Wrongly Condemned. A novel

Front matter

THE "GREENBACK SERIES" POPULAR 3/6 NOVELS By WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS. (Crown 87JO, Cloth.) Uniform with. " Wrongly Condemned." 1. LOUIS DRAYCOTT. By Mrs. Leith Adams, and 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. Iza Duffus Hardy, and Ed. 5. THE MAID OF LONDON BRIDGE. By Somerville Gibney. 3rd Edition. 6. EVELINE WELLWOOD. By Major Norris Paul. 2nd Ed. 7. OLD LATTIMER'S LEGACY. By J. S. Fletcher. 2nd Ed. 8. THAT LITTLE GIRL. By Curtis Yorke. 5th Edition. 9. DUDLEY. By Curtis Yorke. 4th Edition. 10. THE WILD RUTHVENS. By Curtis Yorke. 5th Edition. 11. THE BROWN PORTMANTEAU, and other Stories. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 12. HUSH ! By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 13. ONCE ! By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 14.

A ROMANCE OF MODERN LONDON. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 15. HIS HEART TO WIN. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 16. DARRELL CHEVASNEY. By Curtis Yorke. 17. BETWEEN THE SILENCES. By Curtis Yorke. 18. THE PEYTON ROMANCE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 3rd Ed 19. THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. By Scott Graham. 3rd Eil 20. A RECORD OF DISCORDS. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition 21. "CHERRY RIPE!" By Helen Mathers. 8th Edition 22. STORY OF A SIN. By Helen Mathers. 5th Edition. 23. EYRE'S ACQUITTAL. (Sequel.) By Helen Mathers. 4th Ed. 24. JOCK O' HAZELGREEN. By Helen Mathers. 4th Ed. 25. MY LADY GREEN SLEEVES. By Helen Mathers. 6th Ed. 26. FOUND OUT. By Helen Mathers. 103rd Thousand. 27. THE MEDLICOTTS. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 28. THE HEART OF A MYSTERY. By T. W. Speight. 29. MAN PROPOSES. By Mrs. A. Phillips. 2nd Edition. 30.

THE LAST OF THE HADDONS. By Mrs. E. Newman-. Shortly. 31. ALLANSON'S LITTLE WOMAN. By Eastwood Kidson. Shortly. 32. LINDSVY'S GIRL. By Mrs. Herbert Martin. 33. WRONGLY CONDEMNED. By Mrs. Bagot Harte, Author of " Bianca," &c. 34- THE THIRTEENTH BRYDAIN. By Margaret Moule,-i Author of "Wingrove's Ways," "Dick's Wife," "Miss I j Maidment," &c. I N 35- THROUGH ANOTHER MAN'S EYES. By Eleanor | ¥ Holmes. I ~ a.6. MRS. WYLDE. By Linda Gardiner. J S 37. A PRINCE OF COMO. ByE. M.Davy. 2nd Edition. 38. RUTH FARMER. By Agnes Marchbank. [Tlwusand. 39- THE LOVELY MALINCOURT. By Helen Mathers. Sixth 40. A GARRISON ROMANCE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. W« 41. HARUM SCARUM. By Esme Stuart. Shortly 42. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE. By Scott Graham. Shortfv 43- THE MAN IN THE CHECK SUIT. By F. W. H. Delf. {Shortly. OTHERS IU PREPARATION.

Chapter I. The Rectory And Its Inmates

" T~\ON'T pore any longer over those accounts, Winny dear," observed the Rev. Clement Hamilton, in a tone of mild remonstrance. " Put them away for to-night. To-morrow morning, when you're not tired, you'll do them much more easily." But his wife was obdurate, and kept her eyes steadily fixed on the mystifying rows of figures. " Oh ! " she exclaimed, with a gasp of disappointment, " I have added up that last row five times, and each time the sum total has been different. There must be something wrong, mustn't there, Clement ? " " Decidedly, my dear ; the same row of figures cannot have five different totals. But take my advice — don't attempt any more calculations to-night. There's a wise little woman." This husband and wife had only occupied that relative position eight weeks. Had it been eight years, a tinge of irritability might possibly have shown itself in the husband's voice, which now, on the contrary, was tenderly persuasive.

But the young wife was not to be lured from her parochial accounts ; so, instead of doing as her husband suggested, she did a much wiser thing ; she hinted that he should come and help her, which he did, though very reluctantly, it must be admitted. Drawing up a chair and putting his elbows unnecessarily close to hers — after the manner of schoolboys and lovers — he diligently set to work at once to add up the long rows of figures, and in a marvellously short space of time the accounts were done, this time correctly. "Thank you, Clement," said Mrs. Hamilton, effusively, as her husband closed the book with a sigh of relief. " I shall always now ask you to help me with my accounts." Saying this she took his face within her hands, and, after regarding it lovingly for a few seconds, imprinted thereon two gentle, tender kisses.

It was just the kind of reward which her husband appreciated, and his eyes sought hers with the tenderest of glances. Thus they gazed into each other's faces with that rapturous devotion which, to the two most concerned, means unalloyed sweetness, but to a third person appears simply idiotic. At that precise moment a suggestive cough was heard just within the door, and the husband and wife turned as abruptly from each other as if they had been detected in the act of con cocting a crime. "Oh, it's you, Henry. I — I didn't know you were at home," said Mr. Clement Hamilton, nervously, beginning to arrange some papers which lay scattered about the table. WRONGL Y CONDEMNED. 10 "I did go out. But I have come back — as you see," observed the other in a matter-of-fact voice, calmly surveying his brother and sister in-law with mixed contempt and pity.

" I thought you were writing your sermon, and Winifred making up her accounts ; so I came in just to say that I'm going up to London to night. I want to do a few hours' reading at the British Museum." " As to-day is Friday, wouldn't it be better to wait till Monday, Henry ? Supposing that by some accident you missed the last train to morrow, how should we manage on Sunday ?" " There isn't a chance of my missing it." " But remember that other time when " " Oh, yes, I remember," interrupted Henry. " But that was no one's fault, except the railway company's, for altering the last train. How ever, go I must ; so good-bye." Then, turning to his sister-in-law, he added with forced courtesy, " Good-bye, Winifred." " It's unfortunate," rejoined his brother, standing meditatingly with his back to the fire, " that you have to be in London so frequently.

I must say it's very unfortunate," he repeated emphatically. But his words were coolly ignored. Henry left the room without deigning a reply, and in a few minutes the Rectory dog-cart was heard driving rapidly away. Both Clement and Henry Hamilton were clergymen. Clement was the senior by five years, and, moreover, held the important living of Rakesworth. This had been in the family for generations ; the eldest son of each eldest son having entered the Church, and regarded the Rectory — together with the tithes, etc. — as his own by special right. Formerly the stipend had sometimes exceeded a thousand a year ; now, from the fall in the value of land, it rarely reached five hundred. But, to meet this gradual diminishment, the rectors had latterly chosen to marry wives with fortunes of their own, which fortunes had been divided amongst the younger children.

The present incumbent had not deviated from this rule. Not that he had married for money ; on the contrary, he never gave money a thought when he offered his hand and heart to pretty Winny Vere, and it came as a pleasant surprise when he discovered that she possessed a rich maiden aunt, who was anxious to settle six thousand pounds on her niece as a marriage portion. Mrs. Hamilton was a practical, sensible little woman, and quietly undertook the management of all matters which fall to the lot of a rector's wife. Henry Hamilton would have liked his position described as rector's partner ; but as partnerships are not recognized in the Church, he was neither more nor less than his brother's curate. But he lived at the Rectory, ordering about the servants, and appropriating the dog cart for his own use, without any one question ing'his right to do so.

As curate, he received a hundred and fifty a year, which, considering that he had also a comfortable home gratis, ought to have satisfied him, but it did not. He liked to pose as a martyr to circumstances, and frequently hinted that his elder brother had abused his seniority by monopolizing all that was most desirable. The true origin of this spirit of discontent lay in the circumstance that from babyhood to manhood he had been the darling of his mother's heart. There had been but these two children of the marriage, and on the younger all her love had been con centrated. Five years after the elder son's ordination his father had died, so Clement was early placed in a position of responsibility. This fact, for some inscrutable reason, his mother resented. Thus the young rector had a difficult part to play, not only in the parish, but also in his home.

All domestic expenses were cast on him, whilst his mother shared her income with Henry. But one evil day she discovered that through some foolish specula tion, suggested by her younger son, that income was lost. Hence, for her, life became bitter, and she slowly drooped and died. Had her elder son been good-looking, her feelings towards him would probably have been different ; but, unfortunately for him, he belonged to the large, plain, ungainly type of men. To Henry, on the other hand, had been vouchsafed a handsome face and fine athletic form. He was pre-eminently one of those men on whom all eyes rest with admiration ; yet, no keen observer could have failed to notice a disagreeable, sinister look in the proud, attractive face. The fact that he was highly gifted intellectually served to still further raise him above his brother, especially in his mother's estimation.

His sermons were brilliant and forcible, and, report said, had turned many from the path of sin, while the rector's entirely lacked any fire and spirit, though they were prepared with much labour and thought. However, so far, fate had bestowed her most weighty gifts upon the rector. But he — good, unselfish fellow — was only too anxious to share everything with his brother, for whom he possessed the deepest love and admiration. To Mrs. Clement Hamilton it was an often recurring wonder that Henry did not leave the home of his childhood, and, with his great abilities, carve out for himself a good and independent position. But no such idea evi dently entered his mind ; he preferred remaining at Rakesworth, although occupying a comparatively subordinate position. Some said the squire's sister, Vita Metcalf, to whom he had been engaged since he was twenty-five — three years before — was using her influence in a manner calculated to wreck his life ; declining to marry, or to let him leave the neighbourhood, until he had secured a living.

In reality, however, he had had the living of Brindlesea offered him only three months before, and had refused it point blank. Therefore at the present moment the local gossips, who happened to know of this refusal, were utterly at a loss for a solution to the knotty question as to what Mr. Henry Hamilton's future plans might be, especially now that his presence was evidently not so welcome at the Rectory as in former days. Over his engagement there hung a strange mystery. At first no lover could have been more devoted than he was to Vita ; but sud denly his manner towards her had changed. Women's eyes — men are blind in such matters — detected that her society no longer possessed charms for him. Not that he neglected her openly, but he failed to pay her the marked attention which is expected from a fiance".

As for fixing the day for their wedding, such a thing had apparently not entered their thoughts. Thus three years had rolled on, and Miss Metcalfs long engagement had become a standing subject for local discussion.

Chapter II

A SERIOUS TALK. A S Henry Hamilton drove quickly to the station, the rector stood gazing into the fire with a fixed look, which plainly indicated that he was debating within himself some all absorbing question. His wife watched him in silence, for she shrank from allowing any threatened estrangement of the brothers to become a topic of conversation between her self and her husband. Fortunately, at that moment tea was brought into the study. Mrs. Hamilton knew that her husband preferred his own special sanctum, and the proximity of his much-loved books, to the rather stiffly-arranged drawing-room, with its frail chairs and ever-shifting anti macassars. Clement Hamilton was in no sense B a drawing-room man. He disliked anything which savoured of society. Thus it was with a laudable desire to please him that his wife spent much of her time in his study.

"There are hot scones for tea, Clement," she said, with an effort to divert him. Yes," came absently in reply. I made them." You ! " " Oh, you don't half know how clever I am ! " He smiled ; and when Clement Hamilton smiled, as he did at that moment, it was difficult to believe he was not a handsome man. However, an anxious, serious look quickly returned to his face. " I wonder," he said meditatively, " what really called Henry to London ?" " He went up for a morning's reading at the Museum — so he said." Yes — so he said." And you believed it ? " " It is painful for me to doubt his word. Yet I am afraid — very much afraid — there are other reasons for these sudden, erratic journeys to A SERIOUS TALK. 19 London. I'm sure he has something on his mind. I wish he would confide in me. Un fortunately, he has a way which somehow defies all attempts to gain his confidence.

Have you not noticed it, Winny?" "Yes, I have noticed that, and other cha racteristics also, which I don't admire. In my opinion he doesn't treat you, Clement, in the way a younger brother should treat an elder one. But, dear, don't let us talk about Henry now. Draw your chair up to the fire, and let us have a cosy tea. How dismal it looks out of doors ! We are certainly much more com fortable in the house than he can be driving to the station in all this rain." In spite, however, of the wife's laudable efforts to make her husband look on the bright side of matters, a feeling of depression and coming trouble seemed to hang over them both as they sat by the cheerful fireside. " Winny, I'm much afraid," said the rector after a somewhat lengthy silence, " that there's a mystery about Henry's visits to London.

As I said before, I wish he would confide in me." " I shouldn't think it was in his nature to be candid about his private affairs. He certainly is not candid to you." " No, that's the painful part of it. I feel somehow outside his confidence. Before mother died he was rather taciturn, but since her death he seems to have become doubly so." " She died just about three years ago, did she not ? " "Yes. Henry and Vita had been engaged then only a little while. We all anticipated they would be married in a few months' time. I fail to see any sufficient reason for this three years' delay. I have never received the slightest hint as to when the weddinowill take place. Only the other day the squire was trying to elicit from me whether I knew anything about it. Of course I was very careful what I said.

It is awkward beingasked such questions." " But, Clement, what makes you suspect that Henry doesn't spend his time at the British Museum ? " " I know he does not — for a fact." A SERIOUS TALK. 21 "Really?" exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton with surprise. " Yes. I went up to the British Museum the last time he said he had been there, and found " — here he dropped his voice almost to a whisper — " and found out he had not been there." " Why, Clement ! Then he could not have told you the truth ! " " No, and it grieved me, especially as the text for his sermon the Sunday before had been : ' He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth from his heart.' " " How incongruous it must have seemed to you ! " It did. Yet, Winny, I could do nothing with Henry. He ignored all my efforts to talk over the matter seriously with him.

You see, he's not the kind of man to take either reproof or advice in good part, and open dissent at the Rectory would be disgraceful, besides setting a bad example to the parish. But to allow matters to drift on as they are now is wholly against the dictates of my conscience. Henry is in honour bound to marry Vita soon ; yet the idea of broaching the subject to him is repugnant to me." " It strikes me, Clement, that every one lets Henry do as he likes, simply because he makes himself disagreeable if they don't." " I'm afraid that's rather the case. He is certainly a difficult man to speak to on a subject he doesn't wish mentioned. He declines to understand until you put the matter forcibly. Then he loses his temper and refuses to listen. In the end one only feels one has lost ground instead of doing good."

" Which proves that Henry has a rooted dislike to accepting advice." "You're right, Winny," answered her husband. He liked to hear her utter these wise remarks. "Why don't you suggest that his talents might be more appreciated in another parish ?" "I have thought of that, but it does not seem feasible. Henry would, of course, explain the matter to the squire and Vita exactly as suited A SERIOUS TALK. 23 his own purpose, and as he is sure to consider himself aggrieved, it would probably end in unpleasantness all round ; and I should never forgive myself if I were the cause of raising a feud between the Manor and the Rectory." " Henry never seems to do any visiting amongst the poor," meditatively observed Mrs. Hamilton. " No. That isn't his forte. He's of no use except in the pulpit. He can preach, but he can't — can't " The rector hesitated fora moment.

" Can't practice ? " suggested his wife. " Yes, I am sorry to say that is the truth. " Clement," she said, in a quick, decided voice, " I am sorry to be forced to say it, but I don't like Henry. I mistrust him, and I fear that he may bring trouble on you and me." " Heaven forbid ! No ! Henry may mar his own life ; he shall never mar yours, my Winny." Yet her words sank deep into the rector's heart, and when later in the evening he sat alone in his study meditating, they returned with even greater force.

Chapter III. Man And Wife

AN the high-road leading from the county town of Wearton, two men were walking briskly along. The wind had veered round from the west, and was now blowing steadily from the north, bringing with it a cloudless sky, and a pleasant crispness to the air. A sudden frost had set in, and in the stillness of the night the men's footsteps rang out distinct and clear as they walked along the hard frozen road. Both kept well under the shadow of the trees ; not on account of any benefit that could accrue therefrom, but simply because they were the type of men who instinctively choose the shady side of life. However, though alike on this point, no two people could have been more diametrically opposite in every other way. Indeed, Henry Hamilton would have considered it an unpardonable insult to be even compared to the slouching tramp who limped along a few yards behind, evidently anxious for his company.

He, a clergyman, felt himself immeasurably superior in every way to this degraded creature, so that even his proximity annoyed him to no small degree. But Henry Hamilton, in an ordinary tweed suit, was a much less awe-inspiring individual than when attired in the most improved cut of clerical cloth. Of this fact he was fully aware, and it annoyed him greatly to know that he had fallen, though only temporarily, in the social scale. At Rakesworth he knew himself to be highly respected ; and, by some ardent admirers of his eloquence, almost worshipped. But here, on the high-road, at ten o'clock at night, he was painfully conscious that he could onlybe regarded as an ordinary nocturnal wanderer. Fortunately, however, no one was near, except the tramp, whose desire to keep near him became momentarily more annoying.

Thus he decided to quicken his pace. At first the other tried hard to keep up with him, but gradually the distance between the two increased, and Henry Hamilton was soon relieved to hear the tramp's footsteps growing fainter and fainter in the distance. Just then a church clock struck the half-hour. He waited and listened. With an exclamation of annoyance at the lateness of the hour, he vaulted over a rustic stile and took a straight cut across some fields. Three minutes' brisk walking brought him to another stile ; over this he also vaulted — with the agility of an accomplished athlete — and then turned up a narrow lane. " It can't be more than a hundred yards from here," he observed, picking his way amongst the ruts. The next minute a flickering light was dis cerned amongst the trees. H e stopped abruptly, as if in search of certain landmarks.

These he evidently discovered to his satisfaction, for he began at once to hurry onwards. A small, old-fashioned, thatched cottage soon came into view. It stood some fifty feet back from the road, and the well-kept front garden contained several fine fir trees, which screened it effectually from the eyes of curious passers by. The porch was thickly covered with ivy and wild clematis. By daylight no prettier, or more artistic cottage was to be seen for many miles round. To this cottage it was evident Henry Hamilton was bent ; and, moreover, it was also evident that he was expected, for, in response to three low whistles, the door was quickly opened, and a voice — a woman's — exclaimed in pleasant surprise — "Oh, Henry, I am so glad you have come! I was afraid you had missed the train." Henry Hamilton entered with the air of a man who knew he had a right to be there ; yet, without vouchsafing even the briefest response to the salutation, he walked towards the fire.

Swift as lightning a change stole over the woman's face. All joy and brightness suddenly deserted it. She passed her hands nervously over her eyes. Could she be dreaming ? " Henry ! Have you no word of greeting for me your wife ? " she murmured, speaking with a pathetic ring of entreaty. " No ; I am too much annoyed by your letter." " My letter ! What was there wrong in my letter ? It was not an angry one. There was not one word of reproach in it," she expostulated in a pained voice. " But you said if I could not come and see you soon you would come to Rakesworth. You know perfectly well I have distinctly forbidden you to do so." " I simply said I would meet you near the Hollow Farm, as I did once before." " Yes, I know that was what you suggested. But, as I have told you hundreds of times, I will not run the risk which allowing you to haunt Rakesworth would entail."

" Henry, I have never wanted to haunt Rakesworth," she answered hastily. " But you have hinted that you could come there sometimes to see me." " Is it wrong for a wife to wish to see her husband ? " " Yes, it is, when it involves trouble and anxiety for him and jeopardizes his social position," was the harsh reply. " I wrote because I wanted to explain to you about dear Harry. He is not strong, and the doctor says this place is too damp for him. If you would only let me have a little more money, Henry, I could take him to a healthier place." She spoke pleadingly, for Harry, her only child, was very dear to her. "At the present moment it is impossible. You seem to forget what an expense you and he have been to me already. Lately, I have been forced to curtail my personal expenses to such an extent that life has become a burden."

" Unfortunately the doctor's fees amount to so much. If Harry could only go to the seaside for a few weeks he would soon be strong, and that expense would be at an end." " He ought to have outgrown all infantine complaints by now. He'll be two years old at Christmas, will he not ? " "Yes, and at Christmas I shall have been your wife for — three — years." The two last words were uttered slowly and sadly, as if they recalled to the speaker's mind only a time of misery. " You have altered a great deal during those three years," rejoined her husband, surveying her in a cool, deliberate way. " Yes, and for the worse. What woman would not have done so ? " she replied with a tinge of bitterness. " But, Henry, don't let us talk of the past. Surely a living will be offered to you soon ; and when you are in an independent position you can claim me as your wife.

I'm sorry my letter annoyed you ; I would not have written it, only I was anxious about Harry. You will forgive me, dear?" Saying this, she put her hand lovingly on his shoulder. " Oh, yes ; only it's very tiresome to be called away suddenly like this. Clement was, I saw, vexed at my going. Of course he hasn't an inkling that I'm married, and I don't like to contemplate what the consequences would be if he happened to discover the fact. As to a living being offered to me soon, it may be, or it may not be. Anyhow, it does not do to count upon such things as certainties." "But, Henry, surely you will not have to wait much longer ? Why can you not use some influence with the bishop ? " " I do not wish to obtain a living through influence, and it is ridiculous of you always to be worrying me on the subject.

You must be more patient. Meanwhile, try and make the best of circumstances. It's your fault, quite as much as mine, that we are man and wife, and in this unpleasant predicament." " Henry, have you forgotten that when you asked me to marry you secretly, you promised to acknowledge me as your wife in a few weeks ? " she argued, but not in an angry voice. " No, I have forgotten nothing. But you evidently regret your wedding." Then, raising his voice and speaking with passionate vehemence, he added, "Would to God that our marriage tie could be severed ! I would give ten years of my life never to see your face again. You and your child haunt me night and day." " Oh, Henry, stop ! " she cried entreat ingly- " I wish you would let me have some peace," he continued, not heeding her ; " all your letters are full of suggestions that I should acknow ledge you as my wife.

How can I answer the question ? Isn't it perfectly obvious that my hands are tied in the matter — that I can do nothing ? " She made no effort to answer him ; for, in spite of his heartless cruelty, the love and admiration which had tempted her to relinquish parents and home still retained their powerful influence over her. No cruel, cutting words of reproach could rise to her lips. Her love for him was even more intense than in those bygone days, when she had listened entranced to his passionate pleading. " However," he said more calmly, after a few minutes' silence, "what is done cannot be undone ; and I did not come here to discuss the past. In fact, I really scarcely know what I did come for. I left Rakesworth in a o-reat hurry, fearing you might appear there." " It is six months since you last came to see us."

" That's quite possible ; a clergyman's duties lie in his parish," he answered curtly. At that moment a feeble cry was heard in the room above. " Harry is awake ! " exclaimed Ruth, anxiously. " I must go to him." Henry Hamilton could never tolerate occu pying for one moment a subordinate position. Thus, when he found his wife's thoughts so easily diverted from himself, it added fuel to his smouldering anger ; and all chance of his regarding this son of his with aught but repugnance faded into the distant future. c

Chapter IV. Henry Hamilton, Junior

TO be left alone in the meanly-furnished cottage room, brooding over his supposed wrongs, was the worst thing that could have happened to Henry Hamilton. He was in no enviable frame of mind, and so encouraged him self to believe that circumstances were entirely against him. The distant sound of his wife's voice, as she gently soothed his child, added greatly to his irritation. Evidently mother and child were all in all to each other. He was clearly in the way now that Harry was awake. But was it not the same at the Rectory ? There he was in the way too. Yes, he was no longer master of the situation. His young sister-in law was daily growing in importance, whilst HENRY HAMILTON, JUNIOR. 35 the importance of his own position was steadily diminishing. If only he had not been fettered with this wife and child ; then he could at once have married the squire's sister, and domiciled himself temporarily at the Manor — which would just have suited his ideas of comfort.