Madeline Power

Front matter

MADELINE POWEE UNIFORM WITH 'MADELINE POWER.' Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, price 5s., THE GATES OF EDEN. By Annie S. Swan. With Portrait of the Authoress. BRIAR AND PALM. By Annie S. Swan. Illustrated. ONE FALSE STEP. By Andrew Stewart. With Frontispiece. NOEL CHETWYND'S FALL. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. Frontispiece. SIR JOHN'S WARD. By Jane H. Jamieson. Frontispiece. ST. VEDA'S; or, TheJPearl of Orr's Haven By Annie S. Swan. Mm&hpiece by Robert M'Gregor. KILGARVIE. (l9MA.91 By Robina F. Ham}?. Frontispiece by Robert M'Qregor. EDINBURGH & LONDON OLIPHANT ANDERSON & FERRIER. Madeline Power i.\ ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT, B.A. - — iff*-- . AUTHOR OF ISA I A NOVEL, EY WHOSE HAND, etc. etc, EDINBURGH AND LONDON OLIPHANT ANDERSON & FERRIER PRINTED BV MORRISON AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, FOR OLIPHANT, ANDERSON, & FERRIER, EDINBUROH AND LONDON.

C 0 N T E I\T T S. CHAr- I. EAVESDROPPING, ... " II. PARTED, . . . . . .17 III. A TRIAL OF FAITH, . ... 29 IV. THK FINAL BLOW, ■ • . . . 41 V. HAMMOND ELL AWAY PROPOSES, . . 51 VI. MRS. POWER TRIES FORCE, . CO VII. FLIGHT, ...... 70 VIII. MISS MARTHA PORTER, . . . . .82 IX. NO. 18 HOWARD SQUARE, . . . .95 X. THE FIRST PUPIL, ...... 108 XI. THE EX-DETECTIVE, . . . . .119 XII. AT CLIPSTONE MANOR, ..... 133 XIII. HAMMOND ELLAWATf's SCHEME, . . . 145 XIV. EARNING A LIVING IN LONDON, . . . 155 XV. MR. PEARCE LEARNS FRENCH, . . . 165 XVI. MADELINE TURNS AUTHORESS, . .176 XVII. MR. PEARCE IS FORCED ON TO THE TRAIL, . . 187 CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE XVIII. FOUND DEAD, . . . . . .198 XIX. LAWRENCE GORDON RETURNS, . . . 212 XX. FATHER AND SON, ..... 222 XXI. MADELINE IS DEAD, ..... 231 XXII. TROUBLE IN HOWARD SQUARE, . . . 243 XXIII.

CONFIDENCES, ...... 255 XXIV. MR. PEARCE AT CLirSTONE MANOR, . . . 267 XXV. 'I WISH THEM TO THINK ME DEAD,' . . 276 XVI. MR. PEARCE AND LAWRENCE GORDON, . . 288 XXVII. IN MR. PEARCE's SITTING-ROOM, . . . . 300 XXVIII. 'TRUE FRIESDS WE THREE MUST ALWAYS REMAIN,' MADELINE POWEE

Chapter I. Eavesdropping

MUST marry Madeline. She must consent, There's no other way out of the mess.' The man who said this to himself was walking, rather slowly, along a narrow country lane, on a bright February day, when the sun was so strong as to make the still air genial. He was a lithe, active man, rather below the average height, but looking taller by reason of his slimness, and he was dressed with scrupulous neatness and care. He was fair, with regular features, and, judged by his looks, might have been any age, from seven-and twenty to five-and-thirty ; but his face had a careworn, harassed expression which made him seem more than his real age, which was thirty-three. He walked with his head bent down, and now and aM ADELINE POWER. 8 again he brought his stick from behind his back and struck sharply at the hedge and the lower branches of the trees iu the little wood by the side of which his path lay ; and at such moments his face wore an unpleasantly angry look.

At the end of the path, on the brow of the slight hill up which he was walking, stood a ruined cottage, and by the side of it a stone stile, from which ran a winding, zig-zag path through the wood. When he reached the cottage, he did not even glance at the view which, from there, extended in many directions over the lovely Yorkshire dales, but sat down on the stile, buried in moody thought. Little gloomy frowns showed now and then on his face, and with his stick he kept prodding small holes in the gravel at his feet. He was thinking intently all the time ; aud there was a look of resolution, not unmixed with weariness, on his face, when at length he rose to resume his walk. Just then, a sound coming from the wood caught his ear, and he stood and listened. It was the sound of a girl's laughter, happy, pleasing, and unrestrained.

When the man heard it for the second time, he looked eagerly along the path, which led out of the wood to where he was standing, and then he crossed the stile and walked cautiously to a point where he could command a better view into the wood. Then he stopped and listened again, peering through the trees. After a minute, he turned back toward the stile, EA VESDROPPING. 9 looking more angry than before. He was about to leave the wood, when a thought occurred to him, and he altered his intention. Instead of crossing the stile, he entered the little cottage and hid himself within the ruined walls. Meanwhile, the girl, whose laughter he had heard, and her companion, a tall, dark, handsome man of about twenty-five, came on slowly up the zig-zag path, laughing and chatting gaily. 'Why, I declare, Madeline, we've reached the stile already,' said the man, Lawrence Gordon. ' I half believe that by some charm the wood gets narrower and narrower every day, and our walk gets shorter and shorter in consequence.

No sooner do we enter it, than, hey presto ! we are at the stile. But I suppose the only charm, after all, is in you, Madeline ; ' and he looked at the girl, who coloured with pleasure at the words. ' To-day there may be another reason, Lawrence,' she said. ' You've had so much to tell me ; these new thoughts that have been put into your head.' ' No, that can't be it ; for the walks with you seem always to be so short that I want them to begin just when they leave off. Sit down awhile, won't you ? ' he asked, when they reached the stile. ■ ' I will, for a little time, if you will promise not to pay compliments. Besides, I want to enjoy the view here. I love this spot. I think, almost, that if I were in trouble, and could come here, this view would soothe me.' ' I'm sure it would soothe me,' answered the young fellow, gazing straight into the girl's face as he replied. ' It is so varied, so changeable, so lovely,' said Madeline. ' Varied and lovely, I admit ; but I don't wish to call it changeable,' returned Lawrence. ' Not changeable 1 ' cried the girl, her face lighting up with animation as she spoke. ' Look now at the shadow and sunlight chasing each other there ! ' ' I see them,' answered Lawrence Gordon, still look ing at the girl's face. ' It is beautiful ; but I prefer to say changing, not changeable.' ' Oh, indeed, Mr. Critic,' laughed Madeline Power, turning round to her companion. ' Why, I declare, you haven't been looking at the view at all.

What a shame to laugh at me like that !' ' I said that I was looking at a view which would soothe me more than any other. There was only one direction I could look in, therefore,' said Lawrence quietly. ' Now, Lawrence, what did I say about compliments just this instant ? I don't like them.' But she blushed and looked very pleased, despite her words. ' No compliment there, Madeline ; only the plain, unvarnished ' — ' Is that a martin over there ? ' asked the sirl, interrupting him. ' Plain, unvarnished truth,' he finished quietly. ' And, as you know quite well that martins don't fly about in February, you should change the subject more skilfully ; ' and then they both laughed. EA VESDROPPING. 11 A short pause followed, broken by a laugh from the man. Madeline Power looked up inquiringly at him. ' Why are you laughing ? ' she asked. ' I was thinking at that moment what the governor would say if he could have heard that last scrap of our conversation, just on the top of his solemn in junction to me that I am to marry Miss Gertrude Faraday.

What a fume he would be in ! ' The girl did not laugh. ' I'm rather afraid of Mr. Gordon, Lawrence,' she said. ' I don't believe you're afraid of anything or any body, Madeline,' said Lawrence, smiling. She smiled herself in reply, as she answered, — ' If you praise me like that, it will be y-our fault if I grow conceited. But, seriously, if I am not afraid of your father, I am afraid of what may come out of his opposition to me. He does not like me, Lawrence.' ' He does not know you, Madeline ; that is more the state of the case. He is as good and brave and straightforward a man as ever breathed ; just the man to appreciate you. But he likes his own way, I admit ; a failing of all men of his age who have made money. He has had his way all through life, and hates opposition. But he's not unjust, really ; though he's not much of a believer in love.

He thinks that, as Miss Faraday's acres join Forest Grange, Miss Faraday and I may as well join hands. That's his object ; and I have not yet shown him the absurdity of the idea ; but, when I do so, he'll come round. At the same time, it will be necessary to choose a pro pitious moment, when his gout and indigestion are not half killing him, as they are just now. He is really ill, Madeline, and I wish to humour him as much as possible.' The girl listened thoughtfully. ' How do you mean, humour him, Lawrence ? ' she asked. ' By seeming for the moment to fall in with his plans, and not telling him anything of the true state of the case — as you and I know it, dear.' He bent over her, as he murmured the last words in a low, gentle tone. ' But don't you think the truth may be all the worse for him, when he hears it, by and by, if he knows that he has been deceived ? ' ' He never will know it, Madeline.

Who is to tell him ? Besides, when he gets to know you intimately, there will be no room for any feeling but pleasure,' said Lawrence. The girl smiled at this, but her expression grew thoughtful again directly. ' I think you were right just now, when you said that I was not afraid of him, Lawrence. I am not ; but I don't like these edged tools — this deceit — even for a short time and for such a purpose. We may cut ourselves with them, easily enough. But there is one thing I should fear, Lawrence,' she said, looking up into her lover's face, ' that would be to lose you.' ' That can never be, Madeline,' he replied, quickly and warmly. ' There is no fear of that for a moment. EA I 'ESDROPPING. 13 Supposing the worst came to the worst, — the very worst, — it would only mean that I should take my own course.

Do you think there is anything I would nut da.re for your sake ? Nothing should ever make me give you up— except your own wish, Madeline.' 'That can never be, then,' answered the girl softly; and then they were silent. Presently, Lawrence spoke in a light, gay tone. 'What a pity, Madeline, that it is not still the custom for a man to prove his chivalry and win his lady-love by some deed of valour. Indeed, I know Of no more subtle master under heaven Than is tho maiden passion for a maid, said Tennyson's Arthur. How should I look, Made line, if I were to don a suit of armour, and "lay lance in rest," and ride abroad, redressing human wrongs ? ' ' I should always think you looked well, however ridi culously you might be dressed,' said the girl, smiling. ' Shall I try it ? What do you say if I get one of the governor's carriage hacks, — you must have bone in a charger, — and make bandy old Tupper into my squire, and ionic clattering down to the Manor and challenge that dyspeptic-looking stepbrother of yours to mortal combat, and demand your hand as the price of a truce ?

Eh, Madeline, how's that for high, as the Yanks say ? ' The girl laughed, very musically and merrily. ' I should say you were a very prudent Sir Knight to pick out such a small foe as Hammond Ellaway.' ' Oh, that's too bad, to come down on my chivalry like that ! ' answered Lawrence laughingly. ' I won't play. I won't be a knight ; and I won't come and carry you off.' ' But I must carry myself off now,' said Madeline, getting up from the stile. ' Not yet,' pleaded Lawrence Gordon. ' It has been such a short walk to-day.' * They always seem short to me,' said the girl ; ' but, if we don't want to have them stopped altogether, I must not stay too long, and so get found out.' ' I hate this secrecy, Madeline. The very first time that I can find my father in a decently good mood, I shall just tell him all about everything, and we'll put an end to all this.' ' I don't like it either, Lawrence.

Whenever I leave you, I always say to myself that I won't meet you again secretly ; and yet, when the time comes, some how, I feel forced to come to you — just for the last time, as I often say. You play sad havoc with my resolutions, Lawrence. But my life at the Manor is so solemn and dull and colourless, that I must have a little sunshine, sometimes and somehow.' Her lover noticed the sadness in her tone, and he did not reply for a minute ; then he took her hand in his and looked earnestly into her face, as he asked, — ' Madeline, supposing I were to speak to my father and tell him all, and he were to be unreasonable at first, — just at first, you know, — would you bear to face the consequences ? ' ' What consequences, Lawrence ? ' she asked. ' Marriage, my darling — but marriage without money,' was the answer, earnestly spoken.

EA VESDROPPING. 15 The i^irl looked up and met his gaze with a smile of quiet confidence on her face. ' If you doubt that, you do not know me, Lawrence.' She paused, and then continued, ' So far as I myself am concerned, I would do anything and endure any thing to be with you, and away from Mrs. Power and the life at the Manor. I could work, Lawrence, and 1 should like it far better than this do-nothing exist ence here. I should welcome work of some kind ; ' and her eyes brightened and her cheeks glowed at the thought. ' Work is all very well, if you are not compelled to do it, little woman,' said Lawrence ; ' but I should never forgive myself if I brought you down, so that you had to work for a living.' ' Brought me down so,' cried the girl ; ' raised me up, rather, to a higher level than I have ever reached.

But there — that is one of my dreams, and only fit to be laughed at, I suppose. But I would not marry you to bring you to poverty, Lawrence ; and if your father was against us, I could not marry you without doing that for ever so many years, unless my stepmother would consent. I could bear a good deal for you, but I could not bear to see you fighting a battle with poverty, and to feel ' — She did not finish the sentence, but the shudder she gave was eloquent of her meaning. ' Madeline !' said Lawrence, in a tone of remonstrance. ' It is true, Lawrence. I could bear poverty well enough by myself; but I could not endure to see those I love brought to it through me.' ' Would you give me up if I were poor, then ? asked the man. ' Your smile as you put the question shows that you know the answer before I tell it.

No, Lawrence, there is no fear of that. But it is the money that keeps us apart, all the same, for a time. If neither of us had any, we could do just as we liked ; but as we both have some, and yet both have to depend on others' good-will to get it, we're in this comical fix — at least,' she added, with a laugh that died away into a sigh, ' it would be comical, if it did not keep us apart.' ' It shall not do that long, Madeline. Come what may, we'll have an end of this compromising secrecy. At the very first moment, I'll speak to my father ; though for both our sakes I must humour him a little ; and when I have him on our side, we'll soon get round Mrs. Power ; though she is as much against me as — as possible,' he said, changing the end of his sentence. Madeline was quick to read his meaning, but did not reply.

They both stood silent for a little while, and then crossed the stile and walked together to the end of the little lane by the side of the wood, where they parted. As soon as they were gone, the man in the cottage came out from his hiding-place, slowly and cautiously, and looked after them. Once or twice a mockino' o smile drew down the corners of his mouth, while a muttered exclamation, when he saw the man stoop down and kiss the girl at parting, showed that he felt keenly what he saw. The man was Hammond Ellaway, Madeline Power's stepbrother.

Chapter II. Pakted

AMMONI) ELLAWAY was one of those men who find it exceedingly easy to be virtuous as long as they have everything they want. Without natural criminal impulses, he was nevertheless ready to drift or be carried into crime, in order to secure any desired end ; and his mother had fostered this natural selfishness by never denying him any thing. When Madeline's father had been fascinated by Hammond's mother, and had asked her to marry him, she had consented, though without any affection for him, in order that by the marriage she might smoothe her son's course in life. Mr. Power, an invalid with a particularly crotchety temper, had been devotedly attached to his second wife, and had kept most of his temper to vent upon his daughter, whose life had been by no means happy in consequence. To make matters worse for Madeline, moreover, when Mr. Power died he left the girl under the com plete control of her stepmother, who found herself in a position, not only to educate Madeline as she pleased, but to make all arrangements as to her money affairs, and to sanction or forbid her marriage until she should be twenty-five years of age ; while disobedience to Mrs. Power in this matter of marriage was to be punished by forfeiting a certain proportion of her money.

It was a flagrantly unjust will to the daughter, but Mrs. Power had obtained complete ascendency over her husband, and had used it to further her own object ; and that object was that Madeline should marry Hammond Ellaway. The son himself, however, proved the chief hin drance. All he wanted was enough money to lead his pleasant, self-indulgent life ; and, so long as the means to do that were forthcoming, he did not trouble himself about anything else. His very selfishness made him recoil from the plan of marriage, until at length his debts urged it upon him. In his way he liked Madeline, though he did not understand her. She had been carefully trained by him and accustomed to be of use to him ; and the desire to be of help to any one, which was a strong ingredient in her nature, made her a willing learner.

He found her always cheerful, obliging, helpful, and obedient ; and he did not look for anything more. She did not disturb the easy current of his existence, and he was therefore negatively grateful to her. And when, at last, he understood that it would be necessary for him to marry her, he was glad to think that for tune had given him so pleasant a companion, and had thus made the task less distasteful and irksome. PARTED. 19 That Madeline would not do what was expected of her, he did not for a moment think ; and he would have laughed at the idea that underneath the gentle manner, willing help, and cheerful readiness to oblige, that characterised the girl, there were a strength of determination, an energy of purpose, and a resolute will, that would resist injustice to the death. Mrs. Power knew the girl better, and when Ham mond Ellaway told her what he had seen and heard in the wood, she declared that most thorough measures must be taken without an hour's delay. ' It is fortunate indeed that you managed to over hear this conversation, Hammond, or matters might have gone too far to be prevented,' she said. ' Don't say " managed to overhear," mother.

I didn't " manage " it ; I couldn't help it. I was just entering the wood when I heard the two coming, and I thought that they would not like to know that I had seen them, so I just got out of the way into the cottage. It was an accident that they stood by the stile to talk. I couldn't get away then, because they would have thought that I had hidden myself inten tionally to catch them.' ' Ah, well, never mind how it happened,' said Mrs. Power, a tall, handsome woman of about fifty. ' It is more satisfactory to you, of course, not to have tried to catch them ; but so long as I have the information, I don't much care how I get it. The facts that come out most plainly, and have the most importance for us, are that the two seem to be secretly engaged ; that they are afraid to tell old Mr. Gordon ; that they will not marry without money ; that the father dislikes Madeline — and I'm not surprised at it ; and that Lawrence Gordon's father wishes him to marry Ger trude Faraday — and a very good match it would be : even you might do worse than that, Hammond, if it were not best that you should marry Madeline.

Now, what course ought I to take ? ' ' I'm sure I don't know, mother ; the matter has nothing to do with me,' answered Hammond Ellaway sharply. ' I only thought that I ought to tell you what I had seen, as you are Madeline's guardian ; but I should be sorry to do anything that would make her very unhappy.' 'Yes, Hammond, and so should I. If I thought that a marriage with Lawrence Gordon would make dear Madeline happy, of course I should only be too glad to help to bring them together, to give up half the property to the dear girl, to confer my blessing upon the happy pair, and to leave you to make money enough at your profession to pay your debts with,' added Mrs. Power drily. ' But, as I don't think you can easily earn as much money as you can quite easily spend, to say nothing of your debts, 1 feel it to be my duty to take another course.' Hammond Ellaway made no reply to this ' Have I missed any point, Hammond ? ' asked Mrs. Power, after a pause. ' No, I think not, mother.' ' Then the best course will be to see Mr. Gordon at once, and tell him pretty clearly how these two have laughed at him and his plans.

Poor old gentleman ! PARTED. 21 I'm afraid his gout will make him irritable ; but it is very wrong of Lawrence Gordon to do these things when he knows how sensitive and ill his father is.' Being a woman of action, Mrs. Power drove over to Forest Grange at once. She succeeded after some difficulty in seeing Mr. Gordon, and was glad to learn that Lawrence had gone over to Moorcaster, a town some six miles distant, on business for his father. As soon as Mrs. Power was in the latter's presence, and had uttered one or two commonplaces about the weather and the old gentleman's health, he began to question her about the object of her visit. Lawrence Gordon had not at all exaggerated the effects of gout upon his father's temper. He was very hot-tempered by nature, and pain irritated and indeed maddened him, until it was almost unsafe to be near him at such times.

As Mrs. Power was a woman whom he especially disliked, — and he made a point of indulging his preferences or prejudices with the fullest liberty — his reception of her was anything but courteous. But Mrs. Power was a shrewd, keen woman, and took no notice of his spleen. ' Well, madam,' he said, ' I suppose you did not come here to chatter to me about my gout or the weather. What is it you want ? ' ' I do not want anything, Mr. Gordon,' replied the lady sweetly ; ' anything, that is, except to have a little conversation on a matter that is troubling me.' ' Well, ma'am, you'd better go to a parson for that sort of thing,' he said brusquely ; 'and not to a man with the gout. I'm in no mood to talk over your troubles.' ' They are not really my troubles, Mr. Gordon.' ' You don't mean to say, then, that you want me to listen to a lot of village gossip, when I am as ill as I am, about Giles, or Nokes, or Stokes, or whoever they may be ! ' ' No, Mr. Gordon ; I care no more about Stokes, or Nokes, or Giles, than you do.' ' Then what on earth is it, madam . ' he asked angrily. ' I want to ask you if you have any matrimonial plans for your son, Mr. Gordon,' said Mrs. Power smoothly. ' Eh ? what . what's that ? what d'ye say ? ' roared the man, turning and looking in her face, and flushing with temper. ' What d'ye mean ? ' ' I ask, have you any matrimonial plans for your son ? ' ' And what the deuce has it got to do with any one if I have ? ' he replied excitedly.

Mrs. Power lowered her eyes, as if to deprecate the strong language. ' I should say that it had a good deal to do with me,' she said, in a low, silky voice. ' Confound it, madam ! what in the world are you driving at ? ' This was almost a shout. ' I wish you'd speak out plainly what you mean.' ' I mean,' said Mrs. Power, ' that I am not at all sure that I shall give my consent ; and that without it of course the marriage cannot take place.' Astonishment and rage made Mr. Gordon's face turn purple, and he fell back in his chair, incapable of coherent speech for the moment. PARTED. 23 ' I want to keep my temper,' he said at last ; ' but you're very trying, madam, very trying. Will you please tell me what in the name of — what you think my plans are for Lawrence, that — hm ! hm ! — they need your consent ?

I should like to know that ; ' and he smiled in a most angry manner as he said this. ' Certainly I will,' answered Mrs. Power, ' for that is precisely why I am here. You are thinking of marrying your son to my stepdaughter, Madeline ' — ' What ! ' cried Mr. Gordon, with a shout. ' And my consent is necessary,' she continued, with out noticing the interruption. ' I repeat that if you do not ask for that consent in a manner suitable to my position, I shall not give it ; ' and she drew herself up to her full height, as if her dignity had been wounded. The old man stared at her in silence for fully a minute, and then cried, in a half gasp, — ' You must be mad, woman — stark, staring mad ! I wouldn't let my son marry y-our stepdaughter, or have anything to do with your family, for any con sideration that you could offer me.

So, for heaven's sake, go away, and take your consent with you.' ' What do you mean, Mr. Gordon ? ' cried Mrs. Power, showing signs of agitation for the moment'. ' Do you mean that your son is not acting with your consent ? ' ' Acting with my consent ? What on earth is the woman driving at ? ' he asked himself. ' Do you mean that you do not know that your son is making fierce love to my stepdaughter ; that they call themselves engaged ; that they meet constantly, and are considering when they shall marry ? Do you mean that you do not know all this ? ' ' Engaged ! Rubbish ! Fiddlesticks ! Nonsense ! Do you mean me to think that my son Lawrence is deceiving me ? Go away ! I don't believe a word of it.' As Mrs. Power had now made her companion sufficiently angry for her purpose, she told him as much as she thought necessary about the meeting of Lawrence and Madeline in the wood.