Paul Nugent-Materialist ... Second edition

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'Paul Nugent —^Materialist. VOL. II. a Books to ask for at the Libraries. 2 Vols. Crown Svo, price 2 is. BRIARS ; Or, On Dangerous Ground. By the Author of ' Crane Court.' ' The plot is admirably handled, all the persons are realistically as well as artisti cally drawn. . . . Wrought out with unmistakable force.' — Scottish Leader. ' The story is well written.'— Manchester Guardian. ' There is an indefinable charm about it.'— Life. 'The story flows easily and pleasantly, and never wearies'— Whitehall Review. Crown %vo, Cloth, price 6s. GLENATHOLE. By Cyril Grey. ■ It abounds in strong and startling situations, is written with great ability, and contains several finely-drawn characters.' — Newcastle Chronicle. In 2 Vols. 8vo, with Numerous Illustrations, price £2, 2s. THE DIARIES OF SIR MOSES MONTEFIORE AND LADY MONTEFIOR^^xqmprising their Life and Work as recorded therein, /jE$ftn'~ 1812 to 1SS3.

Edited by the late Dr. L. Leowe. L ' ' ' Crown $fyf\ Clofk^firice 6s. LETTERS FROM DOROTHY OSBORNE TO SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, 1652-54. Edited by E. A. Parry, with Photographs and Autographs. 'We can point to no contemporary book in which social life in England under the Commonwealth is so fully described. The letters are far more than billets-doux. written, as Macaulay suggested, by a virtuous, amiable and sensible girl, and in tended for the eye of her lover alone. —Athenæum. LONDON : GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH. Paul Nugent Materialist BY HELEN F. HETHERINGTON (GULLIFER) AND THE Rev. H. DARWIN BURTON IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. Second Edition. LONDON GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH NEWBERY HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD AND AT SYDNEY The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reservea. CONTENTS.

. FRUITION, ■ — {Materialist Materialist,

Chapter I

A SLANDER. ' Of course your opinion is worth more than any one else's,' said Miss Wyngate acidly, addressing Nellie Dashwood, who was bending over a new racquet, on which she was inscribing her initials. The last rays of the setting sun caught the golden brown curls, and made them into an aureole for a face that was pretty enough for anything but a saint — for her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes flashing wrathfully as she looked up. ' My opinion has nothing to do with it,' she said impatiently ; ' but if all I've heard is true, I'm very sorry that we ever had anything to do with Sir Paul.' VOL. II. A — MATERIALIST. 2 'My dear Eleanor, let me tell you that you needn't have more to do with him than you like. If Maude is in the room, he certainly won't trouble himself about you, if you choose to sulk in a corner,' and Miss Wyngate looked down her gold-spectacled nose with crushing contempt. ' And do you think I want to see Maude do the civil to a man who has killed his wife ? ' ' Good gracious ! ' exclaimed Maude in surprise, as she came into the room with her slow, noiseless step, a basket of flowers in her hand ; ' so there's a murderer in the neighbourhood ? ' Nellie bit her lip, and frowned at her elderly cousin to keep her quiet ; but this very signal acted as a spur to Miss Wyngate's tongue. ' Yes, my dear, Sir Paul Nugent,' she said, with an air of triumph, and a defiant look at Nellie ; ' the kind-hearted gentleman who has taken in your brother, and been like a guardian angel to him, has somehow offended her highness ; and no word's too bad for him.' Maude let the flowers drop one by one from her basket, as her eyes travelled from her aunt to her cousin. ' Nell, are you mad ? ' she asked, in a hoarse voice, which she tried in vain to make as clear as usual.

Nell, in a fit of exasperation, flung down her racquet and stood up, her bosom heaving, her colour coming and going. She had no idea of what was going on in her cousin's breast — a storm might be raging behind her outward calm, or her interest might be only that of an acquaintance. The uncertainty made every word seem dangerous, and yet she was forced to speak. ' I only just repeated what I heard,' she said nervously, ' and of course it mayn't be true but Miss Goodwin was at the Singletons', and she was telling us how his poor wife was found dead at his feet ; I — I don't know whether he killed her, or — ' ' But I do,' Maude broke in impetuously, drawing herself up with the pride and the confidence of a sibyl. ' I know that he is innocent as I am myself; I've only to look in his face to know it.' ' That isn't much evidence,' in a low voice, and with an utter sinking of the heart. ' It is quite enough for me,' she answered haughtily, her heart beating wildly, a strange tremor in her limbs. ' If you like to listen to the — MATERIALIST. wicked gossip of that vulgar woman, I'm sorry for you, and I pity your taste.' ' I don't— I hate the woman,' exclaimed Nellie passionately ; ' she spoilt my visit completely, and I hope she will never be there again.' Maude took no notice of her, but turned to Miss Wyngate. ' Aunt,' she said quietly, ' will you take me to The Chase to-morrow?

I must see Gerald; and then we can thank Sir Paul for all his kindness to him.' ' With pleasure, my dear,' exclaimed Miss Wyn gate, with extra amiability, because she had just quarrelled with her other relative ; ' but have you asked your father's permission ? ' ' I don't think he can refuse me, but I'll ask him at once. Go I must,' she said, with the utmost earnestness ; and then, with her empty basket still on her arm, she went out of the room. Nellie, in dismay, sat down on the floor to pick up the flowers. Those roses and geraniums on the carpet seemed proof positive that her worst fears were realised, and she scarcely had the spirit to retort, whilst Miss Wyngate poured a stream of invective and innuendo over her bowed head. If Maude loved Sir Paul, there was the darkest future before her ; for she would never allow herself to marry a man who had no religion.

Nellie herself had never disliked him ; she knew he was agreeable, and fatally good-looking ; any other girl but Maude was almost bound to fall in love with him, who met him often in her daily life. But she, whose religion was the life of her soul, it was in credible that she should love a man who denied her God. It must be a madness which would pass away ; but oh ! what sorrow and despair lay before her ! Her eyes filled with sympathetic tears, her red lips trembled. ' I suppose you would have been better pleased if she had thrown herself away on a curate,' con tinued Miss Wyngate, breaking into a new line in the hopes of rousing the culprit to answer. ' We all know why you think it necessary to go to church twice a day.' Nellie sprang to her feet, with all the flowers, gathered up in her dress. ' Stop, aunt,' she cried, with indignant energy ; ' insult me as much as you like, but don't insult my religion.' — MATERIALIST.

The next moment she was gone, and Miss Wyn gate, having relieved her mind, and cleared the ground, threw herself back in her chair with a sigh of satisfaction. She was very fond of Maude, and it would suit her very well to have her established as mistress of The Chase. Its owner's heterodox opinions were counterbalanced by a splendid pro perty and a large income ; and she belonged to that extensive class who would be shocked to hear themselves called irreligious, and yet never let religion stand in the way of comfort, self indulgence, or worldly success. And then, on the other hand, if Sir Paul loved her niece, of course he would become a Christian to please her, and that would satisfy everybody. And as to that audacious little minx Nellie, the sooner she was out of the way the better, only she was to have nothing to do with the Rev. Charles Conway ; for he stuck like a limpet to Elmsfield, and she would always be hanging about the place.

By a few judicious remarks, she thought she could stop that little game before it went too far, for the girl had absurdly sensitive feelings ; and her so called delicacy would be up in arms at the first hint that anybody thought she had been a little forward. The poor child, whose tenderest feelings she had trampled on with an elephantine hoof, felt that the house was all too small to hold her wrath. She dashed through the hall, catching up her hat and gloves as she went. A basket caught her eye, in which there was a pudding destined for Mrs Ward, but left behind and forgotten when they went out in the carriage earlier in the afternoon. She resolved to take it, partly because it was too late for such an expedition, and a consequent defiance of authority, but partly also because her kind heart felt for the poor woman, and she was anxious to do penance for her own forgetfulness.

It was rather a wild evening for the time of year, and the branches tossed and creaked above her head, but the boisterous wind seemed in sympathy with her passionate mood, and she hurried along with quick, light steps, in her eagerness to get further away from Aunt Tabitha's lashing tongue. She hastened past the church and the Lodge, scarcely venturing to give one timid glance over her shoulder, lest Charlie Conway should be — MATERIALIST. hanging somewhere about. With the exaggeration of agitated youth, she felt that she would rather die than ever speak to him again. She could stand Captain Fitzgerald's good-humoured chaff, but not Miss Wyngate's loathsome suggestion that she came to daily service in order to meet him. It was as unjust as it was uncharitable, because she had always been in the habit of attending the ser vices as a child, long before either Mr Lovel or Mr Conway came to the place, and nobody had accused her short-petticoated little self of running after the stately Dr Abbott.

Conscious innocence ought to have been her stay and comfort, but in the depth of her heart she knew that there was a vast amount of pleasure in hearing a certain pleasant voice, even if the greet ing were brief and nothing followed ; and in this secret consciousness lay the sting. Elmersbridge looked picturesque, its grimness hidden in kindly shadows, as her small figure hurried up the steep street, trying to look as if it weren't there. The lamps were lighted, which made it seem very late, and she was certain that the tradesmen whom she passed looked at her in respectful surprise as they touched their hats. A number of working men stood about the corners, just discharged from work, but waiting for a smoke or a drink on the way home. Nellie was not in the least afraid of them ; for hadn't she scolded them and given them tracts like naughty boys ever since she had taken a district in the slums ?

The roughest and the coarsest of the lot kept back the ugly oath which hung on the tip of his tongue, as the ' little missie ' passed by with a nod and a smile, and felt as if life were all the brighter for a glimpse of her pretty face. Hart's Alley looked very dark and uninviting, but she plunged into it boldly, and, keeping clear of the reeking gutter, reached Mrs Ward's lodging without misadventure. The poor woman's face brightened up with a smile, as she saw who her visitor was. As usual, she was hard at work fashioning an extraordinary looking garment for a neighbour ; but she stopped, with the ready courtesy of the poor, to find a chair for the lady, and wipe it with her torn apron. Her last ray of brightness had been buried with her Tommy, but she complained of nothing, though — MATERIALIST. 10 her husband was boozing at the ' Black Monk,' and she, with failing health and exhausted energies, had to work for both.

Nellie regarded her as a heroine, and felt for her so deeply that she went away with a sad ache in her heart. What could be done with a brute like Ward, who would go on in his drunken idleness till his wife worked herself to death, and followed her little ones to a welcome grave ? The shadows crept darkly round her as she left the town and all its lights behind her. Now that her rage had cooled down, she grew very uneasy about the time, and walked as fast as she could ; but it was a long way to the Hall, and she rarely traversed it on foot. Tired and breathless, she reached a stile in the palings belonging to The Chase, and stopped abruptly as she remembered the short cut which saved a circuitous round, and which she had often used in Sir Thomas's time. She had fully intended never to use it again ; but the circumstances were desperate, and the noblest people have been known to do the oddest things when reduced to dire extremities.

She looked down the road which stretched like an endless line before her dismayed eyes ; and then, with hasty resolution, she jumped on to the first step of the stile, and the next moment she was standing in the park. It was embarrassing to find herself on Sir Paul's property, but nobody should ever know, so she would not be a bit the worse. She scudded along, very like one of the many rabbits she startled on her way, and nearly shrieked aloud when a head, with wide-spreading antlers, appeared above a clump of bracken. It seemed to her as if the way had altered consider ably since she last tried it, for the new owner had cut down several trees whichusedtobe well-known land marks. How beautiful the old place looked, with the silver-faced moon rising behind its grey towers, and casting long shadows across the dewy grass.

So still, so peaceful, with no sound but the distant barkingof a dog to break the silence. The wind went down with the sun, and there was only the faintest whisper amongst the branches, which had tossed so wildly, as if moved by a whirlwind of passion, only one short half-hour before. Nellie's mood changed with the weather, and she hurried on, forgetting all her troubles for the moment in her anxiety to get home unseen. Suddenly she was brought to a halt by missing a dead thorn-tree, whose ivy-grown — MATERIALIST. 12 branches had once marked the spot, where the path turned off from amongst the ferns to the solemn darkness under the elms. She looked round in some bewilderment, and in a moment felt herself a poor lone creature — lost in a wilderness of moon kissed ferns and forbidding trees.

Oh, if Maude could only guess her pitiful plight, how quickly she would send someone to bring her safe home. But no one would have an idea where to find her, and they would search for hours before they would think of The Chase. As she stood and hesitated, she thought of Gerald Dashwood, dying behind one of those distant lighted windows ; and the awful thought of death fastened upon her like a vulture with black wings. To die in the first years of man hood, after a wasted life — could any fate be worse ? To die, and feel as if all those around you would be glad to say ' good-bye.' She roused herself with an effort, and plunged into the darkness, only to bound back with a spring like a roe, and a stifled scream, for she had come against a black thing which seemed to have risen straight out of the ground.

Miss Dashwood ! you here ! ' exclaimed a voice in a tone of the greatest amazement, and she knew in a moment that both the voice and the amazement belonged to Charlie Conway, the man whom she most wished to avoid. ' I didn't know that you ever used this cut now,' he said cheerfully ; ' but it's a godsend to me when I have to make my way to Elmersbridge from somewhere in your direction. You will let me walk home with you ? ' ' No, thanks — not for the world,' with unneces sary energy. ' But indeed you must. It is too late for you to be out alone,' turning as if he took her consent for granted, and yet feeling that there was some thing different to usual in the rigid pose of the little figure, and in the severity of the voice which was usually so gentle. ' I prefer it, thank you. Good evening, Mr Conway.

I'm in a hurry.' Without one relent ing smile, without one farewell gesture of her little hand, she darted down the path, which was now plainly visible to her, as her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. Conway felt as if he had received a slap in — MATERIALIST. 14 the face, and looked after her retreating figure in offended surprise. 'What had he done to be treated like this?' he asked himself in vain. When last they met — which was only that morning — they had parted the very best of friends, and nothing had happened since. Oh ! it was absurd, on the face of it. She was so unselfish and considerate, probably she was afraid of making him late for his night-school ; and the next moment he ran after her, and caught her up just as she was emerging from under the trees into the warm, soft moonlight of a grassy glade. ' You will let me come with you, won't you ? ' his eyes searching the small pale face for its usually friendly smile. ' No — I don't want anybody,' relapsing into rigidity, as if she were a doll worked by a spring, which on this occasion was loth to act. ' I told you so — and I can't wait.' 'Why should you wait?

I'll go at any pace you like.' ' No. It's not that,' her eyes turned resolutely away from his pleading face. 'I thought I was sure to meet no one, and I prefer to be alone. A SLAXDER. 15 ' I am sorry I bothered you,' he said very gravely, and then he raised his hat and vanished even more quickly than he came. He was rather absent at the night-school that evening, and was down upon a nervous mechanic with whom he was generally extraordinarily patient ; but he pulled himself together before the end, and made up most thoroughly for his outburst of im patience. He had a sensitive conscience, and it shocked him to find that he had let a social trouble interfere with one of his clerical duties ; and he would never have forgiven himself if he had alienated James Weston, and seen his place empty for the future.

Meanwhile, Miss Eleanor Dashwood plodded on in a mood of utter dejection ; and before she stumbled, with tired legs, up the steps of the front entrance to the Hall, she had made up her mind that Maude would break her heart over that tire some Sir Paul, that Mr Conway would never speak to her again, and that she was without exception the most miserable girl under the moon. But when her cousin came with swift steps to meet her in the hall, and, after giving her a passionate hug, — MATERIALIST. scolded her well for having frightened them all so much, she began to feel a little better. She choked back the tears which were ready to flow, kissed Maude with as much fervour as if she had just been saved from death ; and ran upstairs to dress as if her only anxiety were that the soup should not be cold.

Chapter II

A SACRIFICE. SIR Paul NUGENT, gun in hand, returned home after an unsatisfactory morning with the keepers and the dogs. He had missed a woodcock in a most exasperating manner ; and had tramped through mud and rain in the hopes of finding another, but without meeting with such a stroke of luck. That miss rankled in his mind as he dropped his gun in the gun-room, and, after scrubbing his shooting-boots on a mat, went into the hall by the back way, and ran upstairs to see his invalid. Dr Hicks had been there the evening before, and given a discouraging report ; and Gerald Dashwood had followed it up by having a very bad night. Nugent had been indulging in very sarcastic reflections on the Christian charity of the Dashwood family, exemplified by their leaving a son and brother to die without coming to look after him.

He was perfectly sensible of the VOL. II. B — MATERIALIST. anomaly presented by his own care of the sick man ; but, as he was ready to acknowledge to every one, it was absolutely forced on him whether he would or no. He was rather startled, as he opened the door of the blue bedroom without knocking, to find himself face to face with Maude Dashwood. She was dressed in a dark blue serge, which fitted her slight figure to perfection, a sailor-hat with an Oxford ribbon, a lace scarf tied carelessly round the smooth round pillar of her throat ; but he only saw her lovely face, with the tears on her long, dark lashes, the tremble about her lips, and his heart gave a bound, whilst the blood leapt to his forehead. ' I beg your pardon,' he stammered in a way that was very unusual with him. ' I hadn't the least idea you were here.' She remembered the carriage at the front door, but yet she did not doubt him, for she had a con viction that he would always be truthful, even if he failed in every other way. ' I wanted to see you,' she said simply, ' to thank you again and again for your kindness to him.' Then she hurriedly motioned to him to come outside, and shut the door behind them.

Paul forgot to give one glance towards the bed, where Gerald was lying in a state of utter exhaustion after a trying interview ; for it was fast becoming his habit to think of nobody but Miss Dashwood whenever she happened to be present. They were quite alone in the old - fashioned gallery, where the portraits of the dead Nugents looked down from antiquated frames upon their only living representative ; and the thought of that loneliness seemed to bewilder his mind. He had not a word to say to her as he waited in the deep archway of the door ; but it was quite enough to stand before her and wait her pleasure. She raised her eyes slowly to his grave face, with some question about her brother on her parted lips ; but, as they met his, his earnest gaze seemed to hold them, and in that moment each looked straight, without conventional disguise or concealment, into the other's heart.

There was no gainsaying it — no use in equivocation or denial. They knew that they loved — loved with all the power of two strong, passionate natures, whether it were for their ruin or their joy. Something — MATERIALIST. paralysed his tongue ; perhaps it was the over powering consciousness that his love would cast a cloud for ever on her peace, and even in that moment of temptation his noble, unselfish nature asserted itself. Then a door slammed down below, and broke the spell. Maude passed her hand over her eyes, as if in bewilderment ; and he caught it, and, bending low over it. kissed it passionately. She drew it gently away, with a little shiver, just as she had shivered before in the ball-room at the Castle. ' You are sorry for me, I know,' she said, in a low voice, as she turned away her head, and then moved on towards the top of the broad staircase.

There was a little catch in her breath, but she was resolved to master her emotion, and she did — only her cheeks were as white as swan's-down, and her lips as white as her cheeks. ' I — I love him so — and he looks so very bad ! ' Paul murmured something hoarsely, and followed her down the stairs, his heart beating with wild, irregular throbs. She went straight on, looking neither to right nor left. The doors were wide open, for, though the weather was growing chilly, Sir Paul thought the hall looked gloomy if they were shut. The carriage was waiting at the foot of the steps. He put her into it, and was going to shut the door, when she suddenly remembered her aunt, and made a gesture to stop him. ' Miss Wyngate, sir ? ' said the footman, touching his hat. ' Miss Wyngate ? ' he repeated vaguely. ' Yes — the lady is in the library,' Seton informed him, and he went to fetch her immediately.

Miss Wyngate had been taking an accurate survey of the room, and burst into voluble exclamations of admiration as soon as Sir Paul appeared ; but for once in her life she found him uninteresting, as well as obviously uninterested. As she afterwards explained to Nellie: 'The man seemed in a dream, and Maude looked like a ghost. They bowed solemnly, like two mutes, to one another, and I made up my mind at once that Gerald was dead, or that they had quarrelled desperately. As the poor boy is still alive, I am thankful to say, there's nothing for it but a quarrel, and what they should quarrel about I'm at a loss to imagine.' — MATERIALIST. 22 A great catastrophe had happened, and yet only two people were aware of it, and the day seemed to others just like the one before, or the one after. Maude went about her various duties as if in a dream, and sometimes failed to hear the questions that were addressed to her ; but her absence of mind was put down to Gerald's account, as had been the way with every trouble in the past.

No one guessed that she had passed through the fire, and she would never be the same girl again. She buried her secret deep down in her heart, as if it were a crime of which she alone were conscious. She was really aghast, as if she had committed ' the unpardonable sin ; ' for what could seem worse to a girl brimful of religious devotion than to give her love to a man who denied her God ? As soon as she could steal out unperceived, she went down to the little church, to which she always took both her joys and her sorrows, and, kneeling in bitterest abasement, laid her love at the foot of the altar. The shadows gathered round her as she knelt, but one ray of light was caught by the brass cross on the altar, and it shone like a lamp in the twilight. The tears ran down her cheeks, her chest heaved with a tempest of sobs, and her trouble seemed almost more than she could bear ; but when she rose, after a long interval, she was quite calm — the sacrifice was complete, and the peace which comes with voluntary renunciation settled down on her sad heart, as softly as a dove in its nest.

As she stepped out into the fresh, cool air, she said good-night to the caretaker, who was coming to close the church for the night, and walked on with a firm step. The time for weakness had gone by, and she meant to be strong and brave for the future. It requires some resolution to tear out one page of your life with your own hand, to ignore the blank space for ever, and to go on to the next as if nothing had happened ; but Maude Dashwood was fully resolved to do it. There should be no looking back, like Lot's wife. She knew her danger now ; she had looked it in the face, and she felt sure that she could trample on it. There was a light in Elmsfield Lodge, and she could see Herbert Lovel's shadow on the blind, as he sat by the table writing his sermon for the Sunday morning. What would he think of her if he could only guess ?

He had such a lofty standard — MATERIALIST. 24 for himself, that her weakness would be incon ceivable to him, and she knew that it would pain him as much as if it had been his own. His friendship was left to her, one ray of comfort in the darkening night ; and how happy she might be even now, if she could fancy that she wanted no thing more. He had always been her guide in doubt, her counsellor in any difficulty, her sure comforter in any sorrow; and the thought was very sweet to her, that, if she turned her back on the future, which dazzled her, she still had this steady friend to help her through the present. She looked towards the lighted window with a wistful smile, then opened the gate and passed through into the quiet twilight beauty of the park. When she reached the house, she caught sight of a man's hat on the hall table ; and was just medi tating an escape to her own room, when Captain Fitzgerald came out of the drawing-room. ' I thought you never were coming,' he said, as he shook hands, and his eager eyes scanned her face. ' You've tired yourself out just because I wasn't here to look after you.' ' It is a tiring day, isn't it ? ' as she sank into a chair as if she were really exhausted. ' But it is very nice to see you again.