The Syren. A story in one volume

Front matter

The^s^en TT _ST I _T O K, 2VI "WITH THIS BOOK. Price Half-a- Crown each. HENRI GREVILLE'S NEW VOLUME. CLEOPATRA. By Henri Greville. 'The story is original, touching, and is written in a higher strain, both of style and thought, than most books of the day.*— Saturday Review. 'This tale is in every way remarkable.' — Morning Post. 'It is constructed with admirable art ; the author is master of his con ceptions, and both the general plan and the details of workmanship are the results of conscientious study.' — Academy. * In " Cleopatra" she has returned to the subject she knows best — Russian life — with remarkable success.' — Athenæum. A NEW AMERICAN STORY. THE STORY OF MARGARET KENT. By Henry Hayes. ' Tht author has succeeded in constructing a perfectly pure and attractive itory, which holds the reader's undivided attention from beginning to end.' Publishers' Circular. 'The story has little plot, and excites interest through its whole course.

It is so pretty, and above the common level, that it is but just to say its greatest fault is its brevity.'— The Lady. 'To-day, when novels are too often mere studies in psychological anatomy, it is refreshing to come on one like this.'— Vanity Fair. ' The author of this novel is to be complimented on the culture displayed in its pages, and on the interest they contain.'— Liverpool Albion. ' Mr. Hayes has succeeded in producing a most charming tale of every day life.'— Literary World. AS YANKEES SEE US ; or, the Customs of the Cockneys. By Leander Richardson. TWICE MARRIED: a Novel. By James Carton. GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OREDEN & WELSH, West Corner St. Paul's Churchyard, London. The Syren A STORY IN ONE VOLUME BV CECIL MEDLICOTT GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & WELSH (Successors to Newbery & Harris) WEST CORNER ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved CONTENTS. chapter page I. An Unfair Bargain i II.

A Skeleton in the Cupboard . . . . io III, Liberty is Sweet 29 IV. For Love or for Money 37 V. ' The Gorse is in Bloom ' .... 48 VI. Edged Tools 59 VII. The Twelfth of August 72 VIII. Ferdinand and Miranda 86 IX. A Foggy Sunday 99 X. Tongues will Wag 106 XI. Byrecleugh 126 XII. In the Dark . . -^&TL§>^ . . . 137 7TTT T_T _-. t t. ». * * . n-v /"^tt a i_ t nTfriTi v _ Q XIII. Helen and Charlotte -7. oc 8g 1. . . 148 XIV. Rosamond's Pond . . --<Ay ■ • • r55 XV. Drifting 171 XVI. Overdrawn VI CONTENTS CHAPTER ,,AGE XVII. Calculations 200 XVIII. Masks and Faces 213 XIX. 'The Syren' 231 XX. A Mirror 256 XXI. At Malta 285 XXII. Waiting 2oq XXIII. Storm and Sunshine . ...

Chapter I. An Unfair Bargain

Arthur Dalrymple had married sor money. This is done every day, some offering their congratulations, others shrugging their shoulders. Those of the latter class are perhaps as much influenced by envy as by a feeling of virtuous contempt for the avaricious and the sordid. Arthur, however, was neither avaricious nor sordid : he had no love for shining gold, neither did his heart warm at the crisp sound of a new bank-note. Position had no charm for him, and as for society, he already had the entree into a pleasant circle, and wanted no more. But though money in itself was nothing, what money could procure was everything. The best tailor, the best haircutter were absolute necessities of life, while upon a modest income of something like 15c/. per annum, these and the like necessities became difficulties.

It was embarrassing, to say the least of it, when the time came round for accounts to be settled ; and when two or three years of increasing perplexity had passed by, Arthur, at his wits' end to know what to do B next, happened to meet Miss Beauchamp. She was young, and had money, while he was young and had no money. It struck Arthur at once that a mutual combina tion would be advantageous to himself, and perhaps also, in some mysterious way, to her. He was a good-looking fellow, with frank straightforward manners, and Miss Beauchamp thought him sincerely in love with her when, after continually meeting for some weeks, he proposed to her. She was young enough to be taken by his handsome face and to believe in his declared attach ment ; while, to do him justice, he persuaded himself that he was in earnest, and did not feel in the least hypocritical when he told her that he adored her.

He certainly did like her very much — better than any one he had ever known before. Miss Beauchamp kept him waiting for three hours, and then accepted him. Her friends told her that she was rash and knew nothing of him, but she only smiled and said she would amend that fault as speedily as she could. She was her own mistress, and had no near relations to consult, so she and Arthur made all their arrangements together, and were very happy. One day, about a week before their wedding, they were sitting together in Miss Beauchamp's drawing-room, making a fair copy of their proposed honeymoon tour for about the tenth time. ' If we are to be away for three months it will cost a good deal,' remarked Arthur thoughtfully. He was thinking of a packet of unpaid bills in his lodgings, a packet that had assumed the most alarming dimensions. ' Oh, will it ? ' said Elisabeth placidly ; ' does that signify ? ' 'Perhaps you mayn't think so,' returned Arthur, blurting out after an almost imperceptible hesitation, 'it — ■ it does seem rather hard on one not even to be able to pay for one's wedding tour.' Elisabeth laughed a little, holding out her hand. ' After next Thursday there will be no meum or tuum, you know.' 'Well, there is one thing to be said,' continued Arthur, with an air of great candour, ' I should never have asked you to have me if it hadn't been for your money.

I — well, I couldn't have done it.' She blushed a little. ' I should have said " yes," Arthur, if you had,' said she earnestly but softly. ' But I never would have,' cried he, adding, with an apparent effort, 'you don't know what it is not to know where to turn for a sixpence, to — be buried alive in bills, pestered by distrustful tradesmen ' ' Poor Arthur,' said she, as he abruptly ended his sentence, ' I am so sorry. Of course it must have been horrid. Don't you think,' she continued hesitatingly — ' don't you think we might anticipate Thursday, and — and dispose of ' ' No ! ' returned he quickly ; ' no — not for the world. What would every one say ? Besides, they can wait, there is no real hurry. Did we say two, or three, days at Botzen ? ' Before he went that evening Elisabeth reverted again to the subject of Arthur's creditors, which had evidently been on her mind all the while. ' It would be a great kindness to me if you wouldn't mind settling those things before we go abroad,' said she.

B ' What things ? ' replied Arthur, who had not given another thought to the matter. ' Those bills,' said she anxiously. ' I shouldn't feel it to be fair on those poor people — I shouldn't be happy thinking of it.' ' It isn't of the smallest consequence ; it doesn't matter a rushlight,' said he rather crossly. ' Really, if one comes to think of it, it serves them right for not treating one like a gentleman.' ' If you would send them to my lawyer ' began Elisabeth. ' Now that is a likely thing ! ' cried he with a laugh. ' Do you suppose he would pay my bills ? ' ' Certainly he would if I desired him to do so,' said she, drawing back. Arthur observed the movement, noticed her change of tone, and knew that he had spoken roughly. ' Forgive me, dear,' said he, taking her hand, ' I oughtn't to have spoken like that — I forgot myself.

The truth is, I have been so worried by those rascally Jews ' 'Jews ?' echoed Elisabeth, as he caught himself up ; ' you have not been borrowing ? ' ' Not much, upon my honour,' said he quickly ; ' but what could I do ? One must live.' Elisabeth was silent. ' You think it inexcusable,' he cried with some vehemence ; ' you — you are angry, and ' ' Angry ?' said she with a quaint little smile ; ' angry ? ' ' You will naturally ' ' Of course I am sorry ' began Elisabeth. ' Of course you are disappointed in one, and— and perhaps, if you had known sooner ■ But even now, if you feel that you — can't think of me as you would like, it is not too late.' While he spoke he tried not to think of his creditors ; he tried, but sailed. ' If I thought you were in earnest, Arthur ' ' Oh, but I am,' said he in an uncertain voice. ' Oh no, you are not,' returned Elisabeth, looking away.

There was something in her manner that he did not quite understand. Pie rose, went to the fire, stirred it gently, and remained standing with the poker in his hand. ' It would be better to have nothing to do with one, than— than to look down on one,' said he, feeling strangely humiliated. ' Oh, Arthur ! ' ' Of course I have felt all along that you are ever so much above me ; but, somehow, it comes hard on one to find that you can't help knowing that I am miles below you in — in every way.' He put down the poker and faced her. 'After next Thursday, perhaps you will understand,' said Elisabeth, smiling up at his troubled face. ' I can't explain it to you now ; I am not sure that you ever will quite know — there are things one can't put into words.' And she turned away with a heightened colour. ' Well, I must say good-night, I suppose,' said he after a pause ; ' it is getting late.' ' Look here, Arthur, I have thought it over.

Let us stay in town for a few days after Thursday — then every thing can be put straight, and we shall be able to start with clear consciences.' 'Very kind and generous of you,' said he, almost more inclined to break off his marriage than to accept so distasteful an offer. 'There can be no question of generosity between you and me,' she returned with some impatience ; 'can't you see that ? ' ' You remind me of an unpalatable fact,' said he hotly; ' you give me everything, while I have simply nothing to offer in return.' ' I wish with all my heart that our positions were reversed,' cried Elisabeth. 'Ah!' ' But as it is,' she continued earnestly — ' as it is, let me tell you that I do not think my gift, as you call it, outweighs yours. Indeed, I value yours higher than ' ' Mine ? ' said he ironically. ' You are right to interrupt me,' returned Elisabeth in lighter tones : ' as you said, it is getting late.' Arthur took one of her hands in his and looked questioningly at her. ' You are vexed with me, dear,' said he. ' No, no. Good-night.' ' That was not an honest denial,' and putting his hand on her shoulder he drew her nearer. ' Before I go, you will tell me, won't you, that you don't actually — despise me?' ' Despise you ? ' cried she indignantly ; ' I despise you ?

Why, haven't I told you that I loved you ? Isn't that enough ? ' 'Then good-night, dear,' said he, kissing her j ' only six more days.' 'Good-night, Arthur dear, good-night.' Arthur had gone back to his lodgings vexed with himself and vexed with Elisabeth. He could not forgive himself for his indiscretion, as he had never meant his bride-elect to know of his dealings with the Jews. As some are apt to take offence where none is meant, and to suspect others of thoughts of which they are incapable, so Arthur persuaded himself that Elisabeth's silence and unusual manner were assumed in order to conceal her contempt for him, or at any rate her contempt for what he had done. It was also beyond measure annoying that the first few days of their married life should be spoilt in this way. There had been no need to pull aside the curtain so soon, and when Elisabeth learnt to what an extent his obligations would have to be carried, she might justly grudge the offer her generosity had made.

A good night's rest, however, showed him these vexa tious matters in another light. It would be worth a good deal to be quit of everything unpleasant, and as there was really nothing to be ashamed of, there was no reason why Elisabeth should not be made aware of all his mis fortunes without delay. Her suggestion was therefore acted upon, and in about a fortnight Arthur knew for the first time in his life what it was to have a purse full of money in his pocket — money that might be spent with out any gloomy reflections on the payment of a heavy interest. He was so happy that he fancied himself madly in love, and taxed his imagination in inventing the most tender epithets, which he heaped lavishly on his wife. She was as happy in them as he was in her fortune, and fancied that there was no one in the world so charming or so good as Arthur.

Their three months' tour passed rapidly— more rapidly than either of them had expected, and both of them saw the last days approaching with regret. Elisabeth had proved the most amenable of travelling companions, always acquiescing in any of Arthur's suggestions, and never disturbed by the plainest of fare or the most dis agreeable of situations. She certainly was just a little bit exacting, and Arthur, though he put up with it, found it rather a bore to have to beinlove out of season as well as in season. Still that could be endured, and he did endure it. 'Well,' said Elisabeth, sighing heavily as she watched the rapidly receding French shores — ' well, so that is at an end.' 'And a good thing too,' exclaimed Arthur, who was looking with considerably less sentiment at the chalk cliffs rising from the sea. ' If I had come into contact with many more of those douanier fellows I am certain I should have done them some injury.' ' Oh, well, yes— they were very tiresome,' said she, ' but I wasn't thinking of the douaniersA ' You mean our tour ?

It was very nice on the whole, though, of course, there were some drawbacks,' replied Arthur. Elisabeth smiled. ' Were there ? You will think me very stupid, I'm afraid, but I can't remember one.' ' No ! can't you ? How odd ! Why, there seemed to be some most days. Not that I minded, you know, not a bit. It would have been strange if I had, when my own little wife was with me.' And he took her hand in his and pressed it. She looked up radiantly. It was just the same ex quisite pleasure to be called his wife now as it had been the very first time she had heard it from his lips. Arthur looked at her curiously, a perplexed shade passing across his face. He had often seen her wearing that expression, but had never read it as he did now. What was this which heightened her colour and sent such a depth into her eyes ? Was it love ? If so — did he love her ? He was fond of her, he was proud of her, but did he love her ? And he could not honestly say that he did.

Chapter II

A SKELETON IX THE CUPBOARD. ' Poor Elisabeth will have been home some time now, I suppose.' ' I don't exactly see why you have made up your mind that her marriage has been a mistake, mother. No one has seen him yet.' 'Ah, that is just it.' ' But how can one ' ' My dear Charlotte, you need not let your good nature blind you to facts.' ' It is nothing of the sort, mother. It was that horrid ' ' Oh, I am not thinking of what John Burrows said, if that is what you mean.' There was a pause, while Lady Hamilton threaded her needle, standing up as she did so, to get the full light of the lamp. Her daughter watched her making ill judged darts at the eye, but it did not seem to occur to her that she might offer to thread it. ' Elisabeth took the whole management and respon sibility into her own hands,' continued Lady Hamilton with some severity, ' therefore she must take the conse quences.' ' I really think she might be allowed to choose her own husband, without consulting her fifteenth cousins nine times removed,' cried Charlotte. ' At any rate, she seems to have thought so,' returned her mother drily, ' though, as to the fifty cousins, that is simply nonsense.

In these days of fortune-hunters it was incredibly foolish to have trusted her in town with only that stupid old woman to take care of her. Any one could have foreseen the consequences from the first. And this Dalrymple — who is he ? A needy adven turer ' ' No, no ; his father ' ' Pray what has his father to do with it? ' 'Well, at any rate, he is a gentleman by birth and education.' ' By birth !' repeated Lady Hamilton with contempt. ' Does that insure respectability in after life ? Stuff and nonsense, Charlotte ! You ought to know better.' ' I am afraid he had been extravagant,' admitted Charlotte. ' Extravagant ! It must have gone pretty far to have been stopped at the very church doors by his creditors. Extravagant ! ' ' Oh, but that must have been an exaggeration.' ' Not at all — it was highly probable.

Well, I dare say he will beat her, and ruin her ' ' Oh, poor little Ellie ! ' ' What, have you been listening all this time, Leveson ? ' said Lady Hamilton, turning sharply in the direction of her son, who was sitting at some distance from the two by the fire. ' Well, no — not listening exactly ; still I heard what you and Charlotte said.' ' I thought you never heard anything when you were en grossed in your work,' remarked his sister in an undertone. ' Perhaps I wasn't engrossed.' ' Perhaps not. Or was it the sound ' ' I shall go and see how they are getting on,' observed Lady Hamilton resolutely; 'that will be the best plan.' ' Oh,' said Charlotte in a dismayed tone. ' Do, mother,' said Leveson, rising and moving to the fire ; 'do, it would be a friendly act, and one doesn't feel altogether easy about Ellie.' ' All things considered, Leveson, I think it would be more becoming to speak of Elisabeth as Mrs. Dalrymple.' Her son made no reply, and Charlotte began eagerly : ' Oh, mother, such friends as they were ! ' ' Now, that is nonsense, my dear.

A little child can't be the friend of a great boy ; besides, all that happened long ago. Elisabeth is a woman now.' Leveson made a sign to Charlotte which checked the words trembling on her lips, and went back to his papers. ' What do you really think about mother going to the Dalrymples ? ' asked Charlotte the next time she found herself alone with her brother. 'Well, I think some one ought to go,' said he slowly. ' I don't like the idea,' returned Charlotte with a little nervous movement of her hands ; ' it seems, somehow, like spying on them. Elisabeth is proud too, and I don't think ' ' What don't you think ?' asked he, as his sister broke off suddenly and remained silent. ' You know what it will be. Every one will want to know, and we shall no longer be able to screen them by our ignorance.' ' Screen them ? ' said he, looking up quickly. ' Always supposing that there should be anything to screen.' ' Charlotte, you know more than you will tell me.

What have you heard ? ' ' Very little,' said she shortly. 'For goodness' sake, speak out! ' cried he impatiently. ' You know that one is interested ' ' Interested ? Oh, Leveson ! ' said she archly. ' I won't pretend not to understand you,' said he, flushing; 'at the same time I must confess it's rather bad taste on your part ' 'Oh, it is, Leveson, it is horrid of me. I beg your pardon.' 'All right; nevermind. Only don't do it again.' ' No, indeed, I won't,' said she earnestly. ' And as to this Mr. Dalrymple, I only heard that he was very ex travagant and quite out at elbows when he met Elisabeth. At least,' she added, ' that was nearly all.' 'Then you think he has married her for her money?' inquired Leveson, without apparently noticing her last words. ' I don't say that. One never can believe any one, you know, because things get so mixed.

And people often say ill-natured things which they don't half mean. I dare say he is attached to her.' ' Don't say " attached " — it's a ridiculous expression.' ' I mean that he must have a very hard heart if he doesn't care for her. She is such a sweet-natured, pretty creature.' ' Really, Charlotte, you are too absurd. " Pretty creature " indeed, as if she were a cow ! ' ' At any rate I wish mother hadn't offered herself. She is so quick to see if everything is not quite — as it should be ; and she is sometimes rather apt to be hasty in her judgment, I'm afraid. I should be so vexed if all the good folk who claim connectionship with Elisabeth should find out if there is by any chance a — a ' ' Skeleton in her cupboard ? ' suggested Arthur. ' Come, Charlotte, you are letting your imagination run away with you.

They haven't been married six months yet ; they can't have manufactured a skeleton already.' ' It was your expression, not mine. Poor child, I hope she will be happy,' said Charlotte, sighing. ' You don't believe much in happy marriages, perhaps?' 'Well, Leveson ' ' Dear old girl, I understand,' said he affectionately. ' But after all, if husbands and wives don't quite hit it off together, there are other people in the world whose — whose friendship would prevent their lives from being altogether empty. They are not only bound to each other, so far as that goes.' ' That is a dangerous creed.' 'Oh, I don't think so. I remember how mother's face used to change when that funny old godmother of yours used to stay with us. And you yourself? ' ' That is quite another thing,' said she hastily. Leveson shrugged his shoulders.

I don't see that,' said he, ' but have it your own way. Perhaps it was saying too much to speak of a skeleton in the Dalrymples' cupboard, but at the same time things were not altogether comfortable at Clanleigh. For some weeks after Arthur's discovery that he did not love his wife he had been very tender and affectionate with her. He acknowledged to himself that she had not only given him herself, but all that she possessed, while he had taken everything, giving nothing in exchange but his name. Though this humbled him, and made him at first anxious to atone in some way, yet, by dint of continually regarding his wife in the light of a benefactress, he began before long to feel how galling it was to live under the weight of a constant sense of obligation. He would remind himself that the house was hers, and that the servants obeyed his orders simply because he was her husband.

Even when he was out with his gun, half the sport was spoilt by the recollection that the birds had been reared by Miss Beauchamp, and that she certainly had not intended them for him. The more he brooded over these grievances the more intolerable they seemed. Elisabeth, who was not only unaware of her husband's feelings, but quite incapable of understanding them, often said or did something which he misinterpreted ; and thus the little rift widened imperceptibly, while she was unconscious even of its existence. One day, on coming in after a long ride, Elisabeth went into the library to dry her splashed habit before going upstairs. As she stood by the fire she took up a newspaper which was lying near, and held it up as a screen. In so doing her eyes fell on an advertisement of a concert, at which a favourite pianist of hers was going to perform. ' Just listen ! ' said she, reading it out. ' How I should like to go !

But I suppose we had better stay at home, as we have had so many expenses this year.' Arthur fired up in a moment. ' Even if it were kind,' cried he ; ' even if it were kind, I should scarcely think it ladylike to keep on throwing those rascally Jews in my teeth. I tell you ' 'Jews!' interposed Elisabeth, looking bewildered. 'What Jews?' ' I tell you what it is,' he continued still more hotly, 'you mustn't expect that I'm going to stand this sort of thing a day longer. You need not continue to remind me that I am a miserable beggar, and ha%'e nothing in the world excepting what you are so charitable as to bestow on me.' ' Arthur ! ' ' I know it ; is not that sufficient ? I wish to heaven that you had not paid those bills, if you are to use your generous action as a handle against me for the rest of my life.

Can't you understand that it is hard enough to be dependent on your kindness — hard enough to have to ask for pocket-money like a school-boy ? Can't you understand it, Elisabeth ? Why don't you speak ? ' ' I — I don't know what you mean,' stammered she, confused by the sudden outburst. Then, laying hold of the last sentence she had caught, did the worst thing possible, and asked him if he had not sufficient money for his own private use. ' How— how dare you say that to me ? ' he cried, raising the hand in which he held his whip in emphasis as he spoke, and in so doing striking her. He never meant it, and it brought him to his senses at once, but Elisabeth thought he had intended it. She coloured crimson, and turned at once to leave the room, without apparently hearing his hasty exclamation.

Arthur, horrified at having struck her even uninten tionally, was only prevented from following her in order to beg her pardon, by the feeling that he did not deserve her forgiveness. AVhat had he had the madness to say to her ? She would be justified if she were to turn him out of the house. There it was again. It was her house, and she had every right to do so. He sat by the fire, turning these things over in his mind like a sulky, shamefaced boy. He was vexed with himself, vexed with his wife, with everything. Presently the door was quietly opened, and Elisabeth came in. She did not see him at first, but as she passed his chair he held out his hand. She gave a slight start at finding him still there, but put her hand in his without hesitation, and knelt down on the rug before him, looking questioningly at him.

His first impulse was to lift her up and throw himself into her attitude, but before he had time to act on it Elisabeth was asking his pardon. ' I must have vexed you very much, dear,' she began. ' Nay, Elisabeth,' said he quickly, ' it is for me to ask your forgiveness, if indeed you can forgive.' ' Oh, Arthur, I want nothing but your love ; nothing, nothing.' ' But you will forgive me ? ' said he, drawing her nearer and taking her other hand. ' There is nothing to forgive,' replied Elisabeth, trying gently to withdraw it, and, as he held it the firmer, giving a little cry of pain. ' What tender fingers ! ' said he. ' Can't they bear the least pressure ? Why, what is this ? ' ' Nothing,' said she, trying once more to escape from his grasp. r\ 'Why, what have you done to yourself?' Then, as she remained silent, ' / didn't do that ?