Gentleman and Courtier. A romance

Front matter

GENThEMAN AND COURTIER Jl "jftomcmce BY FLOEENCE MAEEYAT, actiiob or "love's conflict," " veronique," etc., etc. ;t I had a friend that loved me ; I was his soul : he lived not but in me. We were so closed within each other's breast, The rivets were not found that join'd us first, That do not reach us yet." Drvdex. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOLUME II. LONDON: F. V. WHITE & CO., 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1888. PRINTED BY KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, W.C ; AND MIDBLE MILL, KINGST0N-0N-THA1IES. If there should be, in all this world, One Heart that loves me for myself AND PREFERS MY WELFARE TO ITS OWN, to that Heart I dedicate this picture of a Woman's Friendship. " Thick waters show no images of things, Friends are each other's mirrors, and should be Clearer than crystal, or the mountain springs, And free from cloud, design, or flattery.

For vulgar souls no part of friendship share ; Poets and Friends are born to what they are." Phillips. CHAFTEE I. There is something especially sweet and flat tering to an author's vanity to listen, in the character of a stranger, to genuine apprecia tion of his work. Elsa's thoughts reverted again and again to what Mr. Yorke had said of hers, and the remembrance made her cheeks groAv hot with pleasure. Still she did not throw off her disguise. She was afraid it would appear so conceited of her to go up to him and say, " I am Septimus Garth. The words with which you have so much sympathy were written by me. The novels you have read over and over a_rain are mine." She trusted to some accident to reveal the truth to him, and it was not lon<? in comin"-. Two days after he had said such nice things of her VOL. II. she was kneeling with him one afternoon on the broad windoAV seat in the draAving-room, trying to decipher some of the inscriptions cut on the diamond panes.

They were of all times and ages, and some of them were very curious. " Look here," exclaimed Mr. Yorke, " this is very like Sir Walter Ealeigh's famous couplet to Queen Elizabeth : ' Sweteharte I feare to clomb soe bigbe, For feare I falle more lowe.' I must make a note of some of these lines; they may serve me in time of need." " Have you never tried to write love verses for yourself? " said Elsa archly. Jocelyn Yorke coloured visibly. " I may have scribbled sometimes. I suppose all fellows have, more or less ; but I should be very sorry to look at my com positions a second time." " / should like to see them, nevertheless," replied Elsa ; " I believe you could write, Mr. Yorke, if you gave yourself the trouble to do so. Your bumps of imagination are so large." At this moment Eoland entered, with a telegram in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

Chapter II

Elsa wrote at once to an agent to secure her a house for the coming season, and be fore long a handsomely furnished flat in the Queen's Mansions at Westminster was engaged for her reception. And after that, the conversations she held with Jocelyn Yorke were generally full of plans for what they should do, and where they should go, when she had taken possession of her new abode. The weather was now delightful — April was in her last wreek, and the time for the return of the two young men to town was close at hand. Evening after evening, whilst lazy Roland smoked his pipe upon the lawn, or lay asleep upon a sofa indoors, did Elsa and Jocelyn pace up and down beneath the sombre cedars and the blooming chesnuts and the stately oaks clad in their spring livery, and talk of the subjects that lay nearest to both their hearts.

During these interviews Mr. Yorke told her much of his own life — of those secret temptations and struggles too un successfully con-batted against — which he could not have mentioned before a younger woman, but which, in showing Elsa the very core of his heart, rivetted the con fidence between them. He told her of some early attachment, also, in which he had been cruelly deceived, and which had had much to do in making him harder and more callous than most men of his age. " I have often wondered," said Elsa, " why you should have so little faith in women, and think them all false and frivolous. But I suppose now, it is this girl from whom you have taken your cue." " Partly so. But look at the Avomen I have associated with since. 0 Mrs. Carden ! I hope you never will know (but then, it is impossible you ever should) half of the vice and recklessness of Avomen of fashion of the present day.

I would not shock your ears by repeating it. But when a young man like myself sees it all so plainly — when, fresh from my first disappointment, and careless as to Avhat became of me, I found myself the plaything of a set of fine ladies, made love to against my own wishes one day and cast aside for a new-comer the next — is it a wonder that I became as reckless as themselves, and learned to look upon love as a lie and all the sex as false." " Not all, I hope," said Elsa gently. " No ! no ! forgive me ! and believe that the opinions I expressde related only to the past. Since I have had the happiness to know you, Mrs. Carden, my faith has returned to me. Your leaven is sufficient to leaven the whole lump. But you are so very innocent — so guileless and ignorant of evil for your age ! It surprises me.

How have you kept so?" "I have had no opportunity to become otherwise," replied Elsa, " my innocence is no merit in me. And you must remember that Heaven will judge us not by what we do, but by what Ave have been tempted to do." " But some people are naturally good," said Jocelyn. " Evil runs off them like water from a duck's back. I think my father was one of such, and so are you. That is Avhy I am able to speak to you of him. With anybody else, it seems like sacrilege." He had often spoken to her of his father during the last days they had spent together, and related to her the history of his death, and tried to describe his own feelings on the occasion. And Elsa had accepted it as a high compliment, that he should have over come his first aversion to mention his great sorrow, and felt it was a new bond of friend ship between them.

" That is a dangerous doctrine, Jocelyn," she said, in answer to his last remark. " No one is ' naturally good,' and no one likes to be good. It is much pleasanter to do wrong, whatever the parsons may choose to tell us. All the naughty things are nice, as Roland's song says. But we owe a duty to our Creator and ourselves that forbids the debasement of vice. You must knoAV that however much you may enjoy a forbidden pleasure at the time, it always leaves its sting behind it. Be sides,'we owe a secondary duty to the age we live in, and the people by whom we are sur rounded. And that is why I want to urge on you the necessity " " Not of marriage," exclaimed Mr. Yorke with ironical dismay. " Anything but marriage." " I was not going to mention such a thing. I was going to entreat you to think of settling at Cheverill for the best part of the year, in stead of running about from Earis to Mentone, and Mentone to Baden.

Indeed, Jocelyn, you are doing yourself a great wrong ! You are wasting the floAver of your substance and your manhood, when you have high duties to which to dedicate them both. You should live on your estate, and look after your tenants and expend some of your wealth in improving their condition. It is most selfish to spend it all upon your own pleasure ! Ask yourself seriously, what good do you effect by this constant running about ? You dissipate your time, your health and your money, and what satisfaction do you gain ?" "Forgetfulness — at least for the time being," he answered gloomily. " And if you lived a quieter and more virtuous life at Cheverill, I don't think you would find so much need of forgetfulness," said Elsa. " The very fact of your trying to seek it, shews that your conscience tells you you are wrong."

" What could I do to kill time if I took up a residence at Cheverill, Mrs. Carden ? " " Oh ! Time would kill itself fast enough, when you had once got into the routine of a country life. Are there not hunting, and shooting, and coursing and fishing, and all the pleasures you run about the world after, to be found there ? Will you not have your stables, and farm, and tenantry, and land to see after ? And I am quite sure if the lord of the Manor settled down at Cheverill, there would be as many invitations from the county families for him as he would care to accept." "All the old women trying to catch me for their daughters," he said with a shrug. " Never mind. You are not obliged to be caught, though I believe you would be all the happier for having a nice wife. But you will think of what I hav-e said, w-on't you, Jocelyn ?

" "I ahvays think of Avhat you say. I lie aAvake for hours at night, sometimes, thinking of you and your lectures to me. I will make a bargain with you, Mrs. Carden. I will go down in state to Cheverill this autumn, after the grouse shooting is over, and try if I can get through a Avinter tliere, on one condition — that you come too." " My dear Jocelyn, what are you thinking of?" " Oh ! not for ever, though I wish you would, but just to start me off, you know, and arrange my household for me. What do I knoAV about servants, and table-linen, and plate ? It will be so much Greek to me. But a glance from you will put everything straight. I shall invite a little party down for the shooting, but you and Roland must come first, and help me prepare and receive them. Will you promise ? " " Your mother is the proper person to see after Cheverill for you, Jocelyn.

I am afraid people would think I was assuming too much in taking her place there." " 0, bother people. Besides, you are my mother — the only mother I possess." Elsa shivered a little as she answered : " But the world would not acknowledge the relationship, I am afraid, although it is not a compromising one. However, Jocelyn, I will promise so far — that Roland and I will form part of your guests at Cheverill, and if Mrs. Cadogan is not tliere, I will do my utmost to organize your neAv household according to your wishes." He accepted her promise with many thanks ; and a day or two after, he and Roland left her to return to London. Although they hoped to meet again in a fortnight, Elsa had some difficulty to keep back the tears from her eyes as she bade them good-bye, and Mr. Yorke held her hand so long at parting that it incited Eoland to call out : " Now, then, Jo, when you're done ' spoon ing ' mother, we'll be off."

Which rude accusation made them start asunder as if they had been shot, although there Avas nothing extraordinary in a guest displaying his gratitude, at leaving, to a hostess who had treated him with so much hospitality. As soon as they were gone, Elsa turned her attention to her own intended departure, and to her adopted daughter's return. But with respect to the latter she was doomed to disappointment. Miss Sybil Addison had no desire to revisit England yet awhile, and invented a dozen good excuses for remaining in Munich. The fact is, this young lady was an unmitigated flirt. What she had been as a child she had developed into as a woman, and after love of herself, love of admiration was her strongest feeling. At Newton Hall this quality had not had much opportunity of being developed.

It was waste of time to pose for the benefit of a married clergyman, or a doctor of sixty. But when she went on a long promised visit to her Munich friends, she found ample scope for the gratification of her vanity. She Avas now really a beautiful young woman of twenty, and la belle Anglaise soon made a sensation in Munich that brought a handsome officer in the Chasseurs, a couple of students and a rising tenor to her feet. Sybil was in her glory. She shot Parthian darts from her blue eyes, and shook her Venetian-tinted locks at them all by turn, and felt like a queen who had at last come into her kingdom. When Elsa therefore wrote for her to come home and pass the London season with her, the little fool, instead of rushing to fresh conquests, cried her eyes out over the idea of leaving her handsome Chasseur, and her interesting students and artist, and declared that nothing should make her leave Munich.

But she did not forcibly oppose Elsa's wishes. That was not Sybil's way. She only wrote a very pathetic, pleading letter to her petite maman (as she always called her adopted mother), in which she entreated her not to insist on her leaving Munich just as she was making such progress at the Conservatoire de VOL. IL Musique as to be almost certain of gaining a prize at the ensuing examination. Elsa knew that no amount of instruction would ever make Sybil a musician, and that her lessons at the Conservatoire were so much money thrown away. She replied therefore that she thought a season in London would do her much more good than even a prize for singing, and that she should continue her lessons in town. But Miss Addison was not to be entrapped away from her admirers by any promises. Her next letter contained an account of how she had been made quite ill by the suggestion of her petite maman, and that even if Elsa had the heart to ask her to relinquish the prize for which she had worked so hard, she could never wish her to return for the frivolities of a London season, when she had just mastered the German language sufficiently to be able to acquire all those little elegancies of diction, without which it would be practically of no use to her in society.

Since Sybil seemed so averse to comincr home just then, Elsa, ignorant of the Chasseur and the students, argued the point no further. She was sorry the girl did not care to see ber again. It seemed a poor reward for all the affection she had lavished on her, and the money she had spent, but she knew that Sybil's love would never be gained by opposition. So she let her have her own way, though something like an unacknowledged hope died within her as she did so. Whenever she had spoken to Jocelyn Yorke of the advantages of marriage, the image of Sybil Addison had risen before her, and she had thought, almost unconsciously to herself, how nice it would be if some day, when Mr. Yorke had settled down to a steady life, he should choose her adopted daughter for his wife. Perhaps she would have denied the fact if accused of it.

Perhaps, she was only setting up a barrier between herself and the young man who so strangely interested her. But it was true nevertheless, and Sybil Addison's defection seemed to withdraw some protection from 17-2 her, behind which she had intended to defend herself from the assaults of her own heart. It was the middle of May before Elsa took possession of her flat in the Queen's Mansions, and she had asked Eoland to meet her on her arrival. Instead of which she received a telegram to say an engagement detained him elsewhere. It was a trifle perhaps, but without her son or Sybil Addison to keep her company she felt rather lonely. She was beginning to taste the bitter experience of most mothers, that as soon as the birds are fledged and have left the nest, they find a thousand diversions to make them forget the love that warmed and fed them whilst tliere.

Her new rooms were large and luxuriously furnished and she had sent down a staff of servants from Newton Hall to prepare them for her. Yet — fresh to the mighty Babylon, and her surroundings, and to the fact of being by herself — Elsa felt very little appetite for her first dinner in London, and wandered about her spacious apart ments afterwards, wishing she had not finished her books in the train, or she had sufficient energy to unpack her other books and find some distraction from her uneasy thoughts. But she sat over the fire — the evenings being still chilly — instead, and thought of her absent children. About nine o'clock, a cab pulled up at the door, and a sonorous peal sounded on the bell. Elsa believed that it was Eoland, and rose from her seat in pleasurable anticipations. The footman threw open the door, and announced " Mr. Yorke."

She sank down on her chair again, and turned her face tOAvards the sire. Jocelyn came in, dressed in evening clothes, and faultlessly attired. He wore a fine white cambric shirt, with a small diamond solitaire in the centre — a spotless necktie — a white rose in his button hole. As he came up to her, and Elsa was compelled to turn and greet him, she thought she had never seen him look so well. "Is it shamelessly intrusive of me to come round to see }7ou on this very first evening, Mrs. Carden ? " he asked, as he took her hand and held it in his own. " But I was so anxious to know if you had arrived safely, and if I could be of the slightest service to you. Is not Roland here ? " " No ! he is detained by some dinner-party," replied Elsa, who had recovered from her first surprise, " and I am so lonely in consequence that I am doubly glad to see you.

Do sit down, Mr. Yorke, and make yourself com fortable. Are these rooms not lovely ? " " Beautiful," he said, taking possession of a lounge. " They are just the thing for you ! How glad I am you have come ! I have a thousand things to tell you I have been keeping until we met. I can't think how I ever got on before, without a friend to talk to." Elsa smiled. "Tell me one of the thousand," she said. " Well ! it will surprise you — I have sold the ' Donna.' " "The race-horse you thought so much of?" " Even so. I had an excellent price bid for her, and I accepted it. I did more than that, Mrs. Carden. I told my dealer he might put ' Champagne ' into the market also." " What is your reason for parting with them ? " " Because a certain lady has lectured me so unmercifully about my extravagance and neglect of my duties as a landowner, that I have quite made up my mind to take her advice, and make Cheverill my home, at least for some portion of the year !

And that plan will not agree very well with horse-racing, which takes me all over the country. So I have decided to part with my racers, voila tout." " How good of you ! " cried Elsa, her pleasure sparkling in her eyes. " Well ! to tell you the honest truth, Elsa — may I call you Elsa, I do hate so to say Mrs. Carden ? " he interposed. " But that will not sound very respectful from a son to his mother— will it ? " " Oh, yes ! it will — at all events when we are alone. I am a peculiar sort of son, you know, and cannot be expected to stick to ordinary rules." " Very well, do so — when (as you say) we are alone," replied Elsa ; " but what is the honest truth ?" "That I have dropped more money over racing than I have confided to any one except yourself, and if your words had not made me stop and consider, I am afraid I should have gone to the wall altogether.

As it is, I am hard hit. I have thought more than once of mortgaging part of the Cheverill acres, and if I can't pull through without it, they must go-" "No! no!" exclaimed Elsa, "you must not think of it, Jocelyn. How much do you require? Let me lend you the money." He left his seat and came close to hers, and laid his hand caressingly upon her own. " God bless your dear heart," he said affectionately, "I am sure you would help me to the extent of your power, but there is no need. If I put down my racing stud, and live quietly at Cheverill for a year or two, the old acres will be safe. But had it not been for you, Elsa, I think another twelve month would have seen me a ruined man." " I am so glad I plucked up the courage to pay you that visit at your chambers, Jocelyn. But I have often wondered since what you must have thought of me."

" Nothing that you would be ashamed to hear repeated. And now I want to ask if I may bring Mrs. Cadogan to pay you a visit here to-morrow ? " " So soon ! " " Yes ! and it is by her own request. She is most desirous to make your acquaintance. I walked into her reception rooms last Sunday, and she was quite gracious to me, which was, perhaps, due to the fact that we have not met for twelve months. I told her of my visit to New ton Hall and ' Septimus Garth,' and she became enthusiastic to know you. She is evidently anxious to be the first to trot you out. Shall you be at home to morrow afternoon ? " " Certainly ! and very pleased to receive Mrs. Cadogan. Pray tell her so." " And have you any engagement for the evening ? " " How should I have ? " " I cannot tell. You women are so sly. If you are free, then, will you come to the Lyceum Theatre with me ?

" " But Roland may be here." " There will be room for him. I have a box." " I should like it above all things. What an age it is since I saw a play ! Not since that wretched time at Malta." " Please don't allude to ' wretched ' times. We are going to have nothing but good times now." " Let us hope so," said Elsa cheerfully, as he wished her good-night. On the folloAving afternoon Mrs. Cado gan accompanied her son to the Queen's Mansions, and Elsa was astonished to find what a pleasant, soft-spoken woman she was. She was elegant and aristocratic looking rather than handsome, but she was dressed in the height of the fashion, and had a winning way about her that was very taking at first sight. She met Elsa (metaphorically speaking) with open arms, congratulated her warmly on her genius and her success, and begged to have the honour of receiving her at her Sunday " At Homes," when she trusted she would meet some people worthy of her acquaintance.

During this intervieAv, Jocelyn sat some what apart, and did not join in the con versation unless specially appealed to. Elsa glanced from his mother to himself, and wondered how any woman could be otherwise than proud to own him as her son. Yet none of Mrs. Cadogan's soft speeches or gracious glances were sent in his direction. On the contrary, on the few occasions when she did address him, her eye seemed to harden, and her lips to compress themselves. Elsa felt she hated her for her coldness, but was too politic to show the feeling, and after a long visit her guests rose to go. " Now dear Mrs. Carden — (or dear ' Sep timus Garth,' as I shall always call you ! ) — you will promise not to fail me next Sunday afternoon, and I will gather such a galaxy of ' stars ' to welcome you to London, as you shall have no reason to complain of.

At four, mind. Don't be late, for we shall all be on the tip-toe of expectation till you come. Now! Jocelyn, I am ready ! " She was about to leave the room, when she stopped short and said : " I ought to thank you, I suppose, for your hospitality to Mr. Yorke. He seems to have enjoyed his visit to Newton Hall exceedingly. What a charming place it must be, and what a more than charming hostess you must be to bore yourself with the society of a 'young man of the period' for so long ! / couldn't. " And with a shrug of her shoulders, Mrs. Cadogan moved on. Her son lingered be hind long enough to say : " Shall I call for you at seven to-night ? " " Come to dinner at six," replied Elsa, " and we can go in my carriage after wards." " Thanks," he said briefly, " it will be something to take the taste of this out of my mouth."

His mother was calling sharply to him, and he ran after her only just in time to put her into her carriage. Then he stood on the pavement and raised his hat. " Are you not coming with me, Jocelyn ? " " No, thank you. I have some calls to pay. Good-bye." " Stop a minute. I want to speak to you." He approached the carriage window, and she put her mouth close to his ear. " Have you any idea of marrying this widow ? " He started violently. " Good heavens ! no. She is double my age. And how could I marry ? " Her eyes met his significantly. " Well ! you knoAV best ! But I should think it would be the making of you. As for the other " Mrs. Cadogan did not finish her sentence, but she snapped her fingers in a contemptuous manner. " One word about that," said Jocelyn. " WiU she be there on Sunday ?

" "Hoav can I tell! You know how she comes and goes." " If she is, prevent an introduction for my sake." " I can promise nothing, Jocelyn ! When her ladyship has set her mind on a thing, she has it." " And if I put in an appearance, it will make matters worse," said the young man gloomily. " Never mind ! I must take my chance. Good-bye." And he raised his hat again, and turned on his heel, and walked away. His tete-a-tete dinner with Elsa (for Eoland never turned up) should have been a very pleasant one for both, but he was somewhat absent and constrained (owing to Mrs. Cadogan's hint), and Elsa observed his mood and Avas influenced by it. And the play they went to see afterwards lost half its charm, as they sat side by side, almost in silence, and Elsa, at heart, wondered what had occurred to ruffle the serenity of her companion.

" Shall you be at Mrs. Cadogan's on Sun day ? " she asked him as they parted. " I think not ! I am not over fond of these crowded assemblies." Her face fell. " I am sorry ! I shall feel quite alone." " You will not feel so long. Everybody will be wanting to make your acquaintance — and — if 37ou will allow me to say so — Mrs. Carden, use a little discretion in the matter. Don't ask them all home to your house. My mother has a great mixture sometimes, and you are not a woman to care for people, simply because they have a handle to their names." " Certainly not ! But how am I to pre vent ladies who are introduced to me asking if they may call? I cannot be so rude as to refuse." He looked Avearied more than puzzled. " No ! I suppose not. Well ! don't expect to find them all as sweet, and true, and pure as yourself — that's all!

Remember what I told you of London ladies. Be polite to them (if you will), but keep the majority of them at arm's length." " Why are you in such low spirits to night, Jocelyn ? " "I don't know! I expect it is the influence of my lady mother. I generally come forth from an interview with her with a face as long as a hatchet. But it's too bad I should inflict it upon you. Let me go home, and try to exorcise the demon, if I can. Good-night."