Frank Ayrton. A novel

Front matter

F. V. WHITE & CO.'S SELECT NOVELS. Crown 82/(7, cloth, y. 6d. each. The following Volumes of the Series are now ready :— MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. By Florence Marryat. ' t( My Sister the Actress " is the best novel we have had the pleasure of reading from the pen of Miss Marryat.' — John Bull. THE DEAN'S WIFE. By Mrs Eiloart. 1 Any reader who wants a good story thoroughly well told cannot do better than read " The Dean's Wife." ' — John Bull. TWO MEN AND A MAID. By Harriett Jay. ' Compared with the former works ofthe authoress of " The Queen of Connaught," this novel must be pronounced second to none.' — Graphic. A BROKEN BLOSSOM. By Florence Marryat. 'A really charming story, full of delicate pathos and quiet humour; pleasant to read and pleasant to remember ' — John Bull. SWEETHEART AND WIFE.

By Lady Constanxe Howard. _ 'The story from first to last is attractive, and cannot fail to command wide lavour.' — Whitehall Review. PHYLLIDA. By Florence Marryat. ' " Phyllida " is a novel of which the author may be justly proud.' — Morning Post. BARBARA'S WARNING. Bv the Author of ' Recommended to Mercy.' COLSTON AND SON, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. l»t<t. BY Mrs J. M. M. HEWETT. LONDON: F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1883. All Rights re served. \

Chapter I

ISTANCE! How little considered at the present time, when travelling can be so easily accomplished, that you may, with comfort to yourself, breakfast in one country and dine in the next, and this, too, within the space of a few hours. Not many years ago — -I mean in the old days, when coaches ran— a journey from the north to the south of England, A was looked upon as one cf considerable difficulty; indeed, so great an under taking was it, that few but the wealthy ever thought of visiting the metropolis. Whether things are changed for the better may be doubted. Certain it is, people used to feel happy and content to remain in their own country, and dis pense their hospitality to the surrounding neighbourhood. By this mode of living, the smaller towns were rendered thriving and at tractive places of resort.

It was here the squire and vicar held their weekly meetings, and the ladies and gentle men congregated to gossip, and talk over the events of the previous night's ball. The principal inns, too, then flourished. We might in fancy picture the landlord of those days, as, with much importance, we see him advancing to meet each fresh arrival, reserving his most profound saluta tion for his most distinguished guest ; whilst his better-half, all smiles and civility, gracefully acknowledges the bows of recognition before descending to the kitchen, where she knows her presence will be required to superintend the most important meal of the day. For dinners were dinners in those times. Poultry of the fattest, and creams of the richest, were things seen and understood ; as well as wines of the purest vintage, and tank ards foaming with home-brewed ale, the latter being a temptation which, it is to be feared, few thirsty travellers were able to resist.

The country shoemaker, hairdresser, and linen-draper, were all well patronised ; the ladies, young and old, never dreamt of employing any milliner or dressmaker, but what the larger provincial towns afforded ; consequently, the tradesmen, with few exceptions, were well-to-do, and respected accordingly. Your valet and coachman, too, were content to faithfully serve the master, whom they honoured and had known from childhood; whilst the maids never thought of leaving, for any trifling reason, the mistress whom they luved and respected. The entertainments also of those days were both numerous and varied. Races, fairs, merry-makings, theatres, and mas querades, were all well attended by the tilite of the county. As for a ball, it was looked upon — by the younger mem bers at least — as rather a formidable affair ; the stately quadrille and minuet general!)' preponderating, when each fair debutante was expected to exhibit a certain number of steps in the most approved fashion, as, with dress extended and arms rounded, she advanced and retired before the quizzical gaze of an amused assemblage, until her partner's turn came ; when, after nearly falling on his nose, in a vain attempt to dance on the tips of a bright slippery pair of shoes, he would finish with an awkward bow, and then hurriedly lead his partner to the supper-room, in search of refreshment after the overpowering exertions he had displayed.

How well do we remember the jovial old English gentleman of former times ! as, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and a merry smile on his face, he handed about his gold and silver snuff-box, whis pering in the ear of a friend some passing joke, or spicy bit of scandal, whilst in dress and appearance he was a veritable beau ; whom we could almost wish again to meet, in place of the plain black-coated, and severely pompous, serious-looking individual of the present day. In years gone by, the country was free from unsightly railway lines, ugly red brick stations, and the still more frightful buildings called ' Railway Taverns.' As for the lovely English and Scottish lakes, so peacefully picturesque, there was no thing to mar their beauty ; no steamers puffing out black smoke with discordant noise, ever disturbed the solitude and grandeur of the scenery.

Now, alas ! though we may regret things are changed, still, we must confess, in many ways they are better. We meet with more refinement, and less ignorance and superstition. People are not so self-opinionated, for travelling makes men less prejudiced, and more inclined to appreciate and show kindness to those of other nations. Distant lands, where many of our near est and dearest friends reside, may now be reached more easily. A journey to Australia formerly occupied four or five months, and as many of the events in the history I am about to relate occurred there ; I must ask you to travel with me, in imagination at least, to that far-off country.

Chapter II

N Y O N E who has visited South Australia, and wandered along the banks of the river Murray, may remember the spot I am about to describe ; for it cannot fail to attract the eye, being one of singular beauty. Sheltered on two sides by high moun tains, and in park-like grounds, stands, or rather stood some thirty years ago, a very picturesque - looking dwelling ; its lovely grassy terraces, and well-arranged gardens, proclaiming it the residence of a gentleman. The owner of Fernly was a Major Ayrton, who, with his young nephew, always resided there. He had entered the army at the early age of sixteen, when he at once embarked for India, where he passed many years, and in which country he had seen much service. Prior to the time of which I write, Major Ayrton's regiment being ordered home ; he determined, before leaving for England, to visit Australia ; and with this view, obtained two months' ' leave,' intending at its expiration, to rejoin his regiment : but being charmed with all he saw of that lovely country, he decided upon giving up his profession and settling there, could he but succeed in finding a suitable residence.

This he was not long in doing, for the owner of Fernly was desirous of returning to England. A transfer of the property was, therefore, easily arranged, and Major Ayrton became possessed of the lovely spot I have described. To many, the prospect of a life of retirement would have offered few at tractions ; but to one tired of warfare, and longing for quiet, it had great charms. Besides, it might almost be said, Major Ayrton had been used to solitude from his childhood : he having had the mis fortune to lose his mother, at an age when he most needed her care ; and after her death, his father had shut himself up more completely than ever, feeling too miserable to give himself further trouble concerning his son, than to ascertain if he were well and happy. Thus the boy, partly from inclination or circumstance, had been left to seek amusement where he could, until his school-days commenced ; when he certainly found playfellows enough, but they were at best but a noisy crew, and ill suited to a boy of his disposition.

Dur ing these years, his summer and winter vacations had been spent at home, where he was always compelled to lead the same quiet monotonous life as before ; and he was not sorry when the time came to prepare for his military career. In due course he entered the army, and with his regiment left for India. It was about three years after his de parture from England, when he received intelligence of his father's death ; which sad event at once determined him to remain abroad. His promotion in the army was rapid, and during his stay in India he contrived to amass a considerable fortune, so that he had ample means at his command ; and being unmarried, and having no particular fancy for sports, other than that of shooting, he had few expensive tastes to gratify ; and the only acts of extravagance, if such they could be called, proceeded from a kindliness of heart, which had often caused him to be over - generous to many, who were the least deserving of his comrades.

With such a disposition, it may be well imagined the sorrow felt throughout the regiment at his departure ; and by none more than his old friend and senior officer, Colonel Drummond, with whom he had often shared the . same bunga low, and fought side by side in several engagements. This officer had married soon after Major Ayrton left India, and upon the regiment arriving in England, had retired from the service. Colonel Drummond's happiness and that of his wife's seemed perfect, when a little daughter was added to their family. Such joy was, however, short-lived ; for during a winter of unusual severity, the poor mother caught a feverish cold, which, settling on her lungs, occasioned such prostration, that her recovery was from the first considered hopeless ; and when, after a few weeks' illness, her sorrowing husband followed her to the grave, he felt that, in losing her, all earthly happiness had for ever fled.

It was then to his old friend and com panion-in-arms, that he first turned for sympathy ; and to him, in a letter penned, whilst suffering the deepest grief, volunteered a visit. The prospect of again meeting his old colonel was delightful to Major Ayrton, who lost no time in making the necessary arrangements for the comfort of his friend. A small house, but a short distance from his own, was soon enlarged and beautified : and by the time Colonel Drummond landed in Australia, Woodlands was ready to receive him, his child, and a lady in whose care the little Nora had been, ever since the death of her mother. She was a fairy like little thing of eight years ; and the lady, who loved her with almost a mother's devotion, was a Miss Ellis, whose brother held the living of Ravensmere, a small village near to where Colonel Drummond had resided during his married life.

This clergyman, the Rev. John Ellis, was in every sense of the word a blessing to the parish, in which he, for thirteen years, had ministered to the sick, sympathised with the sorrowing, and by his liberality relieved many, who, but for him, would have lived a life of poverty and wretchedness. . With such a brother, it can hardly sur prise, that upon his sister volunteering to instruct and take charge ofthe little Nora, her offer should have been received with joy and thankfulness. And well did she merit Colonel Drummond's confidence, and the affection of his child, whose amiable and gentle disposition, more than fully repaid Miss Ellis for all her loving care. It would be easier to imagine than describe, with what intense pleasure Major Ayrton looked forward to the arrival of the colonel and his daughter.

Hitherto, his life in his new home had been a lonely one ; and but for the society of his nephew, a handsome, intelligent boy of twelve, there can be little doubt he would long since have visited the friend, whose coming he now anticipated with so much satisfaction. With what eagerness did he search the papers, in hope of finding some in timation of the steamer's arrival ! and with what pleasure did he, day after da)', visit the pretty house he had taken so much pains to prepare ; and in which nothing appeared wanting, that could in any way add to the comfort of its future occupants ! When at length news came of the travellers having landed, and Major Ayrton hastened to meet them ; how great was his surprise and sorrow, to find a confirmed invalid, in place of the handsome soldier like looking man from whom he had parted only a few years !

He could but clasp his hand, and in bidding him welcome, ex press a hope, that the mild air of that beautiful climate might soon invigorate and restore him. Nor was it long before Major Ayrton had the satisfaction of observing an im provement in the health of the colonel : and also of noticing, how much his own presence contributed to the happiness of the poor invalid ; who never seemed satisfied, unless a part of each day was spent in his society. Nora too soon learnt to love her father's kind friend ; and felt great delight at pos sessing a playmate in Frank Ayrton, who was always good-natured, and ever ready to obey her behest, either in climbing a tree or leaping a ditch, in search of some desired fruit or flower, as fancy or caprice might dictate. Whilst Miss Ellis, observing how much the child's happiness had increased since shared with a com panion nearer her own age, encouraged Frank's visits, and few were the walks and amusements in which he did not participate.

Before the arrival of Colonel Drummond and his family, Major Ayrton had under taken the education of his nephew, both with pleasure to himself and profit to his young pupil ; but since that time, Frank's studies had been pursued with a Mr Saunders ; a gentleman who had been highly recom mended to his uncle by one of the members of the Legislature ; and who was undoubt edly a man of considerable ability, having been twice honourably mentioned both as a Greek and Latin scholar of no mean pre tensions. Unfortunately his reckless man- B ner of living had increased with his years, until, at the age of thirty-eight, he re ceived a sudden shock on finding him self without a penny in the world. The generosity of a sister soon enabled him to obtain a tutorship in the family of a clergy man, who, with his wife and children, were about starting for Australia.

With them he resided several years ; in deed, until they again returned to England, when he was fortunate in his introduction to Major Ayrton. Under the tuition of this gentleman, Frank's progress was rapid ; for the ad mirable method he adopted, caused lessons to be no longer regarded as troublesome tasks requiring to be learnt, but as inter esting problems to be solved ; whilst Mr Saunders's unobtrusive behaviour at once rendered him a welcome inmate of Fernly. Thus ten years passed. And to the inhabitants of Woodlands they were years of intense happiness. Every trifling event only tending to cement more closely the friendship which existed between the two families. True it is, there was nothing of importance to mark the course of time ; but if there were no excessive joys, there certainly were no sorrows ; and to Frank and Nora it seemed as if troubles could never reach them.

But soon one sad event succeeded another, and cast a dark cloud over all. Things, too, changed, and everywhere was darkness and gloom, where once brightness and joy had reigned. Such is life ! Ever fleeting and change able. And they who trust only in this world for happiness; must sooner or later find, they have built their hopes on a shadow, which all too quickly passes away.

CHAPTER I II

N one of the loveliest days during an Australian summer, two ladies were seated in a comfortably-furnished apartment; and although we formerly made their acquaintance, still, after the lapse of so many years, another introduction will be necessary, or we might fail to recognise them. The younger — for I must first describe her — was a fair girl of eighteen, with deep, loving, violet eyes, their ex pression one of tenderness and truth. Her hair was of that golden hue, so beautiful, but rarely seen ; and in height and figure, she was such a being as artists love to paint. The elder lady was middle-aged, with a face so winning in expression, and so full of goodness and kindness, that you felt at a glance she was worthy of all love and confidence. They were evidently both suffering from some recent trouble ; and the elder lady appeared vainly trying to stop the tears that would flow, whilst she endeavoured to soothe and comfort her young com panion. 'Do not cry, dear Nora; it is very wrong to be so miserable ! especially as we can now see it was your father's desire that you should leave here and reside with your relations in England.' ' It never could have been my father's wish ! ' replied Nora. ' He wrote that long, long ago, probably before ever we came to this country.

Oh ! could he but know the misery this has caused ! ' and her tears again flowed with uncontrollable grief. 'What shall I do, dear Miss Ellis?' she continued. ' It would kill me to part with you, and Major Ayrton, and Frank, and our own beautiful home, and be obliged to live in England with people I have never seen, and therefore cannot love ! Will you not write and say that you know it would make me wretched, were I forced to leave here ? and do beg of them to allow us to remain.' ' I cannot, Nora,' answered Miss Ellis : ' for if you read Sir Richard Mainwaring's letter, you will find, he writes that your father, in his will, left him and your aunt sole guardians ; and also arranged, that, in the event of his death, you were to be at once placed under their care ' In order to explain the above conver sation, it will be necessary to revert to past years.

Ever since the time when Major Ayr ton had welcomed Colonel Drummond to Australia, the two families had lived near each other in the enjoyment of the firmest friendship ; and ten years passed with uninterrupted happiness. During the last twelve months, however, sad changes had succeeded each other. Colonel Drummond had been seized with a severe illness, which, after much anxiety and suffering, terminated in his death ; leaving Nora an orphan, and others to mourn the loss of as true a friend as ever lived. Great was the sorrow in that house, which for years had been a scene of joy and mirth. Poor Nora for several weeks seemed paralysed with grief. She had dearly loved her father, and was too inexperi enced to understand, it required any ex ertion on her part, to rouse herself from that miserable state of depression into which such a bereavement had thrown her, and for which she was ill prepared.

Time, as it flew, had soothed her grief: and again her merry laugh was heard, as she and Frank, happy in each other's society, and intent only on the pleasures of the present day, feared not ; nor knew, how soon a greater sorrow was about to overwhelm them. It would appear, that, previous to Colonel Drummond leaving England ; he had executed a will, containing instruc tions, that, in the event of his decease, his child should take up her abode with her uncle and aunt. When this will was drawn up, the testator had not foreseen his visit to Australia, or doubtless he would have deferred making such arrangements. Be that as it may, upon the announcement of his death, Sir Richard Main waring instantly wrote the letter we have seen in the hands of Miss Ellis ; offering to the orphan girl a home with them selves ; and never doubting, but that she was as anxiously looking forward to the time, when she might again return to her native country, as he and Lady Main waring would be to welcome her.

They knew nothing of Miss Ellis, other than that Colonel Drummond, when writ ing to his sister, had, on one occasion, expressed his thankfulness at having been fortunate enough to secure the ser vices of a lady, well fitted to instruct and take charge of his beloved child. Further than this, they had not heard ; and consequently Lady Mainwaring never gave the subject a moment's consideration. Had she done so, there is no doubt the double blow would have been spared Nora ; and her sorrow at being com pelled to leave Australia, robbed of half its sting : but to part with her dear friend, as well as the Ayrtons, seemed more than she could bear ; and throwing her arms round Miss Ellis's neck, she begged permission to go and seek advice from Major Ayrton and Frank. No objections being made to this pro posal, the poor girl seized her hat, and ran through a wood that separated the two houses.

She had not seen these friends for three days, which unusual occurrence had occasioned them no small surprise ; but now, even this circumstance was forgotten, it being quite impossible to think of anything less important, than the sad news she was about to com municate. She well knew how kindly they would sympathise with her, and that their sorrow would be little less than her own. Nora had not proceeded far, ere she saw Frank crossing the end of the wood. He was evidently on his way to Fernly, and observing he had both his dog and gun, she concluded he must be returning from a shooting expedition, he having frequently gone up country for that purpose. No one could see young Ayrton with out being struck by the beauty of his manly open countenance, and gentlemanly bearing. He was above the middle height, with merry - looking blue eyes, and light wavy hair.

Seeing Nora, he hurried to meet her, and at once observing her sadness, ex claimed, — ' Why, Nora ! what on earth is the matter ? Is the kitten dead ? or has Fido killed herself?' ' Oh, Frank,' she answered, ' you do not know what a terrible calamity has happened. Only think ! — we are to leave Woodlands and live for ever in England, and Miss Ellis is to be sent away, and we shall never see you again ! ' A flood of tears succeeded this ex planation. Poor Frank ! who, ever since the death of Colonel Drummond, had feared he knew not what, was however, totally unprepared for such an announcement ; and leaning against a tree, appeared unable to offer consolation. Finding he did not reply, she ex claimed, — ' Why do you not speak ? Do you not see how miserable I am ? I, who love you so much, and must die of grief, if you and Major Ayrton cannot devise some plan that will prevent our leaving.' Conscious he could hardly stand, he said, — ' Come, Nora ! let us sit on this bank, whilst you tell me all about the sad news.' And, taking the letter out of her hand, he read it attentively once or twice, then asked, — 'Do you remember this uncle?

His letter seems kind, and in sending for you, he only appears to be carrying out your father's wishes.' ' How can you speak in that way, Frank ?' replied Nora. ' You know my father never wished me to be miserable, and be obliged to live amongst strangers. Oh ! I feel my heart will break ! for we who have been so happy together, may never meet again ! do, Frank, say we need not go ! ' What could he reply ? If to part was grief to her, how much more terrible was it to him ? She who had been his only playmate in childhood, and companion in riper years ! It was some minutes ere he spoke, and then said, — ' Listen to me, Nora, for I, too, have a sad tale to disclose ; one that has, indeed, made me wretched, and cast, as it were, a dark cloud over my life. I have been so utterly miserable since I heard it, that I have not had the courage to see you or Miss Ellis ; but have spent hours wandering about these woods, fearing to meet anyone, lest my tell-tale face should betray my unhappiness.' After some hesitation he continued, — ' Would it surprise you very much to hear I am not Major Ayrton's nephew, and have no right to the name I bear ? ' He appeared for a moment overcome with shame and sorrow, whilst his fair com panion gazed at him in mute astonishment. ' Three days since, when on my way to Woodlands, I met a woman.

She was poorly clad, and begged for bread. I gave her a trifle, and passed on, never doubting she would go away. Finding, however, she still followed, I stopped, and asked if what I had given was insufficient for her wants ? ' To my astonishment, she seized my hand, and calling me by name, told me she had a right to all I possessed, for that she was my mother ! I treated this assertion as the ravings of a lunatic, and tried to soothe her by promising suture help : but there was something in her appearance that seemed to recall a horrible dream of long ago ; and hurrying on, I immediately went in search of my uncle, and to him related what had passed, praying him to tell me if the woman's statement had been true. With many expressions of anger against her, and deep affection towards myself ; he confessed to having protected me when a child, from the cruelty of my parents.

That a man, calling himself my father, was in the act of throwing me into the river, when my uncle, coming in sight, caused him to desist. The man at once dis appeared, and I ran screaming to my pre server. My mother then tried to force me away, but I became so convulsed with fright, that my generous benefactor bought me, as it were, for a sum of money ; my mother, promising, on her part, and on that of her husband, to instantly leave Australia, and never see or molest me again. Years having passed without any thing being heard of my parents, my kind uncle trusted I should be for ever spared the pain, a knowledge of my birth would occa sion. Such hopes have, however, now been frustrated ; and my life henceforth must be a blank, compared with what it might have been : for I had cherished hopes, dear Nora, in which you shone as the bright and beautiful star of my existence !

I had pictured you always near me, the best be loved of my heart's deep devotion ! These sweet dreams of happiness are over, for I cannot now ask you to be my wife ! ' ' Your wife ! ' she exclaimed. ' What do you mean ? I will not stay if you speak in that manner.' And starting up, she almost flew to her home. Such words heard for the first time frightened her ; and bolting the door of her room, she threw herself down in a passion of grief, indignation, and astonishment, sob bing wildly, and repeating, ' His wife ! how could he speak in that way ? ' c

Chapter IV. He

recital of Frank's birth, as well as the cruel treatment to which he had been subjected, inexpressibly shocked Miss Ellis. She had long perceived his deep affec tion for her young friend ; and never doubted it could end in any other way, than a union between the young people. She had noticed how little Nora appeared conscious of his love ; and could therefore well understand the poor girl's sorrow and annoyance ; when Frank, for the first time, poured into her ear, the confession of a deeper feeling, than he had intended to express. Now that Nora had time for reflec tion, she bitterly regretted her unkind behaviour ; and remembered, too, with shame, how earnestly she had entreated him to find out some plan that might prevent them leaving : which request, she could not help acknowledging, had really been the cause of his generously offering her a home, by a confession of his love ; at the same time taking care to inform her, of what he knew, would be an insuperable barrier to his happiness.

The more she thought of this, the. more she severely reproached herself for her cruel conduct ; and decided upon losing no time in asking his forgiveness. Waiting, therefore, but a moment to inform Miss Ellis of her intention, she set off towards Fernly ; wondering as she went, how she could best arrange a meeting with Frank alone. She had not proceeded far, ere she discovered the object of her search, seated where she had left him an hour before ; but now, standing by his side was a woman, such as he had described his mother. The sight of her arrested Nora's footsteps, who, finding she was unobserved, quickly retired ; and although feeling much disappointed at not being able to speak to him that night, she de termined nothing should prevent her doing so on the following morning. Little did she think that the words she intended to say, when seeking to obtain Frank's forgiveness, would for ever have to remain unspoken !