Una Montgomery

Front matter

DY EVAN ROWLAND JONES, AUTHOR OF "FOUR YEARS IN THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC," "HEROES OF INDUSTRY," ETC. "Her existence makes the world rich."— Emerson. LONDON: WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1889. tyres ace* EE N of noble souls, such as I had in my mind while portraying Colonel Montgomery, pass through life oblivious or incredulous of the existence of a class of people represented in my story by Frank Keenly and Felix Cadwell. Though imposed upon time and again by the means and instruments exercised upon Montgomery, or through other methoas, tney continue gullible to the end. The most delicate hint that their confidence is misplaced is repudiated and repelled with impatience. Nothing short of a personal, social, or national crisis can disturb their faith — open their eyes. We know full well that men in exalted stations have been imposed upon by scoundrels whom they trusted without stint : in the ordinary walks of society such instances are anything but rare.

It may happen that the reader shall consider the extraordinary work performed by Keenly and Cadwell beyond the range of probability. I answer the objection in advance with the assur ance that both characters were taken from life : I know them to be quite equal to the parts for which they have been cast. Preface. The amount of hard mental labour which some men indus triously apply, in a dexterous, dishonest way, to produce uncertain results, is immense : half the force, honestly and fairly directed, would yield certain and satisfactory rewards. I have endeavoured to illustrate this proposition by the careers of Frank Keenly and Charley Powell. The former, through dark and deep-laid schemes, ingeniously and diligently carried out, seeks to win his heart's desire, and ignominiously fails ! The latter, by honest work — through fair and manly efforts — gains the prize : wins Una Montgomery, " whose existence makes the world rich ! " E. R J. i8ih Feb. 1881.

Chapter I

" When peace shall disarm war's dark brow of its frown, And roses shall bloom on the soldier's rude grave — Then honour shall weave of the laurel a crown, That beauty shall bind on the brow of the brave." Perciv.4 l. ifkytMn "^ dear! I have good news for you," said tej pj) Mrs. Dauntless, a handsome, ambitious woman of society, as she swept past the servant and held out both her hands to Mrs. Mont gomery, who was still seated at her breakfast table, anxiously awaiting the postman. " Did you not tell me," continued the early visitor, " that your husband's regiment had embarked from the Crimea in the North Star?" "Yes," answered the other, rising from the table and walking across the dining-room to a couch near the window. She was a tall, graceful woman, with sallow complexion, large black eyes, and a high, wellformed forehead.

A sudden rush of blood warmed her pale, sunken cheeks. She had read the story of the war and its varying fortunes ; of Balaklava, Inker man, Alma, the trenches, and the Redan ; of the ravages made in the English ranks by cholera and camp fever. Day by day, throughout those awful, anxious months, she had read the long lists of dead, killed, and wounded with bated breath ; and her reading of the Times was ever followed by thanksgiving to heaven, on bended knees, that lie was not among the slain. " Yes," she said ; and thoughts of her wasted form and haggard face, and of the former self, as Florence Esmond, whom Captain Montgomery had chosen for his bride, flashed through her brains like the shadow of a fast-fleeting cloud. " I thought so," responded Mrs. Dauntless, speaking loudly and with great animation.

"Well, my dear, the ship has arrived at Plymouth. George (she always called her husband George) has just received a telegram from his Plymouth agents, saying that his schooner Alice was run into while leaving the har bour by the North Star, steaming inward, with troops from the Crimea on board." " But no one was lost ? " asked Mrs. Montgomery, with an anxious look. "Bless you! no; a yardarm, or something, was carried away — that was all. But I daresay they had plenty more like it. You know, my dear, George is very particular in having his ships well supplied with these things." At this moment the dining-room door flew open, and a little girl came running in. " If I give you a letter from papa, may I have a birthday party ? " she asked, with head thrown slightly on one side, and looking brightly into her mother's eyes.

" Yes, my pet," said the mother, holding out her hand for the letter. "What a lovely child !" thought Mrs. Dauntless, as the little girl stood in mock heroic attitude before her mother, her hands with the letter behind her. " What a rich golden hue !" thought the visitor, looking at the brown hair which covered the little one's shoulders. A beam of sunshine had just stolen in through the south window to gild the luxuriant tresses. "She will become the most handsome woman in the county ; and just the age for my Horace too." Such were the mental reflections of Mrs. Dauntless. At last, when the child had obtained the promise and delivered the letter, she spoke. ' Una, come here ! You don't know me to-day." " Oh, I beg your pardon ! " answered the child, turning to the speaker, and walking towards her somewhat confused.

" I was in a hurry to bring papa's letter. Mama likes papa's letters so much — I didn't see you." "Never mind, you little rogue!" returned Mrs. Dauntless, lifting the child playfully upon her lap and kissing her. " But tell me ! whom are you going to invite to your party ? And when is it to be ? " " I shall be nine on the 20th of August ; when is that ? " asked Una in answer. "A week to-day. And whom are you going to ask ? You must tell me all about it." " I must ask mama first. But maybe we'll have Nelly Browning and Johnny Edmond, and Hilda and Bob Owen and * * * well, I don't know who else. And maybe papa will come home in time, and drill us the same as Captain Fielding did at Edith Taylor's party. And perhaps I'll be the daughter of the regiment," said the happy child. And growing enthusiastic over the subject, she added, clapping her hands, " Won't it be fun ?

" " But you'll ask Horace Dauntless ? " "No," said Una, shaking her head in childish honesty ; forgetting that she was speaking to the boy's mother. " And why ? I thought you and Horace were great friends ? " " 'Cause he was quite rude to Charley Powell at school yesterday, and said his father was a drunkard, and didn't pay his bills, and that the bailiffs were in the house. He made Charley cry ; I'm sure I won't ask him." " But supposing Horace told the truth." " I'm sure it wasn't true ; it was just spite, because Charley wins all the prizes, and Horace never wins one." Suddenly it dawned upon little Una that she was sitting upon the lap of the truant's mother. She turned her face full upon Mrs. Dauntless. Tears came into her deep brown eyes. She stole away from the lady and out of the room, crying.

" What does the Colonel say, my dear ? " asked Mrs. Dauntless, rising to depart. " I expect him home to-day — this afternoon." " Very well, then, I must go down to the office at once, and get George to see that the Mayor and Sheriff, in chain and robes of office, are at the station to meet Colonel Montgomery." " He would much prefer to come quietly home. He dislikes show and ceremony at all times, as you know," replied the veteran's wife. "Don't talk to me, my dear. The old town of Moorlands shall do all honour to the gallant officer ; and he must have a banquet too. The only regret I have is that George is not Mayor this year, for that man Smith is a very common sort of fellow. Crying ? Shame on you Florence! Take a chop, well done, and a glass or two of sherry, before you go to meet your noble lord.

This is a proud day for you, my child. Good morning !" And the kind, erratic, generous, ambitious Mrs. Dauntless, filled with her scheme for the reception of Colonel Montgomery, walked out into the hot summer morning with martial tread. When she was gone, little Una returned to the dining-room, and crept quietly up to her mother, who, noticing her red face and inflamed eyes, asked — " What is it, my pet ? " " I forgot that Mrs. Dauntless was Horace Daunt less's mother till after I told her he shouldn't come to my party, and ever so many things. But if he'll apolo gise to Charley Powell he may come, mayn't he ? " " Certainly," said the mother, wiping the tears tenderly from her daughter's eyes, but giving no thought to the cause of her sorrow, nor to anything else save that her husband was yet alive to protect her and her little one, and was coming home from the wars that day.

"When is papa coming home?" asked little Una, nestling on her mother's breast like a frightened bird. " To-day; this very day — I'll read his letter for you." " Let me read it I can read writing, mama." And Una read her father's letter to her mother She commenced : " ' My darling ' " — " Who does he mean, mama, you or me ? " " But you must read it right through first, Una, and then I'll answer your questions." " Very well, I'll commence again " — " ' My DARLING,— I am writing on the deck of the North Star, while the soldiers around me are singing, cheering, laughing, weeping ; for England and home is only a few miles over our bows. All through the morning we watched for the land until at last a thin, cloud-like strip appeared on the horizon. Later on, the white cliffs began to glisten in the sun ; houses and hedges became visible as we approached ; and before I sat down to write, I could distinguish through my glass men and women walking to and fro on the shores of Plymouth Sound.

Florence ! I am on my way home to you and our little treasure, and I ought to be quite happy — but I am not. Recollections of that spring morning when we parted, and of the gallant fellows who were with me then, in the pride of manhood, full of courage and patriotism, buoyant with hope of victory and peace and a speedy return to friends, relations, loved ones, weigh down my heart. Florence ! where are they to-day ? Jim Strong, Hylton, Cooper, Captain Walker, and a host of others ? In the name less graves ! In the shallow graves ! But it's all over now ; and they did their duty — died game : that's a consolation. And we have conquered too — something, though exactly what I scarcely know — and we won the victory, such as it was. But dear Old England has not added to her prestige by the scan dalous mismanagement of her trusted servants during this campaign.

But soldiers should not find fault, nor grumble ; and perhaps I am wrong in writing in this way, even to my own. " ' They are heaving the leads ; the troops are cheering fran tically, and I can just catch the cheers from the shore as they float over our heads with the west wind ; and its growing dark. As soon as my men are comfortably quartered, I'll take the first train north — will be with you soon after you receive this letter — to-morrow afternoon. " ' Sheldon wants my portfolio to " pack up." " My duty to madame" is the message my faithful old servant and friend sends. Kiss Una for me, and God love you ! " ' Mont. " There ! Didn't I read it splendid ? " " Yes, my pet." " Will papa come to the nursery ? or may I bring all my best playthings into the drawing-room for him to see ? " "We must leave all that until to-morrow.

Poor papa will be tired and hungry to-day after the voyage. We must prepare a nice dinner for him, and let him have quiet and rest afterwards." " And I'll play ' Home, sweet home ' for him while he goes to sleep on the sofa. Professor Zenar says I play it ' be-youtiiul.' Won't it be nice ? " The mother gave the necessary directions for an early dinner, and ordered the carriage to be ready to go and meet the two o'clock train, while Una rushed into the drawing-room and practised the simple arrangement of " Home, sweet home " which she was learning. Mrs. Montgomery and her daughter were dressed and ready for the start long before the appointed time. They walked through the drawing-room into the conservatory, and gathered a few flowers, prin cipally roses, which Una was to present to her father.

She wore a pretty dress of white cashmere with pale blue -silk facings and sash, a broad brimmed Panama hat, under which her beautiful hair flowed with wonted freedom. The mother was attired in a violet silk and velvet costume ; it was his favourite colour for her. Una kept pulling her mother's fingers and chattering away, until finally they spied the carriage going slowly towards the gate. They passed out of the conservatory, and walked across the rich August green to meet it. They were in danger of being late through the little one, who persisted in giving chase, hat in hand, to a pretty blue butterfly that started from their path. Meanwhile Mrs. Dauntless had been at work giving publicity to the fact that Colonel Montgomery would reach Albert Station by the two o'clock train. To B her surprise and embarrassment Mrs. Montgomery found the area, but more especially the main platform, crowded with people.

The Mayor in his chain, the Sheriff in his robes, the Secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, Colonel Tottie of the Volunteer Artil lery, the new Vicar of Moorlands — and, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Dauntless were there. Mrs. Montgomery and her child were ushered through the crowd by Captain Tyson, the Chief Constable — they took their place on the right of the Mayor. The train was on time, and before the crowd had waited long, it came puffing into the station. The anxious wife watched the carriage windows intently as they passed. "There's Sheldon," said Una, throwing up her hands. Before the train had fairly stopped, the faithful servant was upon the platform, with his hand upon the handle of his master's compartment. A man of medium height — with a pale, weather-beaten face, a kindly, weary eye, a proud, handsome mouth, a thin head of brown hair and small side whiskers— alighted by Sheldon's assistance ; he wore the infantry uniform : this was Colonel Montgomery.

" What's the meaning of this crowd, Sheldon ? " " Some foreign prince, or a boat race, sir, I daresay." The Colonel looked around : he saw his wife and child advancing. He stepped forward to meet them took his life companion in his right arm — he had left the other on the slopes of Alma — kissed her, and said, " Thank God for this ! " And he kissed Una. " How our little treasure has grown ! But I've seen you looking better, Florence," he remarked. All this was but th.9 work of a few seconds. The loud voice of Alderman Forester was now heard calling, " Take your time from me ! Three times three for our gallant townsman Colonel Mont gomery! Hip! hip! hip! Hurrah!" And the cheers were given with a will. Before the veteran had recovered from his surprise, the Mayor walked up, shook his hand, and said: " Colonel, you see around you to-day your fellow townsmen, who have come to welcome you home from the wars.

We have watched your career with pride and satisfaction, and we have come here to-day to do what honour we can in return for your more substan tial service on the field of battle. You have won fame for yourself, and renown for Moorlands, while fighting for the glory of Old England. Welcome ! Colonel Montgomery — from our hearts we welcome you to your home once more !" All this time the soldier stood in a state of be wilderment, holding little Una by the hand. He considered this proceeding a confounded nuisance, and heartily wished himself out of it. But when the Mayor had finished his little speech, he answered as follows : — " Mr. Mayor and Gentlemen : This public welcome, this evidence of your goodwill, is a complete surprise to me. Had I known anything of it, I should certainly have avoided it.

I did my duty in the Crimea ; nothing more. It is difficult for a man to distinguish himself amid thousands as brave as himself. I am not indifferent to your good opinions and kind wishes; and I thank you all for the hearty way in which you have made them manifest." Mr. and Mrs. Dauntless stepped forward when the speaker had finished and shook hands. The Colonel took Una up in his arm, and, smiling through painful eyes, asked his wife to take the empty sleeve. Thus they passed through the cheering crowd until they reached their carriage, and drove home to Esmond.

Chapter II

"The paternal hearth, that rallying place of the affections." Washington Irving. /OT||TaEHE Colonel and his little family dined r^! Kyf early ; and the devoted wife handed her (SOdo1^ husband his cup of coffee an hour later — strong mocha of rich aroma, and cream to mellow it down. " Delicious ! " said the Colonel, smacking his lips. " We don't get coffee like this in camp, Florence." " I am glad of it." " Glad, my love ! Why?" " It furnishes one additional reason why you should never return to camp." " Bravo ! But Her Majesty, God bless her, won't have me any more," returned the veteran, somewhat sadly, reflecting upon the absent limb. "Then I'll pray for her more earnestly than ever now," rejoined the wife. " Speaking of prayer ; I think you said something of a new vicar. What, then, has become of our good friend Powell ?

" " Did not I write you ? Why he was dismissed the church over a year ago, and disqualified from ever preaching again." The Colonel looked in blank surprise at his wife ; and she continued : " His conduct had become dis graceful. Not only was he seen drunk about the streets, but he actually went to the pulpit in that condition time after time. The congregation screened him for a long time, but at last he was reported to the bishop, an inquiry was ordered, and he was dismissed." " This is very sad," said the Colonel, with evident emotion ; " but where is he, poor fellow ? and what has become of his wife and children ? " " He is generally about the streets, or the public houses when he can get any one to give him drink. He has lost every grain of self-respect. Mrs. Powell's brother is very good to them, and sends her a cheque for a few pounds every week.

She makes the most of it, poor soul, and keeps her son at school in spite of everything. You remember Charley, who used to play with Una ? [The Colonel nods the affirmative.] Well, he is one of the cleverest boys in Dr. Ewing's school. The little girl Betha died about a year ago." At this instant Una, who had been turning over the pages of a picture book, ran up to her father and said in tones of appeal — " Charley isn't to blame, is he?" " To blame ! No, my child," answered the Colonel. He gave her his cup, and she placed it upon the table, and returned. He caressed her fondly. Pre sently she picked up the empty sleeve that hung by his side, peeped up the cuff, and with a frightened look ran over to her mother. " Come and give me some music, Florence," said the Colonel, rising. " It's a long time since I heard anything but those howling military bands.

Do you still remember any of the old favourites?" " I have scarcely sung since you left, Mont. But I'll try and remember something." And they walked across the hall into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Montgomery sang " the old songs," while her husband reclined upon the sofa. By-and-by Una played her little tune, " Home, sweet home," and her father slept ; and mother and child were silent as mice : they stood guard while the hero was sleeping. At the end of an hour or more of this perfect stillness, there came a knock at the door. It was Sheldon, who was already " on duty " bringing the tea. His coming awoke the Colonel, who, in good-natured politeness, apologised to Una for his rudeness in falling asleep while she was playing. His wife moistened his temples with her little cambric handkerchief saturated in Cologne water ; he drank the refreshing cup of tea.

Already the wrinkles of anxiety and care were dis appearing from his weather-beaten visage, and his coming had taken the arrow of pain from his wife's bosom ; and little Una was full of playful mirth. " Mama," she said, walking up to the cake basket on the table, " may I have a piece of fruit cake, now that father is come home ? " " Yes, a small piece: And again, within a few minutes, " Mama, may I have a very small piece of sponge cake, because papa is come ? " " Yes ; but you mustn't ask for any more," answered the mother. Presently Una led her father into the nursery, and showed him her dolls and horses and soldiers, her balls and hoops and skipping-ropes ; and he praised them, and she was delighted : and she asked him on the way downstairs if she might sit up till nine o'clock that night, and stay home from school "to-morrow," now that he was come.

And he consented — "just for to-night,': and "just for to-morrow." At the door of the drawing-room Sheldon came up to his master and said : " Pardon, sir ; there's a gentleman in the library who wishes to see you. Mr. Powell the vicar, sir." " Show him into the dining-room, Sheldon ; I'll join him in a few minutes." " Mr. Powell, the late vicar, has called, my dear," said the Colonel, accosting his wife as he entered the drawing-room. " But you shouldn't see him to-night, Mont. There will be no getting rid of him. He'll keep you up till midnight ; and I am sure you need rest and sleep. Send word that you are not well enough to see any one to-night." "You are quite right, Florence; and if it were Sir Hugh Lewis, or the bishop, I would send him your message. But Morgan Powell and I played as children on the town moor; we were at Oxford together ; he pulled the stroke oar of our crew ; we ran a dead heat in a mile race at the University sports.

He was the most brilliant scholar, the most beloved man, in Baliol, then. Now, you say, he is dismissed from the Church and disgraced; a penniless, shameless drunkard. Florence, my darling, I must see him." Colonel Montgomery kissed his wife, and with tears swimming in his eyes, he walked away to join his friend. "Powell, how are you?" he said, stepping forward briskly with extended hand. This friend of his early life had been a tall, well-proportioned, handsome man. But now his face was puffed and blotchy ; his eyes wore a wild, glassy expression ; and as he advanced to meet the Colonel he staggered from weakness. " Glad to see you again," continued the host, grasping his hand warmly ; " it reminds me of old times." "Thank you, Colonel," answered the guest in a faint voice. " I wanted to come and meet you at the station, but I could not muster the necessary courage, and I stayed away — not from want of heart, Mont," he said, looking down his shabby, shining, black garments, and worn-out boots — evidence of an honourable calling disgraced, of brilliant prospects blasted, and glory gone.

" I know it, Powell ; but sit down, and tell me how the world has been using you." " Badly," he answered, looking into the fireplace. " My story is short and cruel. All my worldly wealth was invested in the Moorlands Iron Works, which failed : and I lost everything. I was sorely grieved about it, on account of my family ; and I daresay I took a glass too much. Some officious enemy reported the fact to the bishop, who was only too glad to get an opportunity of creating a vacancy for his wife's brother, and he followed me, persecuted me, to the death — drove me out of the Church to humiliation and disgrace from which I can never recover." The Colonel watched his old friend as he related the brief chapter of disaster ; the thread-bare garments, the neglected hair, formed the missing links of the story.

" Is he trying to delude me and himself," he thought, " that others are to blame, and not himself? that he is a persecuted man, for whose downfall the world has been conspiring ? " " Never mind, old fellow," he said, with reassuring voice, when Mr. Powell had finished ; " you are still a young man, with ability for anything. Don't you remember our winning three consecutive goals in that football match with Cambridge? Whenever you caught the ball and had half a chance you were away like a fresh deer. If the ball comes in my way I'll kick it to you, and then, old boy, you must do some of the old running." Just as the Colonel was finishing his observations, Sheldon entered : " Captain Fielding, sir, wishes to see you." " Show the Captain in." A fresh-looking man — anywhere between thirty and forty — with a faultless black moustache, black hair parted in the middle, carefully dressed, and carry ing a glass in his eye, entered, or rather stalked in.

" Ah ! how-do, Colonel ? " said he, holding out his well-gloved hand. He gave Mr. Powell a contemp tuous stare through his eye-glass, but did not speak. "Don't you know my friend Mr. Powell?" asked the Colonel, somewhat nettled by the lofty airs of the Militia Captain. " Ah ! beg pardon ; how-do ? " Mr. Powell bowed stiffly to Captain Fielding, who had cut him at their first meeting after his downfall. Sheldon had placed the decanters upon the table, and was waiting his master's orders. " A little spiced claret, as usual, Sheldon. Gentle men, what will you take ? " " Iced claret for me, by jove ; deuced hot night," said Fielding, stroking his moustache. "A little whisky and potass, please, Colonel," was Mr. Powell's answer. "Awfully sorry about Hylton and Cooper, and those fellows killed out there.

Better lose an arm than the head, Colonel ! " " Y-e-s ! By the bye what has become of our old card club? Do you still have your Wednesday night sittings ? " said Montgomery, anxious to change the current of the conversation. " All the members dead broke ; bled to death by Frank Keenly. Frank is like the fellow in the play — occupation gone," returned the Captain. The Colonel was grieved at seeing his old friend drinking with so much haste, as well as by the stealthy way in which he refilled glass after glass. But the stimulant removed all restraint, and unsealed the lips of Mr. Powell ; and he talked of the Administration and the war, and other topics, with the rich flowing eloquence and wisdom that characterised him. At half-past nine Mrs. Montgomery and Una entered the dining-room to say " good night."

" You won't be long ? " asked the wife, after bowing to the visitors. " Oh dear no ! " answered the husband kindly, kissing Una, and then leading the way to the door. The conversation was resumed. Mr. Powell gave a graphic account of the principal events that had transpired in the town during the Colonel's absence. But he was fast becoming boisterous and objection able under the potential influence of "old Scotch." At ten o'clock precisely Captain Fielding took his leave. But the ex-vicar drank and smoked, and talked on until his friend grew impatient, and suggested that Mrs. Powell would be anxious. "I'll just finish thish chigar 'fore I go, if you don't mind," was the reply. He then began to recount some of his youthful adventures, athletic feats and college triumphs, laughing hysterically the while.