This Deadly Blot

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TIFANA'S REVENGE By WILLIAM LANGFORD Crown 8vo, cloth, js 6d. SOME PRESS OPINIONS The Leeds Mercury says — There is much humour in the work and a keen appreciation of character. The Scotsman sa37s — Not lacking in display of literary ability With certain indulgences the book may be read with interest. The Yorkshire Post says — Here and there the author shows a good deal of , humour, not seldom he describes his characters with decided skill. . . . There is a good deal of entertainment to be got out of 'Tirana's Revenge.' The People says — ' Tifana's Revenge ' has the saving merit of being readable throughout. Church of England Messenger says — We can congratulate Dr Langford on having produced a very readable and interesting tale, healthy in tone, and in literary form leaving nothing to be desired.

The Kyneton Guardian says — Its striking originality is one of its distinguishing features. ... It has all the elements of a satisfactory work of fiction. The Advertiser (Victoria) ig^|i_-$jJ. story has been well conceived and written, and we commeioHt.to euKreaders as in every way worthy of their perusal. I ?60C93 The Lancefield Mercury sayS — We -.have read with considerable pleasure a novel entitled ' Tifana's Revenge.' . . . On the whole the story is well written, and bears testimony to a good deal of ability on the part of its author. The Daylesford Advocate says — ' Tifana's Revenge ' is, however, far above the commonplace novel, for it is a sound, vigorous, and healthy work, and apparently is the result of much thought and close observation. The Kyneton Observer says — The descriptive powers of the writer are well displayed. . . . ' Tifana's Revenge ' we can well recommend to our readers as a readable and instructive novel.

The Daylesford Herald says — An amusing novel in which the interest is well sustained throughout. The Romsey Examiner says — The plot of the story is an ingenious one, and is very carefully unfolded. EEMI1.GT0N & CO., Limited, London and Sydney. BY WILLIAM LANGFORD Author of ' Tifana's Revenge' ' And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son.' REMINGTON & CO., LIMITED LONDON & SYDNEY i893 All rights reserved CONTENTS

PART II CHAPTER I Before the Mast, . . . . . -133

CHAPTER II

Small Beginnings, !45 CONTENTS VII

CHAPTER III PAGE

A Haughty Spirit before a Fall, . . -159

CHAPTER IV

The Strings that move the Puppets, . . 183

CHAPTER V

December and May, . . . . . .191

CHAPTER VI

A Pair of Curs, ...... 199

CHAPTER VII

An Unexpected Meeting, ..... 205

CHAPTER VIII

Alluvial Mining, . . . . .213

CHAPTER IX

Cock-eyed Sam's Gambling Saloon, . . . 223

CHAPTER X

Drunken Geordie, 237

CHAPTER XI

The Voice of thy Brother's BloocI, . . CONTENTS

PART III CHAPTER I PAGE 0 Rare Pale Margaret, . . . . 255

CHAPTER II

The Brand of Cain, 264

CHAPTER III

Welcome Home, . . . . . . .274

CHAPTER IV

Can a Woman forget her Child . . . .283

CHAPTER V

Australian Visitors, . , . . .294

CHAPTER VI

A Joyful Mother of Childrf.x, . . .

Chapter I Sweet Meadlands, Loveliest Village Of The Plain

Frenchmen are wont to express disgust with the fog and cloudy sky of England. A stranger trusting their report would suppose that a fine day was un known to the hapless dwellers on the British Isles, who if not groping with torches at mid-day, soaked with rain, or wading knee-deep in snow or slush, must face an east wind which makes red their noses and ears, paralyses their fingers, numbs their feet, and dulls the small intelligence with which nature has provided them. They affect surprise that the un happy islanders do not ' their own quietus make with a bare bodkin.' These harsh critics are for the most part political exiles, with tempers soured by the failure of their plans for remodelling the world.

If, instead of cling ing to the dirty gloom-inspiring purlieus of Leicester Square and to cafes where nihilists, anarchists, communists, and reformers of everything and of everyone except themselves, pullulate, conspire, quarrel, and curse the only land which will shelter them, these bilious satirists would seek some quiet English village, would think less of themselves, and more of Nature's unerring harmony, they would learn that the moisture and the cloudy sky which breed the yellow fog in smoky cities make in the country grass of a green more brilliant than their clear blue skies have ever looked upon; that flowers and fruit, matured more slowly than in their sunny land, have a richer perfume and a more luscious flavour than their Southern climes can produce ; while in the sober light of our cold grey sky the shades of green in springing crop, in buds and leaves of oak, beech, and holly, of yews, horse-chestnuts, limes, and sycamores, blend in a harmony which their brighter sky would quench ; and the brown, red, and yellow of fading autumn leaves have a mellow charm in our mild light which the glare of their sky overpowers ; for a fierce blue sky brings forth garish colours which need not fear its splendour, so flowers and birds wear brighter hues, and lack sweet English softness.

Among fair English villages, none is more fair than Meadlands, which stands amidst rich pasture lands where a river meanders slowly ; now deep and narrow between banks crowned by osiers and weeping willows ; now spreading out in broad lagoons, where cattle stand knee-deep ; but, deep or shallow, it knows no haste to leave the restful scene. No labouring horses drag the plough athwart those fertile lands ; the bustle of seed-time and harvest is unknown : the winter floods renew their strength with rich alluvial loam. On the east and north, well wooded hills are a screen from the colder winds ; climb up those hills, and look down on the stream, for no fairer sight can be seen in the wide world. Like a silver ribbon, in and out the pretty river winds ; when the sunbeam peeps between the clouds, it decks it with rubies and gold.

Look at the many-changing greens within that spread ing landscape ; the willows, grass, and trees, and their shadows on the grass, look upwards at the fleecy clouds, with edges tinged with saffron and gold, watch their shadows slowly sweeping across that verdant plain, with many varying tints and tones as the cloud is dense or light ; then say if you pine for a cloudless sky, and a never-changing blue. For every land has its special wealth, which her sons will hold the dearest, as the olives and vines of sunny France, with grapes in purple clusters ; as the orange groves of Spain ; while in hotter climes the air is heavy with the breath of fragrant spices, and coffee with the sugar cane and stately date palms rise ; but England's hop o-ardens can match the vineyards in English eyes, and apple orchards are as fair as orange and lemon groves.

About half-a-mile from the river, it consists of a single street three-quarters of a mile long, and bent in the middle at a right angle, one side pointing to the river, and the other running parallel to its general course. At the angle of the street is the only hotel, the Benbow Arms. In that part which is parallel to the river, are the church, the parsonage, the doctor's house, and a house occupied by Mrs Crampton, a widow, with her son and daughter, and a maiden sister. The end of the street which points to the river is occupied by shops containing the necessaries of life, the nearest market-town being distant nine miles, and the nearest railway station six miles by the road, which goes out of the way to cross the river by a bridge, but for foot passengers, who cross upon stepping stones, the distance does not exceed three miles.

Meadlands is celebrated for its butter, clotted cream, and cream cheeses, but above all for its cheese, which the inhabitants declare to be superior to Stilton, and which certainly runs it close. Moreover, it has the advantage of being abundant, and therefore cheap, a consideration not to be neglected. The merits of the Meadlands cheese are not ex clusively due to the cows, or to the buxom dairy maids, which has been proved by the disappointment of those who, seeking to rival it, have taken Mead lands cows and Meadlands dair}r women to other pastures. It is the fashion to disparage the excellence which our fathers praised, and to tone down the crimes which they denounced ; thus pulling down and uplifting so, that if ever their work is finished, this world will be a dull, stale, and weary abode of medio crity, about as interesting as a cricket field or lawn tennis ground without the players.

Rustic innocence and simplicity are among the idols of our forefathers, which modern iconoclasts delight to smash. But if these virtues are leaving the earth, they still linger at Meadlands, as may be proved by statistics, the favourite weapon of the leveller. There is a lock-up in the village, and a policeman, and once in a fortnight a stipendiary magistrate sits in the seat of justice. But the lock-up has had but three occupants in the course of the year ; the policeman has waxed fat, and the stipendiary magistrate comes by one train and re turns by the next, without finding evil-doers to whom he may be a terror. Since there is no labour except dairy work, and on market days driving fat cattle to the neighbouring market-place, and driving back store cattle, there is no labouring population outside the farmers' houses.

A few meadows, it is true, on the higher land around the village, are cut for hay twice in the year, but this is done by the farmers and their sons with the help of a reaping machine, the wives and daughters helping at the gathering in. Meadlands has lived in this happy rest ever since the Wars of the Roses, when her fields were more than once stained with blood. The church, which dates from the end of the four teenth century, is small and in good preservation, with a light and graceful fluted spire. Close by — the garden opening into the churchyard — is the parsonage, a substantial house of one floor, built of the same sandstone as the church. The rooms are low, not exceeding seven feet six in height under the massive beams which support the roof. The windows are small, with little diamond-shaped panes of glass.

About two miles to the west of the town is Benbow Hall, a comfortable Elizabethan mansion, the seat of Sir Clifford Benbow, to whom Meadlands and much of the adjacent land belongs. To the south, where the river runs a little faster is an old-fashioned water-mill with the usual mill pond, on which swim some black swans from Australia, a present from Sir Clifford Benbow. To the south of this mill the character of the soil changes, and almost all the land is under cultivation. The living of Meadlands, which was worth three hundred and fifty pounds a year, was in the gift of Sir Clifford Benbow. The present encumbent, the Rev. Edgar Greatrex, had held it for the last two-and-twenty years. Sir Clifford had promised that on the demise of Mr Great rex, or if he should choose to resign the living, he would give it to that gentleman's eldest son, Mark Greatrex, if he was then in orders and fit to under take the duties.

Mark was now at St John's College, Oxford, and his father and friends were in daily hope, not un mixed with fear of failure, of hearing of his having passed his final examination. Doctor Monckton, whose house adjoined the parsonage, had also a son at the same college, and, as in the case of Mark, his friends were in hope that any day's post might bring the news that he had passed also. It was indeed a great disappointment to both families that neither of the young men had returned home, or written at the conclusion of the examination, so that they might at least tell what result they them selves expected. Their absence was the more to be regretted as Sir Clifford had invited both families to dine at the Hall that evening, and as he had hitherto taken a kindly interest in the young men, and as he was in a position to help them to a start in life, it was very desirable that he should from time to time have the opportunity of seeing those whom he was S WE ET ME A DLA NDS 9 expected to assist.

But Mark and Harry were both one-and-twenty, and, like many others of the same age, thought that it was beneath their dignity to pay to their patron the little civilities which etiquette calls for. ' Is everything,' said Dr Monckton, ' ready in Harry's room, so that he can dress at once if he walks across from Pinkerton station ? It is a terrible pity that he should miss this dinner to-night. I believe that General Sackville will be there who has influence at the Horse Guards. If Harry persists in his desire to go into the artillery, influence in that quarter should not be neglected.' 'Everything,' said Mrs Monckton, 'is ready in Harry's room except the gentleman himself. It is most provoking that he should stay away like this when I have written three times in the week to him entreating him not to miss this dinner, and he does not even condescend to answer my letters.' ' If, instead of entreating him, Mary, you had told him that you had killed a fat turkey, the gentleman would have put in an appearance the next day.' ' I am sure I wish that I had done so.

Not that it matters so far as General Sackville is concerned, for Mrs Greatrex tells me that he is most cantankerous, and he would perhaps take a dislike to our Harry.' ' He may be cantankerous, but he is under discipline, which I have never been, and if Mrs Sackville issues orders, he obeys without a murmur.' 'I am so glad you told me, Felix. She is a horrid old woman, and she dresses in all the colours of the rainbow, but I will lay myself out to please her to-night.' ' Do ; you won't find her quite so easy to please as I am, but if anyone can fetch her, you will.' There was no time for further discussion of the matter, for Eva, their only daughter, impatient for this her first dinner party, came to tell them that the fly from the Benbow Arms was waiting at the door. Mrs Monckton, hoping against hope that Harry would still come that evening, although too late for dinner, left a note to be given him on his arrival. 'My own dear Harry, — I cannot believe that you will refuse what your mother entreats of you, how ever repugnant to you it may be to go among "swells," as you call them.

Do take a hasty dinner of cold beef and bread and jam, and dress. By that time the fly will have returned, and you can come in it and spend the evening. There is sure to be something in the way of supper. If you only knew how important it is to make friends at yqur age. But even if you think that I am talking foolishness, do not refuse this the only favour I have ever asked of you. — Your loving mother, M. M.' ' If he refuses a favour asked in that way, he is not worthy that you should trouble yourself about him any further,' so said the doctor, but Mrs Monckton answered : ' Nevertheless, I will continue to trouble myself about him as long as I live.' While Mr and Mrs Greatrex were dressing, the same conversation, mutatis mutandis, took place between them. Like that between the Moncktons, it was interrupted by their daughter Margaret, with the news that the fly had come. 'As a particular favour to me, Edgar, drink claret to-night instead of port,' said Mrs Greatrex ; ' you can have no idea how much pleasanter you are when you have not got symptoms of what the doctor calls incipient gout.' ' If it was anyone else's port but Sir Clifford's, I would do as you ask me, but it is too much to expect me to let his splendid wine pass.' Margaret Greatrex was fifteen years old, but so well grown that she might easily have been mistaken for seventeen or eighteen.

She was her father's favourite, and she rewarded his preference by always taking his part. ' Now, mama, that is so like you, trying to keep poor papa from the little enjoyment he has the chance of getting. One would think, to hear you, that he drank too much.' ' That's right, Margaret. Stand up for your poor old dad.' ' Oh, of course I am very cruel,' said Mrs Greatrex, 'as if it made any difference to me if your father cannot exercise sufficient self-restraint to abstain from what he knows to be bad for him. Now 1 should be ashamed.' 'But I don't know that the port wine on Sir Clifford's table is bad. On the contrary, I think it is remarkably good.' 'And besides, mama, you know that only last Sunday you made yourself so ill through eating gooseberry pie and cream, that you could not go to Sunday School in the afternoon.' ' Yes,' said Mr Greatrex, ' and after a most solemn warning from me.' Thus harassed in either flank, Mrs Greatrex carried the war into the enemy's country. ' Now, Margaret, let us have no nonsense to-night ; if Vernon Benbow pays any attentions to you, as I am told that he does to every girl whom he meets, bear in mind that you are only a child that should be in short dresses but for your father's nonsense.' 'Oh, mama.

I am an inch and a half taller than you are.' ' If she is a child,' said Mr Greatrex, ' what is the use of putting this nonsense into her head ? ' ' Oh, well, I will not say another word, but remember this, Edgar, that if anything happens to you, we are dependent on Sir Clifford to give your living to Mark. If Margaret, encouraged by you, sets her cap at his only son, we are not likely to get much help from the father.' ' If anything happens to you ! ' said Margaret indignantly. ' By that you mean if poor papa dies, which he won't do for a long, long time. It is very selfish and mean of you to be calculating what will happen then.' Whereupon Mrs Greatrex ended her discourse with her usual formula, ' You will be sorry some day that you did not listen to my advice.' Then she sat back in the corner of the vehicle and wept, while Margaret put her hand in her father's. When they reached Benbow Hall, Mrs Greatrex entered without any trace of tears, looking bright and cheerful, like a garden after an April shower.

For the joys of the family mother differ exceed ingly. There are some who rejoice to see smilino faces around them, though their own heads should ache and their hearts should be sad. Others there are who rejoice in that their presence brings sadness and because the laugh and the merry tale cease when they appear, and this is the more enduring joy ; for it is easy to make man sorrowful, and it is hard to make him glad. And for those who choose the cruel joy, there is a more excellent gladness, for when she has made the household cup so full of bitterness that it cannot be drunk, it may happen that as the worm will turn when trodden upon, so the children and husband of that mother will rise up and call her cursed. Then her eyes will weep, but her heart will swell with gladness. Is she not persecuted for righteousness' sake ?

And when she has wept for a little while, not long enough to make her beautiful eyes red, she smiles a sweet and gentle smile, as one who forgives her persecutors.

Chapter II

A DINNER AT BENBOW HALL It was a small party that met at Sir Clifford Benbow's. Since the death of his wife three years ago, and in the absence of his only child, Vernon Benbow, at Cambridge, he had led the life of a hermit, occupying himself for nine months of the year with the garden and the conservatory, and especially with orchids, of which he possessed the best collection in England. His wife and he were very fond of society, which they had to go to or bring to them, as there were no country seats within visiting distance of Benbow Hall. During her life-time, he passed the months of May and June at his house in Park Lane, which was now let, and in August and September he entertainedj_ome twenty guests at Benbow Hall. With his wife and son he passed the winter months in the Riviera, Algiers, or Egypt.

This last item in the yearly programme was the only one which survived the death of Lady Benbow. Like the Greatrexes and the Moncktons, he was anxiously waiting to hear if his son had passed the final examination at Cambridge, and the object of this dinner, which had been fixed rather too soon, was to bring the three young men together. The only other guests, besides the Greatrexes and the Moncktons, were General and Mrs Sackville. Mrs General Sackville, as she persisted in calling herself, in spite of a feeble remonstrance from her husband, a fine handsome man, whose good-humoured smile seemed to refute Mrs Greatrex's accusation. In her own opinion and in that of her friends, she was a medium of no small power. She had a pointed red nose, unsteady eyes, which sometimes stared vacantly, and at other times rolled restlessly.

Her thin lips trembled when she spoke. From time to time her whole frame gave a convulsive start, and an expression of terror passed across her face, as if her thoughts on earthly things were suddenly interrupted by an awful visitor from another sphere. There was more truth than he realised in the General's remark to his intimate friends that Mrs Sackville was putting herself in training for a lunatic asylum. The dinner was heavy, as dinners are where guests are invited without regard to their modes of thought. Mrs Sackville, in spite of Sir Clifford's repeated efforts to turn the conversation, persisted in relating her experiences among the spirits of her departed friends. The subject was particularly distasteful to Mr Greatrex. 'I should be very sorry, Mrs Sackville,' said he, 'if I did not think that you were mistaken.

I could no longer look upon the grave as a place where "the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest." ' ' You are in the same position as I am,' said Sir Clifford to Mrs Monckton and Mrs Greatrex. ' Our sons cannot spare time to write three or four lines to relieve the anxiety of their parents.' 'I do so wish,' said Mrs Sackville, addressing the same ladies, ' that I had known the Christian names of your sons. I should then have been in a position to relieve your anxiety. I was en rapport last night with Martha Caster, a very precious spirit, and I consulted^her about dear Vernon. Her answer was, " Weep not for him, for the future shall be where the past has been, and that which has been shall be for evermore." ' ' A most Delphic answer,' said Mr Greatrex. 'I never go to the Adelphi,' said Mrs Sackville, 'the tone of the theatre is not high.

Indeed, I cannot now spare time even for the opera.' At this moment a servant brought a telegram to Sir Clifford, who read it and exclaimed: ' Good news at last from Vernon. His message is short and sweet : " Seventh wrangler." ' _> ' There ! ' said Mrs Sackville ; ' did I not say that Martha Caster was a most precious spirit ? ' 'Precious indeed,' said Mr Greatrex, 'and it requires most precious skill to read between the lines. I should never have learned from the message which you gave us that Vernon was seventh wrangler.' Mrs Monckton was a woman of tact, and she remembered that Mrs Sackville was a power at the Horse Guards. ' Perhaps,' said she, ' you may be again en rapport with precious Mrs Martha Caster. I shall be so thankful to you if you will lay my son's case before her. His Christian name is Harry.' ' I will do so with very great pleasure, but I fear that you may have offended her by styling her Mrs. Behind the screen they scorn all earthly titles.' ' What,' said Mrs Greatrex, ' was precious Martha Caster before she retired behind the screen ? ' ' She was one of us, and very highly privileged.' ' When you speak of one of us,' said Dr Monckton, ' you mean — mean — you most probably mean earnest inquirers.' He finished his speech otherwise than he intended to do when he began, checked by a glance from his wife, which warned him not to offend the power at the Horse Guards. ' Precisely,' said Mrs Sackville ; ' we call ourselves earnest searchers for the truth.

You and dear Mrs Monckton are evidently in sympathy with us. I wish that you would both attend our seances.' 'I have as yet heard no proofs nor disproofs that spirits communicate with us who remain, shall I say in front of the screen ? I keep an open mind.' ' In front of the screen ; a most apt expression of the state of things. I rejoice to have met you and Mrs Monckton. To those who approach them in an inquiring and reverent frame of mind, the spirits will give convincing proofs.' When the ladies left the room the General accompanied them, because his wife would not allow him to drink wine, which she said was an offence to many very precious spirits. ' What is this ? ' said Mr Greatrex. ' Is Monckton also among the prophets ? ' 1; ' My wife has taken it into her head to humour Mrs Sackville.

Why not ? ' 'Why not indeed ? but what about yourself?' ' Oh, as for me, when my wife leads I follow suit' ' Have you no idea,' said Sir Clifford, ' how those two lads have done at Oxford ? ' 'We have heard nothing,' said Mr Greatrex, 'since the examinations began. A week before that I got a letter from their tutor, Mr Sloman. Of Monckton he spoke enthusiastically, said that he would certainly take good honours, and that a double first was not unlikely. He said that my boy was working steadily, and that he fully expected him to pass. But he is weak in mathematics. I wish he had a little of your son's ability in that branch. He needs it if he is to live by the Church.' ' No news is good news,' said Sir Clifford. ' I have no doubt that he will come out all right, but even if he were to fail, there is nothing to prevent him from having another shot at it.

He is only one-andtwenty, and he cannot take orders before he is three-and twenty.' ' There is time enough,' said Mr Greatrex, ' unless, as my wife puts it, anything happens to me.' ' Take another glass of wine, man, and don't talk of anything happening to you. Why ! good heavens ! you are not fifty yet, and you are by far the strongest man at the table.' Presumably the bulk of mankind are not cowards, and yet the haste with which they seek to silence a man, who speaks of the possibility of death soon happening to himself, lends colour to the suspicion that their courage will not bear much strain. Every ■9 man knows, or can know, if he chooses to consult statistics which are ready to his hand, how many in a hundred thousand apparently healthy men will die within a week, a month, or a year.

And yet, like the ostrich that hides his head in the sand, man tries to shut out all remembrance of the grim destroyer. It would be laughable if it were not so pitiful. Surely of all ' pranks before high heaven which make the angels weep,' this is the most wretched. Some men who are running into debt, behave in that way with their money matters. Like the ostrich, they bury their heads in the sand and will not look at their pass-book with its slender balance, nor at the pile of bills which is laid beside their toast upon the breakfast-table. And for such men, you and I can hardly find fitting words to express our contempt. In what respect does their conduct differ from ours ? Suppose that a man in the midst of the bustle and business and pleasure of life, should come to know with certainty that he would die upon a given day, within a week, or a month, or a year, are there not some speculations which he would close, leaving ready-money in their place ?

Are there no injuries, or fancied injuries, that in the light of so great a change he would forgive, as he hopes to be forgiven ? And yet, if a man feels within himself certain warnings that he is mortal, and that the great change which will assuredly come to all within a limited number of years, is coming very shortly to him ; if he speaks of it as one who would leave his affairs in order when he departs, we drown his voice with ours. Why should he remind us that we too are mortal ? Cowards, cowards all ! Mr Greatrex would not be thus silenced. ' Nevertheless,' he continued, 'something may happen to me, and if it does before Mark is ready to take my living, what will become of my family ? ' 'Doctor,' said Sir Clifford, 'Greatrex is getting hypochondriacs. Can you prescribe nothingfor him ?' ' Nothing better, I should say, than a glass or two of this splendid port.' But Mr Greatrex persisted. ' If I should die before Mark is in orders — to put the matter quite plainly, will you keep the livingwarm for him ? ' ' My dear Greatrex, I will do anything for you that my conscience approves, and I am quite sure that you will not ask me to do that which it does not approve.