Alice Ferrar. A novel

Front matter

In 1 vol. Price 12s. ON CHANGE OF CLIMATE, A GUIDE FOR TRAVELLERS IM PURSUIT OF HEALTH. By THOMAS MOKE MADDEN, M.D., M.E.C.S. Esq. Illustrative of the Advantages of the various localities resorted to by Invalids, for the cure or alleviation of chronic diseases, especially consumption. With Observations on Climate, and ks Influence on Health and Disease, the result of extensive personal experience of many Southern Climes. SPAIN, PORTUGAL, ALGERIA, MOROCCO, FRANCE, ITALi THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c. " Dr. Madden has been to most of the places he describes, and his book contains the advantage of a guide, with the personal experience of a traveller. To persons who have determined that they ought to have change of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide. — Athenæum." It contains much valuable information respecting various favorite laces of re_rt, and is evidently the work of a well-informed physician, — Lancet."

" Dr. Madden's book deserves confidence — a most accurate and excel lent work." — Dublin Medical Review. " It cannot but be of much service to such persons as propose leaving home in search of recreation, or a more benign atmosphere. The Doctor's observations relate to the favourite haunts of English invalids. He criticises each place seriatim in every point of view." — Reader. " We strongly advise all those who are going abroad for health's sake to provide themselves with this book. They will find the author in these pages an agreeable gossiping companion as well as a professional adviser, who anticipates most of their difficulties." — Dublin Evening Mail. " To the medical profession this book will be invaluable, and to those in ill-health it will be even more desirable, for it will be found not merelv a guide for change of climate, but a most interesting volume cf travel." — Globe.

" Dr. Madden is better qualified to give an opinion as to the salubrity of the places most frequented by invalids than the majority of writers on the subject." — Liverpool Albion. " There is something, and a gTeat deal too, for almost every reader in this volume, for the physician, for the invalid, for the historian, for the antiquarian, and for the man of letters. Dr. Madden has rendered a necessary service to the profession and to the public upon the subject under notice." — DubhnEvening Post. " Dr. Madden's work is fraught with instruction that must prove useful both to practitioners and patients who study it." — Saunders'1 News Letter. " Dr. Madden deserves the thanks of all those persons afflicted with that dire disease, consumption — as well as of those who suffer from thronic bronchitis, asthma, &c. It is the best work on change of climata that has ever been presented to the public." — Daily Post.

Chapter I

And the parson, I knew not his name, And the brethren — each face was unknown ; And the Church and the prayers were the same. And my heart claimed them all for its own. Cox. I went, and thought how seldom in life I had been quite alone. Rhyming Chronicle. In accordance with his resolution, Moltan pro ceeded to the house of the ballet-master, where, after being at first refused an audience, and desired to send his message by a servant, the little gentle man at length descended to the hall to hear what important business so imperatively demanded to be transacted with himself personally. VOL. II. B " Please, Monseer," commenced Moltan, taking off his hat, which he dexterously balanced on his right thumb, while he described upon the crown a variety of eccentric circles with the forefinger of the other hand, "please Monseer, I've given your message to Miss Ferar."

" Bien, dat is all !" said Mr. Bartelet, somewhat surprised, and not seeing the necessity of hearing the fact in jierson. " Dat is right, but it was not need, seer, for you deranger moi to say dat mooch." " _To, Monseer, I have something else to say, if you please." " Eh, veil ? I am extremement pressi. You will be queeck." " Please, Monseer then, some of our chaps has been a saying as the manager ain't right satisfied with mamselle, and she thinks as it's may be about that you want to see her." " Dat cannot be de concern of nobody seule ment of de demoiselle and myself. So you will not trouble with de affaire. I nevere do encourager de tdtillons, vat you call— you call — vat you are Misteer Moltan." "Very good, Monseer, and I don't want to meddle with the manager's concerns; but mamselle ain't quite well."

" And she can-not come. Oh ! dat is mal heureux. I want to look at her so very mooch. It is tellement important." " Oh yes, Monseer, she's a-coming ; but, — " " Vat must you say, Monsieur ; you do deranger moi," cried the Frenchman, waxing choleric. " _t_ course, Monseer, I haven't no right to interfere, no ways ; but in case you or the manager thinks as Miss Ferrar, — Mamselle, I mean, — has'nt played not so well last week, I think, please Monseer, that its just 'cause she ain't well and strong, not lately ; and then her father's a deal of trouble to her, and keeps her and them all down. But I think, if you've any thing to say this way, anything unpleasant like, if you would speak kindly wise, and not frighten her. You see, Monseer, she's a modest quiet kind of gal as hasn't got no impudence like t'others ; so if you'd just cheer her a bit, Monseer, it 'id do more good nor — " " I am very mooch oblige your bon conscil," b returned the little man, with as much satire as he could assume, while he strove to measure with his glance the extensive proportions of the stalwart Moltan.

" You are vraiement very mooch con cern, dat I do my devoir vat you call dooty correcternent — mais supposer dat I have de intention to speak to de young meess as you do recom mend — mais who could do autrement?" The Frenchman sighed tenderly as he spoke, then added in his native tongue, " oui, cette ange,je veux bien I' aider." " I beg pardon for being so bold ; but when I saw how the poor gal had nigh cried her eyes out this morning, I thought it 'id be too much if there was more trouble before her this day." " Ah, I see. I must par donner— mais c'est Men difficile. You are den de chavalier of de demoiselle, for to concern you in de vay for her." " If you mean her sweetheart, Monseer, 1 ain't, for she's a precious sight too good for any on us." "And you parlez disinter essemeM. Ah! les Anglais qu'ils ont beaucoup de froideur !

" " What profit would it be to me, more nor saving the poor girl from fresh trouble." " Oh, I do not know nothing, ven you are not de chavalier. You have no more to say?" said the maitre de danse, — preparing to congedier his guest. " No, Monseer ; since you will be so kind as to—" " Sans doute, certainly. I will essayer to make her de hon courage." " Thank'ee, Monseer," replied Moltan, as he turned to go, soliloquising on his way, " I never thought Johnny Crapeau had so much heart." Meantime Alice had changed her dress for one slightly more respectable, and in an hour after Moltan left her she set out for the abode of M. Bartelet. Conscious of her want of energy for the last few weeks, she experienced a vague, uneasy sensation. What, if the last resource to which she clung for support, and for which she had sacrificed so much, should now fail her?

Without distinctly knowing why, she felt that something important was staked upon the events of the next few days, and she was aware that neither in mind nor body was she in a condition to make much exertion; her whole frame appeared unstrung from the overstraining she had lately undergone ! and now, to hasten from a scene of anger and jarring in her home to a business interview, and without leisure to collect her scattered thoughts, what result could she reasonably expect? And yet she might have had the leisure ; (for it was yet some time from the appointed hour) had there been one spot for rest and reflection, — but there was not. . She was passing the church of St. Martin-le- Grand ; she looked up at the clock ; yes ! there was ample time to spare; and the girl, weary in spirit and in body, sat upon the steps for rest.

She looked at the door. It was open ; and the impulse was strong to retreat a little further from the noise and bustle around ; for she was thirsting, panting for quiet. But the ballet-girl had never crossed the threshold of a church. She had never presumed to suppose it was a spot where she might enter. She had seen upon the Sabbath the crowds of the well-dressed and respectable wending thither at the summons ofthe bells; aud she had seen those among whom she dwelt look upon them as they passed, going whither they could not follow ; and she and her companions had looked upon the gay array of the worshippers, and thought the rich or gaudy coverings must be essential to the service of God in His house of prayer. Yet again and again did she turn longingly towards that open portal, till at length she rose to see it more nearly, nay, to enter ; then a strange sense of awe held her back ; but the call of nature for repose grew stronger.

She took courage, aud went on, till, forth, first time, she stood within the shadow of God's house. The hour for afternoon service was approaching, and there was a congregation there, but — Few in number, very few Were all whom man could see." just the few who keep alive the fire of daily prayer, were gathered from the calls of business or pleasure. Alice sat down near the door, forgetting for the moment her own circumstances and sorrows, and wholly occupied with the novelty and solemn stillness of all around ; soon the organ poured forth its swelling notes, and from the door, at the end of the aisle, opposite to where she sat came forth two white-robed priests. Her eye followed their steps as they moved to their accustomed places. The service began. She listened, but vacantly, and with little or no apprehension of the meaning of the words ; and as the little congre gation stood or knelt for prayer or praise, still she sat and looked, as one who had no part or share in what passed before her.

They were the actors in the drama ; she the solitary spectator, who had, (for all she knew), intruded unbidden upon holy ground. Yet there was luxury, such luxury in the conscious sense of rest and quiet, in the shutting out of the world, and forgetting the world's cares, that she would fain have stayed on, on, on, gliding through hours, as though they were but minutes. And, as her untaught spirit bowed before the "influence of Holy Church," she asked, why are its doors not always open for the weary and the restless, who have no refuo _ for repose or thought ? The clock told a quarter ; she must go. A fair mild young deacon was reading the lesson for the day, and the modulation and earnest manner of the youth had gradually reached her ear, as Alice rose to go, and, at the instant, the words he read seemed meant for her, — though coming from she knew not whence, she thought she felt their power — " Greatly beloved, fear not ; peace be unto thee, be strong, yea, be strong.

And when he had spoken unto me I was strengthened, and said, — Let my Lord speak, for Thou hast strengthened me." Alice started and turned back, as if expecting to hear them repeated ; but the deacon read on. She too went upon her way ; but the words went with her, strengthening her; and something of the spirit of calm and peace, which she had found in the holy place, rested upon her as she hurried along. The bright face of the light-hearted French man beaming cheerfully as he received his pupil, soon dispelled much of her apprehensions. "Ah ma ckarmante demoiselle, I am so fdche — quite in despair, dat you do not carry yourself well, — that you are un peu, leettle malade, what you say, seeck." Alice looked surprised. b "N'est ce pas? Have I right. Misteer Moltan do say dat you very seeck and delicate, and he ask me dat I speak amiablement envers vous — as if de person in de vorld live as do differem ment, qmii tout la monde vous aime.

Yees, your chevalier tell me you not veil." " I am very well, thank you, Monseer, only not quite strong." " Ah ! dat is dommage. I am sorry. It must take you to de country after de next week be passee. Bien, now, it do make me pain for tell you of de business. Mais, il ns faut pas," cried M. Bartelet, evidently pleased, "void Monsieur qui vient au moment meme. II vous dira, et jen' aurais pas la peine, la malheur," and ere he ceased speaking the door opened, and Mr. Katesby made his appearance. " Ha, Bartelet, I fear I disturb a pleasant tete a-tete. Ah ! —Mademoiselle Blanche ? Yes, I remember you had some business to settle with this lady." "Non Monsieur, — point de tout, you must speak it yourself, — vous etes venu exactement — )> apropos. " You take an undue advantage, M. Bartelet," returned the manager gaily, " but for once I must gratify you and do the disagreeable.

Mademoiselle Blanche has gained so much popu larity, that it becomes painful even to hint at its diminution ; and yet, do you know, Miss Ferar, that you were summoned here upon a rather un pleasant mission." Alice looked at him inquiringly; but before Mr. Katesby resumed, she said — " I'm afraid, sir, I have not been doing quite as well ; but I never thought to take the oarts I have now." " Yes, to be candid, I have been disappointed the last fortnight; and as a great deal must depend upon Saturday and the few following nights, I wish you to bring all your powers into play. Should you fail this week, your ultimate success will be very doubtful." "Is the Queen expected, sir?" "No; but Parliament will be dissolved next week. Therefore, the season is all but closed. We have ' Ernani,' which, you know, always brings a good house ; and I want the Ballet to be one of the best.

You are to make it your own piece ; it is so dejacto." " Certainment," said M. Bartelet. " I have make de composition of de morceau expressement for Mademoiselle." "Yes ; it must become your own. Do yourself justice. It may be from temporary lassitude, or depressure of spirits, or some little '' " Cest ennui, Monsieur — notre ange ne se porte pas Men." " Is it so, Mademoiselle ? M. Bartelet tells me you are not quite well. So this accounts for every thing. Happily, I have not as yet seen any un favourable notices in the journals : but this is not to be depended upon. For the present you are a popular favourite, aud you possess many of the essentials for such a position. Endeavour, then, to secure the victory which seems prepared for you, or. rather which you have already gained. You understand me ?

" "Yes, sir; I think so." " Bring your full powers into action ; exert yourself to the utmost ; throw your whole soul into your character ; be your full self ; and bring down loud acclamations. Your benefit will be next week ! Your success on Wednesday will bring a full house for that occasion. Your triumph will be complete." " I will try." " The object is worth an exertion. It is no easy thing to gain a name in London, where thou sands in every pursuit, despite their talents and their industry, toil year after year, and end at length in disappointment." "That's a great pity," said Alice innocently. "A thousand pities ; but I wonder any of us succeed when I look at what we have to encounter. Your place was open, and you walked into it ! — Having done so, take care to keep it. You are satisfied with your profession now, 1 suppose."

" I don't like it, sir." " Come, come ! You must resolve to like it. Dancers have made fortunes, or have had the op portunity of making them but for their extrava gant and dissipated habits. From these, I believe, you are exempt. I have heard you very favour ably spoken of by our people." "That is very kind." " Well, perhaps, it's only true." Alice was silent. " It is all true vat de say of la Demoiselle." " You are well up in your part ? " asked Mr. Katesby, looking to the Frenchman also for a reply. " Yes, I think so." " Oui — elle y'est parfaite — incomparable — un veritable ange." " That is well. There is a rehearsal to-morrow morning ; but probably rest would be a better preparation than practice, as you are a little un strung." " I believe it would." " You must prepare to be triumphant — you can be so, and I will have nothing less," said the manager gaily, endeavouring to rally his protegee.

Again Alice said she would try ; she wished it ; for many reasons she desired full success . " One thing more. Excuse me, but do you paint at night? " "No, sir!" " Never ? " " Not since I was a child, and they made mo to!" " You must for the present, then, till you have gathered a fresh stock of roses from your country tour ! " " I think I'll not need it, sir. The house is always so warm," said Alice, blushing. " If the heat is as effective as the mention of the little et cetera of the toilet, of which you are happily so independent, I should say you are right," returned Katesby, endeavouring to throw an air of gallantry into his speech, and to work upon the drooping spirits of the young girl. " Then till this important night you devote yourself to resting ; and, remember, I expect a triumph.

I shall dismiss you if you do not win a bushelful of bouquets ! " Alice smiled. Mr. Katesby was effecting his purpose. " I am serious." "I will try, sir." " Yes, for a triumph and a bushel of bouquets." Alice had no especial reason to hasten back, and therefore, when the interview was over, walked leisurely and thoughtfully homeward. And to one inured from earliest years to the crowds and bustle of the street, the hum and noise of the multitudes, who went and came, proved no hindrance to the flow of her thoughts. And as she went she gathered strength — strength to look at her trials in their truest form — strength to see where imagination had magnified their size — strength to see where she had, by her own act, aggravated any — and, greatest strength of all, to see that one image, treasured in her memory, was casting a shade over everything around her ! — even at the moment dulling the glory of the intense summer sun above her head !

And the maiden saw that she must lay that image aside as a thing which, perhaps, she must still love, as the mariner loves his shipwrecked bark — so. long his glory and his stay — but which can no longer be clung to as a refuge for the present or a hope for the future ! — and she found strength to resolve that the idol should no longer be treasured as a thing to cleave to or to worship ! Again as she passed the church, where she had lingered on her coming, she looked longingly to wards it — for she still pined for rest and quiet-*— but the doors were closed. " Why," she thought, " are its gates not always open for the weary and heavy-laden ? " The last words came spontaneously as the cry of Nature : for she had never heard or learnt them to quote. "Why are the gates not ever open for the weary and heavy-laden to go and rest?

" Yet the words which she had heard came back to her memory and her heart — " Peace be unto thee. Be strong, yea be strong ! " And she grew stronger as she thought.

Chapter II

Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment 1 Sure something holy lodges in that breast ! Milton. " Come this way," said a very stiff, professional looking gentleman, who had just entered from be hind the scenes of theOperaHouse,CoventGarden, and addressing a young man, who, through the early part of the night, had occupied a seat near the stage. "You have expressed yourself curious on the subject of the transactions behind the stage." "Yes ; I confess I wish to see what goes on there." "Exactly. There can be no objection; and if, at a future time, you should be on the boards yourself, you will find it an advantage to have been somewhat initiated," and Professor Staun ton looked as pompous as usual. " Ami is it possible I may one day be quali fied ? " asked Hardy, forgetting the inappropri ateness of time and place for discussing his own projects or prospects.

" Everything is impossible," replied Staunton, coldly, and bustling onward. " Ha, there is Mario ; 1 have been trying to see him the whole evening." He turned away abruptly, leaving his protege" standing awkwardly among a number of people to whom he was altogether unknown. They were chiefly the young girls engaged in the ballet, who were waiting prepared for their entrance upon the stage. Amongst whom M. Bartelet made himself busy, requiring the most awkward to repeat their parts, adjusting the toilette of some of the prettiest, coquetting a little with all, and amidst these occupations finding continual pretexts to address himself to Alice who was standing apart from the rest. Her lips, firmly closed, wore an expression of determination rarely to be met with in women and which would have been harsh and displeasing but for the softness of her eyes, and the strikingly feminine cast of her countenance.

Her high colour, more like a fever flush than the false tints of those around, might have rendered her face vulgar but that it was somewhat thin and ema tiated. After a few minutes, she sat dowu, and ere long M. Bartelet was at her side, enquiring after her health, and offering refreshment. " Mademoiselle is not inervee — what you call fatigue-ed?" asked the little man. " I do hope, vit de all ofmy heart, dat you better. You have mon honneur, dat is my fame, a soutenir dis even ing. Ah, que fen deviens orgueilleuse." " Don't be uneasy, Monseer, if you please. I'm not afraid, How long before our entree ? I think they are beginning the last act of the opera." " Precisement. You are right. Mais qui esl id? Do you acquaint yourself with vit dat Mon sieur, gentleman ?" " No. I don't know him ; and yet, can I have seen him?

I seem to know his face." " I tink he has no affaire here. He look as ven he tink himself de trop." At this moment, Moltan entered with a summons for M. Bartelet to attend the manager ; and having discharged his message, he too turned towards Hardy, and, going up to him, politely suggested that he was where he had no business to be, adding : " Strangers are not admitted here, sir, unless they come with some one who has the privilege of the private entrie. You do not know any one here?" " Here ? No — yes. I think I have seen that lady," indicating Mademoiselle Blanche. " I suppose yrou have, as all London has been running after her this six months ; but -" " I think I have spoken to her; but " " I think you're mistaken : for Miss Fer — Mademeeselle Blansch — don't see visitors. Be good enough to follow me."

" If you will allow me to remain here for the present; T am waiting for Mr. Staunton." " Oh, that's English. Why didn't you tell me that at first? Mr. Staunton introduced you here?" " Yes, sir.'' " Then you may wait for him, if you like." " Thank you," said Hardy abstractedly : for he had turned aside to look again at the young dancer. " Was she like what he had been told about play-actors ; was she like those around her in air or in appearance, that quiet, thoughtful girl?" Then his better resolution rushed to his mind, and he hesitated whether he should or should not return to his place among the audience. While he paused, Alice, rising to cross the room, the garland of flowers with which her figure was wreathed, became entangled between her foot and some furniture, and she would have fallen had not Hardy, advancing hastily, caught her in his arms, and disengaged her from the trappings, while the next instant Moltan came to her side, enquiring if she had been hurt.

She answered in the negative, and then turning to the stranger, who was still supporting her, smiling kindly, she thanked him for his assistance. Molton and Hardy busied themselves in re-arrang ing the flowers ; and, as he did so, the impression became stronger on the mind of the latter that Mademoiselle Blanche was one and the same with the young seamstress whom he had met at Mrs. Garrett's door ; and, despite the difference caused by dress and occupation, every word she uttered more and more convinced him that he was not mistaken. At length, summoning courage, he said, " I think I have seen you before." " And your face is not quite strange to me. But if you've been often to the opera lately, it's likely enough you have seen me." " I don't mean here ? somewhere else ? I can't be sure where, or may be you mightn't like if I was to say," returned Hardy, imagining that the bedecked ballet-girl would be unwilling to ac knowledge her identity with the more homely seamstress.

"Where?" " Your voice seems quite the same, and your face would not easily be forgotten." " Indeed ! " said she, not appropriating the remark as a compliment, " do you think so, — I am Borry. " Sorry,— why?" " Because there's a deal of friends as may never see us again ; and I'd be sorry to think they kept remembering of me. It might make them unhappy;" she spoke meaningly, "it seems better to forget." " Well, Miss Alice, that's one thing as 'ill never be no day," said Moltan, " as your friends 'ill forget you, and what's the use of for getting ? " "Forget! oh no! never!" echoed Hardy, his poet's eye flashing as he spoke, " I used to think so once ; but, — well, — it don't signify." " 'Deed it don't," echoed Moltan, " for your friends 'ill not forget you in a hurry, no more than the crowd as comes to the house for no other reason than to see you."

" You have been very fortunate in your line," said Hardy. " Do you think so ? " answered Alice, with a sudden thrill of pain, " you would not like such a life as mine. Do you think it's all easy before me to-night?" " Ain't it then ? " " It is easy to look at, and to do sometimes when a body's well— and happy," she would have added ; but she restrained the word which would betray her weakness, and said, " when I have nothing else to think of." " That makes a difference no doubt." And to night, 'specially. Do you know what Mr. Katesby told me?" Hardy looked enquiringly '• That it's win or miss almost, that if I fail to night I need hardly hope to get on very well again. There was a time I would'nt have cared; now, I must carry on — "' " You ain't afraid, though you knows all this?" said Moltan.

"No,— there's a deal of things as I can't help thinking about; but I think I am not afraid." Hardy watched the play of her features, ami the change of colour which came and went like a passing cloud. He thought of words of comfort, that he had known from childhood ; of words of peace that had been breathed around him in his early home and in some hallowed spot, " but is this the time or place?" he thought. Again he looked at Alice. " What of time or place when the VOL. if. c J I heart is full," he said, almost in a whisper, — but one whose every word was audible to the ready ear, "Be strong, and He shall stablish your heart." Alice started. " Eh ! them's like the words I heard in the church when I went in to rest on Monday. Say it again, please ; I like to hear it." Hardy complied, this time concluding the sentence " Be strong, and He shall comfort your heart, all ye that put your trust in the Lord."