A Blind Man's Love

Front matter

BY LAURENCE JOHN. uO dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day I" Samson Agonistes. LONDON HENRY J. DRANE Salisbury House, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, E. C. PRINTED IN AMSTERDAM BY H. J. DRANE, LONDON 4 AMSTERDAM. CONTENTS. chapter page I. THE TWO FRIENDS I II. A GARDEN PARTY 1 5 HI. AN OLD SUITOR 22 IV. A WORD IN SEASON . 29 V. TWO KISSES AND ONE PROPOSAL .... 37 VI. ONLY AS A BROTHER WOULD 49 VII. AN OLD MAN'S LOVE TALE 6 1 VIII. THE SHOOTING PARTY 73 IX. TRUE LOVE AND TRUE COMFORT .... 88 X. A STRICKEN MAN 95 XI. DEBTS AND DOUBTS IO3 XII. THE PROSE OF SMOKING Ill XIII. A VICTORY WON BY WEEPING 121 XIV. AN ANNOUNCEMENT OF MARRIAGE. . . . 131 XV. A WEDDING AND A DEATH CONTENTS. chapter page XVI. A CRUEL BLOW 151 XVII. LONDON AND COUNTRY LIFE 1 62 XVIII.

SUCCESSES 172 XIX. OLD FRIENDS MEET 180 XX. A FORMER LOVER REAPPEARS . . . . 19I XXI. FORSAKEN 203 XXII. RECOGNITION 212 XXIII. MEETING AND PARTING . . . . . .

Chapter I. The Two Friends

" TT TELL, old boy, I am glad to have your decision. It is undoubtedly the right thing to do. Dr. Roberts declares that in pure country air and with care you will, in time, be quite yourself again. Whereas if you had persisted continuing in that awful East-end parish, he would not have answered for another year of your life. " The speaker was a fine well-made man of twenty eight, Sir Giles Attwood of Attwood, in — shire. He had, within the last five years, come into possession of the family estate on the death of his father, to whom he had been a most devoted and loving son. The friend to whom he spoke was a man of his own age, a college chum, and the decision referred to was of the acceptance of the living of Attwood. Charles Gordon was a striking contrast to Sir Giles, a tall slim figure, a pale and delicately cut face; his broad brow and thoughtful eyes, together with i his narrow chest and stooping back betrayed both ill-health and scholarly habits.

His unmistakably clerical attire marked him as a clergyman. Both were standing at the entrance of the Langham Hotel where Sir Giles had come for a few days' stay in town. His merry bright blue eyes positively danced with pleasure as he warmly grasped his friend's hand and declared he had not had such good news for many a day. " I shall be off to-night and tell all the good people of Attwood you are really coming. They will be delighted and ready to welcome you with shouts and any amount of demonstrations. So good-bye, old man, and tell Miss Gordon I shall expect her to turn out a model housekeeper." Charles smiled, and the friends parted, the one to prepare for his journey and the other, turning into Margaret Street, sought the quiet of All Saints' Church to pray and ponder over the step he had just taken.

Though I have introduced both to my readers, I must enter more fully into the respective lives of the young men. Sir Giles was, as we have seen, in a position of wealth and high standing, the bearer of a well-known and honoured name. For many generations the family estate had passed from father to son without blot or scandal of any kind, and marriages with wealthy and well-born women had much increased the broad acres of Attwood. When still a boy Giles lost his mother, but the ._.... __-T « -. Iz .: - i.:.:f n: £=.i^r i: H:_ : :__ : _ _ Church as being not at all up to the mark for this present highly educated nineteenth century. He strove to do his duty both to God and man, and many an unhappy father envied Sir Arthur his son, forgetting, while grumbling at their own youths' misdemeanours, that they had given but little heed to their boys in earlier days.

No wonder human plants grow up sickly and dwarfed when not fed by the sunlight of their parents' love and care. Charles Gordon's father, owing to ill-health, early retired from a naval career. His wife died at her boy's birth, and in a few years he married again, a woman whose one great aim had been to exchange the commonplace " Miss " for the still commonplace, but more exalted " Mrs ". She survived her husband, and died when her only child Julia was about seventeen. On her death-bed she begged Charles to befriend the girl, leaving him as guardian and sole executor. She had always been kind to him in her lukewarm fashion; any affection of which she was capable was given to Julia, a headstrong, self-willed girl, caring for nothing but pleasure and self-gratification. From her mother she inherited a small income of about £100 a year.

Charles had but little more from his father, his college career having swallowed up most of his patrimony. As I have said, the two young men had been great college chums, and the tie that bound them was no common one. Charles had, at his father's THE TWO FRIENDS. 13 wish studied for Holy Orders, but alas ! he did not escape the poisoned air of modern scepticism and unbelief. Gradually, but surely, the phantom Doubt arose and grew a monstrous parody of truth. He had many a struggle, fought the demon on his knees and threw himself with frenzied energy into the midst of the combat. He bore his burden alone, the worst thing a man in such a case can do. It proved too much for him, and one morning Giles, missing him at Chapel and hurrying to his rooms, found him in the throes of brain fever. For weeks he lay between life and death, and the ravings of delirium revealed to his friend the cause of his sufferings.

Giles was the tenderest and most devoted of nurses, every spare moment he spent at the bedside of his sick friend, and when convalescence at last set in and Charles was pronounced fit to travel, he took him down to Attwood, feeling sure that the change would benefit both body and mind. So it did ; Charles' re serve melted under the warm devotion of his friend and his friend's father. Gradually health returned, and when he was strong enough to bear discussion, the latter invited to stay with them for some weeks, Dr. B., one of England's greatest theologians and a venerated, ever-welcome guest at Attwood. To him Charles opened out his difficulties and doubts, and one by one they disappeared, dispelled by the earnest faith and inspiring convictions of the elder man who, knowing well, and faithfully serving his Lord, could fully give a reason for the hope that was in him.

When Charles returned to Oxford, Dr. B. never lost sight of him, and ever held out a helping hand which Charles felt only too happy and honoured to grasp firmly. But he never forgave himself for his lapse of faith, and having taken Holy Orders he devoted himself with more zeal than discretion to work in one of the poorest and worst of London parishes. All loved him, the most depraved owned, " he was one of the right sort, no humbugging, canting ass, but a real honest parson." Here he laboured till he was laid aside by an attack of typhoid, caught while ministering to some of the most poverty-stricken of his parishioners. It is a few months after this that my story opens, Charles having accepted the living of Attwood, after a con sultation with his medical adviser and his dear friend Dr. B., whose opinions as to the necessity of giving up East-end work, he could not possibly resist.

Chapter II

A GARDEN PARTY. TTERY shortly as ter the conversation already given between the two friends, Charles Gordon saw himself comfortably settled in the pretty vicarage of Attwood. His .half-sister had, after some persuasion, consented to live with him and act as mistress of his new home. Julia weighed well all the pros and cons before agreeing to the arrangement; her own income was small and hardly sufficient for the wandering life she had adopted ever since she left school. She loved to be entirely her own mistress and would go from one boarding-house to another, or pay self invited visits to her friends. Her passion for dress and gaiety was great, and the one God she really worshipped was money. She would brook no inter ference from her brother, and the totally different aims and standard of his life jarred upon her.

Still, she felt it would be convenient to have settled headquarters, to be saved the expenses of her main tenance, etc; and thus have more to spend on her dress. She was fully determined to stay at Attwood only when it suited her, and she reckoned on going up to London for the season yearly. Charles knew his sister's character well, and his offer of a home to her had been made, not to please himself, but from a stern sense of duty, feeling he owed to his step-mother's memory to do all that love and kindness could for her child. Not many weeks after their installation at Attwood, Sir Giles gave a large garden party to all the neighbourhood to introduce the new Vicar and his sister. The grounds of Attwood were beautiful and laid out with great taste and care. This fine summer afternoon they looked particularly lovely, with all the old trees covered with their fresh greenery and the flowers in full bloom.

The beauty of the place was enhanced too by the many pretty girls and elegantly dressed chaperones who flitted in and out of the garden-beds as butterflies. Among the earliest of the guests to arrive were Charles and his sister. This latter, a tall, dark-eyed beauty, looked lovely in her carefully chosen Paris costume, and as Giles shook hands his eyes betrayed the admiration he felt, which by, no means escaped her keen observation, and made her heart beat high at the prospect of fresh triumphs. An old aunt of Sir Giles, Mrs. Mansfield, who generally spent most of the summer with him, acted A GARDEN PARTY. 17 as hostess, and a very charming, gentle old lady she was. "Well, Mary darling," she exclaimed joyously, catching sight of a sweet-looking, fair-haired girl coming towards her. " Here you are at last.

I was wondering if you were not coming. What makes you so late? " "I wanted to go round to the Cottage Hospital, dear Mrs. Mansfield, and then the matron kept me so long talking about a G. F. S. girl. If Miss North had not dragged me away, I believe I should have been talking there still, " laughed Mary in reply. " Then all our thanks are due to Miss North for rescuing you from that spider's parlour, " said Giles, shaking hands warmly with both ladies, and looking affectionately at the younger one who had been his playmate and baby-love. Mary Wantage was, next to Sir Giles, one of the most important personages in the neighbourhood. Her father had died about two years ago and had left her the sole inheritor of his wealth. His property was next to Attwood, and as an only child, the pretty golden-haired little Mary had been the pet and playmate of the young heir of Attwood.

Both fathers indulged the hope that the young people would make a match of it, but they wisely kept their wishes to themselves and no word on the subject was ever spoken to either Giles or Mary. Mary was deeply attached to Giles; in her eyes he was all but perfect, and no wonder, for had she not tyrannized over him in baby days, and had he not in true knight-like fashion, ever loyally obeyed her sweetly lisped behests. Giles, too, was very fond of Mary, but his love for her had so grown with his own growth to manhood that he scarcely realised how much she was to him. For the present he was in no hurry to marry, but though he never said so to himself, there lay, deep down in his heart, the conviction that some day he should ask Mary and she would be his ; he never dreamed of her refusal. So they lived on in daily intimacy, broken only by Sir Giles' absences from home or by Mary's foreign tours or visits to friends, when she was always accompanied by her chaperone, Miss North, who remained on at the Manor House long after she had given up her duties as governess.

It was a gay scene at Attwood that afternoon, tennis of course, being the order of the day. Giles was an excellent host and saw that all his guests were well coupled, and it was only at Julia's urgent request that he consented at last to make one of the party in which she was playing. She was determined to bring him prisoner at her feet. She had not failed to note the favourable impression she had made on him, and now laid herself out to please and captivate. The one question she needed an answer to was: "What style of woman does he go in for? I can't do the simple girl as that Miss Wantage over there, A GARDEN PARTY. 19 looking so soft and goody goody. It wouldn't suit me at all, and if that's what he admires, well, I must simply teach him better." The game over, some declared it was too hot to have another, and the company dispersed for coffee and ices, and as all were lounging and resting in the terrace walk on to which the drawing-room windows opened, Mrs. Mansfield proposed music.

At her request Mary Wantage took her seat at the piano and Lieder ohne Worte spoke their heart moving, unwritten words to the hearts of those who had ears to hear. Mary had a delicate touch and the piano was no mere instrument to her, but a friend through whom she could convey sweet harmonies to her listeners, a friend too, whom she loved to visit chiefly when alone and to whom she could pour out all her thoughts and troubles. As the melody died away, the silence that had fallen on the party during her playing was not at once broken ; all seemed under the spell of the music, and it was Giles who, speaking first, said, " Mary, we never thank you as we ought. You put speech to flight and make us forget our manners; do play again." " Not just yet, Giles, go and ask Miss Gordon. Her brother was telling me she played beautifully."

"Does she? Oh! then I must find her, " and Giles went off and soon came across Julia sitting by a dashing cavalry officer, who, it was evident had fallen a victim to her charms. She at once accepted Sir Giles' arm to lead her to the piano, and darted off one of Liszt's most brilliant and difficult pieces. She was an accomplished performer, her rapidity of execution was something marvellous and took the listeners by storm. But how different to Mary's playing ! It was a torrent of noise, an ever boiling, ceaseless cascade of sound, while Mary's music was like the gentle flow of a deep and quiet river. Not a heart was touched; but as Julia came out again on the terrace, she received applause and thanks on all sides; she seemed to wring them nolens volens from lips at all events, if not from anything deeper.

"Why, Gordon, I had no idea your sister played like that, " remarked Sir Giles, " and, my dear fellow, you did not prepare us at all for such an apparition. Why didn't you tell me what a beautiful girl she is?" " Yes, I suppose she is," said Charles with a cri ticising look; "but I'm not quite sure it's a beauty I admire. Poor Julia! she is in her element now. How I do hope and pray she may settle down con tentedly to our quiet country life." "Don't worry, Charles; I know you feel her a great responsibility, but it's a great thing to have got her here, and we must do all we can to make the country jolly for her. I hope she and Mary will be great friends." " So do I, but I doubt it. Miss Wantage looks, and is, I expect, so very different. What a lovely sweet face hers is." A GARDEN PARTY. 21 " Oh ! yes, but then Mary is a dear.

There is nobody like her to be found anywhere. Everybody who knows her simply idolises her, and she isn't a bit spoilt. She's just the one to help you with all your new schemes about the schools, etc. We must have a talk with her. What a lot there will be to do , if you carry out all you want." "A lot to do!" re-echoed Charles with mingled astonishment and amusement. " Do you know my life here is so easy, no opposition, no terrible poverty and wickedness, that I sometimes think I've not done right after all in coming. " " Now, Charles, dismiss that doubt at once and for ever from your mind. You know you couldn't have lived long in that pestilential air, and there are as great sinners here as in London, if that's any consolation to you. You haven't found us out yet. " Charles was silent, and as Sir Giles went off to speed some parting guests, he stood for a few minutes in deep thought, watching Julia and asking himself : "Shall I ever be able to make her better?

Will she ever be less selfish and pleasure seeking ? " and with an anxious heart he went to his sister and suggested it was time they went as all the guests were leavings

Chapter III. An Old Suitor

'"pHAT summer was a very beautiful one, and Attwood looked its gayest. Visitors were constantly at the Park, and the young people, under Mrs. Mans field's mild and unsuspicious chaperonage and with Sir Giles as a model host, declared they were having " a glorious time. " Picnics, garden parties, etc, followed each other in quick succession. That Giles admired Julia was beyond all doubt, but if the admiration would grow into anything more lasting was a question eagerly discussed by all spectators of the little drama. She certainly did all she could to attract and secure him, but in the solitude of her chamber she anxiously asked herself was the victory really to be hers ? Sometimes his admiring glances and complimentary speeches made her exultant, but then again all her hopes would be dashed as she watched his affectionate looks and bearing to Mary Wantage.

AN OLD SUITOR. 23 Many and many a time Julia tried with skilful questioning to extract from Mary the truth as to the position in which she and Giles stood to each other, hut in vain. Mary was repelled rather than attracted by Julia's character, and no intimacy existed between the girls. On that subject (the most sacred and deeply buried in her heart's recess) Mary would say nothing to enlighten Julia in any way. One lovely morning when Julia came down to breakfast, she was greeted by an exclamation from Charles, " Oh ! I've a letter from Harry Anderson asking if we will put him up for a few days on his way home from Scotland. I've just written and told him we shall be glad to see him." Julia's brow darkened considerably. "Oh! what a nuisance ! I'm sure we don't want visitors just now. I hope he isn't going to get into that abominable habit of thinking he can come here any time he likes."

" Why ! I thought you would be delighted. He is such a nice fellow, and do you know, I always thought you encouraged him a great deal." "What nonsense!" replied Julia sharply. " You do take such ideas into your head, Charles. Please, never breathe such a thing. I would not for worlds such a notion got about." " Very well," said Charles, and then, as if a sudden thought had struck him, he gave a swift glance at his sister across the table and said rather severely: " But I do beg you won't make a fool of the poor fellow, and just tempt him on for nothing." Then, as if fearing an answer, he quickly gathered up his papers and left the room. Julia still sat at the table, her head resting on her hand. That Harry Anderson should choose such an inopportune time for his visit was most vexatious. In a little while she would be able to see so much better how the land lay.

That Harry was coming to ask her to be his wife she much feared ; certainly she had given him every encouragement to do so. She had met him some time before she had ever thought of living at Attwood or of securing the great prize in the matrimonial market there. In those days Harry had seemed to her a very eligible parti. He was to enter his uncle's house of business in India as a junior partner, and had dwelt unreservedly to Julia on his hopes and prospects. She stamped her feet as she sat at the breakfast table wondering what to do. "A bird in the hand was certainly worth two in the bush," but then to accept Harry now was to give up entirely all hope of Sir Giles and the title and county position, which with all his wealth were worth a fight. But worldly and selfish as Julia was, she had something of what is called a heart, and it declared itself for Harry Anderson.

Then, too, she knew he loved her, and that was more than she felt sure about as regards Sir Giles. Perhaps, after all, he really meant to marry that soft faced, quiet tongued Mary. Who could tell? It was just like Charles to tell Harry he would be welcome. So thoughtless of him ! AN OLD SUITOR. 25 He might have consulted her and she could have given a dozen reasons why it was impossible. But it was like him, he was so masterful and would have his own way in his own house. So she cogitated, till suddenly remembering the time, she rose to attend to household duties saying to herself, " Well ! I must do the best I can between them. I do like Harry, but Sir Giles is very nice, and what a grand thing it would be if only I could get Attwood." When Charles left the room, he took the path to the Park, and met Giles on the pretty rustic bridge which crossed the little river running right through the far end of the grounds.

Giles was standing idly picking off the leaves of a tree close by and watching them as they floated down the stream. He was apparently absorbed in his occupation, for twice Charles called before he heard a voice. Then turning quickly round he cried out, " You're just the man I want; I was thinking of coming down to you. Here's a letter from some confounded Salvation Army fellow asking my per mission to erect a tent, or goodness knows what, on my estate, as being so very central for commencing operations in the neighbourhood. It's outrageous , I'm downright vexed and angry. You know I can't bear anything in the ranting line. I can't answer it yet. I must wait till I've cooled a bit. Here, read the precious epistle." Charles smiled at his friend's ruffled air and took the letter " No, certainly we can't have them," he said quietly.

" And yet I do confess to a little feeling for them. I think there are cases in which they have undoubtedly done good. One of the very best helpers I had in London was an old Salvationist, admitted by me into the Church. He was a good fellow and had the root of the matter in him. They often seem able to rescue a man, but fail, I think, in the building of him up in righteousness. There is the conviction of sin, but not any teaching of sacramental grace by which one can persevere to the end." " Hum — I think them a lot of humbugs, but you always have a good word for everybody and every thing, even all heresies and schism," laughed Giles. " No, no, not quite that, but you know, Giles, when a man has been into the very depths of doubt and faithlessness, well-nigh swallowed up in them and then rescued, he can't but realise that the confession of Jesus Christ as our Saviour, and belief in His Divinity and Resurrection form an indissoluble bond of Christian fellowship ; and I, for one, cannot but hold out my hand to all who thus name Him in sincerity and truth.

Ever since that awful time at Oxford, I have felt I could join in any worship held in His Name. The differences of Christianity all sink into well-nigh nothingness when one has firm hold of the central truth." " Well for you, my friend, that some of the very orthodox are not here to hear you. You will be scandalising them next by preaching in some Pres- AN OLD SUITOR 27 byterian place of worship the next time you are in the land of cakes." "Would to God our unhappy divisions did not prevent it. My heart yearns for the time when all the wounds of Christendom shall be healed and we shall all be one. Tillthen, I believe the right thing to do is to minimise our differences and magnify ■our unity in the one cardinal truth; and in every way possible let us act as Christians should, cour teously and lovingly one to another, and form one great front, whenever we conscientiously can, to the enemy.

Oh ! if only the terms ' Good Christian ' and ' Good Churchman ' were synonymous ! The latter, of course, implies the former, but alas! how many Christians are separated from us. It is a heart breaking thought and sometimes one's faith is very dimmed, and one can only pray for greater trust in the Love of God that He will bring good out of this as of every other evil." " Of that one can't doubt," said Giles reverently, and then, after a moment's pause he added in a softened voice, such as he always used when speaking of his mother, " do you know it's twenty-three years to-day since my mother left us. I have been thinking of her all the morning and how much I owe to her. Talking of faith, do you remember in Oxford days, how you once said you envied me that I had no doubts. Well, I felt then and I feel now every year more and more that I owe it all to her.

I have never lost the feeling that she is close by me. Sometimes when I am quite alone I can almost hear her praying for me. It is such a blessed certainty to know she does not and never can forget me.' Dear mother ! " and his eyes moistened as he spoke. " I owe her and my dear old father everything. If it weren't for them, I dare say, I shouldn't believe anything, and now I often tremble when I look round and see others; what sorrows they have and I — such blessings ! It seems too great happiness to last. It can't all one's life, and then I shudder at the thought that if any great trouble came, I might lose all faith and trust in God. One never knows, how deep one may fall." " Dear Giles, what has come to you this morning that you are so down-hearted? It's not at all like you. You may be sure His promise to perfect His good work in us unto the end, will not fail you.

Come, you are looking so different from your usual self; aren't you well? " " Oh ! yes, but somehow I feel out of sorts all the same. Ever since I got up this morning I've had a kind of presentiment of evil coming to me. Don't let's talk about it. I shall be all right by-and-bye. Come and help me write a decent refusal to that Salvation fellow." The two men walked together to the house, Charles turning the conversation to business arrange ments about the schools, etc., and thankfully watching the cloud of melancholy disappear which had for a while overshadowed his companion's usually bright face.

Chapter IV

A WORD IN SEASON. A A" ARY Wantage and Miss North were sitting in the drawing-room busy with a large supply of books just unpacked, writing names in them, etc., ready for distribution as prizes in the village school. " What a pity Mr. Gordon and Giles can't pop in now and see them," said Mary. " It's a better collection than we have ever had." The door at that moment opened and Sir Giles was announced. "Oh!" exclaimed Miss North laughingly, "'think of an angel and you hear his wings.' You are just the person we were wishing for." "Am I? You certainly never paid me such a pretty compliment before, I am overwhelmed." " Ah well ! " said the lady, " there's a revised ver sion of that proverb, you know, and I might have used that if Mary had not been here." All three laughed, and Sir Giles, as he turned to A BLIND MAM'S LOVE. 30 look at the books, remarked, " When I Was a boy,, Miss North, you never gave me too much praise always powder in the jam, wasn't there?"