The Gold of Ophir

Front matter

THE GOLD OF OPHIR. BY ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT, AUTHOR OF ' SEALED ORDERS !' ETC. ' " I tell you, friend, the love of money is strong as death. I've known many a pretty follow lost by it." '—Old Play. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON : WARD AND DOWNEY, 12, VOEK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. 1890. CONTENTS OF VOL. III. CHAPTER PAGE I. ' A LADY TO SEE YOU, SIR ' . . .1 II. A SURPRISE 23 III. THE VISITOR GOES 46 IV. UNCLE AND NEPHEW 66 V. JOHN ARDELL'S NEWS 100 VI. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH . . . .112 VII. GOOD NEWS 124 VIII. MRS. JAMES ARDELL RECOVERS . . . 132 IX. MRS. ARDELL PAYS A VISIT . . . .146 X. REVELATIONS 104 XI. UNMASKED 178 XII. FAIRY-LAND 192 XIII. A FIRST APPEARANCE 206 XIV. THE CURTAIN FALLS

Chapter I

'a lady to see you, sir.' John Ardell was by no means an idle man. On the contrary, he always found plenty of employment for hands and brain. He was emphatically a country, not a town, mouse. Like the Douglas of old, he loved better ' to hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak.' And the glorious early summer was the time of all others, as he thought, when the country was most enjoyable. James went up to town alone. 'Young fellows,' said his uncle, 'like to shake a loose leg — I don't want to be a tie upon him.' But for himself he asked nothing better than vol. in. Ardell Grove. Those few months of possession had not taken the keen edge off his love and desire for the old home. For so many weary years he had hoped and worked, had kept the eye of his mind fixed upon the one dear object, that it seemed to him as if the longest life accorded to mankind upon earth, even were his prolonged beyond the scanty ' fourscore years ' mentioned by the Psalmist, would but scarcely have given him sufficient time wherein to enjoy his treasures.

There was something of a poet's nature in the man. He took a huge delight in the sights and sounds that help to make our English summer enjoyable. No florist, no botanist, be loved the flowers that were in full bloom in the wide spreading gardens, for they were near relations of the old friends of his youth. The tall pure lilies reminded him of the past days when he and Charlie had had little garden plots of their own. The rich red roses, just beginning to put on their royal robes, recalled to him a thousand memories. Let the Scotch gardener protest never so loudly and forcibly, John Ardell would have some flower-beds laid out and furnished in the good old-fashioned way. The hydra-headed 'A Lady to see you, Sir.' 3 sweet-william, so pretty and gay, though no doubt just a little stiff in its way of growth ; the lovely, fragrant sweet-pea, that shook its delicate blossoms in the soft wind ; the more humble bachelor's-buttons, were all prime favourites of his.

The vast range of greenhouses and conser vatories were kept in perfect order, for he wished all things at Ardell Grove to be as perfect as possible. But the orchids and palms were not as near and dear to him as were the hardier and humbler flowers and plants. He rose early in the morning, ate a solitary breakfast (for James Ardell seldom got out of bed till noon), and then put on his hat and went out of doors. He liked to stand on the terrace and to look round him. There he could see across the river to Cedar Cottage — ever in his thoughts ' Foote's Folly.' To the east the pale blue of the shining sea was visible ; nearer at hand were the roofs and spires of Greyhaven. If he withdrew bis eyes from these more distant objects, he could see the woods — his own woods — spreading for miles on either side.

Overhead, if the weather 3 6—2 was fine, there was the delicately blue sky of an English climate. Then there were the stables to be visited, for John Ardell knew a good horse when he saw one, and he took care to have no bad ones. He had a stout cob for his own riding, a couple of bay carriage-horses for his brougham or phaeton. James was less moderate in his views. Half a dozen well-bred hunters enjoyed a luxurious rest in tlieir stables. And he spoke of a much larger stud, when the new building should be completed. He had his own carriage-horses, too, and already had dropped hints about buying a certain wonderful animal ' with all his engage ments ' — an animal that was pretty sure to win the Derby. James was rather fond of betting, and was seldom lucky. But he always consoled himself by thinking that the ' gold of Ophir ' could — and would — pay for all. ' And, after all, of what use would my money be,' John Ardell would say to himself when it occurred to him that this nephew of his was really somewhat disposed to be extravagant, ' if he did not spend it ?

He is young ; by-and-by he ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 5 will sober down, he will marry — I must not ex pect too much.' If the young man was eager to launch out in one direction, he was moderate enough in another. John Ardell wished his nephew to take his proper place in London society. ' Remember, James,' he would say, ' you stand now where I would stand were I a younger man. The world will look upon you rightly as my heir, as the future master of Ardell Grove. In your position — in your position, I say — you should pay your court to your Queen, or to the Prince. I have lived too long out of the world, or on the wrong side of the world ' — with a little smile that had a good deal of sadness in it — ' to care about such vanities. But with you it will be quite another thing. You ought to remember that in your position there are duties to be fulfilled.

Had your father lived, he would be my heir. You stand in his shoes. A week or two in London can be easily and well spent. You can make your bow to the Prince, and the thing is done.' James Ardell heard this little sermon ; he did go to London, and he spent ' a week or two ' there very easily indeed. As to their being well — i.e., profitably — spent, that is between him and his conscience. But he put off making ' his bow to the Prince ' to a more convenient season. ' It is very good — very good indeed of my uncle, to lecture me on my duty to society,' he said to Viscount Stornoway. ' But going to St. James's in a ridiculous dress like that of a stage footman isn't quite what I like. I am too quiet, too humdrum a fellow, for such red-hot dissipation.' At which remark, spoken in apparent serious ness, Lord Stornoway grinned with appreciative delight.

He knew quite enough of James Ardell to be able to judge pretty accurately how the two adjectives fitted him. John Ardell regretted that James had not presented himself at the levee. But he tried ever to possess his soul in patience, and to com fort himself with the formula, ' I must not expect too much.' He, poor soul ! had learnt a hard lesson in those nine short months since his arrival in England — a lesson of disenchantment. The picture that his hopeful fancy had painted with such delicately - brilliant colours was ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 7 losing, day by day, hour by hour, something of its beauty. He had counted his chickens long before they were hatched. He had fondly imagined that virtues were hereditary things, like gout, or deformity, or madness. When he sent far and wide to seek his heir in the person of Captain Charlie's son, he had not allowed a doubt, or the possibility of a disappointment, to cloud the happy brightness of his anticipations.

The nine months had fled away, were lost in the awful past in which so many lovely and good things have been buried, and as he stood on the terrace one fine morning about the end of May, he could not help sighing, half unconsciously. Very fair was the prospect before him. The woods were decked in the most exquisitely tender green, such a green as the later splendour of summer is unable to show. Here and there a copper beech was coining into leaf, breaking with its darker foliage the paler tints. The sweet perfume of the hawthorn filled the air. There was sunlight all around. It lay in a golden flood on the terrace itself, it touched the red of the first roses, and the splendour of the last tulips. It was ever so much more delightful, more cheerful, thought John Ardell, than the vivid flaming furnace of the sunlight in Australia.

The roofs and spires of Greyhaven shone in it. It was like a smile from heaven, coming down on the just and on the unjust. Everything looked its very best on such a morning. It seemed quite impossible to believe that the world was old, very old indeed— quite worn out, as some wise men are careful to tell us, lest we, poor mortals! should be over-gay and jubilant. Trees and flowers, flower and leaf, looked brand new. Cedar Cottage, with its verandas and porch, and encircling belt of shrubbery, was a very pretty object, seen from the terrace at Ardell Grove. And John Ardell, looking at it, could not help thinking of his old friend Joseph Barton, senior, and of Peggy. 'I think he likes her' ('he' always meant James, his nephew). ' I am almost sure he does, though he is rather a queer fellow in his own way, and one never knows where to have him.

He flirts with that other girl, but I believe 'tis only flirtation. I hope he won't fall in love with her. She is pretty, certainly. ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 9 But I don't think she would make a good wife for him. And a man's whole happiness depends on his wife. She can make him good or bad. She can help him to heaven, I firmly believe that, or she can drive him to — to the other place. Now, Joe Barton's girl is a good girl. Once let me see them safely married, and I shall be content. What fools men are ! I was in a fright for fear he'd have had a wife already ; now I begin to think that 'twould have been better for him if he had married some time ago. Perhaps I am a fool to think so. I dare say I am.' To shake off these doubts and fears, that were as slight as the cobweb that one sees spread across the bushes in September when the sun is rising, and that clung just as closely, he went clown the steps leading from the terrace, and paid a visit to the stables.

It seemed quite like old times to hear the cheerful sounds, to see the life and bustle of the place. He could fancy that he was once more a young man, that his hair was once more brown, not gray, that he should hear his father's voice presently, greeting Rufa and Champion, the great mastiffs that were puppies when John Ardell was a boy. But Rufa and Champion had long ago gone to the happy hunting ground of dogs, wherever that may be, and the Squire was sleeping in the churchyard at Grey haven. For all that, it was a very cheerful place, and John Ardell liked to see in what good order all things were, just as in the old days. The horses were having their morning toilette made, and there was plenty of clattering about as the keepers bade them ' come up ' and ' come over.' And dogs were not wanting either — not unworthy successors of Rufa and Champion.

A couple of handsome setters came forth to give a kindly canine greeting to their master — for John Ardell was one of those who are fond of, and good to, animals — and there was a deer hound, tall and majestic, and in the sunniest corner were two comfortably fat Clumbers, looking as if the world went well with them. Everything — though it reminded John Ardell of the old times — was very bright and fresh with new paint and carpenters' work. Little more than nine months since, and a ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 11 desolate silence had reigned there, for Mr. Challoner, hating the place, and bitterly lament ing the costly possession of it, had for years kept it shut up, and left to the bats and owls. There was not a stone in the paved yard but was remembered by John Ardell. From the loose-box in the corner, how often he had seen his favourite hunter led forth when the nipping November wind was shaking the last yellow leaves from the trees !

In the centre stable, the four flea-bitten grays of the Squire's team had been wont to find good quarters, for the Squire had kept up goodly state, as was befitting the owner of Ardell Grove. John Ardell could not help remembering later and sadder times — times that were absolutely burnt into his memory by the fierce hot iron of pain. He never could forget that horrible day when all the household gods were put up to auction ; when the stables were invaded by horsy men talking loudly, who punched the sides of the horses, and opened their mouths, and disparaged them, and behaved as though Ardell Grove was their own ; when the auctioneer, a fat man with a thick voice, had his rostrum erected in the centre of the yard, and made jokes — as though the sale of a ruined man's goods was not one of the saddest things under the sun.

John Ardell had the gift — good or bad, which is it ? I myself think it a bad one — of a faithful memory, and as he stood in the lovely light of the early summer's sun, with all the things his wealth had brought around him, that hateful day was present in his thoughts. It was almost with a physical effort that he had got rid of these grisly phantoms, and comforted himself with the reassuring thought that he had bought back the old home, and established all things on the old and splendid footing. He could not, it is true, buy back his own youth, or recall from their graves, under the gray churchyard stone and the troubled waves of the Indian Ocean, the father and brother he had loved so tenderly. These things were beyond his power. But what money can do, his gold had done. And a smile came to his thin, worn face as he stooped down and caressed the leaping dogs, the dumb, faithful friends that would love him, were he poor as any beggar. ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 13 He had a word for the grooms, and a caress for the horses.

It seemed almost a laughable thing to him that he should be once more giving orders instead of receiving them — overseeing work instead of executing it. Joe and Sam, the helpers, who went to and fro, in and out, with buckets and sponges, would have opened their eyes with wonder if they could have known of what he was thinking. For John Ardell had worked ten times harder under the blazing Australian sun for poor wages and a scanty meal of clamper and ' bush tea,' than any of his stable-hands ever worked. After paying his morning visit he left the yard, and went back into the house. His solitary breakfast awaited him. He always asked the one question of the butler : ' Is Mr. James not down yet ?' And there was always the same reply. The windows were wide open, and there was a charming view from them.

Nothing could be prettier than the breakfast-table, with its rare red porcelain and bright silver, its flowers and forced fruit. John Ardell thought of his Antipodean ex- The Gold cf Ophir. perieuces, when an old, battered, and somewhat leaky tin can, that had once contained some abominable ' preserved meat,' had been his ' breakfast-service ' — one, moreover, not to be thought lightly of or despised ; for at Ophir men ate and drank almost as the beasts did. The housekeeper said, in strict confidence to her friend the butler (who had always lived in tbe best places, and who was favourably regarded by her), that Mr. Ardell was very particular, considering that he was only a bachelor, and not what one would call a ' family man.' But it was in the very nature of things that he should be so. He gave largely, he gave freely ; but he ex pected all things to be kept in proper order, not so much for his own sake, as for the sake of the past and of the future.

He could have eaten his breakfast off a soiled and crumpled tablecloth with content (how mauy hundred times had he eaten it without any table cloth at all .') in any other place but Ardell Grove. Under the sacred shadow of the old roof he measured things by the old standard ; and that was a very high one. ' A Lady to ste you, Sir.' 15 Even Miss Judith, the most careful of house keepers — perhaps a little captious and exacting, as maiden ladies are apt to be — wondered at the exquisite regularity, the dainty perfection, of a newly-made home, the master of which had spent the best part of his life in Australia. She did not know that the smallest details of that home were important to him, because they had to be ordered after the old pattern. So, had there been any shortcoming, any defect, he would have noticed it, and repri manded the offender.

The silver must be ex quisitely polished ; the damask must be of satin-like gloss, of spotless purity, because in the pleasant days of his youth John Ardell had been used to seeing dazzling plate and ex quisitely got-up table-linen. There was not a single thing, a single custom, in the new household that was not exactly framed upon the lines of the old. He spent much money on this whim — if one can justly call it a whim — ancl he was quite ready to spend as much more. To be sure, there were changes of time and of place that defied him. In the old clays the post-hour had been noon, and the old Squire had patiently waited for his letters till then. But now, with a railroad almost in sight, with an accelerated mail-service, John Ardell's post-bag came from Greyhaven precisely at nine a.m. As he breakfasted at that hour (' almost at daybreak,' James Ardell said), he could read his letters or dip into his newspaper as he drank his coffee and ate his toast.

Of course he had a fat post-bag. Very rich men are always getting letters. It was positively wonderful to see how bene volent men were — offering him untold wealth if he just consented to take a few shares in this or that new company. All the widows and orphans in Great Britain seemed to have found out his address. Hospitals wanted money (Heaven help us ! truly they often do !). Merchants sent tempting circulars setting forth the merits of their several wares. Mr. James Ardell had his own letters, of course, always taken up to his room by his valet. At first there was something like be wilderment in all this, for those long hard years of waiting and of working in Australia had not 'A Lady to see you, Sir.' 17 made him accustomed to much correspondence. But he accepted this condition, as he did all others that belonged to his position as master of Ardell Grove.

Some of the letters were dull, to be sure. Some were only good enough for the waste paper-basket in the library. To others he carefully, and even with pains, replied. He had been very poor once upon a time — ill, too ! — he had compassion on those who were afflicted ' in mind, body, or estate.' About this time certain hospitals in London found themselves enriched by contributions sent by an anonymous donor. I think John Ardell's cheque-book could have given a clue to the mystery. The almshouses at Greyhaven, built by one Ardell, enlarged by another, endowed by a third, shone in the sunshine of prosperity now that James Ardell was at home again. ' I have enough and to spare,' he said. Old servants that had fallen when the for tunes of the family fell, traced by his agents (for what is there that gold will not do ?), were helped generously.

Only he could not forgive Thomas, his half-brother. ' Did the good Samaritan forgive the Priest vol. in. and Levite who passed him by when he was wounded by the roadside ?' he said. ' I'll try not to think of him at all, that is the best way.' He rather delayed at his breakfast, perhaps faintly hoping that James might make his appearance before it was concluded. But that hope was always disappointed. James went late to bed, consequently rose late in the morn ing, and did not care much about what he was pleased to call a 'regulation British breakfast.' A bottle of light claret — pate de foie gras — perhaps a little brandy. ' You know, we get used to these things abroad,' he would say. He knew good wine when he tasted it, and drank deeply, but never got drunk, not even what men called ' tipsy.' John Ardell had stocked his cellars judiciously, sparing no ex pense.

But he himself rather disliked wine. Not wishing to be singular, he had given up his deeply beloved bowl of tea at dinner-time, not without a struggle. ' You may laugh at me as much as you like,' he said to Joseph Barton ; ' you can't imagine what tea is to poor fellows camping out in the bush, or half-starving miners.' ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 19 ' But you are not camping out in the bush or starving as a miner,' Mr. Barton said gravely; ' and, upon my word, Ardell, there is some thing positively unnatural in drinking tea at dinner-time.' So John Ardell, unwilling to offend against the minor daws and codes of society, meekly gave up his beloved tea, all the more readily because, as he remembered, such a libation at such a meal would hardly have found favour in the eyes of the old Squire.

He consoled himself at breakfast, beginning with coffee, and then going on to his favourite beverage, of which he drank more cups than one. The hour after breakfast was a long one. He did not wish to form any plan for the clay, for James was to be consulted, and James was hidden in his own room. ' Young men are different to what they were when I was young,' John Ardell would say. ' Charlie, poor fellow ! used to be up with the lark — shooting, or fishing, or practising with his eleven for a match. And on hunting mornings, when the meet was far away, we used to get up long before the sun, and dress by candle-light.' 37—2 These meditations would end with a sigh. Still, he comforted himself with the reflection that old heads don't grow on young shoulders, and that Captain Charlie's son must needs, in due time, develop his father's good qualities.

John Ardell was an optimist of the first water, save and except where the Reverend Thomas Ardell was concerned. In him, in his, he could see no good thing. The possession of Ardell Grove was of so recent a date that he had still work to do connected with the estate, but it was pleasant work to him. The new Scotch steward found his master no sluggard. John Ardell did not grudge his money, but his deputies should not have the wasting of it. The Home Farm, the poor Squire's pet hobby, should be restored to its pristine state. Not a broken fence, not a neglected field, escaped the master's eye. If only James could be induced to interest himself in the estate that should one day be his own ! To the man who had eaten of the bitter bread, who had drunk so deeply of the water of affliction in a land that was a land of bondage to him, there seemed to be something wonderful, something out of the common and not to be ' A Lady to see you, Sir.' 21 easily accounted for, in the young man's apathy about country pleasures and country duties.

In the winter, to be sure, some excuse could be found for him. So long used to a wandering life abroad, James might naturally find it hard to adjust himself at once to his new position. He hunted, but was not fond of the sport. He had (this was a sad truth, and one to which John Ardell reluctantly opened his eyes) rather a bad, though a showy, seat on horseback. ' And poor Charlie rode so well,' the uncle would think. James saw little beauty in the early hours of a December clay, when there was a thick and chilly mist, when even repeated ' nips ' from his costly silver flask failed to keep out the insidious and penetrating cold. He saw as little in the dawn of a May day ; nor could he faintly imagine what pleasure his uncle could take in lying awake, listening to the voices of a thousand birds that were gladly telling each other that the sad winter was over, and that their happy holiday-time had come.

John Ardell could have accepted the wake fulness of a whole night gladly, merely to be repaid by the delights of seeing the eastern sky flush into rose-colour, of hearing the faint breeze stir the branches of the grand old trees, that stood like sentinels round the house — his own, his very own, both trees and house. ' Does James care greatly for anything, I wonder ?' he woulcl ask himself, with something of sadness in the doubt. The young man seemed to him to be cool and calculating, not easily moved, a little inclined to be satirical ; as to money matters, certainly not inclined to be a miser — very much the contrary. But this fault, or shadow of a fault, John Ardell could easily forgive. Exactly as the clocks on the mantelpiece of the breakfast-room and in the entrance-hall chimed eleven, he heard the sound of wheels on the gravel of the carriage sweep. ' An early visitor,' he thought. ' None of the Bartons ; they always walk across from Cedar Cottage.' The door was thrown open, even as he was indulging himself in speculations as to this new arrival. ' A lady to see you, sir,' announced the footman.

Chapter II

A SURPRISE ' A LADY !' John Ardell had still some of the rust of his Australian manners clinging to him, and he repeated the man's words aloud, even as he stood up hastily to receive the unexpected visitor. He really could not imagine who or what she was, or why she had come to Ardell Grove. He had never seen her before. Of that he was almost certain. She was very handsome, young enough to have dispensed very well with the touch of rouge on cheek and lip, and with the dark circle that made the eyes appear soft and large. She was dressed in mourning, with much lace and jet about her ; and on her head was a bonnet that reminded John Ardell of a widow's bonnet, though it was very tasteful, and perhaps just a little outre. There was a strange look in her eyes — a look that rather startled John Ardell, for there was at once anxiety and defiance in it.

The footman had departed, looking like an automaton, but with wonder at his heart and words on the tip of his tongue — words that he will presently pour forth to his friends in the servants'-hall. ' Walked in as bold as brass, if you please,' Jeames says. ' Not a lady ; no, certainly not. Would take no denial ; wouldn't send in her card or let me announce her; just walked past me into the room. Master hadn't no idea who she was, I could see that. He just stared at her like anything, and no wonder. Fancy her coming at eleven o'clock in the morning !' While Jeames is thus giving free vent to his feelings, John Ardell is sitting face to face with the woman who, measured by the footman's rule, isn't ' a lady.' The master of Ardell Grove has not many fine phrases at his command. He does not know her, nor can he imagine what has brought her to his house, so he waits for her to open the ball. ' You do not know who I am,' she says, in a voice that is very clear and distinct ; it is what one calls a ' trained voice.' And yet there is audible iu it some anxiety, too. ' I do not,' John Ardell answers simply, almost abruptly. ' Of course, I came not so much to see you, as to see him.' ' Him f John Ardell's eyes open widely.