Lothair's children. By H.R.H

Front matter

BY H. R. H. % a « & 0 « REMINGTON & CO PUBLISHERS HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN 1890 [All Rights reserved] TO The Right Hon THE MARQUIS OF HARTINGTON THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED WITH THE UTMOST GOOD WISHES. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. A Summer Day at Churton ... ... i II. Antinus on the Irish Question 15 III. Margaret Page 33 IV. The Little Earl's Disappearance 47 V. In the House of Antinus... ... ... 59 VI. Lady Margaret's Flight 72 VII. A Death-bed Marriage 86 VIII. "Bill's Gal" 91 IX. The Duke's Betrothal 106 X. Blackmail ... ... ... ... 124 XI. Lady Edmiston ... ... ... ... 140 XII. The Countess de Vallerne's Letter ... 167 XIII. The Anonymous Letters... ... ... 175 XIV. The Secret Passage ... ... ... 196 XV. The Cardinal's Defeat 223 XVI. The Duke's Trouble ... ... ... 240 XVII. Lady Kerrera Relents ... ... ■•■255 XVIII.

Mr. Sadrocke a good Angel ... ... 269 XIX. Antinus on the Australian Question ... 276 XX. The Duchess of Oldtowers ... ... 293 XXI. The Throne of Greece ... ... ...

Chapter I

A SUMMER DAY AT CHURTON. Antinus sat reading on a marble seat in one of the long arbor-vitæ alleys in the beautiful grounds of Churton House. Flickering gleams of sunshine and broad shadows chased each other in fantastic riot across the wide level vista of carefully-tended mossy turf ; a blackbird flew athwart the sunlight ; two little rabbits sported together within a few feet of the quiet reader, happy in their perfect confidence in their own safety, for no guns and no traps lay in wait for them at Churton. The marble busts and statues of Roman em perors, of Sophocles, of Pericles, of Alcibiades, of Antinous, and many others, supposititious and otherwise, on marble pedestals, extended in long lines down this stately green way, with its arbor-vitæ walls, and at the end one caught a B glimpse of the noble mansion, the palace of an English noble.

Down this broad way had sauntered many a time, it is said, beautiful Georgina of Devon shire, and long after her day scores of beautiful women — the most beautiful of England— had thronged these gardens at the bidding of a royal host. It was wonderfully warm and lovely, peaceful and still, almost silent, save for the songs of birds in the thickets and the distant continuous hum of the great city— the great city of London, which lay all around — for this was a town resi dence, and but one of Lothair's many great houses. A little boy, clothed in a crimson velvet frock and a large hat, dashes after his hoop from one of the side paths and comes running down the green pathway. He pauses a moment on see ing Antinus, and then running to his side, places his hands across the open pages of the book.

Antinus looks up with a welcoming smile that shows undoubtedly that these two are friends. "Oh, Honey !" sings the boy, "with your pocket full of money — money ! " " Well, sonny," answers Antinus, as the boy, climbing on his knee, gives him a violent hug, " come to tease my life out, have you ? " "Do I tease you much?" the boy asks, gravely, being, like many children, very literal, " very, very much ? " " Not at all, sonny ; I'm delighted to see you. My book is dull, and I want company. Now then give us your little song," and he hums lightly — "Oh, sonny ! with your pocket full of money — money I " the boy humming with him the refrain. Once, when Antinus was sitting alone in deep despair, weary with the world, with a heart full of unsatisfied longing for love and sympathy, this small boy had come to him, and climbing on his knee, had flung his arms round his neck, embracing him with warmth, and with a child's whole truth and a child's whole earnestness had said, " I like you."

Then the tears sprung to Antinus' eyes, and his whole heart went out with a bound of love and gratitude to this little mortal who had given him what someone once called the most beautiful thing on God's earth — the unasked for love, and the unasked for kiss of a child. The empty heart was filled with love — love that was to strengthen with the coming years and make this child's life a source for Antinus of unfailing interest. " My friend," said the child, with much emphasis and a full sense of possession, " have you much money ? " " I ? " laughed Antinus ; " why, I am as poor as, as poor as — what shall I say ? — as poor as — " "As lam?" " But you are not poor, are you ? " " Oh, yes," with much earnestness, " I am very poor. I have not much money at all. I have two silver things — silver money."

" Is it shillings ? " "Yes, shillings." " Have you no more than that ? " " No, no more ; not one little bit." " How little you know the real truth, dear boy," laughed Antinus, with a hasty glance round him at the gleaming marbles and the stately pile beyond. " What would you do with it, my lord of Churton, if you had much money ? " " Give it to the poor people," promptly re plied the little Earl. " Mother gives money to poor people, and clothes and things every week — every, every week." " Mother is very good, and when Chur ton is a big man he will do the same, won't he ? Think of all the poor little boys and poor little girls in London here who have had nothing to eat all to-day or all yester day, and have no place to sleep but the streets — think of that, and yet you think yourself poor, do you, with, let me see, how many great beautiful houses, with ponies to ride? — " " And a goat-carriage," struck in Lord Chur ton.

" Yes, and a goat-carriage, and all sorts of things." Lord Churton jumped down and was starting to run to the house when Antinus arrested him. " Why, where are you going ? " "lam going to get my two shillings to give to the poor little boys and girls." " Well, never mind now, we shall see about it afterwards. Come and see how the white rabbits are getting on." Hand-in-hand they went merrily down the sunlit walk, and only paused when a shadow crossed their path and a tall figure stood before them. Antinus raised his straw hat, bowing low. " I did not know your Eminence had arrived." " But a few minutes ago," replied Cardinal Nolan, with unctuous suavity. " They told me his lordship was in the grounds. " Well ! my little man, and how are you ?" and he bent low to fondle the little Earl, who, however, made no response, but stood and eyed his Eminence very critically and very gravely, and, as Antinus noted with secret pleasure and amusement, with much disapproval.

" What is your name?" the Cardinal asked. " Vere, Earl of Churton ; and I opened the Ollerton Docks," replied the child, without a moment's hesitation, and in the gravest manner, without for an instant removing his steady gaze from the face of the stately personage looking down at him. Both Antinus and the Cardinal laughed. " It is true," said Antinus, " he did open the Ollerton Docks, his father's property, you know, and there were great doings." "And won't you make friends with me?" the Cardinal said, holding out his hand. Lord Churton looked at the proffered hand, then at the face above it, and said, very dis tinctly and very decidedly — " No, I do not like you." Antinus, under pretence of admonishing this outspoken youth, bent over him to hide the smile he could not repress — but the Cardinal frowned.

" That is rude, Churton," said Antinus ; " give his Eminence your hand." The little Earl held forth his hand disdainfully, but the resolute mouth showed the firm will which few could bend. "How do you do?" he said; "but I don't like you. Mother said I was always to tell the truth, and Antinus says a Douglas never lies." This seemed unanswerable, so Antinus quickly changed the subject. They made a striking group as they stood on the green turf — the little Earl in his crimson and gold, his flushed, earnest little face with its beautiful dark real child eyes ; the tall graceful figure of Antinus clad in white flannels, his ex pressive face — that face which some thought beautiful and fascinating and others uninteresting and ugly — aglow with animation ; and the tall portly Cardinal with his skull cap, his long cassock of black and crimson, and his fat hands folded across his comfortable person.

Whilst Antinus talks his keen eyes miss not the most trivial detail in the dress or appearance of Cardinal Nolan. He notices that the fat hands are not over clean, that the nails are rimmed with black. He notices the soiled collar stained pink by the lining of the black cape, and, with an inward disgust, that the big strong teeth have seldom, if ever, known the tooth-brush — the last, indeed, a common and almost universal failing of the Irish priesthood. From little signs like these it was easy to adduce the fact that this great Prince of the Church was not by birth a gentleman, but other wise his manners were most courteous, polished, and suave, his general culture soon learnt, and his astuteness, great intellect, and unbending will well known. This slim, graceful lad, for he seems little more, and this famous Prince of the Church, with their exceeding courtesy and cordial man ners to each other, are at heart the direst of enemies, and are each mentally arming for the fray.

" So, my lord," said Antinus, as they strolled back towards the house, " the Duke has at last returned from Rome, and I* think his mission has been a great success." " Too much has been made of his Grace's visit. It was simply a private visit, not, as the world insists, a special mission to the Holy Father. Naturally so great a personage amongst the English Catholics could not fail to be cor dially welcomed at the Vatican." " In the eyes of most people he was simply the English Minister at Rome," said Antinus, sharply ; " and we who sympathize with his views have not the slightest doubt that it was his influence which induced the Holy Father to issue his mandate to the Irish priesthood. Your Eminence, as I know, is too much a friend to the National League party to appreciate either the Duke's earnest endeavours for the peace of Ireland, or for the honour of the Church."

" You are severe, my young friend," replied Nolan, suavely, " and my views are certainly not yours. I labour for the glory of our Church, and for the sake of the down-trodden, much-suffering people of my unhappy Ireland." " Unhappy, but through their own ignorance, their own superstition, their own folly, and their own crime. No, my lord, about Ireland we can never agree, and it seems to me that the policy you would pursue means for us the disruption and overthrow of our Church in Ireland. If but you and others of the priesthood of your way of thinking would only but see that the Church by not taking the side of law and order is creating dissension in its own ranks, and is hurrying fast to a disastrous fate — and this in Catholic Ireland, whilst everywhere else she is regaining her old power and wealth.

You yet counsel the Irish priesthood to support and countenance the no-rent agitation ? " " Certainly I do. If the Church do not support these unhappy people against the tyranny of the landlords, she fails in her mission. Would you have her cry to us for help — her wrongs echoing up to Heaven — and we hold back the hand of succour?" " ' Tyranny of the landlords,' ' wrongs echoing up to Heaven.' Oh ! my lord, what need of using these hackneyed old expressions here in the grounds of Churton House, when you and I are alone ? The wrongs of Ireland and the tyranny of her upper classes are but the catch calls of the stump orator and the self-seeking ' patriot,' and, I am sorry to say, of that section of our Church of which your Eminence is a distinguished member. What care you for Irish wrongs, if but the Church be master there ?

And yet, if you would but see it, yours is a suicidal policy, and hesitating as his Holiness may be at present, very little pressure would induce him to exercise much more severe measures towards the recalcitrant ones of his flock. Take care, my Lord Car dinal, lest by overdoing you are undone. Through the breach in the wall the enemy may step in. Your ambition knows no bounds, but you and your party are helpless and hampered because you have not the sinews of war, be cause America and the peasantry of Ireland will not bleed for ever. Money you must have, much money — great sums ready at any time, and where is this to be found ? Oh ! my lord, think you we are all blind ? " " I fail to understand your allusion. Blind to what ? " " Your hopes, your last resource, your pre sence here. I' see it plainly.

Money you must have. There is one person whose riches are enormous. That person is Quixotic, generous, and romantic. That person must be made yours. His riches must feed and arm and keep your army, must hire your assassins, must bribe your opponents. His name must influence the doubting. Whatever happens, his money must be yours ; and yet fight and struggle, cajole and flatter, beg, entreat, what you will — that money never, never shall be yours, that person never your victim." " Who will prevent it ? " interposed the Car dinal, with an ill-concealed sneer; "who is to defeat these supposed intentions?" " I, my lord ! Yes, I will pit myself against you all. Not one shilling of his money will ever go to support the cause of crime, of infamy, which you so madly call the Cause of Ireland, if I have any influence.

You see, my lord, I am a declared and open enemy." " And who is this person," the Cardinal said, sarcastically, "upon whom we have such designs ? " " He is here— Lothair ! " " It is war, then," the Cardinal murmured, with his unctuous smile ; " war, war to the knife." Lothair came forward and greeted the Cardi nal with the stately courtesy for which he had always been noted. " His Eminence and I have been fighting as usual," laughed Antinus. " We got on the subject of Irish wrongs." " That," said Lothair, " should be a tabooed subject with you. We know how unsympathetic you are to that wretched country. My lady is waiting to welcome your Eminence," he went on to Nolan ; " she has many questions to ask concerning mutual friends at Rome." They walked slowly back to the house, the Cardinal discoursing eloquently on various sub jects with a considerable charm of manner ; but Lothair was in a mood, and gave short, abrupt answers, and seemed bored and tired.

Antinus and the little Earl were romping wildly with a small fox terrier, the former seeming a different personage to the excited youth who a few minutes before had spoken such bitter words in such a defiant, outspoken manner to the Cardinal. On the steps at the principal entrance Lady Margaret Douglas, Lothair's daughter and eldest child, stood with her mother, and on seeing them came swiftly down to meet them. She was clothed in a quaint gown of rich plush, with lace at neck and sleeves. Her face was oval, with refined, beautiful features, and delicate colouring ; her hair and eyes dark. There was much grace, and a certain aristo cratic distinction in her bearing — but she was lame, walked with a decided limp. After a graceful courtesy to the Cardinal and a few words to her father, she went off with Antinus and her brother in gay fashion, romping in childish manner.

She who had been Clare Arundel, and who was now Lothair's wife, had lost little of the beauty for which she had been famous. Her beauty had matured, and she was now more of the grande dame than Clare Arundel had ever been. There was a great deal of quiet distinction in her manner. She could look back serenely on daik and stormy days, on wild hopes and bitter defeats, and smile at it all, for after all, had she not won ? The great prize was hers and the Church's after all. And it was well. Yes, there was no doubt of that. Lothair was happier and better with things as they were now than he had been before. They were happy in their married life ; neither had re gretted the day that made them one. With similar tastes and aims, nothing occurred to mar their union. There had been but one dark spot in their felicity, and that was over and done with.

When their first child was born — a daughter, not a son — gloom fell upon Lothair and his wife, but after a few years, more than one son had banished for ever the temporary disappointment. And she who had been Clare Arundel's rival, and the rival of the Church, could she never come between them again? Never, for Cori sande, beautiful, gentle Corisande, married and went away from England, and one day, far from home and friends, save he who was her husband, and who worshipped the ground she trod on, she sickened suddenly, and in a few days lay for ever at rest, to be followed the very next day by the Earl, her husband. So both were laid at rest in the one grave, as was beautiful and fitting, for their married life had been one per fect dream. But a few short hours after her death, and the strong man lay dead by her side.

Yet people say hearts never break. " I have been in Corisande's garden," Lothair had once said to the Duchess, "and she has given me a rose." And yet all that this implied had not come to pass, and Corisande was dead, another man's wife ; and Clare Arundel, instead of being the bride of the Church, was Lothair's wife — a great lady in the great world — and he did not regret it, though his thoughts must often have gone back to that moment in the Brentham garden. " My idea of perfect society is being married as I propose, and paying visits to Brentham ; and when the visits to Brentham ceased, then I should like you and the Duke to pay visits to us." So had Lothair once spoken to the Duchess, when asking her leave to offer his hand to her daughter Corisande, and the Duchess had re plied — " But that would be a fairy tale."

And yet, though seeming so absolute a certainty at one time, this fairy tale had never come to pass. But again Lothair had said — " I hate society. I would never go out of my domestic circle if it were the circle I con template." This, then, had come to pass, for though it were not the circle he contemplated at the time he spoke, yet Lothair was seldom seen in society, and in his domestic circle, with his beautiful, cultured wife, and his interesting and very lovable children, found his chief occupation and his greatest happiness. There are few noblemen in Britain with such great talents and immense wealth, and few who have made such good and noble use of both as Lothair.

Chapter II. Antinus On The Irish Question

ANTINUS was sitting on the steps of a little Greek Temple in the grounds of Churton, with Lady Margaret, the little Earl, and Nick, the fox-terrier, for his companions. They were all very happy and very merry. The day was so lovely — a real English summer day. The beautiful gardens stretched round them, and in the distance stood the stately house, which was built in imitation of the Palladian Villa Capra at Vicenza, and beautified by Inigo Jones, whose statue, with that of Palladio, adorns the outside. This was all classic ground, for here Fox and Canning had strolled many a time, here a Russian Czar had been welcomed and royally entertained, here many royalties — our gracious Queen herself — had come frequently to meet all who were greatest and fairest in the land — and this was the home of this little, dark-eyed child !

How little he knew or realized how great was his position, how full of interest to many would be his future, what great trials and responsibili ties awaited him. Happy, happy child ! Antinus grew sick at heart when he looked at his little friend, and thought how soon all that simple childishness would vanish, and how the boy's life would become the goal of innumer able self-seeking beings who prey upon the life of anyone situated as this child would be. Could one forget his father's youth, with its many temptations and trials ? and though Lothair had come bravely through it all, yet such could not be the case with everyone. There was his friend, the young Duke of Oldtowers ; was not he at this very time the victim of innumerable schemes and intrigues, and though he had been brought up under the careful guardianship of one of the greatest statesmen and geniuses of our time, who had managed and nursed his vast fortune in an admirable manner, yet, at this moment, who could tell what the badgered and bothered Duke might not do ?

Any wild extravagance might be pardoned him, so beset was he with para sites, with scheming intriguers. Was not the Catholic Church straining every nerve and sinew, making the utmost use of its great resources to induce this great prize to go over to Rome ? " I don't like him," said Lady Margaret, pointing disdainfully to the distant figure of Cardinal Nolan, who was still talking to Lothair and his wife at the foot of the entrance steps ; " his hands are so fat, and he rubs them one over the other like this," and she mimicked him admirably. " And I saw him kick Nick," this last being evidently an unpardonable offence. " The Cardinal is a very clever and celebrated man, Lady Meg," said Antinus, carelessly. " He has come to stay some days here." " If he kicks my dog again I will kill him," exclaims the little Earl, with blazing, indignant eyes, and he hugged the fox-terrier tightly to his heart.

" Then you would hang on a gallows tree," said Lady Margaret, reprovingly, her ideas of justice being slightly feudal. " I would take a big axe and chop the tree down, and then they couldn't hang me," answers Churton, with much earnestness. " I would go away to Douglas House or to Ollerton. I would run away." " And get lost in London, and be eaten up by wolves, and buried under leaves by a robin," goes on Lady Margaret, with the laudable idea of damping his ardour, and announcing her views with a happy unconsciousness of their rather scratch sequence. " Would there be many wolves ? " asks Chur ton, with much earnestness, and some doubt. " A great, great many," answers Margaret, with conviction. " Yes, sonny, there would be many, many wolves," says Antinus; " and you would scarcely know which were the wolves, because they c would all wear sheep's clothing ; and what would my little friend do then, eh?"

" I would beat them off with a big stick ; and I wouldn't be one little bit afraid, because Antinus would come and kill them off, every one, every single one, and would pull off their sheep's clothes." So answers Churton, with perfect and happy conviction, hugging Nick and Antinus in one comprehensive embrace. " That I would, Churton, be quite sure of that. Antinus, you know, is your friend, and he would kill every, every one, and truly strip off their sheep's clothing ; and he would go to the very uttermost ends of the earth to be friend and help you. Never forget it — never forget it." " And Margaret would go with you," proudly chimes in that young woman. " She would fight for Churton and for Antinus too ; and she would nurse you when you were sick, and be glad with you when you were well."

" There spake the Douglas — tender and true, tender and true ! And Churton is a brave boy too ; he would never be afraid." " I might be afraid sometimes," said truthful Churton, " but I would try very, very hard to be brave. Father says that because I am called Vere, Earl of Churton, that I must try hard to be very brave, and very true, and very kind to poor people, and that because I am a noble that my life must be noble too ; and I will try — so very, very hard ! " " And God be with you, little son," said Antinus, tenderly. Two figures came across the garden towards them. " Why, it is Oldtowers and Lady Kerrera ! " cried Antinus, with glad surprise, shading with his hand his eyes from the sun ; and then he rose to welcome them, bending low with cour teous grace to kiss the fair hand of Lady Kerrera, and silently holding forth his left hand to the young Duke with that caressing way which betokens intimacy and regard.

" How lovely it all is," said Lady Kerrera, when she had greeted the children. " I am always so glad to come down here. No one seems to be able to equal the beauties of these gardens." " And to a dreamer like me," said Antinus, " they have a never-failing charm, for I people their paths with all the great and beautiful who have been here. By yonder old dial have lingered such men as Fox and Canning, down these steps has strolled a Russian Czar ; and there, see there, by those roses, is it not beau tiful Duchess Georgina," and he pointed to a white marble Venus rising from amass of roses. " Is that Duchess Georgina?" asked practi cal Lady Meg, somewhat disdainfully. " What is she doing out in the garden without her clothes ? " " Will she be very cold ? " asked Lord Chur ton, with much interest.

" You have ridden down together?" queried Antinus, glancing at Lady Kerrera's smart habit. " Yes ; father came with us, and is now interviewing the Cardinal." Lady Kerrera Stewart was the beauty of the season, the only daughter and child of the wealthy Earl of Dunstair, and consequently a great heiress. No more sweeter-natured, purer minded woman ever blessed this world, and when it was rumoured that the greatest match in England, the millionaire Duke of Oldtowers, had fallen frantically in love with her, there were few who grudged the Lady Kerrera her good fortune. It seemed a natural and right disposition of affairs. He so young, rich, hand some, clever, and a duke, and she also young, beautiful, rich, the daughter of a hundred earls, with a plentiful supply of royal blood in her veins. They were not yet betrothed.

Lady Kerrera was a member of one of the oldest, proudest, and most bigoted of Catholic families ; the Duke was a Protestant. This, then, was the one obstacle to the match. The Duke had, for some years before his coming of age, been suspected of an intention of joining the Church of Rome, and the Church was untiring in her endeavours to make this great prize hers. But, just as Lothair had done in former days, he would advance a step to draw back two, so his conversion was yet far from an accomplished thing. " Antinus," said the Duke, who was one of those whom that complex being, Antinus, had endued with love and admiration, " Mr. Sadrocke has been urging me to make my maiden effort as an orator by speaking on this Irish Bill ; but what am I to say ? He would have me grow enthusiastic over his views and support the Bill — but I wander in a desert of doubts without one firm conviction.

What am I to do?" " Think and speak," said Antinus. "Think! I've thought and thought and imagined I saw truth — the only truth — before me, and then this Sadrocke has come, and with a few phrases of charm and subtle arguments has demolished all my theories and left me with out a single peg to hang even half a conviction on." " He is a magician," said Antinus, dreamily. " He is a wretch," said Lady Margaret, who had decided opinions on politics as on most things. " He is a vain old man," said Lady Kerrera ; " he loves notoriety and fame, he would sacrifice everyone and everything to keep the godhead which a foolish world has given him ; but all the same, he is the most interesting and fascinating of men — I should like to be his wife ! " " Oh, Lady Kerrera !" came in a howl from several voices.