John Orlebar, Clk [A novel.] By the author of 'Culmshire Folk'

Front matter

By the same Author. CULMSHIRE FOLK. BY IGNOTUS. OPINIONS of the PRESS. ' Certainly a remarkable book. No one but a stupid person could fail to be charmed with it. Painted with a shrewdness, liveliness, and humorous appreciation of the oddities and weaknesses of character that remind us again and again of George Eliot. Lady Culmshire is a conception that does the author credit. By this, his first book, he has made his mark, and it will be his own fault if he remains Ignotus in the future.' — The Graphic. ' Clever sayings, wise thoughts, brilliant repartees, and racy cha racterisations. Lady Culmshire is an original creation, and should have, in the gallery of fiction, a place as prominent as it is distinct. The careful and clever descriptions, brilliant dialogue, wholesome sentiment, literary culture, and inlaid wisdom, make the novel a remarkable one.' British Quarterly Review. ' No one without reading the book can comprehend how Lady Culm shire fascinates the reader.' Court Circular. ' The author who has been most successful in this branch of fictio n is unquestionably George Eliot.

There is much in "Culmshire Folk" of the same observation, the same breadth of treatment, and the happy art of disposing of a great subject in an epigrammatic sentence. Lady Culmshire is, in truth, a character who must take her place in the fiction of this age. No one within our knowledge has produced one more carefully worked out. Altogether, " Culmshire Folk " is a novel which stands out in agreeable and high relief from the ordinary run of books of the kind. It is the production of a keen thinker, a close observer, and a man of humour and high intelligence.' — Scotsman. ' It contains a good deal of thoughtful writing, and at least one remarkable study of character — Lady Culmshire, kindly, worldly, tender, with a soft heart beneath the polished breastplate she bears against society — is a pleasant one.' — Athenæum. ' The book is an able, ironical gibbeting of some of the clerical and social customs of the day, which should "shoot folly as it flies ; " while the humorous touches are racy of Hibernian soil.' Liverpool Albion. ' We hope this is not the last novel we shall see written by Ignotus, who bv the way, has no reason to be ashamed of his name.' ' ' Whitehall Review.

Opinions of the Press — continued. 2 ' Charming throughout. A very odd book ; one which never fails to be amusing. Its sparkling pleasantries, its drollery, its shrewdness, its easy liveliness, and a certain chattiness (which, while it is never vulgar, brings the writer very near), make one feel as if the story were being told in lazy confidence, in an hour of idleness, by a man who, while thoroughly good-natured, is strongly humorous, and has an ever present perception of the absurdities of people and things ' — Spectator. ' Agreeable incidents, pleasing conversation, and able sketches of character. The grouping is in the main excellently executed. Sprightly and animated. Cleverly written, and in a brisk and dashing style. The reflections are very judicious, brief, and to the point.1 Morning Post. 4 Written with considerable ability.

Chapter I. Twinch Of Thavies Inn

What are you, sir ? My lord, I belong to the law. Farquhar. ' I don't see why the deuce I shouldn't,' said Joe Twinch to his clerk. ' Eh ! Snell ? You don't see why the deuce I shouldn't. Speak up, my invaluable ! — don't be bashful ! ' ' It doesn't much matter whether I do or not,' said the withered-looking little Snell tartly. ' Sometimes you appear to forget that you are in the receipt of a weekly salary, my indispensable ! ' said Twinch. ' You never forget to dignify it by the name of a salary, at all events,' retorted Snell. ' You might keep up the outward semblance of civility, just as a matter of business,' said his master. ' Officially, you should take more interest in what interests me. You should appear to give me a little more of your — what do you call it ? — sympathy.' B ' You should give me a little more of your confidence,' replied Snell ; 'to say nothing of your money' ' To say nothing of my money,' repeated Twinch, thoughtfully putting his hand to his forehead, and slowly closing it, as he drew it down and took hold of his beard for a moment or two. ' Money's the root of all evil— filthy lucre.

But I quite forgot the sym pathy. Of course you can't take much interest in what you don't know anything about. Suppose for the word " sympathy " we substitute " confidence," as you suggest ? ' ' All right,' said Snell : ' it don't matter much ; ' and he pulled out his high stool, and arranged his papers, preparatory to beginning his day's work. It was j'ust five minutes past ten on an October morning ; the clock was on the chimney-piece, so there could be no mistake about the time. There was a thick yellow fog outside — a real genuine London one. Joe Twinch was standing on the hearth-rug, holding up his coat tails, with his back to the fire, and his legs extended. Between the fog and the fire there was a mellow tinge in the room, im parting a pleasant auriferous glow to the office furniture and to the long row of tin cases round the walls.

The grate was well filled ; and the coals were splut tering, and crackling, and blazing behind him brightly, for he had just stirred them up. It was a habit of his to rush at the fire with a poker, every morning, after he had hung up his hat and taken oft" his coat. On this particular morning he felt unusually comfortable TWINCH OF THAV1ES INN. 3 and good-humoured ; and when he was in this mood he liked to enjoy himself. The keenest enjoyment he had, consisted in drawing out his wretched clerk, and getting him to show his teeth — baiting his badger, in fact. ' Talking of money — I like these fogs, do you know,' he said. ' I don't just see the connection,' responded Snell, * between fogs and money.' ' Don't you ? ' said Twinch. ' No,' said Snell, ' I don't ; and if you like fogs, that's more than I do.' ' Everything depends upon the point of view,' responded Twinch, with provoking coolness. ' I don't seem to see it from any point of view,' said Snell, putting on his tattered office coat, and rubbing a red eye briskly, in a circular kind of way, with his first finger, as though he were trying to polish the lid. ' It's quite time you did,' said Twinch. ' It is just a mere point of view that makes all the difference.

Lamb in a child's story book means innocence, twiddling tails, and what not — that's sentimental. Lamb in every-day life means mint sauce and all that sort of thing — the reverse of sentiment, my dearly beloved ! A fog may make your eyes water — it has the same effect upon my mouth.' Snell was hanging up his best coat on a brass hook behind the door, and did not think it worth while to reply. He walked back towards the fire. B ' A fog,' continued Twinch, making way for him ; ' a fog gives a soft, warm, yellow glow to everything, suggestive to imaginative minds like mine, Snell — suggestive of GOLD ; that's why it makes my mouth water.' Snell was holding his thin, bony hands over the blaze — stooping down, and making little clutches at it, as if he wanted to catch some of it in his palms. Either he was too intent on what he was doing, or he didn't wish to give his master the satisfaction of taking in — or seeming to take in — his mild joke.

He said nothing ; but, giving his hands a brisk rub. together, he walked off to his stool. ' What do you say to lighting the gas ? ' said Twinch. Snell lighted it silently ' You don't seem to be in the best of spirits this lovely morning,' Twinch observed. ' You do,' was the curt reply ; ' it makes no odds.' Mr. Joseph Twinch chuckled, as he went to his desk to read his letters. He looked through the pile leisurely, and put one aside out of it, to be read last. When he took it up again, he opened it with a look of extreme satisfaction. There was a large red seal upon the envelope, bearing the arms of Sir John Arderne ; but the handwriting was that of a woman — a vulgar and uneducated woman. Its contents evi dently fidgeted him somewhat, and made him uneasy and restless. He went to the window and looked out ; then he stroked his black beard again — TWINCH OF THAVIES INN. 5 this was a habit of his — and slowly retraced his steps to the fire-place.

He thrust his hands deep into his trousers pockets, balanced himself momentarily on his heels, and then looked down thoughtfully at his upturned toes, with a sudden droop of the head, which implied doubt. ' Of course,' he said to himself, ' one is liable to be a little at sea in dealing with a woman — particularly a young one. If the old one plays her cards right, we'll do it. I'm safe to win — at least I don't see, as I said before, why the devil I shouldn't. Curse that pen of yours, Snell ! It makes an infernal noise — sets one's teeth on edge.' Snell split it up as far as it would go, with a flip ■of his thumb-nail, and threw it behind him. ' That looks free and independent ; anybody would suppose that you were in the habit of finding your own materials.' • It is not always safe to judge by appearances,' replied Snell, with a pointedly satirical grin. ' It's not sound law.' ' Well hit ! ' said Twinch ; ' that's one to you.' He took it all in good part, or pretended to do so. ' I'm vain of my personal appearance, I must allow,' he said, with an air of provoking satisfaction. ' Dam vain ! ' interjected Snell — 'and no mistake.' ' But on good grounds, my fidus A chatcs.

Sorry 1 can't return the compliment' ' I wouldn't give much for your sorrow,' replied Snell testily ; ' it is about as sincere as your compliment.' — His temper, or his command of it, wasn't equal to Twinch's when there was a strain on it. ' Tit for tat, my amiable ! quite fair, you know ; diamond cut diamond — that's all. I didn't think you'd take it so much to heart, nevertheless. The fact is, we can't all be handsome ; though, I am happy to say, it is not beyond the capacity of the meanest of us to be rogues — that's some consolation in this miserable world.' There were piles of japanned tin boxes about the room, each box padlocked, and having the name of some hapless client, painted in white letters, on the front of it. Mr. Twinch selected one marked 'Ar derne,' and, bringing it over to the fire, deposited it on a chair beside him.

The inside of the lid made a capital looking-glass, and afforded him an opportunity of adjusting his necktie and admiring himself at the same time, before he proceeded to business. Joe Twinch was not at all like the conventional scoundrel — it is a stupid blunder to suppose that every humbug looks a humbug; quite as often he looks like a saint. There was nothing sinister about Joe. He had not a hangdog expression by any means ; he looked you straight in the face. He was a pleasant fellow outside his office. He was well made and well dressed — except that there was, per haps, just a little too much colour, not always well contrasted, observable in his costume ; there was absolutely nothing else to find fault with. His feet were small ; his hands were white, and so were his TWINCH OF THAVIES INN. 7 teeth.

He was not old — say thirty-five, or there abouts. When he chose he was agreeable or disagreeable — that is, when it exactly suited his purpose to be either the one or the other. He had a splendid head of hair ; dark eyebrows and eyelashes. His face was colourless ; his nose was straight and fault less — except that, between the nostrils, it was so thin you could almost see through it. He wore a small black moustache neatly turned up at the ends, but not waxed or stuck together. He knew that some ladies set down as fops men who stuck their moustaches — and he studied the ladies always ; they didn't object to beards, so, as it improved his appearance to wear one, he wore a beard — handsome, long, silky, black, and wavy. Every good point about Twinch told. You would say, on first beholding him, that he was just the sort of fellow a girl might fall in love with.

He was perfectly satisfied with himself, too, though cautious enough to hide his vanity in company. Poor Snell, his clerk, was in every way the reverse of his master ; it was a case — as between these two — of extremes meeting. Snell wasn't young — he was over sixty — he wasn't good-looking ; and he was the sort of person whom you would say no woman could fall in love with — yet he was much married ; there was a Mrs. Snell — no mean or insignificant entity either, but a strong, warm, buxom, belligerent woman, with ' views ' on religion, who had taken him to her bosom many years back, when he first turned up in London from nobody knew where.

Chapter II. After Church

Aim-well. And was she the daughter of the house ? Why dost think so ? Archer. Because the baggage has a je ne sais quoi and is troubled with the vapours. Farquhar. It was a bright October Sunday. Doctor Packenham was the first out of Arderne Church. He made his exit by the little stunted door in the chancel, and, walking leisurely, almost lazily, he took the short cut across the grave-yard leading to the parsonage. When he got to the stile in the wall he sat down and waited for the parson. Being a spruce man, and dressed in his Sunday best, he chose the cleanest and newest tombstone get-at-able without wetting his feet over the grass. Though he did all this Doctor Packenham wasn't a snob or a fop ; he was, on the contrary, a fine, manly, handsome, generous fellow, whom all Culm shire admired and liked — the ladies especially, for he had the courage to marry for love on nothing a year.

He hadn't repented of his bargain either, and was now a prosperous and very rising man — as he deserved to be. A genuine smoker when he opens his cigar case always takes some trouble, be it more or less, to select his weed : the doctor was no exception on this oc casion. Having suited himself with one he proceeded to pierce the top of it with his penknife as tenderly as though he were performing a delicate operation bn some valued patient ; and while he did so he mo ralised. The faces of the congregation were new to him for the most part ; having only recently given up his town practice at Cokehampton for this country one, which appeared more likely to turn out a good thing if properly worked up, as he intended to work it. The rustics were pouring out of the edifice in droves at the little south porch, smock-frocked and rubicund, mopping their faces and then blowing their noses with large red cotton handkerchiefs all apparently of the same description and colour, and which were consigned ultimately to their hats instead of their pockets.

He was wondering why rustics always get hot in church irrespective of the seasons ; and solved the difficulty by concluding that they felt like sick people in the hands of a surgeon. ' Not an intellectual congregation certainly,' he said to himself. ' I congratulate John Orlebar from the bottom of my heart. By-the-bye ought he to be congratulated on his good luck, I wonder ? 'pon my word I don't quite know, but I should think so. A flock of boobies must be rather an advantage than otherwise to a young clergyman ; he needn't rack his brains to preach up to them, at all events.' He was busy lighting his cigar now, and that mechanical operation engrossed him for a moment or two. He twiddled it round once or twice in his mouth with his finger and thumb, and then took it out to look at it. Speaking to it as though it were sentient, he said, ' I attribute the general mental and moral flabbiness of the British lout solely and wholely to feathers.' Here he puffed away vigorously for some time before he undertook to explain himself. ' Of course, if Hodge sleeps every night in a poultice, the natural result must follow, and he becomes a fit companion for his fellow vegetables, the turnips and the cabbage.' There was a carriage waiting at the church gate, and two ladies were getting into it : a stout, red-faced, vulgar, middle-aged one ; and a young one, stately, quiet, self-sustained and lovely, pale as a statue, and apparently as cold.

The episode changed the current of his thought. He knew them both. ' My experience of step-mothers,' said he to himself again, ' leads me, I must say, to the popular conclusion that they are, as an institution, a failure. Still it is only fair to allow that one may be pre judiced, as one never looks at them from the step mother point of view ; and there are two sides to every question.' He began to dig the moss out of the inscription of a tombstone near him with the end of his stick as he followed up the thought, and clinched it by a conclusion which certainly liad only one side. ' A horrid old wretch is that Lady Arderne. When the other old wretch, her husband, dies, it will not be too pleasant for the daughter, I fear.' As the world goes the doctor was a fair man enough ; for while his own opinion was quite clear and defined, and he always stuck to it, nevertheless he allowed the possibility of another opinion being quite as sound in the estimation of him who held it ; and what more can be said for the generality of us ?

The end which he foresaw was not far distant. Sir John's hour was approaching ; it was time that this black sheep should be offered as a sacrifice to the unrelenting Parcæ ; and already the veiled form had entered his chamber. The uplifted scissors were closing on the fatal thread, and Packenham knew that his frequent visits would soon cease. The certainty seemed in its dire consequences so fraught with evil to all that was lovely and beautiful at Arderne Court — that cold, stately, only daughter — that it overcame him, and he whisked it away, as it were, with an angry impatient flourish of his stick ; then he rose and leant over the enclosure, waiting for the carriage which must pass in a moment or so on its homeward journey. Reluctantly depositing his cigar on the wall, he went out to meet the carriage as it approached, and raised his hat. 'We shall expect you over soon, doctor,' said Lady Arderne. ' Will you come to luncheon ?

We'll give you a seat now, if you like.' 'Thank you very much ; unless there is any urgent necessity I should be glad if you could spare me for an hour or so. I have business with Orlebar.' ' Very well,' she replied ; ' I gave directions that I should be sent for immediately if Sir John got worse ; so I suppose he is going on pretty much the same.' ' I hope to find him better,' said the doctor ; 'while there is life there is hope, you know, Miss Arderne. But I detain you in the cold, and this harsh wind is rather trying at this time of year.' His eyes fell apologetically on those of Winifred as she reclined far back in the opposite corner, and he felt that kind of uneasiness which intelligent persons experience when they have been caught making commonplace remarks before clever ones whose opinion they value. ' We scarcely mind weather in the country,' she said, ' and you certainly look a great deal better than you did in church.

I suppose the change of ' ' You see,' said Lady Arderne, interrupting the conversation, ' even ladies who profess to despise fine dress, and bonnets, and all that, aren't above looking at fine gentlemen in church, instead of minding their prayers.' The doctor silently resolved that, if ever her lady ship got sick, he would prescribe the nastiest physic he knew of. But she was as strong as a horse, and his chance was rather remote. Winifred's large black eyes turned for a moment towards the last speaker ; and then she said, with a quiet smile, as if she hadn't noticed the interrup tion : ' Can you tell me, doctor, why it is that gentle men always do look so out of place in church ? ' ' Indeed, I couldn't any more than I could tell you why ladies do not, or why everybody looks up at the roof when it rains during divine service — no matter how devout they may be.

Can that possibly be Jip, Lady Arderne ? ' he inquired, starting, and peering into her lap, with sudden wonder. ' Has he taken to piety and good manners ? Does he say his prayers ? Why ! he used to be nearly out of his mind at the sight of me.' ' Ah ! yes, poor dear,' replied my lady with a deep sigh ; ' one of the last requests poor Sir John made before this very serious attack under which he labours, was that I should take special care of Jip and carry him about with me always ; so I thought the best way to meet his wishes was to have the poor dear little fellow killed and stuffed, and then made into a muff. You see he has got his paws and eyes and tail and everything quite perfect.' Here she held him up with her left arm through his stomach. 'What a touching thing real affection is ! ' said Winifred, — 'beautiful to witness — isn't it?

If I were only dead and stuffed too ! wouldn't it be nice, doctor ? ' ' For whom ? ' he inquired, just as if he didn't know. ' Ah ! ' she replied, with a careless half-sigh, re lapsing into seriousness again, ' I can't tell, I'm sure.' ' My son is coming down, in the evening, or to morrow, from town,' said her ladyship, endeavouring to change the subject ; ' I hope you'll be able to meet him.' ' I shall be very happy to renew my acquaintance with Mr. Twinch,' said the doctor, telling one of those harmless fibs so common in society. ' Do you like knowing people ? ' inquired the quiet voice from the distant corner. ' Well, I think it is rather pleasant making new acquaintances sometimes — don't you ? ' ' I don't know,' she said, sadly ; ' I never make any. But I know it is pleasant, occasionally, to get rid of old ones.' ' Thank you, Miss Arderne,' he retorted ; ' I take the hint ; ' and he raised his hat, preparing tt depart. ' Oh !

I really didn't mean you at all,' she ex plained, confusedly ; ' I hope you do not believe tha; I could be so rude.' ' I pardon you at all events,' he said, ' most will ingly, I assure you.' 'I should not deserve pardon,' she replied, 'if yov believed me guilty.' Her smile was quite enough to condone a fai deeper offence ; and so the doctor thought as he tool his leave. ' Very queer, but very charming,' he said to himself as he resumed his cigar and went to meet Orlebar, who was just then closing the vestry door behind him. These two men were so intimate that their greet ing merely consisted of a warm shake of the hand, without any of the usual conventional inquiries or remarks. ' You heard about the sad end of poor Jip, I suppose, John ? ' ' Aye, indeed ! what a hateful creature ! ' said his friend the parson. ' You meant the dog, of course, John ? ' ' Well — no, I didn't. I may be candid with you, that's a comfort.' ' To tell you the truth,' said Packenham, ' I didn't pity him in the least.

In fact, more than once, I seriously contemplated the idea of giving him a dose. The only thing that restrained me was the belief that Miss Arderne was fond of the animal.' ' So she was, and that's one of the reasons why the step-mother put an end to him.' ' He took a most violent and unaccountable dislike to me, at all events.' ' You weren't in the secret of how to manage him : he had his weak point. He hated the operation of being cleaned ; and all one had to do when he made a charge, was to call out loudly for " soap and water to wash Jip',' and he'd vanish immediately with his tail between his legs.' ' By Jove ! ' said the doctor, ' that's just like life ; some of my most lucrative patients get well at the sight only of a medicine bottle.' ' I suppose there is no chance for Sir John after this attack ? ' Orlebar asked. ' Very little,' said the doctor. ' He can't possibly hold out much longer.

The wonder to me is that he has held out so long. When I saw him the other day, I did not expect to find him alive again. What a dreadful break-up his death will cause ! What on earth will become of Miss Arderne ? She can't possibly remain under the same roof with my lady and Joseph Twinch.' ' I don't know,' said Orlebar ; ' I don't like to think of it.' But he thought of it nevertheless, and was deeply interested in the question too. The little bit of consolation he offered was of the stereotyped kind : 'Providence tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.' Packenham looked at him with humorous sur prise. ' How holy orders change a man, to be sure ! Now, John, do you really mean that — the halfpenny tract sort of thing ! " Providence tempers the wind to the shorn lamb " — adapts the nigger to the climate, and gives him a woolly head to throw off the heat ; punishes, by drowning, the naughty boy who goes out to bathe on Sunday.

But the nigger's head should be white as well as woolly ; and the boy who lost his life didn't know how to swim. Bosh all this, John — and you know it. It clashes with the theory that the other world makes up for the shortcomings and defects of this. Here we have hunger and thirst — there we shall have neither ; here we have sorrow — there we shall have joy ; here we grow old — there we shall enjoy perpetual youth ; here we have physical pain — there we shall be perfectly free from it ' ' And consequently from doctors,' said the parson, recovering himself, and laughing at the smart retort. ' That's a better point than any you made in the pulpit to-day, John. We are quits.' They had crossed the road. The parson went in through his avenue gate, and had got on some way before he missed his companion. ' Come on, Packenham,' he called ; ' what are you thinking about ? ' ' One of your parishioners going by.

I never saw such a foot and ankle, nor a better figure. A fine woman, tastefully got up, is enough to arrest any man's attention, in a country place like this. What temptations and thorns in the flesh provincial rectors must have to encounter ! ' 'That's Miss Heaviside. Don't be profane — if you can help it' ' She dresses beautifully. That shawl is simply superb. Just look — you such an artist and with a perfect eye for colour ' ' Pish ! ' said Orlebar. ' Give me a cigar. " Nil pictis timidus navita puppibus fidit" ' ' All very fine ; but the knowledge of a dead lan guage doesn't avert one's destiny. And, as a rule, I never take a parson's word for anything beyond his text.' C ' Only you are such a good fellow, Bob, I should call you over the coals, and read you a lecture.' ' Well, I'll say no more.