Lost for gold

Front matter

VOL. l:y KATHARINE KING, AUTHOR OF "THE QUEEN OF THE REGIMENT. •■ There is thy gold — worse poison to men a minds, DoinfT more murders in this loathsome world Thiiii these poor compound.-* that thou maysl not. sell I sell thee poison— thou haai sold me uouo " Rortua ami JnU<t IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL H LONDON HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET 1873. 77»r right of Translation h reserve LONDON : PRINTED bV MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE.

Chapter I. As

the young men drove home together that evening, their conversation naturally turn ed on the entertainers they had just left. " Why, Mount," said Slingsby, " you never told us the young lady was. a beauty, and yet you are not a person who could be suspected of being ignorant of the fact. Seems, indeed, as if you had forgotten it purposely. Hearing she was an heiress, I of course imagined she must be plain rather than otherwise, and was agree ably disappointed. She's very pretty, don't you think so, Morton I" V " Who % — Miss Courtenay ? Oh ! yes, beautiful," answered Morton, with a start, as though he had been awakened out of a nap. " I wonder, Mounteagle, as you know them so VOL. II. B well, you never cared for her; but you don't seem very friendly with her, which surprises me. " Don't he, though !" muttered Slingsby, in an inaudible aside.

He had been watching during the evening, and had noticed some by-play that Morton, being an actor in the performance, had not observed. "She's pretty, but not my style," drawled Mounteagle, quite unconscious that his conduct throughout the evening had been read and understood by one of the men sitting near him, who laughed now when he heard his friend shirk committing himself, though he did not, in the least, understand his object in doing so. "Why, what do you see to find fault with in her style?" asked Morton, snappishly, and ready to quarrel with anyone who did not admire Miss Courtenay as much as he did. " Oh ! nothing — nothing at all, my good fellow," replied Mounteagle. " I declare, Slingsby, he's smitteu ; we shall have to take care very soon how we dare to speak of his beauty." "Nonsense!" said Morton, waking up to a sense of the fact that he was making himself ridiculous ; " 1 only wanted to know what objections you had to make against her, as a matter of curiosity, to see how tastes differ ; for, to my mind, she is as nearly perfect as it is possible for woman to be.

What are you two fellows laughing at? Can't a man admire a pretty girl without your seeing anything so very absurd in it !" "You'll excuse us, I'm sure," gasped Mount eagle, between his fits of laughter ; " but it is so very ludicrous to see a cool, calm, collected fellow like you, Morton, lose his head all of a heap to such a girl as that ; a coquette to the ends of her fingers, you must admit, however you may defend her beauty." "I don't admit it at all," said Morton, sullen ly ; " she seemed lively and agreeable, nothing more ; but young fools Hke you and Slingsby think a girl can't speak a pleasant word to you without flirting, so you give her a name which sticks to her through Hfe, and to which, perhaps, she never had the remotest title. I like Miss Courtenay's manners — they are pleasant, easy, and lady-like; and I have a most particu lar dislike to anything flirting or coquet tish, it is almost always an affectation, and B all affectation is intensely disagreeable to me."

" Oh ! she's not affected, I grant you that," answered Mounteagle ; " she's too good an actress not to know that to seem natural is the best acting, and that's what she does ; but, for all that, it's only a mask, a Httle better worn than that of other people." "What's he up to?" mused Slingsby. "To hear him, one would think he saw all her faults as clearly as I do, and yet I am almost sure he cares for her, from what I saw to-day. Perhaps she refused him some time, and he doesn't want our fellows to get hold of anything they could chaff him about. That's it, you may depend! How mad he would be if he had an idea I had discovered his secret !" In which conjecture Slingsby was right ; perhaps the last thing Mounteagle would have liked, or would have believed possible, would be that his merry little comrade beside him should suspect anything.

For Slingsby, as a rule, was master of the art of chaffing, and uever spared friend or foe, when he saw the matter to be ridiculed did uot go deep ; but he was thoroughly good-natured, and never let his desire for fun lead him into wounding another's feelings. Therefore, having, as he thought, discovered that there might be some sore spot about Mounteagle's admiration for the heiress, he restrained the desire he felt to show his companion he had penetrated his reserve, and found out what lay concealed beneath, and turning to the horse, relieved his pent-up feelings by a succession of short sharp whistles, which were supposed to have an exhilarating effect on the spirits of the quad ruped. " Come, Slingsby," said Mounteagle, suddenly interrupting this amusement, "you haven't told us your opinion yet — is she a flirt, or is she not?"

Slingsby paused to consider ; he had a very decided idea that she was, but he was quite aware, from what he had observed, that his saying so would irritate Morton, for which he did not see the least necessity ; before he could make up his mind what answer to give, Morton repeated the question. " It is hardly fair to ask me," replied Slings by, thus urged. . " I admire her very much, she is almost more beautiful than anyone I have ever seen, but I don't like her; couldn't tell LOST FOR GOLD. you why ; I can't explain the reason, but still there is the feeling; I don't like her— I mistrust her. A prejudice you will say, and so it is, therefore I don't think I would be a fair judge in the question at issue between yon two." "Not like her!" they echoed, both at once; " well, that is very extraordinary.

Did you admire Miss Featherhead more than her?" " In point of beauty, decidedly not," answered the young man ; " but I like her face very much, and, to my mind, she is tbe pleasantest of the two in conversation. I have a feeling in addressing Miss Courtenay, as if I was expected to admire her, that she takes it as a matter of course that I do, and that if anyone was to tell her I didn't, she wouldn't believe it. She makes herself so sure of pleasing by the mere fact of her being there and deigning to address you, or let you look at her, that I am sure she would never exert herself in the smallest way, beyond what was agreeable to herself, to give you pleasure ; and yet she would like you to think, and tries to persuade you, that there is no limit to the exertions she would make for your gratifica tion."

" After all that long speech, you haven't answered our question," remarked Morton ; "but, as you are evidently prejudiced, I daresay you are right not to give an opinion. Who was the old lady Miss Courtenay called aunt ? — is she really any relation ? She seems a cross old cat f ' Mounteagle laughed. " What ! did you see any sparring between the two ? It is sometimes great fun. Miss Ethel keeps so cool she speedily becomes mistress of the situation ; but the old lady rants and rages, till you wonder where it will all end, and what you will be expected to do in case she gets a fit. She was very near having one, one day when I was in the house, and a most disagreeable scene it was ; but, as soon as the hysterical symptoms began to show them selves, her niece, with great presence of mind, seized a large inkstand that stood near, and said : ' Now, aunt, look here, there's no water in the room, but I don't see why ink shouldn't do as well, so, the minute you go off into one of your usual fits, I'll just pour this over you !

I don't think it will improve your dress, either,' she added, carelessly ; ' but that's nothing, of course, compared with the necessity of reviving LOST FOR GOLD. you.' The effect of this speech was wonderful ; old Miss Courtenay gathered herself up off her chair with surprising activity, and walked out of the room without trusting herself to speak, her niece following her to the door, and calling out after her : ' Don't get taken worse on the stairs, or I shall have to come and help you there.' Then shutting the door behind her aunt, she turned to me with a smile that seemed to say — ' Didn't I manage that beautifully?' " "A disagreeable scene, indeed, for you to witness," replied Morton. " I pity the girl having to live with such an old hag as that. So she's Mr. Courtenay's sister, as you call her Miss Courtenay ; well, I don't see much likeness between them — he's a very well-mannered, agreeable man."

Which he was certainly, as long as one avoided offending him, but once provoke his resentment, and he never forgave the delinquent; this Morton did not know, having as yet heard none of the Merriton gossip. Two, at least, of that .party had rather unhappy thoughts to accompany them to rest that night. Morton was disturbed and uneasy, because he could by no means account for, or overrule, this feeling that had sprung up in him. He was so accustomed to be complete master of every emotion or passion that took possession of him, that any sentiment that threatened, as this did, to be beyond his con trol, was to him a subject for distrust and annoyance. He had heard of love at first sight, and had laughed at it, as he, indeed, was inclined to laugh at any variety of the tender passion that took at all a remarkable form.

Was it possible that he was now about to learn that " there were more things in heaven and earth than had been dreamt of in his philosophy " ? He feared it was so, and could by no means reconcile his mind to the idea. Should he lose the calm, patient self-reliance that had hitherto been one of his prevailing characteristics ? Should he be dependent on a girl's caprice or whim, and failing her fancy fixing on him, as indeed he owned to himself was improbable, should he become a prey to the overwhelming misery, the utter despair, to which he had seen so many reduced by a similar cause ? He told himself he would not — that he was made of sterner stuff than that ; and yet he feared greatly, and was dissatisfied and uneasy as he thought the matter over alone. Even supposing all went well, and she cared for him, as he fondly imagined a woman might care, as he had in his boyish dreams fancied he would wish to be loved, even then the business would be no better — rather worse ; the unhappi ness of two instead of one, that would be all the difference, for he could not but recognise the improbability of Mr. Courtenay's allowing his only child and heiress to marry so poor a man as he.

Yes, he was a fool, he told himself — foolish to feel thus, still more foolish to brood over it, fostering the evil that, if he was wise, he would eradicate from his heart before it had taken strong hold there, and had undermined every thought and feeling, every motive and ac tion, of his life. It was very right, no doubt, to think thus, and to try, by forcing his mind on to some other subject, to drive the one great idea away ; but the more determined he was to do so, the more he struggled to carry out his intention, the more the tormenting thoughts would return, driving sleep from his eyelids and rest from his troubled brain, until exhaustion came to his aid, and worn out both in mind and body, slumber brought oblivion at last. Mounteagle, in the meanwhile, was not much better off — not so well, indeed, for his old wound had re-opened.

He knew also the nature with which he had to deal, and could not dare to indulge in those dreams of success to which Morton's ignorance permitted him to give way. That he was quite determined he would have her for his wife was one thing — that he would win love from her was another. He was under no delusion with regard to her character, and doubted whether she would ever have any love to give ; but she was pleasing to him, and he told himself it was desirable he should gain her, if he was to make any good out of this game of life, in which he persuaded himself he was an unwilling performer. As to that fellow Morton, he had gone in for her overhead and ears, that was evident, confound him ! — and he didn't trust Slingsby much, for all he professed to have escaped so very heart-whole that even ing.

Perhaps it was because Slingsby felt his danger, and was aware how little chance he had among so many competitors, that he had wisely retired at once from the conflict, and tried to per suade himself Miss Featherhead was much the most charming of the two ; a decided case of sour grapes, Mounteagle mused; indeed, his own position seemed quite as hopeless as SHngs by's, only that he wouldn't give up, if he could get Morton out of the way. He was the only rival that could be considered dangerous, that Mounteagle had yet seen in the society about Merriton, as far as it had been represented that evening at the Park ; and even supposing they were a better lot than they appeared to be, he did not think Ethel Courtenay was a girl at all likely to be captivated by a county squire, and the position and duties marriage with one would entail.

But Morton, the man whom he had liked, the man who had been as a brother to him, the man whose very presence once was welcome to him, now was irritating aud distasteful. How was he to get rid of him ; or, failing that, how was he to undermine the influence his Captain so frequently possessed over those with whom he associated ? This problem perplexed him, kept him wake ful and anxious, but no solution presented it self; sleep overtook him while his mind was still busy with the subject, and his dreams were troubled. When he awoke he was strangely confused, and, thinking still of Morton, muttered : " Confound the fellow! I wish hewas back at Aldershot with Clara Singleton, or anyone else who would have him ;" not hesitating, in his rage, to speak thus slightingly of the girl he had deceived.

Then, as a remembrance of her goodness and beauty rose with the mention of her name before him, he felt a little ashamed of himself, and muttered : " 1 believe it would be a great deal better for me if I cared for her instead of the other one, but there's no good wishing that now." Thus the night passed to these two men — one conscious that in the other he had a rival who. might be dangerous, and whom it behoved him, in the success of his plan, to supplant in some way ; the other, quite ignorant that any similarity of feeling existed between him and his friend on the subject of their young hostess, and quite capable, had he been aware that such was the fact, of withdrawing his claims to her attention, and allowing his rival free scope to prosecute his suit. Captain Morton was just the kind of man likely to act in a foolish Quixotic manner in such a position, had he been aware how matters lay ; but he was not so aware, and arose next morning with all his doubts and fears silenced, and his hopes springing up afresh, under the influence of the bright sunshine and crisp, frosty morning air.

When they met at break fast, Morton noticed that Mounteagle was sullen and ill-tempered in his manner towards him self, which was unusual ; for as a rule, however badly Mounteagle behaved to his other supe riors, he was friendly with his Captain. To-day it was quite different, several times he was pointedly rude to Morton, and, to make it evi dent that he was so purposely, he was particularly and unusually merry and pleasant with all the rest. "What's up now?" thought the Captain, puzzled by this new phase in his subaltern's character ; " I thought I had got to the bottom of all the objectionable points in that fellow's nature, but it seems there are a few more to come that I know nothing of as yet. Courage, however ; if he gets on well with the rest, I think I can manage to bear with him, unless he be comes very bad indeed."

And very bad indeed he evidently did intend to become, for looking up presently, he said : " I say, Attwood, did you hear how Morton went in for the heiress last night ? It's a curious feature in such a very disinterested man, that he should be so desperately and suddenly smitten by a girl who will have £10,000 a year ; especially when he has always been considered rather hard-hearted hitherto." Morton started as if he had been stung, and all his self-command could not prevent a dark flush covering his face, even showing under his deeply-bronzed skin, while a strange look came into his eyes, and the veins in his forehead swelled ; he forced himself to control the paroxysm of rage that rose within him. Attwood, a quiet, gentlemanly young man, looked from one to the other apprehensively ; during all the time he had been in the regiment, he had never seen such a look in Morton's face, and though he had seen many a bad expression in Mounteagle's before, it had never borne quite so evil a character as now.

What could be up between the two, and how would it end ? Morton intended to speak, from the way he looked at Mounteagle, but as yet he evidently feared to trust himself to do so. It was a base and mean insinuation the one just made,Attwood knew ; he, as well as all the rest of the regiment, was well acquainted with Morton's generous and ncble mind. If it were time he had paid the heiress attention, then it must be because he admired her, and not from any other motive ; but, in a vague, far-off kind of way, the young man realised what the sting of such an accusa tion must be to a man like his Captain. Yet he did not comprehend the full bitterness of the words, nor understand the cause that made them wound so deeply. It was not the base ness of which he was accused, and which he, of all men, could well afford to scorn, that galled him to the quick ; it was the source from whence it proceeded that caused it to rankle and fester in his mind.

The man to whom he had been more than a brother, from whom he had borne insult and annoyance, whom he had shielded from punishment richly-deserved, this man it was who had dealt him so cowardly a blow. He spoke at last very quietly, with his indignant troubled eyes fixed full on Mounteagle's face : " You of all men," he said, " should have known me better than to speak as you have spoken of me just now. Henceforth there can be no friendship between us." As he concluded, he rose and left the room, calm and stern, without addressing another look or word to the offender, who, in spite of his jealousy, felt an uneasy conviction that in losing such a friend he had made a false step, the inconvenience of which he would feel at some future time. As soon as Morton was well out of the room, there was a buzz of voices all round the table.

" You've lost a friend," said Slingsby, " and, let me tell you, you deserve it. A man more thoroughly above mercenary motives never lived than Morton, and even had he not been so kind to you when you got into difficulties, gentlemanly feeling should have kept you from giving utterance to such a sneer." " You ought to be ashamed of yourself," chimed in Royston ; " we all know well enough Captain Morton is above reproach in the light in which you spoke of him, and you must have been aware your inference was neither true nor just." " I should advise you to take care what you say, young man," answered Mounteagle, looking coldly at Royston. " What I said was true, that Morton paid great attention to the heiress ; and the conclusion I drew therefrom was such as would have presented itself to anyone who was VOL. II.

C acquainted with his usual sentiments on the sub ject of love, and matters of that kind, and was not accustomed to take a man at his own valuation, or at that of his friends ; it was the opinion of one who had never seen him under temptation, and chose to judge for himself what might be the cause of so sudden an alteration in sentiments and character." Everyone looked coldly at the young man, as he finished speaking ; it was very evident he was not in a mood to bear remonstrance on the subject of his late ebullition of temper, and the matter was let drop ; but he felt that all avoided conversation with him, and he knew instinctively that he had never fallen so low in the opinion of his companions before. Punch's cynical but laughable definition of gratitude, " as a lively anticipation of favours to come," was exemplified pretty plainly before their eyes, in the person of Mounteagle, who had been, to all appearance, grateful for Morton's kindness, and anxious to please him, as long as he felt the want of a friend; but now that he had gained a more powerful protector in the Colonel, all remembrance of his Captain's long continued and unwearied kindness faded from his memory, and he repaid mercy with insolence, consideration with scorn ; and the con templation of a quality they had thought of with a laugh when it was imaginary, was not pleasant when it came before them as a reality.

Up in his own room, Captain Morton gave way to the tumult of outraged and indignant feelings that rose within him. Up aud down the narrow space he paced, his agitation being too great to admit of his remaining quiet for an instant, whilst a multitude of confused passionate thoughts crowded into his mind, trying to take shape and form as they rushed and tumbled over each other in the hurry and tumult of his excitement. That man, was the ever-recurring idea that would come uppermost, that he should turn thus on him — it was too bad ; and the motive that had been attributed to him, was it possible that everyone would regard his admiration for Miss Courtenay in that Hght ? or was the idea only the offspring of Mounteagle's jaundiced mind ? Surely, she was beautiful enough to account for any man's infatuation, had she not a penny in the world ; and he, though not rich, possessed a competence that had always pre served him from feeling a desire for money, and c ought, therefore, to preserve him from the imputation of such a desire.

And this design of which he was accused, he had always been accustomed to regard as the meanest form in which the love of money could show itself, either in man or woman. In a woman, if any thing, it would be worse than in a man, for she would barter her liberty of mind and body utterly and entirely for a greed of gain, the gratification of which must depend absolutely on the will of the master to whom she had sold herself; whereas, with a man, there was a difference in fact, though not in spirit. He would equally have exchanged his freedom for the gold brought him by any woman whom he married for her money, if he fulfilled the vows made by him before God on the marriage-day ; but then, whereas in her case escape from the fulfilment of those vows is difficult and dangerous, in his it is as easy as though he were in no way bound ; and if he has gained the riches for which he made the bargain, the world he serves will pardon his sin against the woman who bought him, for the sake of the gold which she paid as his price.

These reflections did not come into Morton's mind now for the first time ; they had often passed through it before, when the subject had been brought before him, either in reading or conversation, but now they seemed to assume larger proportions, to become of more consequence in his eyes than formerly. Then it had been an abstract matter, now it was a personal one, and it behoved him to consider seriously whether he should crush this embryo passion out of his heart and life at once, if it were possible to do so, for fear of what the malignant tongue ofthe gossiping world might say ; or whether he should pursue it, with the determination to throw every power of body and mind into the effort to gain the love, which, he felt now, would be the one real object of his Hfe. It would be cowardly, he told himself, to turn back from fear of slandering tongues, and yet the slander had power to wound him so deeply, he could not tell whether the love would be worth it.

Though he felt an instinctive per ception of the depth and force it might attain, as yet he had no experience of such feelings, and could he avoid this girl, and crush the senti ments she had succeeded in awakening in him, he might live the rest of his life in peaceful, undisturbed apathy, ignorant alike of the heights of rapture to which the human soul can attain, or the abyss of misery into which it may be plunged. And so Hve but half a Hfe — for that was the summing-up of the plan he pro posed to himself — know but half ofthe powers of his nature, exercise but half the capabilities that God had given him, taste but half the joys with which this mortal life has been blessed. True, he would lose all this, though he had never so thought before, when congratulating himself on exemption from the weaknesses of those around him.

It was much to lose — half his existence, .surely ; but then there was one considera tion to be put iuto ihe other side ofthe scale, a consideration that weighed down all the others, and made him again doubtful whether the course he had chosen was not the wisest, as he thought of all love meant, or might be made to mean, in the picture, otherwise so fair, that he had drawn for himself but now. And that consideration was the power of suffering inherent in him, as in every human soul, since our first parents were driven from the Garden of Eden into a world that brought forth thorns and thistles, and which, in the careless apathetic Hfe he led was dulled and blunted. He felt intuitively he had seen it through Hfe around him, that this, the most powerful, the most omnipresent of mortal capabilities, was everywhere to be met — in the gay worldly assembly, in the privacy of the domestic circle.

For one throb of rapture the pangs of suffering are innumerable ; for one glimpse of happiness there are hours of misery ; for one soul that can say " Eat, drink, and be merry, thou hast goods laid up for many years," there are thousands to whom the joys and advantages of this world are but a mockery — who have but tasted once from the golden bowl of Hfe the elixir of happiness, when it has been snatched from their lips, never to slake the fevered palate again with the glad dening and heavenly draught. Yes, if he lost he gained, that was evideut ; yet his heart told him he would be acting the part of a coward if he shirked his responsibilities in life, its pleasures and its pains, if he shunned the happiness that might be before him, because it was accompanied by the suffering that is inherent to all the joys allotted to human nature.