Claude Meadowleigh; artist

Chapter I. Beautiful Eyes, And Looks Lire

A PARSON. 'I M Y Lady sailed down the great staircase, ■"-■■ and across the hall, bidding the foot man remain behind. She had nerved her self to fight, and she would fight and fall alone ; and so went out across the lawn, to the Italian Garden, where she knew he was. Claude was washing in some greys about the terrace. His sketch was to be in "half tones " — an early morning " study," silvery lights, grey shadows, perhaps a peacock with no tail, except a grey one, and a single VOL. III. b spot of gold — nothing more; it suited his conception of the pile of building, and he painted as he felt. Now that he was alone, he crowded up the place with figures, cava liers and dames, hawkers and huntsmen — all the old-world people who were lying in the churchyard beyond the elm-trees ; and he would put their home on paper, as it should be, for a crowd of ghosts, long dead, very ghostly, like themselves, when lo ! across the very centre of the scene came a bright gleam — a jewel flashing out between the cypress-trees, a blot of colour out of all thought with what he fancied ; and it stayed his hand.

Then, as he gazed, the gorgeous vision came nearer, and he saw it was a woman, and he knew it was the Lady of Bulstrover. There was no time to fly. At the first glance he had turned about to do so, but the yew-hedges grew thickly all about him, and he could only go by passing her, so he gave up the idea, and, with a little shiver, waited where he was. She had a little beast of a cur dog with her, which dragged behind, and held its tail between its stilts of legs, and tried hard to break the blue ribbon its mistress held it with. "What a dreadful thing!" was Claude's first thought. " How can she put blue with that ruby red ?" She came on towards him, walking as though she did not see him, in a casual sort of way ; much as, on the stage, we see the "ardent lover" approach the "false one," when tete-a-tete with the "villain," and we know that he must, by the directions, reach a certain spot before he may discover them.

Claude was fascinated, and she noticed it, though without raising her eyes, and it gave her courage. But the artist was thinking of his box, and by what combination of colours he could produce the approaching effect. b " It's not so pure a red as Alice's shawl ; there must be yellow in it — carmine, lake, and gamboge, that would do it. Plain red is better." She had come close up to him now, and looked up with the proper start. " I was told that there was an artist in the grounds," she said, in her blandest tones. "Shall I disturb you? I am Lady Bul strover." Claude rose at the announcement, forgetting his block, which he had been holding on his knees, and which tumbled on to the grass, picture downwards. " Dear, dear !" cried her ladyship. " I trust the painting will not be damaged. You are painting in water-colours, I per ceive.

Is there much sale for such thing's at present ?" " Such things do sell, I believe, your ladyship," he replied. " This thing is sold to the owner of these grounds !" "I was informed that Sir Charles had commissioned a person to paint a picture of the house. Pray do not let me interrupt you. Should you require a figure in your landscape, I shall be happy to place myself in any convenient spot." " Your ladyship is too kind," answered the artist, quickly ; " but I am merely in tending a sketch, and the introduction of figures is unnecessaiy." " You are staying on the moor, I am told, at the cottage of one of the tenants. Do you find you are repaid for the discomfort, — the space must be most confined?" "The rooms are small, madam, but we are accustomed to small rooms." " We — you speak of ' we !' You are not alone, then ?

Has Mrs. has your good wife accompanied you ?" " My daughter is with me. Mrs. Meadow leigh has remained at her home." " Dear me, how extremely interesting !" said Lady Bulstrover, in a voice which she in tended to be sympathetic, but which was only patronizing ; and she spread out her robe, and seated herself on the garden-seat with the air of a queen. " Will you not continue?" she added, showing about six inches of unoccupied seat. "There is more than space for both, and I do not wish to interrupt your sketch." " I prefer standing, madam. Indeed, I have almost finished my work. I can fill in what is wanting when I return to the cottage." And he began packing away his things in a hurry. " Did I understand you to say that your daughter is at present residing with you ?" asked her ladyship, in her most dulcet tones.

"My daughter resides with me at all times." " Yes, quite natural, and so nice. No one could be a more fitting person to control a young female, who is perhaps a little for ward, than her father." " Pardon me, madam ; you were speaking of my daughter — she is not forward." "Indeed — I am so glad ! I ventured to make the remark, as I have been informed that there is a young person residing on the moor who answers to the description of your daughter." " My daughter lives with me on the moor, madam !" Claude was in so great a hurry to pack up and be off that his hands trembled, and the paints and brushes appeared like things possessed. " I must be candid with you, Mr. ," her ladyship went on, fearing that he would escape. "Meadowleigh, madam, is my name," repeated Claude, bending over his box.

" Thank you so much, Mr. Meadowleigh ; my memory is so impaired, pray excuse me. What I wished to say was that I have been led to seek this interview with yourself owing to certain rumours, not altogether pleasant, which have reached me, in connection with this young person your daughter ; and which it is but right that you should have the op portunity to contradict. It is most unfortu nate that such rumours will get about, and the most satisfactory thing to all parties they concern is to ascertain what amount of truth they may contain ; for I have remarked, even in my limited experience, that in the most improbable of them there is always some small foundation upon which they have been built, in the first instance. I need not say that on the present occasion I am allud ing to a rumour that connects this young person, whom you call your daughter, with Sir Charles Bulstrover— my son !"

" Indeed, madam, you need say a great deal more, for I don't comprehend a word you have been saying !" cried Claude, looking up for a moment very flushed and bewildered. But catching her ladyship's eye on him, he dropped his in an instant, and went on with his paints. "Really, Mr. Mellowlip, I had thought that my words would have been sufficiently explicit — I meant them to be so ; probably the language I made use of did not convey my meaning as directly as I wished. I am sor ry that it should be so ; I came here with the best intentions, and to endeavour to spare you as much as possible." " I certainly am at a loss to gather your ladyship's meaning," said Claude, without looking up. "I am told," went on the remorseless Lady Bulstrover, " that this young person is possessed of considerable claims to beauty — pray set me right, Mr. Meddlesome, if I am led astray by the rumours which have reached me to state that which is not a fact."

" If your ladyship means my daughter, I can have nothing to say ; she is as God made her. I should prefer leaving her un mentioned." " But that is what I am unfortunately un able to do ; you force me to speak plainly to you. I have said that the name of this person, your daughter, has been coupled with that of Sir Charles Bulstrover. Now, I ask you, is such the case?" " Your ladyship vouches for the rumour, so it must be so." There wras an evil spirit of contradiction growing up within the stooping Claude, that he felt was not alto gether unpleasant. " You meet my plain question by an equi voque, Mr. Mellowsponge ; it is only that which I came prepared to expect," and her ladyship drew herself up, and unfolded all the dignity she could. " You mean that I am making you a false statement, Lady Bulstrover ?"

Claude had straightened himself now, and was looking at his tormentor. " I say you meet a fair question with an equivocation, and it is what I expected. I know that my son has been daily to the miserable cottage where you have taken up your residence, and that the attraction that draws him thither is this young person, your daughter. Now, sir, can you give me a direct answer?" And she bristled up all over, and put on her most aristocratic air. "lean." " And you deny it, of course ?" "Sir Charles Bulstrover has come daily to our cottage, and he has asked of me per mission to become a suitor for the hand of my daughter in marriage." Claude uttered the words slowly and dis tinctly, standing erect before her. " You confess it ! This is really too au dacious — and on. my own grounds, too !" Claude's attitude was telling on my Lady Bulstrover, and she had to bluster to hold her own with him.

" I do confess it — there is nothing I am ashamed to tell." "Have you considered the consequences of this most ill-suited match ? Is it possible that happiness can come out of it to my son?" " I have considered it deeply, earnestly, madam, and I am convinced that no happiness can come out of it to my daughter." "Then forego your determination, sir, for my sake. Consider the misery you are bringing to our family by your too successful plans. There is time even yet. Say you will relent — only promise me you will !" And her ladyship clasped her hands and appeared ready to sink into the earth in the disinterested agony of her supplication. "There is nothing I can relent about. Sir Charles has put his question, and I have answered him. I cannot go back from my word, even if I wished it." And there was a malicious twinkle in the artist's eye that added another pang to her ladyship's already aching heart.

" But consider my son — his position — his prospects ; he will be ruined ! How can he take this young person into society ? How can she hope to become his equal, or be any thing but a poor, despised creature about his house, and that he will tire of in a week?" "How indeed, Lady Bulstrover? I have thought the same myself, and am arrived at the same conclusion as you have done. Such sentiments do you honour." "And yet you refuse? Oh ! Mr. Mellow drum, if you cannot think of my son, think of me, his mother ! I have stood all my life against the intrusion of the inferior classes into these positions, which they can only hold at a disadvantage. Surely you, with your knowledge of the world, will sup port me ? You see how fatal such a marriage will be, and you will relent. Come, I feel sure you will relent !"

"Madam!" It was all he could utter, he was so over powered by her flow of words. "For this young person's sake, even, for your daughter's sake — you say that you have considered her, and that it will make her miserable — for her sake, I entreat you to relent !" "Madam!" he repeated, "you may be sure I shall do naught to imperil the happiness of my daughter. Your own affairs, and those of your son, can weigh but little with me in comparison with those of my own flesh and blood." " Ah ! you own it, then ! — you have some feelings ! How can I touch them ? Only tell me how I can work on them, and it shall be done. Anything — everything but do not rob me of my son !" She fairly sobbed in her excitement, and trembled violently, as if in danger of hysterics. "You have worked upon them sufficiently as it is, madam.

It would have been better had I possessed none, for they are sorely tried." " They are then you confess. I've touch ed them ? Name your recompence ; tell me what will tempt you. You have feelings ; my task will not have be in vain !" " God, in his mercy, has given feelings to all his creatures — even to the brutes ; there are but few exceptions." " Oh ! there are indeed, and I feared you were one. How hardly I judged you ! Now we understand each other we can afford to forget a little, cannot we ?" "There are some things difficult to for get," said Claude solemnly. "So there are — so there are ; but we can arrange that too. I did not come, to drive too hard a bargain." " It has been hard enough to me." " It was my fault. I did not know whom I had to deal with ; you must not blame me if I was too cautious with a stranger."

" Cautious, madam ! — your caution has an open mouth, and speaks loud enough to hear." "What! you cannot forget?" she said, with a trying smile. " Come, now, let us be friends ; sit down, and we will arrange. What shall it be ?" She was fumbling in her pocket, and he wondered what was coming next. " Won't you sit down ?" she repeated. " No ! — well, as you like ; only these little matters can be done so much better quietly. We might be seen, or overheard." " I would, madam, that there were fifty witnesses here, for my part in this matter." She had pulled out a red morocco pocket book, and was holding it open in her hand ; it seemed full of paper. " Yes, yes, I understand your feelings ; there is not the slightest imputation against you ; it is all fair, and all my doing — a mere matter of business between us.

Now, tell me, how much shall it be ?" " How much !" cried Claude aghast. " Here are some notes — five of them, each for one hundred pounds — is that enough ? Hush ! don't speak too loud — is it enough ? There, they are yours I" She held up the notes before him, and fluttered them temptingly in the air. " Madam !" he gasped again, with an awkward, terrified look. " It's not enough ! Come, take them. It's a good sum ; the property is encum bered — my settlement is large. I can will it as I choose. Won't you take them ?" She held them up closer to him, till they almost touched him. " Good God, madam, what is this? What do you take me for? What is this money offered for ?" He put out his hand to save himself VOL. III. C from falling, and clutched her shoulder. " Oh! !" she cried out in terror, " take all, take all ! — here, in this book, there are five more inside !

I'll never breathe a word ; take them — a thousand pounds — they are yours ! Help ! help ! don't take hold of me! It's all I have. Help! help !" He pushed her from him — almost spurn ing her, and the notes fell fluttering on the grass. "Woman!" he cried — "woman, away! The Evil One is walking in these grounds, and thou art he !" He walked a few paces away in ineffable disdain, and then returned to where she was still standing. "Don't touch me! don't hurt me! — don't ! I'll call the men !" she muttered, feebly. " You are the one I dreaded," he said, "you and your kind. He asked me, and I refused — he, your son, asked me to let him wed my daughter, and I refused ; she could not mate with you. Mark you, I refused him, as I refuse your money — utterly !" He stamped his heel into one of the bits of paper, and struck it firmly into the turf; and then, leaving his block and painting gear lying there, turned and fled the place. Two hours afterwards he stumbled upon Jack, in the beech-wood leading up to Mar racks's. c2

Chapter II. Sir Charles Calls Her

"ALICE." AS for Lady Bulstrover, she staggered to the seat, and sat down in a most undignified manner; and indeed she was but half conscious of what she was doing, and dignity and impudence had both faded from her thoughts. Under a distant shrub the cur dog was shivering on three legs, un certain what turn events, as far as his safety was concerned, might take, but always ready for abject flight, whatever it was. The ground was strown with the relics of the conflict. Close beside her was the sketchingblock, flat on its face ; a little further on was the paint-box, also overturned, with a small jumbled heap of paints and brushes by its side ; the tin cup lay there, still draining out its few last drops of muddied water ; and near it the painter's stool, upset, as was everything else, with one of its slender white legs sticking up painfully — a sort of mute reproach against all this havoc.

But there were nobler objects than these fluttering gaily about the lawn. All happy at a liberty they seldom met with, were the " notes " that she had pressed on Claude, and which she had dropped in the sudden fright which his stern refusal caused her. One, nearer than the rest, had been stamped into the turf by his angry foot, and seemed to utter its own feeble remonstrance at such unmerited fate. Everything about told of defeat — the defeat of whom ? Lady Bulstrover, stooping painfully to gather up her " notes," and stuffing them, dirty and crumpled, into her pocket, did not look much like the victor. There was a stoop in her shoulders that was not so plain before ; the grey curls had deserted their " guard," only leaving some dishevelled hairs, loose and limp, on " sentry ;" even the gayness of the " ruby silk " was gone — it had lost its stiffness, and hung about her in creases and big bagging folds.

It was Lady Bulstrover, but not the Lady Bulstrover of a short half hour ago. She was still employed in chasing the little straggling papers, when Sir Charles came back. He was whistling a tune, and had stuck his hands in his pockets, his straw hat was pushed far back on his head, and he walked along briskly, like a boy with all his holiday before him. But instead of the painter sitting up stiffly before his sketch, was the debris of his work, and the curious stooping figure in ruby silk. Sir Charles was not a man to be easily startled out of his ordinary civilization — he could bear sur prise, or loss, or gain, as a red Indian bears the stake — without a sound. But just now, in this one direction, there had been found an opening through the mask, and he cried out sharply, " What the devil's this?

Where is Meadow leigh ? What is it, mother ? What are you doing ?" She stood up, turning her face away, and waited for him to come to her. He had arrived so suddenly that she had only time to stuff away the "note "she had picked up, before he was beside her. As for any attempt to collect her thoughts so as to answer him, it seemed impossible. Without this, without a word to say, she could not face him, and she held down her head and trembled violently. "Mother!" he cried, taking her arm, and trying to turn her to him, "you have done this ! — you have done this " He could not put his thoughts into words — there was a dreadful feeling of some irre parable disaster that was hanging on her lips, and which he knew must reach him at his tenderest point. He felt his mother's arm was trembling, and she gave a little stagger, as if about to faint, so he put his strong arm round her, and, half-leading, half-carrying her, helped her to the seat.

" Now, mother — tell me — tell me what you have done. Where is Mr. Meadow leigh?" He had softened his voice and asked the question in so touching a tone of entreaty that she should have confessed all, and fall en down to ask his pardon. But Lady Bulstro ver's feelings were not easily softened, certainly not by such signs of weakness as now betrayed themselves in her son's voice. The few minutes it had taken to put her in the seat had given her the time she wanted, and she already felt that Lady Bulstrover would soon be herself again. But it would never do to lay herself open to the answering of too many questions ; words, except on her side, were above all things to be avoided; through them much of the unpleasant truth might be told, and to her mind the truth had better be left altogether untold.

So in place of answering him directly she got out her lace handker chief, not without some manipulation, to avoid pulling out the notes along with it, and pressing it to her eyes, leant back over the end of the seat and began to sob. " Oh ! Charles !" she ejaculated at inter vals, " why do you bring — these — persons — they are so dreadful — I've been insulted ■ — in my own grounds — he defied me — he told me I was — something too wicked to mention — I am the — Evil One — oh ! Charles — that your mother should live to hear such dreadful things !'' " Meadowleigh insulted vou — is that what you say ?" " That is the person's name — it's a picture he is painting, Charles ; but he's not a painter — you cannot see it — -I am older, and saw through him from the first. Oh ! my boy, my boy ! why have you allowed your self to be so imposed upon ?"

"You are talking nonsense, mother; how can he impose on me ?" "He can — he has, Charles— while you thought he came to paint his pictures — he was — oh ! it's too dreadful to say so — he was contriving to throw in your way this female he calls his daughter." " Miss Meadowleigh — madam — she is not a female ! I mean not in your sense of the term — why is her name to be brought in — she has not been here ?" "No, Charles, no. Don't be so angry ; I can't speak if you talk to me in this way. I am not strong, and this person has upset me. You should not let your mother be insulted, Charles." " Insulted ! I tell you I don't believe it. Meadowleigh never insulted anyone." " He did indeed, Charles, dear. Listen to me, your mother. He made proposals about his daughter. I begged and entreated him to relent, but he persisted.

He had made his bargain with you, and would not give it up. Charles ! Charles ! what have you pro mised him ?" Her voice, beautifully modulated through out, grew impassioned, aud she let the hand kerchief fall, and clung to him convulsively. " What is that to you ?" he answered roughly; "what is it to any woman what I do, or what I promise? You tempt me, mother, to say things I'd rather leave un said. You meddle with me ; it's bad enough that I must stick down here ; let well alone, and let me alone ! It's the best advice I've got." He put her from him coldly and got up, and began to pace up and down, with his eyes fixed on the ground. " Oh ! Charles, have some compassion ! Remember, I am your mother. Why do you cast me off? I did for the best — how can }7ou marry this man's daughter?" "I'm not going to marry her," he mutter ed savageby.

" Oh ! my boy, my boy !" she cried, al most jumping up in her delight, "I knew you would see through them — a passing fancy — quite right that you should indulge sometimes — the Bulstrovers have never looked upon it as a fault — young men of family can do these things — it is the privi lege of their birth, and the girls often marry well after all. I remember, in Sir Charles's time, one of them — she is Mrs. Stevens now, the gamekeeper's wife — there was a little talk about her — some young man who was down here shooting — she was quite pretty then — just a seven days' scandal — and she married Stevens most respectably." " Mother, what are you saying ? Are you mad ? What has this to do with Alice ?" "Alice— is that her name?" The old lady had risen slowly and tottered across to him. "Alice, it's not a common name with common people — really quite pretty !

If you are not going to marry her, Charles, you must act as a young man of honour — as a Bulstrover." She had taken his arm again, and was holding it tightly. " I don't understand you, Lady Bulstro ver," he said, trying to collect her meaning. "What is it that you are driving at?" " I say, my boy, you are a Bulstrover ; this girl must not suffer for your indiscre tions more than you can avoid ; we must assist her. If she is young and pretty, could not you find some one on the estate who would marry her ? Philips, perhaps " " Good God ! mother, what do you take me for ?" cried Sir Charles, aghast. " Don't agitate yourself, Charles. Of course it would be better that I should not be mixed up in these matters, but recollect I am your own mother, and I am ready to excuse any little imprudence your affections may have led you to commit.

Men are all alike in it ; you are only what your father was before you ; don't mind my knowing it. Of course, if Philips is content, we should make it up to him — he must not be a loser ; it is always a question of money with these people." " Gracious heaven !" cried her son, starting back in horror, as her meaning began to dawn on him. " Philips ! — Alice ! — money ! What does it all mean ? Are you mad ? Do you take me for a scoun drel, to couple that sweet, pure girl's name with suggestions such as these ? You have dared to come here meddling — you have driven off a man who came here as my guest — you have, for aught I know, driven him to madness with your taunts — your in sults ! What's this ?" he cried suddenly, stooping down and picking up the bank note which Claude's heel had trodden in, and which still fluttered out from among the daisy stalks.

He stood before her swelled out to a giant in her wavering eyes — a giant who carried justice and punishment in his hands — a giant not to be trifled with — and she sank before him. "Charles, my boy, don't look so terrible!" she faltered. " If I made a mistake, it was to do you good ; I did not know — I thought she was like other women, and that you — " " Yes, I — you thought that I am as black hearted as you wish I was. What is this money ? I'll have an answer !" " I gave it to him. Oh ! Charles, let me go! — don't hold me so ! I wished to save you. Yes, yes, I gave it ; they all want money, Charles, dear — it's true they do. He did not take it, so you see, dear boy, there is no harm done yet." " No harm yet !" he muttered, letting her go, and flinging the crumpled note on the grass — " no harm done !