Maud Beverley: a novel

Front matter

I I NOTICE. — The Fifth. Edition (.Veir and Bevised) contains Prefatory Remarks by the Bight Hon. W. E. GX,A.DSTOXE, M.JP., who has read and approved the T'olame. THE STANDARD WORK ON AUTHORSHIP, Crown 8vo. , Cloth Gilt, Price 5s. ; Postage, 4^d. (Fifth Edition. New and Revised.) THE AUTHOR'S MANUAL, Being a complete, practical Guide to all Branches of Journalism, Literary Work generally, and Book-producing, with special advice in reference to Imaginative Literature, by Percy Russell. Brief Extracts from some of the Reviews :— The Spectator says: — "The aspirant to Literature may certainly read Mr. Russell's book with profit." The Graphic says: — "Mr. Russell has got up his subject with much care, and supplies a great deal of useful information. His advice and suggestions are sound and to the point."

St. Stephen's Beview says : — " The Author's Manual is clever to a fault. It displays much practical knowledge ... it shows a general knowledge of English literature, which not one literary man in a hundred can boast." The Newcastle Chronicle says : — " The work must prove of great service, and will well repay careful perusal." The Birmingham Gazette says: — "It is certainly a complete and comprehensive volume. Every detail connected either with news paper or book literature is explained, and explained, too, with the lucidity of an expert writer and, the thoroughness of a practical worker." /c'C1-*- The Manchester Courier s$$'.-r-" A handbook that will prove very useful to all who aspire to-wttfe for the press in any of the various branches of literarv \Voik." ■ The Literary World says: — "Cordially recommending Mr. Russell's vade mecum."

Notes and Queries says : — " The literary aspirant will find in this volume many useful hints and much valuable information. What in regard to authorship can be taught is pleasantly conveyed by Mr. Russell, and his chapters are instructive." Miss M. E. Braddon writes : — " Your counsel both to the journalist and the imaginative writer is full of wisdom." London : DIGBY AND LONG, PUBLISHERS, 18, Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. A mplete Catalogue of Novels, Travels, Biographies, Poems, &c, free by post on application. Jl ilooel BV M. A. HITCHMAN Ifrmuun DIGBY AND LONG, PUBLISHERS 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET E.C. printed by kelly and co., middle mill, k.ingston-on-th all es ; and gate street, lincoln's inn fields. w.c. CONTENTS PAGE Chapter I. . . . . .1 Chapter II. . . . . . 4 Chapter III. . . . . .9 Chapter IV. . . . . . 13 Chapter V. . . . . .17 Chapter VI. ..... 21 Chapter VII. . . . . .26 Chapter VIII. .... 30 Chapter IX. . . . . .34 Chapter X. . . .' . . 39 Chapter XI. . . . . .44 Chapter XII. ..... 48 Chapter XIII. . . . . .54 Chapter XIV. .... 60 Chapter XV. . . . .64 Chapter XVI. .... 68 Chapter XVII. . . . . .73 Chapter XVIII. .... 77 Chapter XIX. . . . . .81 Chapter XX. .... 86 Chapter XXI. . . . .91 Chapter XXII. .... 95 Chapter XXIII. . . . . .99 Chapter XXIV. .... 103 Chapter XXV. . . . . .108 Chapter XXVI. .... 112 Chapter XXVII. . . . . .117 Chapter XXVIH. .... 122 Chapter XXIX. . . . . .126 Chapter XXX. .... 131 Chapter XXXI. . . . .136 Chapter XXXII. .... 140 Chapter XXXIII. . . . . .145 Chapter XXXIV. .... 151 Chapter XXXV. . . . . .155 Chapter XXXVI. . 160 Chapter XXXVH. . . . .165 Chapter XXXVIII. .... 169 Chapter XXXIX. . . . .174 Chapter XL. ..... 178 Chapter XLI. ..... 182 Chapter XLII. ....

Chapter I

It was a very old mansion, built at a period when wood rather than brick was used for that purpose, and its successive owners had respected its antiquity. No modern innovations had altered its appearance ; the repairs necessary from time to time during its long existence had been made without in any way altering the appearance of the building itself. Pas ture lands extended far and wide ; on its right and on its left was a wood stretching some miles in the opposite direction ; along the outskirts of the wood were a few small cottages nearly as ancient as the mansion itself, and one or two fine residences, of which we shall have more to say hereafter. Beverley Hall, the family seat of the Beverleys, was occupied at the time our story commences by the old Squire and his beautiful daughter Maud, who was at this time a maiden of about nineteen years.

She had spent all her life at home, for her father was very strict and very distrustful ; he could not be induced to believe that any one else could or would take proper care of his child, and therefore would not hear of her being sent even to a boarding-school to finish her education. That was just the worst time, of all others, to send a girl away, he said; there is no calculating the mischief it may do. So a finishing governess had been engaged for Maud, a lady who was, or professed to be, able to teach nearly everything. Squire Beverley would not listen to a suggestion that masters should be engaged to teach the higher branches of education, and flew into such a passion that the well-meaning individual who made it was glad to flee from his presence. He had heard of masters who eloped with their pupils, of others who contrived to carry on a little clandestine wooing under cover of their lessons, and he feared lest one of that sort should get into his house ; nor was he altogether without cause for fear.

As we have before intimated, Maud was remarkable for her extraordinary beauty; she had always been so, and her beauty seemed to increase as she grew older, and she was not as jealous of her social position as her father thought she ought to be. He could not, therefore, feel sure that she would have any serious objection to any one on account of his status in society ; besides, in his heart of hearts the old Squire despised the fairer and gentler sex. They were only women, and what could they know? Eumour whispered in the village that he had been the same during his wife's lifetime, and that his cold and scornful treatment had broken her gentle heart and hurried her to a premature grave ; but it was only a whisper, a soft whisper, which was never permitted to reach the Squire's ears. And there was another story, still more softly whispered, to the effect that all the Squire's contempt for and seeming dislike of the fair sex had its origin in the rejection of his suit by some fair one who long years ago had been honoured by his choice ; but no one knew anything very definitely about the Squire's early history, for the old servants, who had grown grey in the service of the family, knew that their positions depended on their silence, and were cautious in consequence, and the Squire held the villagers as it were at arm's-length.

His business with his own tenants was transacted for him by his steward, who knew his master's temper too well to trouble him with minute details about individuals, and arranged matters as well as he could single handed. The Squire knew not that his tenants often com plained, nor that they thought him a very cruel and heartless landlord. Their murmurs reached the steward and went no further ; he knew too well what the consequence would be if such complaints reached the Squire's ears. Not only would the grievances be 1—2 unredressed, but condign punishment would be ad ministered in some form or other to the discontented tenant. The Squire asked no questions about the tenants ; he was not personally acquainted with them, and knew nothing of their circumstances ; he knew in fact only their names and addresses and also the exact amount of money due every quarter, and he rigorously demanded the last farthing.

If any of it were not forthcoming he inquired the cause ; if the land were vacant he ordered a tenant to be sought for ; if the unhappy tenant had not left his home but merely failed to make up his rent by quarter-day, his pitiless landlord, without inquiring into the cause, at once ordered his goods to be distrained upon. Does our reader wonder when he learns that the Squire was unpopular ?

Chapter II

Maud wandered alone through the wood which ad joined her father's residence ; she often did so, for although her father would not allow her to leave home he offered no objection to her lonely rambles in the wood, merely stipulating that she should not stray beyond the borders of his estate. She would not meet with any admirers there, he thought, and consequently would get no harm ; but the wisest may be mistaken. Maud had been wandering about for some time and had seen no one, but she had not grown weary of her solitude. There was something in the wild and lonely wood which fascinated her romantic nature and led her to prefer it to the handsomest and most comfortable room in the house, so she went on, now stopping to admire some spot more wild and romantic-looking than another, anon gathering a fern-leaf to adorn her hat or fasten be hind her brooch.

Suddenly her quick ear caught the sound of an approaching footstep, and she stopped. For a moment she felt disposed to fly like a frightened fawn towards her home, but second thoughts induced her to linger where she was. Even in the distance she knew by the footfall that her fellow-wanderer in the wood was of the opposite sex, and it was not her father, she felt sure of that, since from her earliest childhood she had known and dreaded his footstep. Her heart beat quickly and the bright colour came and went on her beautiful countenance as the steps sounded nearer and nearer. Suddenly they stopped for a moment, and then a young man stepped from behind a clump of trees, where he had lingered for a moment or two to admire the pretty picture Maud presented as she stood amongst the waving ferns.

" Alone, Maud ? " he said. " Yes," replied the maiden rather dreamily. But quickly recovering her wonted vivacity she added coquettishly, "I am fond of being alone, and am always sorry when my seclusion is broken in upon." " Even by me ? " said her companion in a troubled tone, fixing his fine dark eyes reproachfully on the bright face before him. " 'What are you to me ? " asked the maiden in the same playful tone ; but her beautiful head drooped, and the glossy, luxuriant ringlets falling round her face effectually concealed its expression. " I ought to be something to you, Maud," said the young man gravely and quietly. "Why?" asked Maud, without raising her head. " Oh, Maud, can you forget how I have loved you?" " I never asked you to do so," said Maud mischievously. " Oh, Maud, why do you trifle with me ?

Why are you so indifferent ? I have loved you as I never did or can love another ; yet you behave as if I were nothing to you, and I cannot believe that I am." " Why not ? " asked Maud. " Why not ? " repeated her companion, and then stopped. Her question had perplexed him. He had put a number of little things, each insignificant in itself, together, and drew a favourable inference from them all. But could he particularize them? and would not Maud Beverley laugh at him if he did so ? He was silent for a while, during which Maud waited for his reply. Finding he did not seem disposed to give one, she asked again in the same wondering tone : '•• Why not ? " " Never mind why not, Maud ; I cannot believe that you are so heartless as you would have me believe." " I can assure you I am," said Maud, laughing, " and you need not deceive yourself, for you will be so wofully disappointed if you go on building up ideals, the creatures of your own fertile fancy, and imagining that each one as it appears before your admiring vision is Maud Beverley, the heartless flirt," " You are not heartless, Maud," said her com panion in the same quiet, grave tone ; " nor can I be lieve that you are a flirt.

Your father would not allow you to be one even if you desired it. You are only trying to make me believe that you are what you are not, and capable of doing things of which you are in reality quite incapable." "Well, you must not blame me for your disap pointment when you some day find out the mistake you have made. Have you seen my father ? " " No ; I was on my way to your home, when I saw you and could go no farther. How is he ? " " He is quite well, thank you ; papa is never ill, and has a feeling more akin to contempt than pity for any one who is delicate." Her companion looked down ; he did not know whether Maud intended to be personal, but he had an unpleasant recollection of a recent meeting with her father, who had said scornfully as he thought then and felt sure now : " You don't seem very strong, Lucius."

He had wondered at the tone then and thought little of the words, but he understood them now. Had Maud heard any disparaging remarks respecting him, and if so, might they not in some measure account for her strange behaviour ? But a second of time passed away while these thoughts crossed the mind of Lucius Temple, and then he asked in the same quiet tone of unruffled tranquillity : " Why does your father despise those who are not strong ? It is not their fault — at least not always." " Not always and not altogether, but partially sometimes," said Maud. " I cannot tell you papa's reason, but I know he does so, and if you are going to see him I must not hinder you, so good-bye," and Maud moved coquettishly as if to go away. " I was not going to see him, Maud, as you know very well. It is not the desire to see your father which brings me here so often.

If you are going home I will accompany you ; if not, permit me to stay here with you." " I will go home," said Maud after a moment's hesitation, and the two walked slowly through the wood engaged in a conversation earnest and low-toned on the part of Lucius Temple, but light and playful on the part of Maud Beverley, who seemed determined not to make one serious remark to her com panion. He strove to check this playful mood, but he strove in vain.

Chapter III

Whex Maud Beverley and Lucius Temple reached the old-fashioned mansion in which the former resided, and of which, as it was not entailed on heirs male, she was regarded as heiress, they found that the Squire had gone out. Lucius Temple did not appear to be disappointed when he heard this. He had told Maud frankly that he did not come there to see her father, and now he rejoiced in the prospect of a quiet interview with Maud herself. They were old playmates, these two. Lucius well remembered the little Maud of former days, whose light form he usedkto carry in his arms. They had been parted for a time while Lucius finished his education at the University, but he had never forgotten his little playmate, and coming into possession of a handsome fortune on the death of a distant relative he had purchased a fine estate and a modern-built mansion close to Beverley Hall.

He had hoped when he took possession of his new residence that he might resume his old familiar walks and talks with his former playmate, but it seemed as though a change had come over the beautiful Maud ; she would not or could not be to him the familiar friend she had been in childhood, and she only laughed at his declaration of love for her, treating as a jest what was said in earnest. This had gone on for some months and had seemed hitherto utterly unaccount able, but the present was an opportunity not to be lost. Lucius resolved to make a more decided attempt to unravel the mystery of his fair friend's altered behaviour. She turned to him with a saucy defiance in her dark eyes when the servant who had answered the question respecting the Squire had withdrawn, and inquired, " Are you going now ?

" "No, Maud, I am not," replied Lucius quietly but firmly ; " I wish to know why you treat me as you do — why you will persist in playing with me." " Have I not always played with you ? " asked Maud, looking down. " As children we played certainly," replied Lucius, speaking in the same grave tone ; " but do you not think the time has come when we should leave play and be in earnest?" "Not yet," replied Maud, in her usual playful tone. " Why not yet ? " asked Lucius with some eager ness in his tone, believing that the answer to this question would throw some light on the mystery, but Maud merely replied again : " Not yet." " When will that happy time come ? " Lucius asked eagerly. " I know not," said Maud dreamily ; " perhaps never." M " You are talking enigmas," said Lucius, very much disappointed, yet outwardly calm and grave still.

" I cannot understand you. Why will you per sist in puzzling my bewildered brain ? " " Oh ! I cannot help it if you are so dull of com prehension ; but why discuss the matter ? " said Maud, becoming more uneasy under this persistent ques tioning. " Why not talk of something livelier ? Have you heard that papa's steward has left ? " " No, indeed ; you surprise me. I thought he was a permanent fixture." " Permanent fixtures are nailed to the walls here," said Maud, laughing. " You mean that nothing which is not nailed to the walls can stay here very long ? " said Lucius with a smile. " Then I may venture to hope that, as you are not nailed to the walls, I may some day be able to remove you. I live in hopes of that time." Maud coloured at this unexpected speech and looked down as she replied, "I am removable, but who shall remove me is another question.

I am not so easily carried off." " I know by bitter experience you are not, but although defeated I am not despairing." Maud looked so uneasy that Lucius saw he would gain nothing by pressing her further, and to set her at ease changed the subject by saying, " But I am surprised to hear that your father has parted with his steward. I thought he attached so much value to his services." " Papa would not have dismissed him ; he left of his own accord, or rather at the suggestion of his friends, who thought he was harshly treated by papa." " He looked able to take care of himself," remarked Lucius with a quiet smile. " Has he gone, or merely given notice of his intention to leave ? " " He has gone and the new steward is coming to day. I daresay papa has gone to the station to meet him," said Maud quietly.

" I feel quite curious to see him ; he is much younger than his predecessor. I do not think he is much, if any, older than you are." " He is married, I hope ? " said Lucius anxiously. " I do not know, but I think it probable, for I do not believe papa would employ a single man ; even the servants are married. Papa is so much afraid that a single man-servant might run away with me if he had one." " Your father is a prudent man," said Lucius gravely, " and I am glad for your sake that he is so." " Oh dear ! what a dull companion you are," said Maud with a weary sigh. " I do hope the new steward will be rather more lively ; but I must say good-bye or I shall not be dressed by the time papa returns, and he will be angry." " Is he often angry with you ? " asked Lucius anxiously, knowing Squire Beverley's stern temper.

" Not very often, only when I provoke him too much," Maud answered lightly. " I will not get you into trouble, Maud," said Lucius, and they parted ; but Lucius watched Maud out of sight with a look of wistful tenderness in his fine dark eyes, and then slowly and sadly retraced his steps alone through the woods.

Chapter IV

In a small room, poorly furnished, two gentlemen sat. One was old in years, but time had lightly touched his powerful frame and left undimmed those fierce eyes, which were fixed on his companion as if they would read his inmost thoughts. The latter was many years younger, of very powerful build, with regular features, a rather uncivilized appearance and rough manners. He was looking impatiently over some papers which evidently did not interest him, and he soon laid them down, remarking : " I think I know all that it is necessary for me to leam now ; I shall find out more as I go on, no doubt, so we need not waste more time now." " Waste time, indeed ! " said the other, who was no less a personage than Squire Beverley, the father of the beautiful Maud. " Waste time," he repeated angrily ; " I wonder what you call wasting time and what method you have of employing yours profitably ?

" " I call it a waste of time to study what one already knows," returned the other, quite undaunted by the angry tones of the old Squire. " I have looked over these papers until I am familiar with my duties and do not see why I should spend further time over them. Shall I walk round the estate ? " " I don't believe you have looked at the papers," said the Squire, " but we will take a walk and vou can resume the perusal of them afterwards. I will send the papers to your room." Leofric Lawton did not reply ; he did not consider it necessary to tell the Squire that he should spend very little of his time looking over those plans of the estate and other equally uninteresting documents. He arose silently and followed Squire Beverley from the room and out of the house. The Squire walked with him through the grounds and pointed out several alterations and improvements he would have to see attended to, and then left him, remarking : " I shall leave you to walk amongst the tenants by yourself.

I never go amongst them myself; it exasperates me beyond endurance to listen to their incessant complaints. No matter what one does for them they .are never satisfied, and however good the harvest may be they are nearly always behind with their rents. But show them no mercy ; I never do. They can pay if they like, and if they don't, distrain on their goods to the very last farthing of the rent due and the expenses incurred in distraining. Show them no mercy; they don't deserve it and don't get it either." With this injunction, Squire Beverley left his new steward and general factotum to make himself acquainted with the people over whom he was placed as landlord, since all the Squire would do in the way of fulfilling the duties of his position would be de manding his rents and allowing his steward no rest until he obtained them.

Leofric Lawton looked grave and sad as he walked away ; his duties were new and strange to him ; they were also uncongenial, and the relation of landlord and tenant came before him in a new aspect also. Landlords there are and were who interest themselves in the welfare of their tenants, and were ready to further by their wealth and influence any scheme which had for its object the improvement of the social and moral condition of their tenants, but evidently Squire Beverley was not one of these. Money appeared to be his idol. " His only one, I think," muttered Leofric as he went on his way ; " he may have others, but I have seen no trace of them. Rumour says he has a beautiful daughter, who is to him only an article of commerce to be disposed of in the matrimonial market to the highest bidder.

I hope for her sake he may be more merciful than her money-loving father, and treat her kindly when he has got her." Leofric's soliloquy was cut short by the sudden appearance of the beautiful daughter of whom he was thinking, who, prompted partly by curiosity and partly by a love of mischief, had concealed herself in the wood through which he would have to pass. She stood for a moment just on the outskirts of the wood, with the long boughs hanging over her head, and the thick underwood forming a pretty back ground to the picture. Leofric halted for a second, but only for a second; then remembering that he had not yet been introduced to the young lady and could not, therefore, expect her to take anv notice of him, he passed on, leaving her standing there quietly waiting. He walked through the village, made no calls, noted down no particulars, but saw only that one fair vision, which haunted him from the moment when he saw her standing in the wood.

Chapter V

Leofric Lawton was so much annoyed for some days after his walk round the village by the sar castic comments and scornful glances of the Squire when he heard the evasive and unsatisfactory answers which were all his new steward was able to give him respecting the places and their tenants that he availed himself of the earliest opportunity to take another walk over the estate, this time less absorbed in meditation. But his intentions were frustrated. He had not gone very far, nor noted down many par ticulars for future reference, when his progress was arrested by a hand laid on his shoulder and a well known voice which exclaimed : " Why, Lawton, you are in a brown study this morning. There is nothing wrong, I hope ? " " Oh, no, nothing ; only new duties require a deal of thinking over," replied Leofric, as he turned round and faced Lucius Temple.

" Are you on your way to see my honoured master ? " " Which means that you at least do not honour him," remarked Lucius quietly, for the sarcastic tone of his companion's* voice had not escaped his observation. " I did not say that, and you have not answered my question," said Leofric. " I was going there, but having met you I have changed my mind and shall stay with you if you will allow me. How do you like your new posi tion ? " " Well, on the whole, I like it tolerably well. Of course I did not expect to lie down on a bed of roses, and I have not done so, but I have nothing to com plain of." " You spoke disrespectfully of Squire Beverley, I thought, just now," said Lucius quietly. He was anxious to learn what reason Leofric had for the evident contempt with which he regarded his master, yet did not like to question him on the subject.

" I called him my honoured master, and what could be more respectful than that ? " said Leofric, laughing. " The words were spoken in irony, I know," said Lucius. " Tell me why." Anxiety to discover hidden traits in the character of the father of Maud over came his reluctance to ask a direct question. " Oh, I don't know ; he seems a queer old fellow — a regular skinflint as far as cash is concerned, and he is utterly heartless ; but of course that does not signify to me, not being particularly soft-hearted myself. It would have been different if he had got you instead of me." " Why ? " asked Lucius, looking down. " Because you are as soft-hearted as a girl and more so than some girls ; but, talking of the sex, is that pretty daughter of old Beverley's as heartless as her father ? She does not look so."

" She says she is," said Lucius, looking down still and speaking in a low tone. Leofric's keen eye quickly read his embarrassment and with a laugh he said, " I understand now. Yon fair maiden is a fair friend of yours. I was not aware of that before. No doubt you envy me my post ? " " I do not, indeed," replied Lucius quickly, " but am well satisfied with my position as nearest neigh bour." " Ah, I had forgotten how close you are to us. Your tenants must be living in clover with so soft hearted a landlord, and how old Beverley's poor slaves must envy them." " I did not know that Squire Beverley's tenants were dissatisfied,"remarked Lucius, who had recovered his wonted calmness now that the conversation no longer touched the embarrassing subject of the stern old Squire's beautiful daughter.