So sinks the Day-Star: the story of two lovings and a liking

Chapter I

Get place and wealth : if possible, with grace ; If not, by any means get wealth and place. Pope's Epistle. It is not given. to every man to know that five and seven do not make eleven, but Mr. Horace Varley was a man who now was aware — as, indeed, from his youth upwards he had been — that the addi tion of these two figures made twelve. Horace Varley was a rich man, and, having been originally a poor man, thought no small credit was due to his talents for having made, as he termed it, a wonderful something out of a wonderful little. There was no doubt about it, and its owner never made any effort to conceal or disguise the fact, that there was a huge lot of money somewhere belonging to this Horace Varley, but where it came from, and how he got by it, were secrets which his L immediate friends and neighbours struggled very hard to find out ; but their struggles, like those of the man in the song who fought against the remembering of his love, were in vain.

There it was : that is, there it was openly represented by a fine house, with solemn golden-looking servants ; by a carriage and pair of huge horses — huge as if worth many guineas ; by not unfrequent dinners, which always had the tone of having been handled by a professional cook — but then professional cooks mean money — and, more particularly, by Mr. Horace Varley, who looked as if he slept on a golden bed, and by Mrs. Horace Varley, who, with her airs and manners, was suggestive of having come from the unknown regions from whence the gold came, and from unknown sources in that, as yet, unknown locality. True, it was all there ; but it was, after all, but the guinea stamp. It did not take two looks to convince one that Horace Varley never had been, was not, artd never might, could, would, or should be, a gentleman, and that, when all is said and done, is not a very difficult puzzle to detect.

Formed from a similar mould came the wife — the mistress — and she was only a bad copy of an original lady, and the counterfeit is more easily detected in woman than in man. So that, taken as a whole, the possession of wealth had not materially improved the humanity of these Varleys. SO S1XKS THE UAY-STAR. 3 As the oasis in the desert to the traveller, as the star in the dark sky to the mariner, came in one sweet relief to the common monotony of this common life, and that gleam of brightness was the only child of the Varleys, and she a daughter. It was a strange freak of nature making such a blossom to grow from such a stem, for Ethel Varley was, in gait, and style, and manner, and mind, and life, as unlike her parents as is the pro verbial chalk to the proverbial cheese. She was a. lady every inch of her, soaring above all that appertained to her paternal and maternal belongings, and this fact rather weighed against her in the eyes of these aforesaid parents, for, as her character grated against theirs for no reason that they could see or understand, so they, and with some justice, when their own peculiar circumstances were considered, longed for a day when their daughter should let sprout from her maidenly shoulders the matrimonial wings and fly away.

Not that such a flight was to be a common one, or with one of the world's common herd : a better use was to be made of the higher attainments than that ; if Ethel were better and nobler than her parents, it became her, as a dutiful daughter, to do something on behalf of these parents, who fed and clothed her, and who, one day, sooner or later, would make her a rich lady ; for, after all, they were her parents, and, like the home in the old, old song, however humble they might be, they were the parents all the same ; and, standing alone in that regard, there were, of course, no other parents like them. It had often appeared as likely to the worldly-spectacled eyes of Horace Varley that this daughter might be a source of great trouble to him, so,aboveallotherterrors,he had shrewdlybroughther up in the faith that, whatever total amount of virtue there lay in the Ten Commandments, the fifth con tained more real good metal than all the moral teachings of the other nine put together.

Ethel was womanly and good, and, though she was cognizant of a huge gulf which lay between her being and the joint being of her parents, she still, notwithstanding little arguments on this peculiar gift of peculiar superiority, loved them, honoured and obeyed them — qualities generally supposed to be connected with the school of marriage, for which, also — for who knows the inner workings of the human heart ? — perhaps Ethel Varley was becom ing a candidate. Mr. Horace Varley was not, as yet, an im portant personage in the town of Lyndee ; but he hoped soon to be ; for Lyndee was but a small place, and he was a big man : that is, the place was poor, and the man was rich. There could be no doubt about that — so much so, that repeating the fact is not out of place. He had money, and he spent it freely, and it really was of no great importance to any one whether that wealth genuinely belonged to him, or to a host of victims.

One thing was certain, it had not come out of the pockets of the people of Lyndee, but, whereat the tradesmen rejoiced, it was, by slow and sure degrees, going into their pockets. The local shopkeepers held Mr. Varley in high esteem, for he purchased all his immediate requirements from them, taking care to let them know his ideas as to local enterprise being encouraged ; and, what is more, the bills of the Varley family were paid with a regularity which the leading dress maker described as angelically clock-like. So Horace Varley, being well off as regards the world's goods, strove to be well thought of by the world. Thus, he went to live — not in a huge city, alive with splendour and bustle, and so great that minor units lost themselves among major thousands — but in Lyndee, a pretty suburb to an ugly, but solid and substantial, town ; so that, from his out side position, he might, as it were, work his entrance, by cunning degrees, into the innermost sanctuary of society.

It was one thing, mused the Varley beggar on horseback, to have money, but quite another to know how to spend it ; and so this trio family settled down in the outskirts called Lyndee. Now Lyndee was by no means an unimportant place, else Horace Varley, possessing, as he did, the foolish wisdom of this foolish world, would never have quartered himself in it ; for, be it known, that the rank and fashion of the town lived out here, and the barracks, where a cavalry and an infantry regiment were stationed, were in the immediate neighbourhood. Thus, having returned from their afternoon drive, and being alone, Horace and Margaret Varley fell a-talking. ' It 's quite clear to me,' began the male Varley, ' that I am beginning to be recognized as a some body ; and it has been my plan, all through life, to consider myself as somebody ; or, more privately,. as I tell myself, a nobody who aspires to be a somebody.' ' You are never very clear in your own mind what position you really think you hold,' added the female and maternal Varley, sitting down near the window as she spoke, and beginning to pull her glove off from her red, chubby hand — a hand which looked chubbier than ever when the glove, after much tugging, came off. ' But I quite agree with you that we are looked up to.' ' I don't quite know that,' interrupted the husband : ' for I rather think it is my purse that is. being looked into.

When, however, after a minute study, the public have come to understand and overvalue the solidity of that, then, perhaps, I may rise in the intellectual scale. At present, it is cheering to think that I am rapidly rising in the social.' And it will be observed that each speaker had a different idea as to the ownership of the world's esteem. The husband united the whole social and moral weight of the family under the selfish first personal pronoun, while the wife, with more charity, spoke of it as " our." ' We must use our wits, Horace,' began Mrs. Varley, after a pause, and gradually getting nearer to her better half — for to her he truly bore that empty-sounding title — ' towards arranging a brilliant marriage for Ethel ; at all events, get her married.

You know what the doctors have hinted to you and me, over and over again, that Ethel shows unmistakable signs of a disease which may prove fatal, and though I admit, save that she is our daughter, that there is not much sympathy between us, still, as parents, we have a duty which we must do.' ' A duty, Margaret, which I shall take very great care to do, and do in regal style ! ' ' Yes ; Ethel is part and parcel of our scheme for our social advancement in life, and — ' ' As there is no one listening, my dear Margaret, I may as well ask you if you do not. feel and believe that the possession of such a daughter, upon whose education and development of manners, mind you, I have spared neither pains, nor brains, nor money, must and ought to be the key-note of my future life, the pivot on which my new destiny shall work ? ' ' The better we can do for her, in the way of a lofty marriage, the better for ourselves, and — ' ' As I have made her, why should she not re make me ? ' added the first personal pronoun, having a shrewdly quick way of finishing up his wife's sentences, and ending them, of course, in the vein of his own thoughts, thus, as it were, leading his wife, quietly, and without unseemly contra diction, to his own stand-point.

Not that Margaret Varley required much coaxing or leading, for she had become fairly well imbued with the ruling and predominant features of her husband's mind and inclinations, and as she was honest enough to confess that she had lent no material aid in the rise in social life which they unquestionably had taken, she was quite content to leave the ordering and management of all worldly matters to her husband, merely interfering, and then only in a calm and modest way, if she deemed the step he was taking were in a downward, and not an upward, direc tion. Like most women, she was ambitious for place and position, and ever strove, with that keen intelligence which most women possess, to shove her way into a seat where, in life's theatre, she would be observed, and probably told to go up higher ; and once up — and well would it be .for all of us to follow in her steps — never to retreat again.

She had begun life far down the social ladder, down at almost the nethermost rundle, and she knew what poor life meant and was. Now that she had advanced to rich life — a life of purple and fine linen, and with sumptuous living, albeit a life in which she felt and saw no merit and no virtue — she had no wish to fall back again. Why should she ? Why should she pine for a life, even though it were, perhaps, a more truly genuine state of living than her present one, in which the mind and body panted for that which was not, or, rather, for that which was, but could not be grasped ? A man born blind may not long and pant for visions of sky and trees ; but human minds and souls, looking through eyes which do see, do build ambitious aspirations, and, ofttimes, battling for them, droop, and fall, and die.

No ; her winter, rude as her memory pictured it, was past and gone — vanished with its chill trials and bitter disappointments, and a spring, budding with the fragrance of all good things, had come to her life, while not far off, she hoped, loomed the summer, in which eternal happiness and never-to-be-diminished grandeur should make amends for all her dingy past. As to her husband, the maker and originator of this trans formation scene, he was of a like mind ; he, too, had been poor ; he had been lucky, he had become rich; and if Providence, against whose fickle workings he could not justly rail, had not borne him into the world in the position of a gentleman, she, at least, had put it in his power to bury himself out of it in the shroud of one. So he was content with the attentions the world paid him : he was pleased when his horses were spoken well of, and when his dinners were eaten — good dinners never lack good eaters — but pleased and flattered, most of all, when his daughter was made the idol ofthe crowd; for, though she was but a puppet in his scheme of advancement, lying mixed up in his tool-box of wines, dinners, charity-giving, carriages, and stray sovereigns, still she was the highest card he had to play, but a card which was to be held back till a real and worthy odd trick had to be won.

That they were proud of their daughter, and wished to do well for her, was clear enough ; but, for her to marry a poor man, a purseless nobody, unless, in deed, title and lands made up for the pecuniary want, would be worse than useless to herself, and worse than useless to them. No ; Ethel must needs become the stepping-stone to greater deeds. ' I sometimes fear,' continued Horace Varley, ' that Ethel, with that goodness of disposition and purity of idea which she possesses, I cannot say inherits,' — from which remark it will be seen, no opposite-toned remark having come from the mother, that both parents looked upon their off spring as something rarer and better than them selves, — ' may be led to fall in love.' ' And Ethel is, so I 'm told, just the sort of girl to fall madly and deeply in love.' ' With some romantic man, possessing heart and brain, but with no position.

I leave money out of the question : for, if Ethel married a needy duke, I can always arrange that she won't be a needy duchess ; but it is position she must have ; for when our tapers are snuffed out — ' ' Our what, Horace ?' ' Our mortal candles, my dear Margaret ; when they are out, you and I will not be looked upon as much more than rich people, who lived well, and who died well.' ' I cannot see why, because we happen to be rich, we need not be good and respectable people.' ' Yes, that is just it ; our gravestones, or, rather, the respectable appearance of our gravestones, will record the fact that we were respectable, but that is but poor praise.' Oddly enough, when speaking of death, Horace Varley actually coupled his wife's person with his own, under the heading of a dual pronoun ; perhaps the bare idea that his wife would dare to outlive him seemed preposterous. ' Respectability, Horace, is that middle course which swims clear of living too well on small means, and — and — ' becoming a trifle hazy as to the line of her argument — ' doing too much with large means on the other side ; at least, so I 'm told.' ' You are always being told something or other ; pray try and make life something more of an individual study.' Mr. Horace Varley never forgot the individuality of Mr. Horace Varley. ' I am, to some extent, a humbug ; but then, I 'm what might be called an honest, harmless humbug, for I harm nobody, and pay my proper income-tax.

No doubt that some people, jealous, probably, of my position, think me an upstart ; but I am not. I have worked in my day, worked hard, as you know, and can testify, Margaret. A large balance at my banker's is also proof that my work succeeded. No, no, my dear Margaret, I am not half high enough up in the world's esteem yet ; but, to gain that coveted height, I must be selfish, and, privately, while I appear to be worshipping others, be really paying homage to my own shrine.' ' But to return to Ethel. She is not strong, and, sometimes, in her excitement, I fear for her heart.' ' Her heart is all right, my dear, and I — ' ' But she does not look strong — consumptive, so I 'm told — and, you know, my mother ' — But the husband, at this point, abruptly quitted the room. Little arguments of this nature were of so fre quent occurrence, that the husband, knowing no good ever having come from them in the past, saw no reason for their continuance in the future, and so he left the wife to her own maternal musings.

And so the mother, somewhat worldly and some what selfish as she had become from that long and constant rubbing against the world and self, sat and gazed into the fire — the fire, that home of soft fancy, that warm retreat, amongst whose fitful flames, ever and anon, dance, in mysterious sequence, the realities of the past and the wild dreams and imaginings of the future — sat thinking over Ethel,. who, though her own daughter, seemed cast in a fairer and a rarermould — of Ethel, whose earnestness of purpose in living grated against the veneer of her existence, an existence, however, which cir cumstance, and not she herself, regulated — of Ethel, whose future, so far as her happy connexion with the parental roof was concerned, must become a long, unbroken sacrifice, unless, aye, unless that heart of hers should, by fortune's favour, nestle on the heart of a man who was big, and great, and grand.

And why should she, with her purity and nobility of character, have to wed a poor nobody, of nobody's land? and the flames danced unwittingly about, as ■ if they, too, wondered at the mother's wonderings.

Chapter II

Pol. What do you read, my lord _ Ham. Words, words, words. Hamlet. The Duke of Noland was what Horace Varley termed a needy duke, for though he possessed a title, he possessed but scant means to embellish it. Being unmarried, his brother, Lord Randle Allnutt, was heir-presumptive to the title : and he, too, being a poor man, was content to command a regiment of cavalry, and accept the pay which a grateful Queen, and still more grateful country, were pleased to bestow on the holder of such an office. And, as the Duke of Noland had given unmistakable evidences of having endured life for a period quite long enough for his wishes, it had struck both the Varleys that, if they played their cards well, and threw tender and polite sweetmeats at the head and heart of Lord Randle Allnutt, it might come about that he should fall in love with their daughter ; and if he married her while only owning the title of a lord, it would, of course, be deemed no fault of theirs if one day he tumbled into the title of duke.

Thus the paternal and maternal Varleys had been arguing, and had arrived at a mutual understanding that this game, being in every sense worthy of the candle, was at once to be played. The Varleys had been located in Lyndee for over a year, and it was quite possible, if not probable, that Ethel had seen somebody, and, conquering somebody, had also been conquered herself. No further delay, therefore, was to be endured ;' and so it was put into the mother's hands to suggest to Ethel that Lord Randle was not only a very charming man, but that, when his brother died, he would necessarily become even more charming — for would he not then become a duke ? Lord Randle Allnutt commanded the cavalry regiment at present quartered at Lyndee, and therefore he could be got at. Why, many a girl married for a title on the chance that love would follow ; many a girl had married for a title, and love had come ; many a girl also had married for a title, and love had not come.

But then the title, and its consequent attractions, had made up for that want. Marriage, after all, was but a lottery, a mere toss-up, a pure matter of chance ; and if it were so, as Mrs. Varley argued it was, why not make a bold plunge at once, and play for the highest stakes ? Better an unhappy match with money than an unhappy match without money. In the one case, so long as each had purse deep enough to satisfy individual wants, it became quite possible to live, nominally, apart — live in and of the world, and be happy and contented. But the other case was a very different one: when one purse, scantily filled, had to provide for the beef which, hot, as dinner, one night, had to be, cold, the lunch of the morrow, and the two who ate it had to sit opposite each other, then matters were not quite so pleasant.

Matrimony was expensive when tastes were not congenial ; and when people do not care particularly for each other, there is invariably a black little devil within, which takes very good care that the tastes should not be congenial. The noble, but almost penniless, family into which, by paternal and maternal efforts, Ethel Varley was to be plunged, was just the sort of alliance Horace Varley wished ; and he was quite willing, if he only saw his way to gaining this desired end, to pay for it. Being somewhat arbitrary in his form of speech, he deemed it wise and judicious to let his wife lay the preliminaries of this matrimonial scheme before Ethel. He knew she would flounder hopelessly in her explanations of its subtle whys and wherefores ; but these flounderings — as Horace Varley politely termed his wife's arguments — C would, without the necessity of making plain state ments of the case, throw a considerable amount of daylight on the situation.

As for his way of arguing, he would begin by calling a spade a spade ; but his wife, with her playfui innocence of diplomacy, would begin by suggesting that a spade might possibly be — well, an apricot in disguise. Margaret Varley, therefore, was to lead the forlorn hope as regards the probable bride, and Horace Varley, being better able to talk over men than women, was to storm the citadel of the possible bridegroom. So, after lunch, one day, the pair being again alone, they unbosomed to each other their plans. 'We are more than merely respectable,' began Mrs. Varley ; upon which her better half quickly interrupted her with — ' Respectable, again, my dear Margaret. How you do harp on that more than odious word ! Remember there is, in all life, an inner and an outer crust. A shop-girl may be respectable while behind her counter ; but how about when — when the shutters are up ?

Margaret, my dear, shall I turn parson ? ' ' No, Horace ; that trade wouldn't suit you,' answered his wife, with just a touch of sarcasm in her voice ; ' for you would never put enough gilt on the road to heaven.' ' Are we sham diamonds in a sham jeweller's shop, our quality only known to ourselves ? I am quite honest, my dear Margaret, in my own domestic sanctum. I may close my heart to the world, but I ahvays open it to myself' 'Ambition is good. Somebody told me, the other day, that it was better to fire an arrow at the moon than merely to shoot it over a tree.' ' Then tell the usual somebody who told you the usual something, that the idea, though true, is, like your own ideas, a borrowed one.' And Ethel entering the room at this moment, caused her father to abruptly thrust his hand into his coat pocket, and draw therefrom a packet of letters, and muttering something about his not caring a button what he got for his dinner, and an incoherent remark about missing the post, he as abruptly quitted the apartment.

So Ethel Varley glided on the scene. A young woman now, with the insipid age of girlhood left behind. At the age of twenty, she appeared by no means a beautiful woman : but a woman with a face full of bright intelligence, an eye which shot out rays of honest purpose ; quiet in her manner, elegant in her movements, gentle in her ways and -doings. ' Yes,' began Mrs. Varley ; ' this is band day ; so, of course, we must go. The evenings are becoming nice and short now, and — and Lord Allnutt likes short evenings. So I 'm told.' ' Likes short evenings,' asked Ethel, ' and why ?' ' Oh ! only on band nights. He says he likes to get hold of a girl — ' ' Hold of a girl ? ' from Ethel, with a tone which mplied supreme disgust. ' Well, that 's the way he expresses it — at least, so I'm told — but he means nothing.

Well, he likes to get hold of a pretty girl,' — Mrs. Varley paused here, and looked her daughter full in the face, — 'and walk her about while the soft music plays,. and say soft nothings to her.' ' Nothings ! Yes, which to some poor, in fatuated, innocent girls may mean gigantic some things ; be read as real somethings, and not as imaginary nothings, which end when the music ends.' So far, therefore, this line of argument did not appear to have struck the right chord. So it was quickly changed to — ' But, bless you, Ethel ! — ' 'Don't "bless me," mamma, unless I sneeze. It 's not polite in drawing-room conversation.' ' He 's a colonel,' continued Mrs. Varley, appear ing not to notice the interruption ; ' a colonel in a cavalry regiment — a live lord, and heir to some big title ; and to be associated with the name of a colonel and a lord — ' ' Associated with the name ! ' ' A colonel, my dear, in a cavalry regiment, too That is so much grander than merely attached to an infantry regiment — at least, so I 'm told.' Ethel inwardly said to herself that she was not quite so sure about that, and found some consola tion against her mother's argument in the Biblical thought, which ran through her mind, that, as a rule, be it, as in this case, a question of cavalry and infantry, where the treasure was, there would follow the heart.

But Ethel only replied, — ' That 's the best and worst of you, mamma ; you require to be told everything, as if your brain had no speculation of its own, your mind no enterprise, your — ' ' Well, people will tell me things, and — ' ' As if your heart and brain were empty, like — like a bird's egg blown by a schoolboy.' ' You are very polite, for a daughter,' answered Mrs. Varley, with dignity, and rising from her chair. 'Oh, I mean nothing,' — from Ethel, with strong emphasis on the word nothing, — ' only empty nothings of speech, like — like Lord Randle's ' Here followed an uncomfortable silence, during which Ethel rose, and walked quietly, but with a -slight air of defiance in her manner, to the window. Her mother, also standing, looked at her, and made an effort to say something, only, as such a crisis, whatever the intended something was to be, it was needful that it be sharp, commanding, and to the point, but that something stuck, like the 'Amen' in Macbeth's throat, and would not come out.

But Ethel came to the rescue, for, running lightly from the window towards her mother, she put her arms round her neck, and, kissing her cheek, said, — ' I was very rude ; but you '11 forgive me, won't you ? ' It was little natural touches of this kind which brought most prominently forward to Mrs. Varley's mind and conscience that strange difference of nature which her daughter possessed. She felt very angry with Ethel for her remark, but much more angry at her own inability to fire back a telling shot into the enemy's camp. There is no more degrading position to find oneself in, than when our tongues refuse to return a verbal blow, full of metal and sting, and our cheeks, mantling with a guilty blush, tell the tale of surrender. There is no nobler contest than the battle with the pen, no grander fight than the battle of words, so be it that their use has delicacy and elegance of meaning attached ; but he is the wisest combatant who,. seeing himself too strong for his enemy, gently flcors him, and as gently picks him up.