Trodden down

Front matter

POPULAR NEW NOVELS. SECOND EDITION. In 3 Vols. AN OLD MAN'S SECRET By Frank Trollope. "Asa picture of English country life, with charming development of character, a highly moral tone, and a story of powerful interest, this novel will take rank with the very best of our English fictions." — Globe. " The portraiture of Dr. Weatherby would not have been unworthy the pen of Oliver Goldsmith." — Daily Post. " It has pith, vigour, and freshness. The story never flags." — Morning Advertiser. ' ' There is a very decided originality about this novel. Mr. Trollope has worked out the intricacies of an elaborate plot very in geniously. He possesses a large share of imagination, and has power of descriptive writing to an equal extent. It will make its way into the favour of a discriminating public." — Observer.

" Certainly one of the best novels of the present year." — Northern Herald. " The characters are not only consistent and natural, but really interesting studies of probable personages." — Manchester Guar dian. In One Vol. ASHTON MORTON, OE MEMORIES OP MY LIFE. " Both honest and well meant. The pages do not contain the faintest suggestion of 'sensationalism.' They breathe throughout an air of genuine, every-day reli^on." — Athenæum. ' ' The author has evidently sketched her dramatis personœ from life ; her modols have been carefully and judiciously chosen. There are many characters in ' Ashton Morton' it will not be easy to for get."—Public Opinion. F. J. ACRES, Having purchased the business of the General Furnishing Company, 24 and 25, Baker Street, W., INVITES ATTENTION TO HIS MAGNIFICENT STOCK OF CABINET FURNITURE, UPHOLSTERY, C -A. Tl :_> E T S, &C, One of the largest and most comprehensive in the Trade, and replete with every requisite in first-class Furniture, at the most Moderate Prices.

ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUES FREE BY POST. F. J. ACRES, 2_ and 25, BAKER STREET, W. BY MRS. C . J . N E W B Y , AUTHOR OF " Wondrous Strange," "Kate Kennedy," " Common Sense," "Mabel," "Sunshine and Shadow," 4c, &c IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. Jonbort : T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1866. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

Chapter I

The folded hands, the calm pure face, The mantle's quiet flow, The gentle yet majestic grace Throned on the matron brow ; These, in that scone of tender gloom , With a still glory robe the tomb. Hemans. The next morning Marion was up early, as on the preceding day, gathering what old Jacobs called her lilies, with all diligence. Another labour of love was before her, that of preparing her brother's room, — that bro ther, whom, perhaps, she might scarcely see again ; from whose presence, as from that of VOL. III. B all others, she had promised to shrink away, and hide herself. But still something she could do out of sight, — she could yet minister to his comfort, could give an arrangement to hisroom, which no hired domestic would effect ; and as much time as she dared she spent in doing so.

Never once had her mother expressed satisfaction at her domestic operations, and she was not at all aware of her feeling about it ; but, on the other hand, no complaint had been made, and she knew that her mother was not slow to find fault when occasion called for it, — so that she satisfied herself that nothing could be very wrong. Her sister's room had also a charm for her. She was in many things as lonely as a Robinson Crusoe ; but, like him, she found simple interests which kept her Jieart alive within her. She saw that morning upon Adela's dressing-table a beautiful passion flower. Then it must be, she thought, the gentleman who dined yesterday, who was the hero of her sister's thoughts ; and Ellen had either not remembered to tell her, or had failed to learn his name. No passion-flower, she knew, grew anywhere about the Hold, — it would have been out of place there ; and how could it have reached Adela, but as a gift from the gentleman who dined there.

She sent Ellen for a vase, and arranged the flowers together, placing them upon a ledge near the window. Would Adela know she sympathised with and watched over her at her humble distance ? she wondered ; not resenting her strict obedience to the parental order, which had prevented her ever seeing her dear face. Thus the day passed by ; and in the re tirement of her far-off chamber no sound reached her of the life below, though she strained her ears to listen. She should not see Roland ; but yet he was in her thoughts all daylong, — she was specu lating as to the train he would come by, and the time he would arrive, and then going over and over again the scene which would follow. Would they tell him before dinner, B or let him have his dinner first ? How cruel it would be ! How she pitied him ; and he an officer, too, who thought so much about honour.

She did not know his hanging-on spirit, or condemn him for it, as we do. She was but a simple girl, ready to believe the best, and dazzled altogether by the glitter of her brother's accomplishments. He had re fused to save her when she cried piteously to him for help, — had seen others drive her upon the rocks, and refused to believe that he looked upon a shipwreck ; but she did not even challenge to herself any merit in that, from her heart of hearts she forgave him. But she rather charged herself with a crime in that she had brought a tarnish on his name, and left for him a vulnerable point where, if they chose, his enemies might attack him. These were her thoughts all day, — and as they passed through her mind they left upon her traces of their gentle influence, which seemed to purify and raise her above coarse human nature.

The ruined tower, which win dow overlooked her, told no tale of the events which might be passing. The sun shone upon its blackened walls, the rain beat upon it, and the wind careered about it, and turned round its corners, and rolled through its un glazed windows ; but she could gather nothing from the scene before her but that it was strangely like her own life, — a ruin, upon which sun, rain, and wind alike expended their strength. No hum from the well-kept stable yard reached her here ; carriages might come and go up the bridge over the moat, and she would know nothing of them. " Oh, it is like death!" she crid aloud, in a fresh accession of agony, as she threw herself on the windowr-ledge ; and though she tried to be as one dead, she could not die. She was not the sinner she believed herself, and she could not feel as vile and wilful sinners feel when they are filled with remorse.

She could not forget the earth on which she was made to live, nor its pleasant habitations — its living passions and sweet home affections. She could not be come stone, as she tried so hard to be. Hus band, — oh, for he had been her husband, and with no less holy passion had she ever loved him ; aud father and mother, brothers and sisters, she loved them all, and pined for them as a weaned child for its mother. She thought to be dead ; and yet life rose stronger and stronger within her, as a spring which overleaps its borders, and refusing altogether to be a dead and buried thing, flows on, like a goodly stream, to water the earth. She was dead ! The shadows of the evening were falling fast round and about her ; but she took up her work and tried to be busy, and not to think, even while the background of the ruined tower became more and more black.

The sun had gone down, but still a few lingering rays of fire were left in the horizon, and from the Moat there rose the thick, white fog which made the place, on autumn nights, so ghostly and uncertain— when— hark ! Her heart leapt up with a bound — the lower door leading to the attic was opened, with a jerk, quite un like the orderly ways she enforced on Ellen, and a man's step came up, three stairs at a time. Then the outer door of the dark passage was broken through, and the short distance cleared by a soldier's fast but even tread, and then a smart rap fell upon the door, and Marion could scarcely gasp out the words, " Come in." Was he coming to scorch her with his wrath — to let the fu\\ weight of his anger fall upon her poor head, to act out another tragedy in the haunted chamber? No, oh no. She shrank back, with wild afrighted eyes, as the door opened.

And yet, even in anger, to see his face, Avould have something living and human in it. He came in — full six feet was his height; and the chamber wTas so low, he nearly touched the roof; and as he stood, for a moment, regarding her, while he planted his back against the door, she saw that his face was compassionate, and not fiery and angry at all. At last his familiar voice sounded in her ear, and so weak had her nerves become, she could have cried with joy. " Has the haunted room turned you into a ghost, Marion, that you have not a word to say to me?" Then she rose and came to him — her heart was all in tumult ; but her manner wore something of the tranquillity she had forced it to assume. , "May I touch your hand, Roland?" " Of course you may ; it is not so over clean. Who am I that I should throw stones?"

But at these words she shrank away from him, and her white face flushed up with a wild excited colour. Not so could she take her brother's hand, and read her own sentence of condemnation. He came up to her, and held out both his bands. Ah, perhaps, in heaven's sight, they were very soiled ; but nothing cleanses so fast as an act of mercy. Who knows how many sins faded away from the heavy account he was running up against himself, in that one moment. There is a balance held by a Hand which never errs ; and our poor attempts to do right are weighed as if they really were worth something. " Look me in the face, Marion, and tell me you are a true woman," he said. " I am — I am, Roland, except that I ran away from here to escape that living death, I and he — who was my husband, are innocent." " We will say nothing about him; neither you nor I know how he may be implicated ; but I believe you."

Then he stooped down, and kissed her twice. "Now sit down, and tell me all about it." " Roland, let me understand you — not to injure him — not for that." " Not if he does not deserve it." " He does not ; but if he did, for my sake, and more, for your own, this matter must be hushed up. If you will not promise me b that, I must say nothing, and my life will be a perpetual terror to me." " I will do nothing, without consulting you. If there is a way of righting you, it must be done." "It cannot be. You have made me so happy to-night, Roland. If you will only promise me, I shall live on the happiness of having seen you for months to come." She was so lovely — so meek and lowly in her distress— not passionate and exclamatory, and wilful — that he was touched. " I will think," he said. " What right had he to spoil our fairest flower ?"

" He thought to save me," she said ; and as they sat down on each side of the long window overlooking the ruin, she told her tale, — all Vance's goodness to her, all his offers at the last, and how she had escaned from him,— painting the whole in such loving and touching colours that Roland could hardly say that Vance was to be condemned. " And so," he said, "you prefer this life to the chaDce of making a stir, and so restoring yourself to a proper position." "I do, indeed. I think it would kill me to see all this in the newspapers." " But you need not read them, you know." " And your brother officers ! — oh, no, Roland, I am content, and I think mamma is reconciled to it now." " Yes; she says the house was never better kept and managed than it is now ; but I do not like it. Upon my word, though I would not for the world this had come of it, I was not sorry when they told me you were gene.

There was a fine rumpus, of coirrse, and a nine day's wonder ; but I was glad you had taken the law in your own hands. Besides, as to the mortgage, I am not certain it would have done much good — we should have pre sumed on the clearance, and so dipped it ;> again. There was some philosophy in this, and, knowing the ways of the family, Marion had little doubt that the idea was a correct one. " It was a more serious mistake for poor Bankslops, though !" he said, laughing softly. There came a hard look upon her face, — she had not learned to pity Bankslops, and was Roland come to plead his cause? " You know what love is now," continued Roland, " and can tell what he has suffered. I am doubtful whether he will ever get over it, and really he is a very worthy man and does not hate us all as he might ; indeed, I hope he will carry his wife from the Hold after all." ' Oh, Roland ! — not that.

Never will I look upon myself as the wife of any other man than Vance. I am the widow of a living husband, — do not, oh do not, Roland, spoil your kindness — you, who have so much power to protect me ?" He looked at her contemplatively, and let her quite finish her sentence, and then said, " You are quite sure ? — for I think you have still a chance if you played your cards well ; and poor Bankslops was all but mad aster you." " ' Play my cards !' — oh, do understand me. I could spend all my days in weeping for Vance, but I force myself to be still, and only to mourn in secret, though I feel as if half my life were gone, and I were already in my grave. If I try to be quiet and tranquil, not to vex you more, do not you misunderstand me, Roland." She looked at him with eyes from which all her trouble could not banish the beauty which was accustomed to sleep in them.

" I am going to dine with him to-morrow," he answered, after a thoughtful pause. " Shall I tell him that you are here?" "I leave that to you; but 1 trust you to protect me from the chance of poor Vance's hearing where I am." " I do not see the harm of that." " But 1 do," she answered, with sudden ex citement. " I love him, and I will not run the chance of showing my love to another woman's husband. I have tried to forget him, but I find it quite impossible. Let me be, Roland,— let me bear my life in my own way ; but why need we talk of Mr. Bank slops?" Then with a smile, so like her old self that he smiled too, she said, " You do not call him ' Bottles' now, then? — I think that name first set me against him." " No. We cover him with our shield — pity, console, and feel with him ; and I am not quite certain that if he wished it, he could not even now carry his wife from the Hold."

Then she understood him with a sudden flush. "Adela!" "Well, there is no knowing of course; for we thought you were sweet on him at the ball, you know. But she dresses for him, — sings to him, and even goes to the length of walking with him ;— all pity, of course, she says, only — only — " " And he brings her flowers ?" asked Marion, breathless! v. " Yes ; and asks her if she will accept them in memory of his lost bride. If that means courting, of course the expedient is a novel one — but it may answer. She is co quettish, and pitiful, and pettish, and sympa thising with him, and very cross with her mother, — my poor little sister you are avenged — for of course we know we were in the wrong; — and upon my word it is as dull as ditch-water downstairs, for Adela has never a smile for anyone but Bankslops.

I daresay all girls are the same, if we only knew it; — only it must be bad practice for matri monial life." " And must not be continued," said Marion; " our darling must not do wrong." " Our darling," said the soldier, looking tenderly at her, " has thrown herself away on a lee-shore, and we are not likely to replace her. But this sort of thing," he added, looking round the room, " must not continue; 1 shall speak to the governor." " Do not trouble him about me ; now that you have been so kind, and I can hope to see you sometimes, life will be supportable, — I shall have something to hope for. As for society, or for being seen at all, I should only feel ashamed; but if I could in any way see Adela, — think of that, Roland, not for me; for I am ready to deny myself everything, — ■ only she used to love me, and — " " I'll see ; but Adela is too far gone in wil fulness, I fear.

Schools are not good training, you see. And her mother is afraid she will turn restive, and so gives in entirely. It does not do, and only makes the girl herself miserable. Do you mind my smoking, Marion ?" " Not if you have a match." A sudden look of happiness irradiated her face, — life was not all death, then, as she had fancied, for already Roland was sitting confidentially, as of old, preparing to light his cigar. " How do you light your candle, then?" he iisked, taking out his scented match. " I never have any ; at present I get up early, and go to bed soon. The economies are harder than ever in the house, Roland." " Well, I am thinking of turning over a new leaf, and settling down soon." " Coming here, do you mean ?" " Well, I hardly know ; we have dipped pretty considerably into the future already, and the worst of it is one does not get what one is promised.

Still I am not certain I shall not have something good in Ireland soon. I was dining with the Marquis of Bruce the Other day; and from what he said I have my hopes." Marion listened, as she had always listened to his day-dreams, without seeing any failure or shadow in them. Her unfeigned trust in him made him trust himself more thoroughly ; and the talk mid the smoke made him feel quite comfortable and happy in his present company, — as the shadows deepened into night, and the moon came out and silvered fc_ ' over the ruins, and gave them a beauty they never knew by day. But at last he seemed to remember that he ought to go downstairs. "They will be jealous," he said, rising, " and I must go ; but if you had a cup of hot coffee I had much rather stay here." " I am so glad you came." "And you are not afraid to be left in the dark?"

" Oh, no ; I shall be thinking of you," she said, with a smile, so like her old self that he smiled too, and declared he should take refuge with her whenever it was too dull to be endured downstairs. " Good night," and then he was gone down the stairs with a clash and a run, and she was left alone. But what a sudden light had come across the darkness. In a few minutes more Ellen made her appearance with a lighted candle, and a cup of hot coffee, with biscuits and "Major Lowleigh's love !" She had bowed her head to the storm ; and already the bow was shining on the cloud.

Chapter II

Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralTd ; Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. Milton. On the following morning while Marion was dressing her mother with the care that never failed to be exercised to the very utmost, Mrs. Lowleigh said to her in the haughty tone which now was so seldom softened, " You may take your needlework to the school-room to-day. I can see better how to direct you there." Marion replied only by a startled assent. "I did not like to give this permission without consulting Roland, you see. Much of your future so naturally depends upon him, and it was necessary that he should decide what was best to be done with the encum brance with which you have saddled the Hold." She did not say that Roland had warmly interposed in her favour and pointed out with more candour than could be agreeable to her that they had done wrong as well as Marion ; and that he as future possessor of the Hold would countenance no act of oppression — would not, as he forcibly stated it, be a party in developing the family malady and sending his sister mad.

She must, in the day-time at least, be removed from the haunted room. "I am quite comfortable where I am," said Marion. "I need not be further in the way." " I do not choose to be contradicted ; take your work to the schoolroom, to-day. It is getting cold too, or will be soon ; and I cannot afford fires in bed-rooms, mind that; or candles either, although Roland thinks these things so easy." Yielding to this ungracious command, Marion took her work to the room which in all that house had used to be the pleasantest haunt. It was deserted now and very shabby. Adela evidently never sat here and it looked forlorn and comfortless as it had not used to do in days gone by. But Marion had scarcely entered it an hour before it began to put on its old appearance. The needlework was not out of place here, but rather gave a brightness aud pleasant usefulness to the shabby room.

She was now engaged in making a dinner dress for Mrs. Lowleigh of handsome amber silk, covered with large white satin flowers. It had been C_ placed in her hands with an injunction to be careful not to spoil it'; and she was not sorry to have a large table to work at it upon. She could work well, and had been accus tomed to much delicate use of her needle, but she found that it required the utmost exercise of her brains to cut out such a handsome material, and to avoid the chance of giving a slit in the wrong direction. She was not insensible to the blessing of a fire, for though she had scarcely noticed it until she now felt the pleasant warmth — the days had grown very damp and chilly, — and this restoration to something like her old comforts touched her with tender gratitude to Roland. It was later in the day when the light was beginning to wane, and she had put aside her work satisfied with the progress she had made in it, and was trying to think of that and of the long, long days to come when in a humble way she might be allowed to nurse and take care of Roland's children, when he should come to settle at the Hold ; and when in these thoughts she was labouring so hard to forget Vance, to blot him from her memory, and draw a veil between herself and every tender recollection of him ; to forget if that were possible the touch of his hand upon her head, the caressing arm drawing her closer and closer, the kind voice, the tender look, ever commending her and ever ready to condemn himself — as she was trying to forget, but feeling all the time a warmth at her heart, which almost banished grief in the remembrance that she had ever been so fondly loved, and that she had vanished from him while yet his love was all warm and chivalrous.

Then she heard a voice in the passage say " I have not the courage to look on sad sights." "I seldom exert any authority," was the reply, " but if I am your elder brother I have a right to be heard and obliged. Unless your eyes are more refined than I take them to be, they will not be very shocked." The door was ajar, and she knew Roland was bringing Adela to see her. No reproof which could have fallen upon TRODDEN DOWX. her could have hurt her more than this; Adela was afraid to look upon the fallen thing she had become ; had stayed away, not at her mother's command, but urged by her own fear. Had she become so vile then in the eyes of this young pure girl, when her place should have been that of the elder and the guide at home, or the happy matron, helping to lead her into society ? The blow fell upon her very heavily, but above her own shame rose up her love for this sister, whom she had so unintentionally injured.

She got up and steadied herself by the table. She must show her she had com mitted but one wilful sin, and that, one which cruel circumstances had forced upon her. She had fled her home ; for that sin she was willing to stand condemned, but to the shame which had fallen in consequence, she must not plead guilty ; if so, how could she have stood in her sister's presence — how could she have dared to wait for her coming with a look which had in it the majesty of grief? — a majesty which under happier circumstauces, the mind hardly ever attains. With a ready tact, wThich was born of love, she comprehended at once that she must not meet her sister as if they had ever known each other in the sweet intimacies of child hood and youth — not yet, at all events — not yet. "I have brought Adela to you," said Roland.

Adela stood looking at her, and shrinking back. There was in her eyes a new jealousy which Marion could not comprehend — a look of fear was mingled strangely with it, and pity seemed to have been banished from her sweet and girlish face by some other passion, which in one so young made her look hard and cold. Marion looked at her with a kind of timid compassion, but in that moment she remem bered more poignantly than ever the stigma which rested upon her name, and which, in VOL. III. c the eyes of many, made her unfit for such sweet companionship. "I am sorry to have hurt and offended you, Adela, and to have done you so much wrong ; but a great wrong has been done me, and I cannot help it now. Do not forget that I have refused to take my old place, and that I am like one dead." " I will come and see you presently," said Roland, and left them hastily.

Adela watched him from the room, but she showed no inclination to follow him now. A deep red spot was on each cheek, and a look of eager curiosity in her face as she spoke in a hard tone. " Who offered you your old place ?" " She who was once my mother, but now is mv mistress." " It was like mamma," said Adela, almost fiercely. " There is no nature in her ; she is hard, cold, and worldly." In heaping tlie.se terms upon her she seemed to find some relief to her feelings. Marion only gave her a look of pain. She had never been a teacher or a reprover — how much less now. " I thought all the time she was my enemy," continued Adela, in impatient anger. "Oh, impossible," said Marion. "Roland said she loved you too well, and gave you your own way, as I never had mine." " Then why did she wish to put you in your old place, to give you precedence of me, when you — ."