Lord Stirling's Son, or the Fool of the Family

Chapter I

He had always been considered the fool of the family even from the earliest times, when he had lollopped about in the most awkward way on people's laps, and refused to utter a word, while a younger brother and sister were making things lively in the nursery by sprightly ways and in cessant prattle. His nurse never praised him or told of his wonderful doings to other nurses, as she did of the other children. Even his mother did not care about holding him on her knee ; but this is not surprising, for Lady Stirling was not a an amiable woman, and a child who did her no credit by beauty or cleverness was not likely to get much tenderness out of her. Poor little ugly duckling with the warm heart and wistful eyes, brought up without love and understanding, little wonder if he grew shyer, more awkward, and less confident in himself or others as the years of his childhood went on.

Only a little nursemaid, crying alone in a corner because of the hard words of her superior for some duty ill-done, who felt a podgy hand on one wet cheek and a wetter mouth on the other, loved the little boy, and stood by " Master George " through thick and thin, even as against the other and more brilliant children. His awkwardness and backwardness he might have lived down for the soundness of his little heart even in that atmosphere of narrow sympathies, but the chief cause of complaint against him he could never live down. He was the heir, to the exclusion of the handsome and better loved Charlie, and that was a grudge that would last him his lifetime. Lord Stirling felt it to be a hard thing, and said so not infrequently, that " a lout like that " should succeed him. Poor little lout ! it wasn't his fault.

When the time came for the children to have a governess, George was always the last of the little class, and a succession of more or less learned ladies, who took their tune from their employers, snubbed him severely and found no alleviations of his dulness. After a time, when there were three girls in the schoolroom, the two boys used to go every day to the curate of the parish, who instructed them in what Greek and Latin he knew himself, together with a smattering of those other subjects which it is not considered necessary for English boys to be so well versed in. Here again Charlie completely outstripped his elder brother, and the curate was added to the list of those who considered George nothing better than a fool. And so the time went on until George was old enough to be sent to a public school.

All his family had been educated at Eton, and the two boys were supposed to have been preparing for it all these years ; but in the end Charlie went, and George was kept at his lessons with the curate, spending the rest of his time at home, snubbed by his parents, his sisters and the servants. Charlie did not distinguish himself greatly at school, except in that he was good at games. When he came home for his holidays he was made much of by his family, and George sank still further into the background. And yet these were perhaps his happiest days, for one of the points of his character was his ungrudging and whole-hearted admiration of his brother, and he was quite content if he was allowed to be a humble follower in any pursuits which Charlie and the school friends whom he brought home with him inaugurated.

It is to be doubted whether he was quite such a fool, as all those surrounding him would have made out, but in the matter of field sports he was about as incapable as any boy possibly could be. He was put under keepers and grooms to be taught to shoot and ride, for Lord Stirling, although he did not consider it necessary to send his son to school, did not want him to grow up without any accomplishments. But his round thighs were of no use in enabling him to stick on to his pony ; and when he had wounded two dogs and shot a keeper in the leg, it was thought to be time to knock off that branch of his educa tion. He was never allowed to learn the mysteries of tennis, for which noble game there was a court at Stirling Towers of which its owners were very proud, for any of his sisters could beat him on a lawn.

What could he do ? That was what nobody at that time could say, unless it was the old doctor who brought him into the world and always averred that he would develop by-and-by. He was cer tainly a long time about it. His hum drum, uneventful life went on at home until he was twenty, and then a change occurred. Charlie was to go from Eton to Cam bridge and then into the army. There was no talk of George's doing anything but go on as he always had at home. But Charlie disappointed expectations by failing to pass the entrance examination which would admit him into Trinity College, where several generations of Stewarts had occupied the same rooms in Neville's Court. Lord Stirling was very angry about it. He was unreasonable enough to say that a fellow who had been at Eton for six years ought to know enough to pass the entrance examination to any college.

The fallacy of the argument was obvious, but it was strong enough to lead Lord Stirling to decide that Charlie shouldn't go to Cambridge at all ; he subsequently relented, however, and let him enter at Trinity Hall. But in the meantime a new curate, who had succeeded the boys' old tutor some two years before, had taken a liking to George and guaranteed to prepare the elder son for the second trial which was to take place in October ; and so George was allowed to set to work and try and regain the honour of the family which Charlie was considered to have lost. His doing so was looked upon as a forlorn hope, for he was undoubtedly dull at his books ; but somehow or other he did manage to scrape through by dint of the most strenuous exertions on his part and that of his friend the curate, and so the brothers went up to Cambridge together, George for the first time having a chance of mixing with other men, and taking his stand on his own merits, apart from prejudice.

It was at this time that I first came across George Stewart. Charlie and I had been friends at school, and as we both entered at Trinity Hall at the same time, we kept together in Jesus Lane. I knew that Charlie had an elder brother, but he had never talked about him nor mentioned the fact of his having come up to Cambridge, and I never realised that he was at Trinity until one evening about a week after term had begun. Charlie had given a dinner in his rooms to a party of intimate friends. We were always dining one another in those days, and I looked out the menu of that very dinner only the other day from amongst a heap of others that I keep in an old desk. It has a water-colour sketch of a Pierrot riding on a pair of tongs outside it, and my name printed in gold letters at the bottom. We made a good deal of noise, and all over flowed with goodwill towards the world at large and Charlie in particular.

So when after dinner there was a lull, and some body, who was looking over a list of names of men who had just come up, asked Charlie whether "the Honourable George Stewart, of Trinity " was a relation of his, and when Charlie admitted that he was, and, upon being pressed, went so far as to acknowledge him as a brother, we all said what a delightful chap he must be, and how pleased we should be to go and look him up. Charlie, who, unlike the rest of the company, was a trifle morose for the time being, said that he wouldn't advise us to do so as he was a bit of a fool, and we weren't likely to care for him much ; and when somebody pleasantly remarked that we had put up with that so long from him that his brother's folly wasn't likely to affect us much, Charlie turned quite rusty and said he was going to bed.

However, some of us did call on George. We were not particularly struck with him either one way or the other. If he was a bit of a fool, as was generally admitted, he was a negative fool, and in no way aggres sive. He had not made many other friends at that time, and so fell in more or less with his brother's set, although he was never really of it. We got him to put up for the " Pitt " Club, and performed various kind little offices for him. He seemed to take kindly to Charlie's friends, and was assiduous in paying us visits. He. always said the same thing with a deprecating smile as he came into the room, " Holloa ! I thought I would just look you up." Then he would sit down on a chair with his hat and his stick in his hands and expect to be talked to, for he had no conversation of his own.

It was rather a bore sometimes, for one never seemed to get to know him any better. But he never stayed very long. He would heave a sigh and say, " Well ! I'm afraid I must be moving on." Then he would get himself out of the room somehow, for he was rather shy, and if you looked out of the window you would see him walking away very fast, swinging his stick and whistling. Charlie treated his brother with supreme indifference, but this did not appear to alter George's admiration of and devotion to him. Both of them had come up to Cambridge with the same allowance. It would have been too glaring a piece of injustice even for Lord Stirling to perpe trate to give the younger brother more money than the elder, although I have no doubt that he would have liked to do so. But Charlie was extravagant and exceeded his allowance, and I know that George's purse was always open to him and that he made use of it, although he never acknow ledged as much to me, and it made no difference to the way in which he treated his brother.

He certainly carried the family indifference very far, and I remember one striking instance of it. About half-way through our second term Charlie gave a big birthday dinner. I remember how pretty the table looked. Charlie had excellent taste, and his glass and china, his linen and plate, were all very nice. He had received a great many presents, and in the middle of the table stood a cluster of candles in a silver candelabrum, very fine. I kept in the rooms above his, and got down before any one else had arrived. Charlie, already dressed, was standing in front of the fire with his glass in his eye overlooking the movements of the gyps who were busy about the table. He looked very handsome and very smart, as the Stewarts, except George, always do. I noticed the candle stick at once and admired it.

Charlie did not contradict my praises, and presently vouchsafed the information that it was a birthday present, adding, apparently as an afterthought, that it came from George. I said it was a very handsome present ; but by this time Charlie was tired of talking about the candelabrum, and took no notice of my remark. Presently, finding the con versation lag, I inspected the cards on the dinner-table. "Where is George going to sit?" I asked, when I had gone the round. " George isn't coming," replied Charlie, paring his nails. " Not coming ! " I exclaimed. " Why ever not ? " " Chiefly, I suppose, because I didn't ask him," answered Charlie, "and I don't suppose he would have cared much about it if I had." " Well, I do call that devilish shabby," I said. Charlie flushed angrily, and was about to retort when the door opened and two or three fellows rushed in, making such a row, that nothing was said, and the matter passed over for the time.

My indignation did not last long. It was a very pleasant dinner. The champagne flowed freely, and by the time the entree came round, which, I remember, was a highly poetic rendering of a Vol au Vent de Volaille aux Trusses, George Stewart and his wrongs had completely passed out of my head. We got more and more hilarious as the evening passed away. We drank Charlie's health with the utmost enthusiasm after somebody had made a speech saying what a good chap he was. Charlie replied in a few short but ill chosen words, and over the rest of the proceedings of that evening I draw a veil. As I lay in bed the next morning — late, as my custom was — and pondered over events, George Stewart came again into my mind. My indignation had evapo rated. The matter did not affect my own convenience in the least, and at that time I was not as a rule deeply moved by matters that had not that effect.

But it was so delightful to feel that I had been moved to a refreshing and righteous wrath, that it did not occur to me to let the feeling go just yet. I felt that I should not be doing my duty as an Englishman if I did not first of all admonish Charlie and then pay a visit of consolation to George. My interview with Charlie had the effect of rekindling my moral indignation. This pleased me, although the renewed sensation was rather a warmed-up affair. We met at breakfast. Charlie was dis tinctly grumpy. He remarked that his mouth felt like a gravel path, which I could well believe. When I broached the subject of George's omission from the last night's festival, he said he couldn't see what the devil it had to do with me any way. As a matter of fact, he had thought of asking George, but it was a question between him and me, and he had decided in favour of me ; not that he preferred my B company, which he didn't, but because he knew what a row I should kick up if I weren't invited.

I felt that this speech lacked the stamp of sincerity, and said so, whereupon Charlie replied with some asperity that his time was too valuable to waste any more of it in listening to my drivel, but if I would put my name down for the next vacancy in the list of 'Varsity preachers he would make an exception to his general rule and endeavour to be present. He then took up his paper and buried himself in the study of the sporting intelligence. I felt that it was of no use to talk to a man in that frame of mind, so I finished my breakfast in silence, buoyed up with the generous intention of comfort ing George with my sympathy, and think ing what a mistake I had made in my estimation of Charlie's character, and how unworthy he was of being a friend of mine. Accordingly, after breakfast I made my way to George's rooms.

I found him busily at work on one of the subjects for the Little Go, which at that time seemed to him all important. He greeted me cheerfully, for by this time he had lost some of his diffidence, and asked me how I was getting on with my Virgil. I replied, with a confidence based neither on facts nor probabilities, that as the examination was still a month off, I had not considered it necessary as yet to pay much attention to it. George seemed to think that my reliance on my own powers was somewhat misplaced, and looked as if he wanted to be left alone with his work. But I had not come to hear him talk about Virgil. I began by saying what a beautiful present he had given to Charlie. He admitted that it was rather nice, and would pro bably look well lighted up. Then he searched for a word in his dictionary, and I sat down in an armchair by the fire.

Seeing that I was not to be shaken off, he left his seat at the table and took up his position on the hearthrug, leaning against the mantelpiece. "We had great sport last night," I went on. " Charlie gave us an excellent dinner." " Yes, he would," said George, tran quilly. " He knows how to do that as well as most things." " I was sorry you weren't there," I said. "Yes," assented George, "so was I. But I can't go out in the evenings now, I have such a lot of work to get through." One is apt to commit breaches of good manners at the age of nineteen, and my errand to George was a piece of officious impertinence which I am now ashamed to think of; but having come there, I certainly ought to have got up and gone away at this point, or else allowed the conversation to drift into other channels.

But in my pity for George's position and in my endeavour to smooth matters down which were quite beyond my smoothing, I went on to inform him that I was one of the oldest friends Charlie had and in general got on with him very well, but as he did not see fit to honour me by asking my advice on every point of conduct — this was strictly true, for he never asked my advice at all — there were naturally times when I could not approve of his actions. For instance, I considered it very poor form of him not to have asked George to dinner the night before. I had told him so pretty strongly, and I had come to say to George himself how much Charlie's conduct had pained me, and to assure him how much I sympathised with him, and that I felt the slight as much as he did. George heard me out in silence, but he grew a little red.

When I had finished he said he couldn't see for the life of him what business it was of mine to meddle between him and his brother ; he didn't want my sympathy, and he thought it an infernal piece of impertinence for me to come and offer it to him, as indeed it was. The only reason he could think of to excuse my interference was that I must have got precious drunk the night before, and had not yet got over it. He had nothing to complain of in the behaviour of his brother, who was his best friend, and he thought that if he was satisfied, I, who couldn't know half of what went on between them, might be satisfied too. Just to show what little cause I had for my strictures on this particular occasion he would mention that Charlie had asked him to dinner, but he had excused himself on the plea of work, and if there was any one to be blamed in the matter it was himself for refusing to be present on such an occasion.

He had not the art to stop a deep blush as he said this, and of course I knew it to be untrue ; but I was now rather ashamed of my interference, and instead of resenting the unfounded charge of inebriety, I apologised for my intrusion, and then saying that I would no longer bother him over his work, I left him, and passed out of the gates of Trinity not so well pleased with myself as when I went in. As time went on we saw less and less of George. He had got into another set consisting of gentlemen very much superior to his brother's friends. They weren't as a rule beautiful to look at, but I believe their minds were lofty, which, as everybody acknowledges, is much better. Most of them had literary tastes and aired them considerably. I remember meeting a lot of them once in George's rooms, and being considerably struck with the wideness of their reading.

I had not so much as heard of many of the authors they talked about, but when I mentioned Scott's novels, I found that none of them had read them, although they all said that they ought to have done so, and one of them went so far as to acknowledge that his poems were " clever." George's tastes were not literary, but he liked to have their conversation scintillating about him. He dropped out of our circle entirely, left off frequenting the " Pitt" and took to the Union, where, however, he never ventured to open his mouth in a debate. He always looked cheerful and contented and put on flesh amazingly.

Chapter II

At the end of a year of University life Charlie left Cambridge and took up his residence with an army coach. For the next two years I saw next to nothing of George, for we belonged to different colleges, and he was entirely engrossed with his chosen set of friends. His career was as unevent ful as it could possibly be, but he worked hard and succeeded in taking his degree in due course at the end of his three years. The following October found me at Stirling Towers, the Stewart's place in Yorkshire. George was not at home when I arrived. He was staying with a college friend in some suburb of London — pretty dull, I should imagine, while there was shooting to be got anywhere ; but George was never much of a sportsman. In a week or so he came home. Charlie and I drove down to the station to meet him, a delicate attention on our part which perhaps was rather thrown away, but we had nothing better to do at the time, and civility is not always lost, even if bestowed on the fool of the family.

The station master and the one porter of the little country station paid more attention to us as we waited than they did to George when he turned up, which shows what a subtle influence there is in family indifference, or, perhaps, how swagger affects the vulgar mind. When the train did pant up to the platform at last, there was George's commonplace old visage poked out of a carriage window. He was travelling second class, which Charlie did not take kindly at all. "Why second?" he demanded. "If you can't afford to travel first class, go third like a gentleman." But George had altered somehow. Charlie's strictures did not appear to affect him in the least. When we got out of the station a surprising thing happened. George actually climbed up first into the dogcart and took the reins. Charlie was so taken aback, that he got up behind without a word.

George had certainly altered. He seemed unaccountably gay. He laughed a good deal and at very little. His good spirits were so infectious that we had quite a merry drive home, and even Charlie forgot to snub him. We were a family party at dinner that evening, for I was the only guest staying in the house. George was very lively at first, and I never remember to have seen him so merry. But his sallies either lacked the true essence of humour or fell on uncongenial soil, for they were not received with any marked encouragement. Lord Stirling, early in the course of the meal, developed a savage feud with the butler, and, when he was not muttering to him self, growled at his family. George eyed him askance, and his spirits, hitherto main tained at an unusually high level, declined apace, and he spoke very little until the ladies left us.

It did not enter into Lord Stirling's little scheme of the conventionalities of life to allow himself to be bored by the con verse of young men while he drank his wine, and, when there was no one of importance dining at the Towers, it was his pleasing custom to retire to his library, whither the butler followed him with the decanters which he affected. He accordingly followed the ladies out, or rather preceded some of them, for he pushed by two of his daughters and scuttled across the hall in what was certainly an undigni fied and, as it appeared to me, a brutal manner. Charlie stretched out his legs and ejacu lated, "Thank God!" and I must confess to breathing a sigh of relief. But George manifested evident signs of confusion. " I particularly wanted to talk to the governor," he said, "and I would rather have done it when you fellows were by."

"Well, if you want to get anything out of him I wouldn't advise you to do it now," said Charlie ; " you will get your head bitten off." George swallowed a glass of liqueur. "Is it money?" asked Charlie, who had some experience in questions of finance. "No," said George, and he poured him self out another glass of wine without vouchsafing us any further information. When he had drank it he left the room. " Fancy George in a scrape ! " said Charlie, arranging a second chair and stretching his legs on it. " He is a fool, anyhow, to tackle the governor now. I wonder what is up ? " We were soon to know. George had not been gone many minutes before a great commotion was heard on the other side of the hall. We both rose together and opened the dining-room door. Out side the library stood George, very perturbed, but holding up his head and looking his father in the face ; while Lord Stirling stood in the doorway, crimson with rage, shaking his fist and spitting out expletives, which, owing to the vio lence of his wrath, were happily inaudible to the ladies, who had come out of the drawing-room, and were staring at the scene with perplexed and scared faces.

" You insolent puppy ! " stormed the irate peer ; " you ill-conditioned lout ! You dare to talk about bringing your scheming barmaids here, do you ? I'll see you d— d first." The last sentence was screamed out at the top of his voice. By this time the butler and one or two of the footmen, alarmed by the commotion, had appeared in the hall ; and it dawned upon Lord Stirling that his language and behaviour lacked repose, so he retreated into his room and slammed the door violently, having comported himself like the un bridled old maniac that he was. We all went into the drawing-room. " What have you been saying to your father, George ? " asked Lady Stirling ; and what is this about a barmaid ? " "A barmaid ! " echoed George; " I know nothing about a barmaid. Father is in a dreadful temper, and his words mean nothing."

" They must mean something," said Lady Stirling. " Pray do not prevaricate. I insist upon knowing all. Gwendolen, will you be good enough to fetch me a handkerchief? Winnie will go with you and tell you where to find it. Ermyntrude, it is time you were in bed." But Gwendolen, Winnie and Ermyn- C trude were not to be disposed of by this obvious ruse. They did not move, and, before their mother had time to repeat her orders, George broke in. "Let them stop," he said; "I have done nothing that I am in the least ashamed of, and I want the girls to hear." Lady Stirling settled herself into her chair with a look of haughty inquiry. Charlie stifled a very successful imitation of a yawn, and the three girls looked gratified and interested. I felt rather uncomfortable, feeling myself to be an interloper in this purely family affair, but I wanted to hear what was going on ; and, as nobody took the slightest notice of me, I did not offer to retire.

George stood on the hearthrug facing us. " The meaning of it all is," he said, "that I am engaged to be married." " Oh, indeed ! " said Lady Stirling, in her most freezing tones; "and whom am I to have the honour of receiving as my daughter-in-law ? " " Her name is Alice Robinson," an swered George. " Alice — Robinson ! " repeated her ladyship critically ; " and does Miss — er — Robinson follow the — er — profession of a barmaid ? " "No, she doesn't," replied George. " And may I ask what her position in life is ? " " At present she is teaching two little girls." " Oh ! a governess ! Very nice, upon my word ! A nursery governess ? " George flared up under the cutting in solence of his mother. He was the most long suffering of mortals, but Lady Stirling was enough to have roused Job to oaths.