The Heart of Jane Warner. A novel

Front matter

THE HEART OF JANE WARNER. a flobcl. BY FLORENCE MARRYAT, AUTHOR OF 'MY SISTER THE ACTRESS,' ' PHYLLIDA, ' ETC. IN THREE A7OLUMES. A7OL. II. LONDON : F. V. WHITE AND CO., 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 1885. [AU Rights Reserved.} SELECT NOVELS. Crown 8vo„ cloth, 3s. 6d. each. By FLORENCE MARRY AT. Her World against a The Root of all Evil. Lie. Phyllida. Facing the Foot- MySistertheActress lights. Peeress and Player. A Broken Blossom. Howthey Loved Him. By ANNIE THOMAS. Friends and Lovers. I Allerton Towers. Jenifer. By Mrs. El LO ART. Some of our Girls. I The Dean's Wife. By Lady CONSTANCE HOWARD. Mollie Darling. I Only a Village Maiden Sweetheart and Wife. By the Author of ' RECOMMENDED TO MERCY: Barbara's Warning. By the Author of ' THE QUEEN OF CONN A UGHT.' Two Men and a Maid. | The Priest's Blessing By MRS. ALEXANDER FRASER.

A Professional Beauty. A Fatal Passion. By IZA DUFFUS HARDY. Love, Honour, and Obey. F. V. White & Co., 31, Southampton Street, Strand. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAPTER PAGE I. CONVINCED 1 II. MARRIED 23 III. LAMBSCOTE 41 IV. DESERTED 02 V. ROSIE 83 VI. DISCOATERED 106 VII. HOME 139 VIII. QUARRELS - 172 192 IX. RELATIONS X. SISTERS 224 249 XI. AVORK 271 XII. AVILFRID

Chapter I

, CONVINCED. When Jane Warner retired to her own room and locked the door upon her lover, it was with no Avish that he should try to folloAV or entreat her to return. She was glad when she heard the slam of the hall door that announced his departure. She did not wish to speak to him again. She was too angry to trust herself to do it. VOL. II. She did not fling herself upon the bed, nor Aveep, nor rock to and fro, nor indulge in any of the vagaries Avhich would have come as second nature to a more emotional Avoman. She only sat doAvn by the open AvindoAV, which looked out upon the garden, and squeezed her burning head between her two hands, and tried to think. What should she do ? What could she do ? In after days the keenest pain she felt in recalling this occasion Avas the knoAV ledge how feebly Wilfrid must have loved her to subject her to such an insult.

But at the time itself the feeling uppermost in her bosom Avas anger, and a desire for revenue ; a great longing to force him to hold to his plighted Avord, and acknowledge her as his wife. Who Avould help her ? To whom could she turn ? Jane knew nothing of law or laAvyers. Most happily Convinced. 3 for her they had not, as yet, obtruded them selves upon her peace of mind. And then she perfectly understood what the man Avhom she had believed to be her husband told her — that their marriage was illegal. So that lawyers' counsel would hinder instead of helping her. Should she appeal, as she had threatened, to his mother, and expose his treachery to his nearest rela tions ? That would hurt him in their estimation, but would it benefit her ? His mother could not compel him to re-marry her against his own will, and hoAV would the confession affect her charac ter ?

Had not Sir Wilfrid told her ? She Avas his wife — in name only ; a woman Avho had lost her reputation — not in reality, but before the Avorld — the victim of a fraud! Something to be pitied or laughed at, but nothing with right upon her side. 18—2 And supposing the entreaties or re proaches of his family shamed Wilfrid into acting honourably, how would she fare then? He had threatened to separate her from her poor feeble mother, who almost depended on her solicitude and care. And if she gained her cause, she might have to go to Lambscote alone, and leave Mrs. Warner to look after herself. Would that increase her happiness ? Could she live, even contentedly, apart from the poor creature who had been cast, as it Avere, on her for protection? And then arose the other side of the question. No one but herself and Wilfrid knew of this dishonour.

If she could gain no good by making it public, at all events she could save herself from shame by keeping it secret. For the sake of her mother and dead father's name, Convinced. 5 Avas it not her duty to preserve her character from open stain ? If Wilfrid chose to commit the crime of marrying again, it could not add to her de gradation. She felt that under any circumstances she was bound to him. She was his Avife, and Avhilst he liATed she could never be that of another man. But she did not see, on consideration, hoAv she could better her own position by proclaiming his infamy to the world. And, after all, he may haATe been trying how far he could go with her. She hardly thought he could really be en gaged — it was too soon for that. He had said so just to show her Iioav wide a gulf Avas opening between them.

And if she was patient and uncomplaining, if she went about her duty and made no sign, perhaps he Avould relent. She knew she was not fit to be the mistress of Lambscote Hall, but surely — surely he could not, all at once, forget the love-passages that had passed between them. As Jane thought thus, a vision seems to rise before her of stolen interviews and kisses, of rambles in the moonlit garden, of secret notes, of all the many innocent ex citements Avhich a pair of married lovers may be expected to indulge in. Could Will forget all her love for him — all his expressed loAre for her? The question comforted her. Nature herself seemed to cry out it Avas impossible. He had been misled by worldly and false adATisers. When he came to think over the matter quietly, his better nature Arould assert itself, and he would repent of the hasty terms he had used to her, and ask her to forgive them.

Had he not repented eAren before they separated ? Had he not tried to embrace Convinced. 7 her? — and she had repulsed, and thrown him off ! No, no ! it was bad enough to talk of such a thing, but AVill could never carry it into execution. His whole nature must change before he could be such a coAvard as to desert her. Jane was roused at this stage of her reverie by the sound of her mother's voice in the hall. She staggered as she rose to her feet. She had been sitting at the win dow in the same position for nearly an hour, and felt as if she had been recalled from some ideal Avorld to the necessities of the present. But she forced herself to be reasonable and go downstairs, where she found Mrs. Warner more querulous than usual. She Avas loud in complaint of Sarah, who had jjresumed to object to her conduct in church, and Sarah was loud in complaint of that conduct, Avhich appeared to have attracted the attention of the entire congregation. ' I shall speak to the lieutenant about you as soon as ever he returns home, and you will receive a month's Avarning,' said the old lady indignantly. ' The idea of an ignorant creature like you dictating what I shall, or shall not do, in church.' Sarah Avas used to attacks of this sort, and took no notice of them. ' If you'll believe me, miss,' she said, addressing Jane, ' the Avhole church Avas staring at her.

First, she took off one thing, and then another, until I really thought she'd have undressed herself alto gether. The trouble I've had you'd never believe. I'd have brought her home at once, only she Avouldn't stir. As for her bonnet and cap, she. kept them in her lap the whole time. And a thorough draught Convinced. 9 blowing through the building, too. So don't blame me, miss, if she's caught her death of cold.' ' Oh, mother ! mother ! that was very naughty of you,' exclaimed Jane, in the tone of reproof she would have used to a child. ' How could you do such a thing ? You know you must not take off your bonnet when you are out of doors.' ' But it Avas so hot, Jane. The water stood on my face,' pleaded Mrs. Warner deprecatingly. ' All the more reason you should haAre been careful, dear. Now you mil catch cold perhaps, and have the toothache, and you knoAv you don't like that.' ' Why did you not take me to church yourself, Jane ?

I never do such things when you are there,' replied her mother penitently. ' I wish I had taken you,' responded the daughter with a sigh. ' But never mind now, dear ! Don't Avorry about it any more. Only you must be good another time, and do as Sarah tells you.' ' It's quite true AAdiat she says, miss,' remarked Sarah confidentially ; ' she's never up to them tricks when you are with her. But Lor' ! the trouble she gives directly your back's turned, you'll never know. I am always in a fidget lest I should find her with her head in the copper, or her heels out of the Avaterbutt. She'd do herself a mischief, as sure as eggs is eggs, if she hadn't you to look after her.' The little old lady, who had been listen ing attentively to what the servant said, here plucked her daughter by the sleeve. ' But you Avon's leave me, Jane ?' she whispered ; ' you will promise not to leave Convinced. 11 me till your dear father conies home, and I'll do anything you wish.' ' I will never leave you,' replied Jane, as she kissed the poor perplexed face and made it smile again.

It is seldom that we are left to bear the heaviest trials of our lives alone. Other troubles crop up — minor ones, it is true — but quite sufficient to keep our minds from con tinually dwelling on that which would break our hearts. So it was with Jane Warner. Her mother's little eccentricity of sitting in a strong draught without cap or bonnet resulted in an attack of rheumatism in the head, which confined the im^alid to her bedroom for some weeks, during which she would hardly allow her daughter to stir from her side. And Jane was indefatigable in her attendance on her — so indefatigable indeed, that the apothecary Avho visited Mrs. Warner advised her to alloAv herself a little more air and exercise. ' Your mother is in no danger whatever. Her complaint is ATery painful, and takes time to cure, but you must not sacrifice your health on that account.

You are looking far from well, Miss Warner — very far from Avell. In fact, I don't like your looks at all. Will you alloAv me to ask you a few questions ?' Jane reddened painfully, and looked as frightened as a hare. She knew that she Avas not Avell. The weeks she had spent by her mother's bedside, and during which she had received neither word nor sign from Wilfrid Ewell, had convinced her of the fact, but she had no wish to go under the doctor's hands. Her disease was far beyond his simple cures. So she affected to be as well as usual. Convinced. 13 ' Indeed you are mistaken, Mr. Willett. I am accustomed to take a great deal of exercise, and the atmosphere of a sick-room gives me a headache. That is all. I Avill take a long walk this eA'ening when mother is asleep, and shake it off.' ' I don't think that is all, Miss Warner.

HoweA'er, I suppose you must haA-e your oaati way. Please to take daily exercise in future though, or we shall have you laid up as well.' She was glad of the advice, which forced her to follow her own inclinations, for her heart was breaking for news of Wilfrid. Those weeks of solitude and reflection had taught her that she must see him : that it was her duty to see him, and make another appeal to his manliness and sense of honour. Perhaps he imagined, from her silence, that she acquiesced in his decision — that she, too, thought it the best thing that they should agree to part; that she had deter mined, on reflection, to folloAV his counsel, and look out for a lowlier and more suitable settlement in life. And he must be undeceiA^ed at once. He must know her real mind upon the subject. There was a fear in her breast now, which had never been there before, and it behoAred him to share her trouble, and to do his best to avert it.

She had half-decided to write to him, when the doctor's advice made her resohTe to see him instead. He had forbidden her calling at his chambers, but this was an occasion Avhich admitted of no precedent. So, the next day, leaving her mother in her arm-chair, with her head well wrapped up in flannels (which it took all Sarah's time to prevent her taking off again, under the idea that they were unbecoming and the lieu- Convinced. 15 tenant Avould object to her appearance), Jane crept out of the house and took her way towards the Strand. It was still very warm, but the season was over, and the streets were thinning visibly. Country clergymen alone, Avith their wiA-es and daughters, and seaside residents who had let their houses for the season, blocked up the paA'ements as they read the play-bills and inspected the public buildings.

How easy it is to detect the man or woman who is not used to London life ! How curiously they twist themselves about when uncertain in which direction they should proceed, and what a time they stand at the crossings, Avhilst cabs and omnibuses pass them in one continuous stream, and the golden opportunity neATer seems to arriAre to their bewildered eyes. Ah ! in crossings, as in life, we must make our golden opportunities for ourselves. The man Avho deliberates at one or the other is lost. But Jane saw nothing of all this, as she walked rapidly with downcast eyes along the pavement. She didn't hesitate at the crossings. She hardly looked to see if they were crossable, but plunged deliberately amongst the vehicles to gain the other side. All she wanted was to reach the Adelphi — to hear Avhat Wilfrid would have to say to her now.

She had cast all her hopes upon this die. It was her last throw, and if it failed, all was lost. She had reached Charing Cross, and her heart had begun to beat faster Avith the knowledge of his proximity, when some one pronounced her name, and, looking round, she saw Rosie Ewell standing at the door of Waterloo House. 'Miss Warner! Is that really you?' she Convinced. 17 71 exclaimed. ' I thought I recognised your face, but you Avere holding your head so Ioav I could hardly see. Hoav are you? How is your mother? Do you know, I wanted mamma to take me to Chelsea to see you this afternoon, only she is so dreadfully busy about our autumn things.' Jane Avas fain to stop, for the girl had come out upon the pavement and taken her by the hand. ' Is your mamma with you?' she asked timidly. ' Yes; she's in that shop, buying flannels and veh^eteens, for Wilfrid's been so good.

He's giATen us all our autumn outfits. But hoAV pale you are, Miss Warner. HaAre you been ill?' ' My mother has, Miss Ewell. She has had rheumatism in the head for three weeks past, and I ha\re been in close attendance VOL. II. on her. That is enough to make one pale.' ' You do look ill,' continued Rosie s}Tm pathetically ' I told Wilfrid I Avas sure there must be something the matter, or you would certainly have been AArith us yester day. It Avas such a lovely sight.' ' Is Sir Wilfrid at his chambers, then, Miss Ewell?' ' Oh dear no — of course not ! He's in Paris, I suppose, or lie ought to be, by this time!' ' In Paris? — left London?' she faltered. ' Well, naturally so. Don't people always go aAvay for their honeymoon? It's their only jolly time, you know. But I wish you had been at the church, Miss Warner !

I wonder Wilfrid did not send you an invita tion. They say it Avas the prettiest Avedding of the season. And Miss St. Blase looked Convinced. 19 beautiful. You know she is Arery hand some, and her wedding-dress made her look like a queen. And my sisters and I were all bridesmaids. Oh ! such lovely dresses — Eau de Nil with lilies of the valley. The} are Wilfrid's favourite flowers. And our bouquets Avere all lilies of the valley, too. And he gave us such loA'ely bracelets, Avith " Lena " on them in enamel — look ! here is mine!' concluded Rosie, thrusting out her Avrist for Jane's inspection. The trinket swam in a mist before her eyes. ' Do — you — mean ' she said very slowly, ' that Sir Wilfrid — was. — married yesterday?' ' Yes ; to Miss St. Blase. I made sure you Avould have heard of it, but I suppose it won't be in the papers till to-morrow^ Oh ! it is a shame you weren't there !

Hark ! 19—2 there's mamma calling me — will you come in and see her?' 'No! — no!' stammered Jane; ' I have — no time — good morning!' and she turned blindly on her way again. ' Good-bye !' called out Rosie ; ' and I'll come and see you some day soon, if mamma will let me, and tell you all about it. Good bye !' and with a fareAvell nod she re-entered Waterloo House. Jane staggered for a few steps along the sunny pavement, trying hard to keep upght and walk steadily. Some of the bystanders laughed to see her efforts. They had often Avatched such solemn endeavours on the part of their fellow-creatures before, and fully belie\Ted they Avould end in the arms of the next policeman. But suddenly there was a feeble movement of her hands forward — a Convinced. 21 faint cry — and Jane lay senseless on the pavement.

Plenty rushed to her assistance then. There was a crowd round her in a minute. ' It's a sunstroke!' said one. 'A fit!' cried another. ' I belieA~e she's dead !' ejaculated a third. But a policeman, putting them aside, lifted and carried the unconscious girl into a chemist's shop, where in a few minutes she came to life again, and stared vacantly at those surrounding her. ' It is nothing ! Let me go !' Avere her first words. 1 You'd better haA-e a cab, miss. You're not fit to stand,' said the policeman. ' Where's your home?' '•Home! I have no home!' she cried hysterically ; and then, controlling herself, she added : ' Oh yes ! yes ! what am I saying? I had forgotten! Please to call me a cab, policeman, and tell him to drive me to Wolsey Cottage, Chelsea.' What she suffered during that drive Avas best knoAvn to herself and Heaven. But Avhen she reached her mother's side, Jane Warner Avas, to all outward appearances, herself again.

Chapter II. Married

Sir Wilfrid Ewell had obtained his soul's desire. The fruit which seemed to hang so far aboAre his reach was in his hands — between his teeth. Did the realization of his hopes fulfil the anticipation that pre ceded it? Does the realization of any of our hopes afford us conqjlete satisfaction after the first few days? There is an old French story to the effect that a certain man loved a certain woman so madly and blindly, that the thought of her came be tAveen him and everything that he attempted, and rendered him unfit for his daily work. The alliance Avas an unsuit able one — indeed, he did not AA'ish to marry at all — but at last he felt compelled to do so against his better judgment, and the reason he gave to an intimate friend for his apparent folly Avas this : ' My dear So-and-So,' he said, ' I am obliged to marry in order to live.

The charms of this woman so interfere Avith every effort I would make that they paralyse my energies. At all risks I must be cured, and I know of but one cure for such a dis ease. That is marriage. I marry her to cure myself of loving her.' And the end of the story is that he Avas cured in fourteen days. Sir Wilfrid's love for Lena St. Blase Avas just such another mad, unreasoning passion as that of the French philosopher. He had Married. 25 pursued it in a delirious frenzy that had rendered him obliA-ious of every obstacle that stood in his way, and careless of what sacred obligation he trampled on in his eagerness to reach the goal. And now the winning-post was passed, the race was won, and for a few days he was feverishly tri umphant, and forgot eA-erything and eA'ery body except Lena. The Avorld envied him: his bride Avas beautiful, and he was madlj in love with her.

What wonder if he thought that he had gained a life-long happiness? But ; these violent delights haA'e Aiolent ends,' and the first cool breath that blew upon Sir Wilfrid's ardour was the discovery that his wife did not care one tithe for him in proportion to the affection he lavished upon her. It has been said before that Lady Ewell Avas utterly heartless, and she was not clever enough to conceal the fact for long. It is a very different thing to sit on a pedestal and be worshipped as a goddess from being called upon eArery moment of the day to render the consideration expected from a wife. In the former position her coldness passed for shyness, her selfishness for timi dity, her indifference for maidenly shame. But noAV all things Avere changed. Re serve and bashfulness were supposed to be of the past, and her husband expected to receive her confidence and confessions of attachment instead. ' Blessed are they Avho expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed.' This certainly would have been the wisest creed for Sir Wilfrid to adopt, for he had not been married many Aveeks before he found that to be allowed to make love to his AAife AATas Married. 27 a concession, and to expect her to make love to him in return was a folly.

The marble cheek of Galatea, before she Avas endowed with life, was not colder to the impassioned kiss of Pygmalion than Lady Ewell's to those of her enamoured husband. And after a ATery little while he discoATered that if she suffered his caresses Avithout complaining he had reason to be thankful. She made him understand at an early period of their union that she didn't like kissing and all that sort of nonsense. It Avas all A^ery well for school-girls and dairy-maids, she said, but she considered it quite beneath the practice of men and Avomen of the world. It was childish, \-ulgar, coarse ; indeed, all manifestations of love Avere coarse in Lady Ewell's opinion, and the less husbands and wives indulged in them the better. She could not see why two people should not go through the Avorld together, perfectly good friends and all that, but without any of these vulgar displays of affection which Avere quite un necessary to the existence of the tender passion. ' Love,' Lady Ewell used to assert, ' was something far beyond all that sort of thing,' a sentiment which Sir Wilfrid could not deny, although somehow it struck a chill upon his heart.

His Avife, however, appeared quite ready to accept any proofs of his devotion to her so long as she was not called upon to return them by the ordinary expressions of grati tude. She was most beautifully and in tensely selfish, and whilst her husband Avaited upon her and consulted her every wish, and mapped out the day's amusement Avithout any reference to his own, Lady Married. 29 Ewell Avas pleased to be gracious, and accept the good things offered her, and consider them amply paid for by a smile. In this way her infatuated bridegroom took her over to Spain, and basked in the sunshine of Madrid and Andalusia and Castile, if not in the sunshine of his wife's affection. Her beauty had not yet palled upon him, or perhaps it would be more correct to say that her evil temper had not yet shown itself to the extent of over shadoAving her beauty and rendering it worthless.

And yet there was a slight difference between them, even in the honey moon, and that difference arose on account of Captain Dorsay. Sir Wilfrid had been recalling, after the fatuous fashion of men in love, the days of his courtship, and in mentioning the m-er party, happened to say how miserable he had been made on that occasion by the looks of Captain Dorsay. ' I didn't like the fellow from the begin ning,' he continued. ' He looks like a cad, and he has a most offensive manner. But Avhen I saw his insolent eyes turned upon you in that way, my darling, I could have knocked him down.' ' Good gracious me, Wilfrid ! in what way ?' asked Lady Ewell pettishly. ' Why, as if he wras in love with you, Lena. I consider his way of gazing at you Avas most impertinent. I don't suppose he Avould presume to do it again — in fact, I don't suppose we are likely to meet him again ; but if we were ' ' Not likely to meet him again, Wilfrid, when he is one of my oldest friends ?

What do you mean ?' ' But I thought you told me he had Married. 31 proposed to you, and you had refused him ?' ' Does that fact militate against friend ship ?' ' Generally it does. It is usual in such cases to break off an acquaintanceship altogether.' ' Well, mamma didn't see fit to do so, and I think she would be Arery much astonished if I did. But I have no intention of doing it. Poor old Jack would break his heart if he were refused the entree to our house.' ' Have you known him long ?' ' Years and years. He knew me as a little child. He is nearly double my age.' ' And yet he wished to marry you ?' ' Does that seem so extraordinary in your eyes, Wilfrid ?' * No, no, my dearest. But fancy the man's presumption in thinking you Avere likely to accept his advances. And he does not bear the best of characters, either.' 'Who told you so?' asked Lady EAA'ell quickly. ' I have heard it at the clubs.

Nothing Arery bad, I mean, but he is considered a loose fish. There are several nasty stories afloat about him, concerning cards, and other things.' ' What ill-natured creatures A'ou men are, always trying to do each other an ill turn !' cried Lena petulantly. ' HoAveA'er, no one shall set me against Captain Dorsay, nor prevent my calling him my friend.' ' Of course not, my darling, if you wish it, though I had no idea your mother was so intimate with him. But don't say too much about it, Lena, or I shall get jealous.' ' It would be utterly absurd if you did, Married. 33 considering I have told you I refused him.' ' Why did you refuse him ?' ' Well, he has no money, in the first place ;' but here Lady Ewell stopped short, as if she had committed herself. ' Was that the only objection ?' said Sir Wilfrid drily. ' Of course not.

Now, don't look so cross about it, Wilfrid, or I shan't go on. There Avere a thousand reasons AArhy I could not marry the man.' ' I only want to hear one — that you did not love him, Lena.' ' If I had Wed him, do you suppose I should have married you, you silly goose? No ! mamma would not hear of it — and neither would I. But, at the same time, I know she Avould be extremely vexed if there was anything like a coolness between vol. ii. us; and I know Jack is looking forward with so much pleasure to visiting us at Lambscote. He told me so the last time we met, and he likes you so much too, Wilfrid, that I am quite determined you shall be the best of friends.' ' I am Avilling, dear, though I must say I wish Captaiu Dorsay did not bear quite so indifferent a character. But — but — have you always called him " Jack " ?' ' Always !' she replied confidently ; ' eATer since I can remember.

I couldn't call him by any other name to save my life.' ' I think I heard you address him as " Captain Dorsay " that day upon the steam launch' ' Perhaps I did — in public' ' Then I hope you will ahvays try and fancy that you are in public Avith him, for I don't like the idea of your Married. 35 calling any man but myself by his Christian i name. ' Oh, Wilfrid ! what an absurdly prudish request. I really cannot accede to it. Why, my friends wouldn't know me again if I launched out into the " extremely j) ? proper. ' I am sorry to hear that.' ' Besides,' she went on haughtily, ' I don't think you are a proper judge of the case. Mamma would never have allowed me to do anything unbefitting my station in life. And we, who are " born to the purple," Wilfrid, can do a great many things that would be startling, perhaps, in j par venues.