Tender and True. A novel

Front matter

■ ■ At Every Library and of Every Bookseller. FOURTH EDITION OF GEORGE AUGUSTUS S A L A'S NEW WORK, PARIS HERSELF AGAIN. 2 Vols., demy, handsomely bound, 25s. PRONOUNCED BY THE ENTIRE PRESS TO BE MR. SALA'S BEST WORK. REMINGTON & CO., 5, Arundei. Street, Strand, W.C. TENDER AND TRUE. a iEto-Ki, BY WM. ARTHUR LAW. Late 2 is. R. S. Fusiliers. ONE VOLUME. liontion : REMINGTON AND CO., 5, Arundei. Street, Strand, W.C. 1880. [All Rights Reserved.] TO MY OLD COMRADES OF THE ROYAL SCOTS FUSILIERS. IN MEMORY OF PAST DAYS AND NEVER-FORGOTTEN FRIENDSHIPS.

Chapter I. The Old Stout

It is an August evening in the year 1864, and the scene is an English one : a bit of wild English landscape, with a tone of Scotland in its colouring, and something of its rugged ness of outline, too, but with none of its grandeur in depth, height, or vastness of area — not a picture to gaze transfixed upon with admiration at its grand sublimity, but a little water colour which one looks at with a dreamy satisfaction. Undulating downs, over which long shadows are sweeping, covered with short herbage, while from among the broken rocks spring the purple heather and the yellow broom. Down below is a belt of pine trees, whose dark foliage changes into B the brighter tint of the oak and beech where they stoop to meet the lake. Its waters, calm and undisturbed, reflect the yellow corn fields on the further shore, and the blue range of hills, whose outline stands clear and dis tinct in the light of the waning day.

There is a sound of bees in the air, and the moan of doves comes up from the pines be low with the lowing of cows from some dis taut homestead. But the blue of the hills changes to grey, and again from grey to sombre brown : the day is dying, and the western sky is flecked with rose-tinted clouds. The sun has nearly sunk behind the opposite range ; one moment, and the top most peak gleams like molten gold, the next, it is gone, and "all the land is dark." They both rose from where they had been sitting for the last two hours, far too much engrossed in their conversation and each other to notice the rapidly closing day hither to, but now suddenly aroused to the fact that the sun was down some time, by the increas ing chilliness of the August evening. As she stood up and shook off the poor faded THE OLD STOKY. crushed he:itlu>rbolls from bor dress, and t.hon beg^Q slowly to draw on her gloves, she looked the very type of mi English girl, country born anil bred.

A very pretty face, not by any uioaus perfect, and not one that A sculptor would model from. ; but a really pleasaut sweet face, with a soft fonder ex pression in tbe blue eyes, and, perhaps, rather Loo ini'ijiwii a, muuth. Rich goldon hair swept in smooth waves from bur forehead behind her ears, where it was gathered up in the chignon of the day, with a band of blue pass inground it, while a tress tell in ripples owr her shoulders. Sho was about tho middle height ; wore a little vtlvet hat rnthcr for ward on her forehead ; a sort of pea jacket of some dark blue material, with pockets in front for her hands, and a striped muslin skirt, looped up fur walking. Her companion was a youug man of about five or six aud twenty, with an easy, good -tempered looking face, of the fair order too, with a light moustache drooping over a firm, determined looking mouth.

His whole appearance was that of a man whom the world had used. easily, or who had taken it easily, no matter how it served him, which was nearer the truth. " It's quite early, Ethel," he said, drawing out his watch, " you really needn't be in such a tremendous hurry." " No, no ; indeed I mustn't stay another minute," she answered, "it is seven o'clock now, and I oughtn't to be home a second later than a quarter past, and even then I shall have to tell all sorts of stories as to what detained me, and why I didn't come home before the dew fell. I only wish you had a little of the manœuvring I have to go through, both to get out and then give an account of myself afterwards. Not that they suspect anything, poor dear old souls, but they never stir out of the house themselves, and naturally expect me to bring them some account of what is going on in the outer world.

Oh, dear me, the dreadful things I have to concoct sometimes ; you've a great deal to answer for, I can tell you." " Well, all the weight of these enormities be on my shoulders, then, I'll bear them, and anything else you like to put on them." THE OLD STORY. " Now, do come, George, please," she said. So off they set down the hill path as fast as the broken rocks and stones would permit, till they gained the road which skirted the shores of the lake. " Good-bye, George, I shall see you to morrow, shan't I ? " " Yes, my darling, you may be sure of that," he said, as he held her in his arms and looked into her face. One, long silent kiss and they separated; she walking hurriedly along the road with out looking back, while he stood watching her retreating figure till it was lost in the shadow of the trees and the deepening gloom.

Then he turned on his heel, and slowly strode along towards the little village near at hand, where his horse was waiting to take him six miles farther on, to the town where his regiment was quartered.

Chapter II. The Detachment

He rode home leisurely enough as he was already late for mess, and there was nothing to hurry him, while it was pleasant riding slowly along under the stars which were now twinkling overhead ; and a faint light behind the hills showed that the moon would soon be up, so that he would shortly see his way clear enough ; not that he needed it as the road was straight, and he knew every inch of it. He was in a lon£ train of thought all these miles, not altogether pleasant, although he tried not to let himself be troubled. " Upon my soul," he mused, " I don't see how all this is going to end ; I'm really afraid I've gone too far this time. I generally know my own mind ; what do 1 mean to do ? I'm handed if I know." This satisfactory end to his cogitations was occasioned by his pulling up at the barrack gate, whence passing through and giving his horse over to the groom who was waiting, he walked up to the mess room.

It was a long, rather low room upstairs. As you entered, there was a door facing you at the farther end, opening on to the back stairs which led to the pantry and kitchen premises. By your left hand, the fire-place ; three windows on the left looking on the barrack square, and a bow window on the right, looking over the road, the canal which ran beside it, and be yond that again a few of the better sort of de tached houses on the outskirts of the town of Ulsmere, which you saw to your right, with the church spire rising prominently in the centre. To your left, the canal led on through green meadows, and past ancient elm trees, till you lost sight of it among some low wooded hills. Altogether it was a view which very few British officers are often favoured with from their barrack rooms or mess, which, as a rule, look into the glaring square and the men's quarters.

The furniture was of the character of all regimental messes. A mahogany table in the centre ; a side-feoard be tween the windows ; a dozen or so of barrack chairs ; four or five large, deep-seated leather ones ; a sofa to match ; a well-worn Brussels carpet and hearth-rug ; over the chimney-piece, a frame with cross bars of elastic for visitor's cards ; and, on another wall, a map of the neighbourhood. Four men were in the room as our first acquaintance entered. Two were lounging on each side of the fire-place in arm chairs, with their legs swinging over the arms ; a third was sitting upright in front of the hearth, with his hands clasped behind his head, tilting himself backwards and forwards, while the fourth was stretched at full length on the sofa. They were all smoking, except the man who was trying to upset himself aud who was evidently in the clouds, as he was the only one who did not look up when the door wTas opened.

" Hullo, Forrester ! what in the world have you been doing with yourself?" said Gray, turning and looking over the back of his chair. He was the caterer of the mess, for I forgot to mention that it was only a detachment of two companies which was quartered in this remote country town, the head-quarters beiug stationed at a more important place about forty miles distant. What delightful things these small detach ments are sometimes, with a pleasant, easy going commanding officer, and the right fellows together. One shakes off the slight feeling of restraint as regards mess punc tuality and regimental duty, which head quarters naturally imposes. This was particularly the case with these men, who had but lately left a large garrison town where the duty had been unusually heavy, and were now thoroughly enjoying themselves out of the reach of field days, guards, and trouble some staff authorities, perfectly satisfied with one another and their quarters, which latter is a frame of mind Her Majesty's forces are seldom to be found in.

The detachment consisted of Major Wood stock, in command — a married man ; one captain — Gray, to whom we have just been introduced ; and, taking them as they are grouped in the mess-room at present, three subalterns — Belton, on the sofa ; Wilmot, in front of the fireplace ; and Forrester. Occu pying the chair on the opposite side of the hearth to Gray, is Stirling, the assistant surgeon. "Now then, Master George," said the last named gentleman — he did not look one-and twenty to a casual observer, with his fair hair and, with the exception of a small, yellow moustache, perfectly smooth face ; he was six or seven years older though, which you would notice as you knew him better — " now then, sir, give an account of yourself. We saw you this morning going off so quietly, without saying anything to anybody —didn't we, Wilmot?"

" I beg your pardon — humph — oh, quite so," replied the gentleman addressed, not knowing in the least what Stirling had said, and answeriug at random. "He's been sold, I can see by his face," said Belton, raising himself on his elbow and putting his glass in his eye. " He is, if he's had no dinner," said Gray, who took an intense interest in the things of the table ; " Do you mean to say you haven't dined — what? Oh that's very bad ! " " I don't care about dinner," said Forres ter, " I never thought about it, in fact ; but I think I'll have a sandwich and a brandy and soda, all the same." " Oh, indeed, I see how it is," exclaimed Gray, as he rose from his chair, and taking his pipe out of his mouth, placed one hand on his breast, and shutting both his eyes, he sang, " Why throbs this heart with rapture new."

" Ye dog," he said, as he broke off suddenly, " you've come on a good thing, I know. Here have Stirling and I been the whole afternoon trying to make love to the Misses Tack, the shipwright's daughters, you know, and a nice chase they led us — up and down the High Street, in and out of shops, evidently thinking it great fun. I fancy they are only afraid of being seen with us in the daytime. As for the haughty Belton there, he's been stalking about after that little milliner in Pump Street, with his glass in his eye and his terrier at his heels, till he nearly frightened the poor little girl out of her life." " She settled to come out to-morrow even ing, which is more than your two did, at all events," said Belton, who didn't like being chaffed. " Aye, good gentlemen," said Stirling, in a deep, tragic voice, " had they not footed it so deftly to-day, we had had some right merry discourse with them, but though For tune favoured not our suit, by our lady, me thinks t'will speedily be forwarded.

What say you, my Lord of Wilmot ?" he continued, bringing down his hand on Wilmot's knee. " Hullo !" exclaimed the latter jumping up, " why it's nearly twelve o'clock, I'd no idea it was so late. Come to bed, Stirling. Forres ter, are you coming ? What a lot of brandies and soda you've been drinking." " You be hanged," replied Forrester, "I've only had one. Yes, I'm coming, I'm rather knocked up, I don't know why." " Well, if we're going to start early to morrow morning, it's time to be off," said Gray. " Ring the bell when you go Belton, will you, so that they may turn the gas out." " All right," said Belton, " I'm not going to sit up." So the five strolled downstairs together, and, saying good night to one another in the barrack square, went off to their respective quarters.

Chapter III. Ethel

On leaving her companion, George Forrester, that evening, Ethel Stewart, as we have seen, set off home as fast as she could walk, and, feeling uncommonly happy and satisfied with everything, she soon got over the short mile that brought her up to the hall door. On entering the house she went up to her own room first, and having leisurely taken off her hat and jacket, unlooped her skirt, aud smoothed down her somewhat disordered hair, she descended to the drawing-room. On one side of the hearth, where a small fire was burning, although the evening was anything but chilly, sat an old lady knitting, very upright in her chair and in a very stiff black silk dress. In another chair, in a recess of one of the windows, was her exact counter part with a pair of spectacles on her nose, nodding and catching herself up again in ETHEL, sudden jerks over a book which she could not have been reading, by the light, for an hour at least.

They were twins, and as like one another as those of Siam, and, indeed, almost as inseparable as those gentlemen. These were Ethel's aunts, the two Miss Abbots, who had been her sole guardians since she had been sent home from India, a little yellow-haired, white-faced child of five years old, by her father, a widower, who was originally in the Company's service and now held a civil appointment in the country. The old lady by the window picked her self up with a start as Ethel entered. " How late you are, my dear." " Oh, I've been in some time," said Ethel. "You've only been in ten minutes, my love," said Miss Abbot by the fire. She was the elder — Matilda ; her sister, Sarah, having seen the light five-and-fifty minutes after her. " Here's your wool, aunt," said Ethel, taking a parcel out of her pocket ; "I got the brown easily enough, but they couldn't match the violet, so I left the pattern, and they said they'd send for it."

Having successfully turned the conversa tion, Ethel was at peace for the rest of the evening. "Ring the bell for candles, and let's have tea," said Miss Abbot. "Where are the keys, Sarah?" " You've got 'em," said Miss Sarah. " No I haven't." " Then they're lost, as usual." " That's always the way," returned Miss Abbot ; " whenever I ask you for anything, you always say I've got it, as if I should ask if I had." " Here they are," said Ethel, " so put away your work and your books, like good children, and go and make yourselves tidy. Oh, by the-bye, Aunt Mat, Mrs. Brown's little boy is much better." " I thought he would be after that powder," said Miss Abbot ; she was the village doctor and a sort of poor man's plaster. " Don't you believe it," exclaimed Miss Sarah, " he's going fast, it's merely a rally."

ETHEL She was, so to speak, the parish undertaker, and distributed pamphlets to the sick poor, such as " The Sinner's End," " Where Shall I be Next Week ? " and other cheerful pro ductions of the same kind, which were com forting and reassuring to nervous patients. " Why you said Anne Smith wouldn't live a month, and she lived five years after that," said her niece. " Well, that was only a rally," returned Miss Sarah, "there are long rallies and short ones, and when you come to my time of life you'll only look upon five years as a rally." Then the old ladies toddled off upstairs while, the urn having been brought in, Ethel remained behind and made the tea. Now there was a certain picnic coming off in the neighbourhood next day, to be given by a Mrs. Bloom, who lived about two miles from " Laurel Bank," the Misses Abbot's house.

She only came down to that part of the country for two or three months in the summer, but during that period she certainly did her best to make things as lively as possible, and her advent was hailed as a godsend by our friends at the Barracks. There were two Miss Blooms, fair to look upon, and merry, pleasant girls, ready for anything and everything ; and, like the gene rality of young ladies who are acquainted with garrison towns, they suffered from a certain scarlet malaria, which could not with any truth be termed an intermittent fever. They had just escaped from the toils of a governess, and were thoroughly well grounded in chattering, dancing, and the Army List. By-the-bye, there was a Mr. Bloom, but he was such a perfect nonentity that nobody noticed him much. He was a little, slio'ht man with a white head, and always walked about after his wife with his hands behind his back, as if she had tied them physically as well as morally.

He never spoke unless he was spoken to, and never ventured an opinion until he heard what his better half had to say first. Whenever an impromptu dance was got up in his own house he was cleared away with the tables and chairs, and frequently remained fenced up in a corner by ETHEL some article of furniture for the rest of the evening. The picnic was to take place in the ruins of an old castle which stood on the further shore of the lake, a favourite place for such entertainments, as part of the structure, being in good preservation, would afford shelter should the weather prove unkind. All the available people were to be there, and the officers, of course, received a general invita tion, as — there being a great dearth of men in the neighbourhood — their presence was in dispensable on such festive occasions.

The Miss Abbots, notwithstanding their advanced time of life, were generally to be found where anything was going on, although they always protested when an invitation came that they couldn't think of it, that it was much too far to go, and chat they knew they wouldn't enjoy themselves. Ethel would have no difficulty on this occasion, even if her aunts were by any unfore seen occurrence prevented from going, as she knew Mrs. Bloom would be only too glad to take her under her charge. TENDER, AND liRUE. " Well, have you settled to go to-morrow ? " she asked, as the old ladies came in and they sat down to tea. " I for one shan't go," said Miss Sarah. " I've no idea of sitting down to dinner on wet grass, when I can get it much more com fortably at home." " Such a long way, too," remarked her sister, " why couldn't they have chosen some place nearer?

" " It's only an hour's sail, aunt." " You don't catch me in a boat, my dear," answered Miss Sarah ; " people at water parties are invariably upset and drowned or something. If I had been going I should have driven round, though it's a good ten miles." "Then we'll all drive; that's settled," said Ethel. "Nothing's settled," returned Miss Abbot, " because it's extremely doubtful whether we go or not ; but if we don't, you know, it will make no difference to you, as you can go with the Blooms." " Well, as you don't really care about it, aunt, I'll write and ask Mrs. Bloom the first ETHEL, 21 thing in the morning," said Ethel, knowing perfectly well that this would bring them to the point. " You needn't be in a hurry ; we'll talk it over at breakfast," replied her aunt. Then Ethel knew they were going, and there was nothing more said about it that night.

In her own room upstairs, she went over in her mind, as was her wTont, all the events of the afternoon, all she had said and done when she met George Forrester. " I don't know how it is," she thought, " that when I am away from him I al ways fancy I have so much to tell him, and so much to talk about, and then when we meet it all seems to go out of my head and I haven't a word to say. I'm afraid he must think me dread fully stupid ; yet I don't suppose he would come out here so far to see me, if he did." She unlocked, almost mechanically, a sandal-wood glove box, which her father, among other things, had sent her home, and taking out a small packet of letters tied to gether with a bit of ribbon, undid the knot and read them slowly over. There was hardly in reality a letter among them ; they were chiefly notes of about ten or twelve lines, some of them, indeed, mere hurried scrawls saying at what time the writer would be down, and hoping she would be able to get out aud see him.

They were genuine love epistles to Ethel, notwithstanding, and she construed a meaning out of some of the lines which was never intended by the author. Ah, those old letters ! How often taken out and read over and over till we know them by heart ; with the old sorrow upon us, too often, I fear, tinged with remorse. The old hopes and aspirations that were doomed never to be fulfilled ; the castles that were built, so sure and strong, and that fell with one tre mendous crash, nearly burying the architect in the ruins. Some people will fling these chronicles of the past in the flames, covering, as it were, their foot-tracks in the days gone by, that the grief and bitterness and folly may, if possible, be obliterated. How many of us look back on past deeds and wrords with a ETHEL 23 pitying wonderment, saying to ourselves how we would have acted now ?

Are we happier in these sage reflections — in these our wiser days ? I think not. That scornful contempt for our past selves, common as it may be, is scarcely enviable. She tied up the little packet again, put it back in the box, and locked it. Then she opened the casement, and leant out on the window sill, one hand supporting her chin, while she twined and untwined round the other a long golden tress of her hair, which fell in luxuriant masses over her shoulders. The night was very still and quiet, the only sound which broke the silence being the soft plash of the waters of the lake as they rip pled in wavelets on the shore, and the occa sional boom of the night beetle as he swept past. The house was only fifty yards or so from the water's edge, a high wall and a row of cedars and laurels shut it in from the road which ran at the back, so that little more than the chimneys could be seen, and, the approach, being winding, no view could be got of it from the gates.

The garden led down in terraces to the lake, and stretched along for a considerable distance to the left, where it was terminated by a thick pine wood about half a mile in extent ; this was cut short by a stone wall which ran from the road to the water, and formed the boundary of the Miss Abbotts' grounds on this side. They had also about twenty acres of grass land, across the road at the back, which sloped gradually up the hill side till it met the heather. Here they kept their cows and sheep ; and two small ponies disported themselves, who varied the monotony of their existence by occasionally drawing a light basket carriage at the rate of five miles an hour ou the level, and walking up all the hills. Through the wood, at the end of the gar den, a path led winding in and out among the trees, until, at about three-quarters of the way, it turned to the right, aud took you into a charmingly retired little spot.

The trees had been cut away here, and rhododendrons had been planted in a horseshoe form round a miniature bay, or creek, which ran in from the lake. There were two or three seats of ETHEL root or bark on the grass, and altogether it was as delightful a little retreat as one could wish to find. So thought Ethel, who would constantly come down here in the summer days, followed by Scamp, a perfect little picture of a Skye terrier, under the pretence of reading or working, but in reality to escape from the nuisance of visitors who did not interest her, old gossips of her aunts', who would sit and prose away for the hour together. She would stretch herself on the soft turf, and dreamily munch the blades of grass, as she gazed, over her unopened, book, at the fair scene of water, mountain, and sky beyond, with the open sea to the left, in the far off distance ; while Scamp steadily followed his vocation with unvarying ill-success, of hunting for water rats, filling his eyes and nose with earth, tugging at obstinate roots with his teeth, and occasionally dropping backwards down the bank into the water in the ardour of the moment, emerging each time with renewed vigour.

" This is much jollier than sitting indoors, listening to Miss Forcechild on her educa tional system, and Mr. Stole's unceasing conversation about his choir ; we don't want to be bothered with them, do we, Scamp ? " the young lady would say, at which Scamp would take his nose out of a hole with a long respiration, like a diver when he comes to the surface, aud, wagging his tail, would as much as say, " I believe you, my friend," and then in went his head and shoulders again with a growl. __ o But, during this digression, we have left Ethel leaning out of her window, an old habit of hers on these summer nights. The moon has just emerged from a bank of cloud, and a flood of light streams across the lake, and dances on her bedroom wall. Yet, although she gazes out so intently, she sees little of the picture, so wrapt is she in her own thoughts.

" Oh, my darling, my darling ; do you really love me as I do you, I wonder ? " she murmured to herself. " No, I don't think you can ; I don't believe anyone could love as I do. Would you be very sorry if anything ETHEL. were to happen to me, George ? would you never forget me and never, never marry any one else ? I would give my life for you if need be, and be very glad to lay it down indeed." The stable clock struck twelve as she closed the window and went to bed.

Chapter IV

A PICNIC. The morning broke resplendently, the ground heavy with dew, and not a cloud in the sky ; in fact, but for a pleasant breeze from off the sea, it would have been almost too sultry for anything like exertion. " What a jolly day ! " said Forrester, tapping his second egg, " we've been awfully lucky in the weather lately." "Awfully," replied Stirling, cutting deep into a goodly ham on the sideboard, in a way that would have distracted Gray had he seen him. None of the others had turned up for breakfast yet, and these two were laying their plans for the day, over what, I think, is by far the pleasantest meal of the three or four, as the case may be. They had always been great friends since they had first served together in the Fusiliers ; holding the same ideas about things in general, both lovers of the country, and enthusiastic on scenery.