arrived ; and in the presence of these two men the Vicar signed and sealed the will, they adding their signatures as witnesses. And thus, by this prompt action, Tom Ryan was saved from the bitter pangs of penury. But only just, for hardly had the large-fisted yokel completed his scrawl, than a sullen pallor again overspread the Vicar's face, and without a moment's warning he fell back on the couch unconscious. Collins rushed forward, but Sir Howard pushed him aside. ' Let me come a moment,' he said softly, and, JEALOUSY 9 bending down, he pressed his ear to the old man's heart. ' He surely ain't dead, sir ?' said the terrified Collins. ' Oh, what will Mr. Tom say ?' But the white form lay calm and still. ' Don't be alarmed, my lad,' said Sir Howard ; ' I want you here a moment ;' and, taking the youth by the arm, he led him to the other end of the room. ' Collins,' he said softly, ' you have just signed a letter — a letter that benefits you entirely.

Now, for your own sake, let me beg you to keep this matter a secret. You don't under stand it, I know ; but, still, if you visit me to night, I'll explain it all to you. But, remember, if one word escape you, or it leak out in any way that this letter has been written, you ruth lessly throw away your life's happiness. You promise ?' I s'pose there's no harm, sir ?' None whatever.' Then, sir, I promise.' ' Now you may go ; but remember to-night, when you have finished here, you visit me.' And the youth left the study. No sooner had the door closed behind him than Sir Howard became aware of a strange fascination, and, glancing towards the couch, he met the fixed, steady gaze of the Vicar — a gaze that seemed to transfix him, to penetrate into the dark recesses of his heart. His knees smote one against another, and the cold perspiration stood in beads on his fore head ; still, the gaze continued solemn and reproachful. ' He must have heard and read between the lines,' thought the Baronet, as he trembled and quaked beneath it.

But slowly the look of reproach died away, and one of tenderest appeal replaced it ; a big soul's agony seemed centred in that gaze. But Sir Howard stood silent and unmoved. Then, with a dying effort, the pale lips parted, as if they would utter the meaning of that look. But the old man's strength was gone, and the words were unspoken. Then, with a muttered prayer, his eyelids fell, whilst a smile of ex quisite tenderness stole across his pale, sweet face ; and in the twinkling of an eye he had left for the Great Unknown, without a murmur, without a fear. ' Dead !' said Sir Howard. ' At last ! There is no mistaking it now.' And without a moment's hesitation he stepped across the room, and placed in his pocket the will that had fallen from the dead man's grasp. JEALOUSY 11 Then, with anxious glances at door and window, he quickly arranged the room as he had at first found it, save for Clamp's letter, which he slipped inside the Vicar's writing table.

But hardly had his trembling hands closed the desk, and even before a glance had been given to ascertain if all traces of the recent business were removed, than the door swung suddenly open, and Dr. Carr stood before him.

Chapter II. Crime And Virtue

' Well, Sir Howard, and what is the meaning of this uneasiness ? I hope nothing serious has happened ?' said Dr. Carr, as his keen eye fell on the twitching face of the Baronet. But turning towards the couch, he instantly changed his manner, and added softly : ' Ah, my friend, don't distress yourself : I understand it now ; I have come too late.' And he sank on his knees beside the lifeless form, whilst Sir Howard curled his lip, disgusted at such childish superstition. But again on his feet, the white haired doctor reverently left the study, and, beckoning the Baronet to follow, led him to an adjoining room. ' Now, Sir Howard,' he said earnestly, ' I should like to know how this sad affair happened. Death has been caused by syncope, brought on no doubt by a shock. Can you in any way account for it ?

What was he doing when you first found him ? Had he been writing, do you think ? I mention this because there is a decided smell of sealing-wax in the room. ' Sir Howard started, for he naturally thought that Collins had betrayed him. But it was no good his turning coward ; he had taken a bold step, and must be prepared to go on to the last. ' Well, doctor,' he said tremblingly, 'when I first entered the garden he was standing by the window, but on approaching I saw him reel and fall. I immediately entered the study through the open French window, and, now you mention it, I did smell sealing-wax ; but none was used in my presence, neither did I see anything at all likely to cause a shock. I'm afraid, if any has occurred, it is I who have suffered it.' And, indeed, he trembled so violently that the doctor thought it prudent to question him no further. 'You had better go home, Sir Howard, and lie quietly down,' he said sympathetically. ' I will do all that is necessary here.' ' You are very kind, Dr. Carr ; you see, we unprofessional men have not the nerve of you doctors ; a little unusual occurrence plays the very deuce with us.

But it is only right to send a wire to Ryan, and when I have done this I will follow your advice.' This seeming consideration on the Baronet's part was but a ruse to gain an interview with Collins. For the entire course of his future plans rested entirely on the secrecy of this yokel. He found him gazing with blank astonishment at the weeping housekeeper ; for Collins saw no reason to weep, but thought it rather an occasion for fear, and felt relieved when the form of Sir Howard darkened the doorway. ' Collins,' said the Baronet, ' I want you to take this telegram to post ; just come here a moment.' And with the youth at his heels he stepped out into the garden. 'Now, my lad,' he said softly, 'before you go, I want you to tell me why you have broken the promise you made me. Did I not tell you to keep the matter of signing that letter an absolute secret ?' ' Yes, sir, and I have kept it secret.

I 'aven't told a living soul ; and don't intend to, neither,' replied the youth in his rough country brogue. 'Very well, then, I'll say no more ; but I still warn you to be exceedingly careful — and, remember, it is solely in your own interests that I urge you to do this.' 'Then, sir, I'm very obliged for your kindness. ' Wait till you have been to the Hall, Collins; I think you will then have just cause to be satisfied. But now you had better be off to the post.' So, touching his cap, the thick-headed youth departed, wondering what strange luck had fallen to his share; whilst the Baronet, far easier in his mind, wended his way homewards. On reaching the Hall, he entered his library, and, carefully locking the door, took out the will from his pocket. But the colour instantly left his face, and with a violent start the document dropped from his grasp, whilst his eyes stared wildly in their sockets.

For as he glanced at the will he held, in fancy or reality, he knew not which, he met again the same reproachful gaze that had held him spellbound at the Vicarage. It was gone in a moment, leaving him terror stricken, as a man who had seen a spectre from another world. He had no belief in things supernatural, but, still, this illusion seemed so realistic that fear drove him for a moment to relent of his devilry. But only for a moment, for, taking a big draught at a brandy flask, his fear left him ; and as his blood grew heated his thoughts returned to her whom he would have bartered his soul to gain. ' No, curse it, no !' he muttered, ' I am no coward. I have gone through enough to gain that will, and shall I be fool enough to give it up ? No, I'll keep it ; and when all is clear, and Collins removed, I'll destroy it.' His mind thus made up, he carefully locked the will in his desk, and crossed to the window.

He could there see the white Vicarage, with its tall black cedar. He thought of the quaint old garden in which it stood ; but his thoughts led him to the silent chamber there, and, shudder ing, he turned his eyes away. In the opposite direction the blue smoke was curling from the Grotto, the home of Colonel Grant. The sweep of the road was visible almost to the gate, and as Sir Howard gazed, a slight figure came in view, gracefully tripping along the road. In an instant a hot flush burnt on his cheek, and his late adventure was forgotten. His eyes flashed with a strange lustre, and one might easily have known that this was Mary Grant, the woman who had refused his proffered love. His first impulse prompted him to meet her, and break the news of the Vicar's death. But she seemed so pure and holy, so untouched with the taint of sin, that, with his hands steeped in crime, he dared not face her ; so he let her pass.

He watched her elegant form turn into the Vicarage ; then, unable to bear his thoughts, he left the window and threw himself down in a chair, in misery too deep to contemplate. ' How can I ever hope to win that pure soul?' he muttered. ' What right have I to try, with such a past — ah ! and such a present ? What good deed have I ever done — who ever benefited, save it were to satisfy some foul craving of my own ? What a life to link with hers ! — the wolf and the lamb. And yet I must have her ! My very life demands it ; and why should I hesitate now fate has come to help me? Ryan must soon find out that he is a pauper, and, with his cursed independence, will rush off abroad, with the mad hope of making a fortune. Then is my chance, and I'll rest not night nor day till this wild craving has been amply satisfied.' Wretched man ! he had never been taught to keep his body under, and therefore small wonder that it ruled him — and ruled him with a rod of iron.

He knew he could not offer this pure girl a holy marriage ; he held a secret that made it impossible. Still, were he free — how dared he even glance at her — he whose soul was a home of earthliness and sensuality, where the very names of God and holiness were loathed and debarred ? And yet was he all to blame ? Was not his mother more guilty than he ? Where was his early training ? Who ever taught his childish heart to love purity, or sowed in fertile youth the mighty seeds of true religion ? His mother had not ; she was far too busy with receptions and the giddy round of society. So if the mother ignored the training of her own off spring, who else could be expected to see to it? True, she had sent her child to school, where religion was taught. Ah ! and made so hard and unpalatable, so devoid of love, that, as soon as he was free to choose for himself, he natur ally threw it aside.

Then, with unbounded wealth at his disposal, and no religion to anchor him, small wonder that he let his passions run, and satisfied each earthly desire as it presented itself. Women he had mixed with freely — women of a sort, women to whom the name of virtue rang as a clanging cymbal in their ears. But now he had been brought to the feet of a pure and holy one, and for the first time in his life his wild, loose nature had met with a check. He thought himself madly in love ; but was it love he felt, or mere animal passion ? He ravishingly admired every curve in her perfect form, her face he thought the loveliest he had ever seen ; but was that love ? What of the self-denying woman, the pure soul that in this loveliness moved and had its being? Ah! what of that ? He would far rather have been with out it ; it was not to his taste. 'Twas the fair casket he craved, the body that time would soon destroy.

What cared he for Immortality, as long as the burning desire of the moment was gratified ? But whilst he sat and plotted, a scene of a very different character was being enacted at the Vicarage. Ryan, his hated rival, had returned, and was kneeling in silent grief alone with the dead, crushed with the weight of his first real sorrow. Life had been to him a bed of roses ; few responsibilities had fallen on his young shoulders. But now he must face the stern, hard world alone, the world of which at present he knew so little. He had no parents to fall back upon; his home would soon be swept from him, and all that was manly in his nature would be called forth. He was but a boy of twenty, and the responsibility of his sacred calling distressed 2 — him. He felt himself unworthy of so high an office, but, as he was endeavouring to fulfil the dying wish of his mother, he determined to go on.

He needed help and guidance, and earnestly prayed for it, as he had never prayed in his life before. How long he had knelt there he could not tell. The room had grown gloomy, and his grief seemed more than he could bear, when suddenly the door was pushed gently open, and a hand laid lovingly on his bowed head. He started and looked up, to meet in one long gaze the dark, true eyes of Mary Grant. As an angel of mercy she stood before him. Her face seemed lighted with divine loveliness, and her very presence there was as a direct answer to his prayer. Slowly he raised himself to his full height, and for some moments stood facing her, his huge frame trembling with intense emotion. But at last, unable to resist the holy impulse he felt, he stepped towards her, and there in that gloomy chamber, in presence of God and His holy dead, he pressed to his heart the woman he loved.

And this was love — love that few have depth of nature enough to understand, love that shall last till time shall be no more ; and who dares say eternity shall end it ? ... But why pry upon so sacred an interview ? A welcome awaits Ryan at the Grotto ; and there in safe keeping we will leave him, and return to the Hall, for strange events are happening there.

Chapter III. Getting Rid Of

A HINDRANCE. During the time Sir Howard sat alone, he had written carefully, destroyed what he had penned, written again, and at last, satisfied that his letter was well in order, sat back in his chair awaiting the arrival of Collins. ' You are late,' he said sternly, as the yokel at last made his appearance. ' I know I am, sir, but it ain't my fault ; I should have bin here an hour ago if it hadn't bin for that gent at the Vicarage.' ' Whom do you mean — Dr. Carr ?' ' No, sir, a short gent with no whiskers ; a lawyer I think 'e called hisself.' 'A lawyer?' said Sir Howard with a start. And immediately he thought of Clamp's letter hidden in the Vicar's desk, and wondered if this son of the Law had discovered it. If he had, he knew he would naturally inquire if the advice contained in it had been followed or not.

And under the questioning of a shrewd lawyer he felt certain that Collins would give away his secret ; and that clearly meant the utter failure of his scheme. 'Well, Collins,' he said anxiously, 'and what was the gentleman's name ?' ' Dixon, I think 'e said, sir. And he's bin locking up the drawers, peeping into cupboards and boxes, and making hisself mighty inter fering-like — not meaning any 'arm, you know, sir. Ses he'll have to sell the lot, and don't think he'll want me no more. So when he told me that, I left him, and come straight up here.' ' Did he ask you any questions ?' ' Yes, sir, 'eaps.' ' And you answered them ?' queried Sir Howard eagerly, an angry flush flooding his face. ' Well, no, sir ; when I began to explain a bit, 'e cuts me up short, and ses, "Yes, that'll do; now go on with yer work," almost afore I'd opened me mouth.' ' So you have kept your promise, then ?' said the Baronet, with a deep sigh of relief. ' Oh yes, sir ; I shouldn't a' told him much, 'cause it struck me 'e wasn't up to no good, a-pokin' his nose into other folks' private business.' ' Ah well, Collins, Mr. Dixon's affairs are none of mine.

And as for yourself, there is no necessity for you ever to trouble him again ; and when you have read that (producing a letter from his pocket), I don't think you'll be particularly anxious. You remember the letter you signed this morning ?' ' Yes, sir.' ' Well, that was written in answer to this, and was sent out by post to Cape Colony, directly after you had signed it. Mr. Bentley intended to have spoken to you about it him self ; but of course his illness and ultimate death prevented him. So, as it was his wish that you should receive the benefit it contains, I undertook to read it to you, and to see that you were well looked after in the matter. This is what it says : ' " Cranley House, '"Port Natal, Cape Colony. ' Dear Mr. Bentley, ' " You will perhaps be surprised to re ceive a letter from me, but, as you are in a position where a good many of the rural population come under your notice, I have ventured to ask a favour of you. ' " You no doubt are aware that I have bought an estate just outside Port Natal, and it is on this account I am writing to you.