'Peccavi.' A novel

Chapter I. Unexpected News

" Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair ! " " Certainly you can, sir. You have no possible responsibility in the matter, and can't even be accused of having been ' accessory to the fact. ' So make your mind quite easy on that point. But you will let her come here, won't you ?" The individual who gives utterance to the somewhat egotistical speech with which this story opens, is the Reverend Edwin Saunders, the very personification of a sleek, well-to do, comfortable-looking parson, — a man who vol. i. * b "Peccavi." 2 chooses to accept life and its many mysteries with easy philosophy, and is well satisfied with himself and with his surroundings. One can see at the first glance, by the cut of his glossy coat, by the spotlessness of his white tie, by his general aspect of plumpness and trimness, that he is well endowed with this world's goods.

Mr. Saunders has a genial, ruddy countenance, and a hearty manner, and strangers are impressed with the idea that he is a kind-hearted, good-natured man. The latter he may be, when to be so costs him nothing ! But those who know him best, and have penetrated beneath that oily sur face, are inclined to dub him a thorough humbug, hard as a mill-stone where his own interests are brought into question, his chief god being his personal comfort. He greets an acquaintance with a hearty handshake and overflowing expressions of cordiality, and goes home to bully his wife and crush her de pressed spirits still more thoroughly by a new exercise of conjugal authority. He preaches eloquent sermons on the sins of self-indulgence and uncharitableness, and goes straight from the pulpit to his luxurious mid day meal, drinking his choice bottle of pale sherry with none the less gusto, because he knows that his cadaverous-looking curate can afford to support himself on nothing better than plain water, out of that pitiful stipend of £60 a year, which is all that he allows him.

Mr. Saunders is "hail-fellow-well-met" to all men. He does good to himself, and, as a rule, men speak well of him ; but within the four walls of his own home he shows himself in his true colours, and is a perfect specimen of a narrow - minded, dogmatic tyrant. But enough of this gentleman. His type is a common one, and as he is to take "Peccavi." 4 no prominent part in this tale of ours, he merits not a lengthier disquisition. His companion is a tall, fair, curly-headed and blue-eyed young man of eight and twenty, by name Charles Devereux. He is a Captain in the — th Hussars, now quartered at Alder shot, in the immediate neigbourhood of which place is situated Mr. Saunders' cure. Captain Devereux has just been making rather a startling announcement, to the effect that a week ago, he and Ruth Eyre, the Rectory governess, were united in the bonds of matri mony, during her absence for the Midsummer holidays.

Mr. Saunders is quite aware that Captain Devereux has been a frequent visitor at the Rectory during the past three months, but he has never taken the trouble to inquire into the motives of his constant appearance there. On hearing the young man's confession, the Rector's first feeling is one of actual contempt for the folly which led to the commission of such an act. But then, even in the days of his earliest youth, the clergyman had never been wont to be governed by impulse him self; never once did he act without well counting the cost of what he was about to undertake. The faults of rashness and im prudence were never, as he reflects now and then with a complacent smile, laid to his charge. He had certainly possessed the old head on young shoulders, refuting the accuracy of that old saying, which denies the existence of such an anomaly.

Under these circumstances, it is too much to expect from him that he should sympathise with Captain Devereux's ill-judged rush into matrimony. Luckily, however, the matter is not one which immediately affects himself, and if the young man chooses to make a fool "Peccavi." of himself, and to run the risk of being dis inherited, why, then, he must take the consequences on himself. So that when Captain Devereux reiterates a little impatiently, "Well, Mr. Saunders, you will say Yes, won't you ? It will be for only a few days, as I shall go straight off to my uncle, after bringing her here, and shall be back again directly. Other wise, if you object, the poor child will be quite alone in London, for her uncle goes to Margate to-morrow with his family," the clergyman responds amiably enough, — " I must just ask my wife's opinion first, and if she has nothing to say against it, we shall be happy to welcome Miss — Mrs. Devereux here to-morrow."

"Thanks, awfully." Captain Devereux is quite satisfied with this half promise, for, in common with the rest of the Rector's friends, he knows well that Mrs. Saunders never dares to lift up her voice in opposition to her husband's, and that the suggestion of his consulting her is a mere fas on de parler. " At all events," repeats the older man, with recurring egotism, " if your uncle should disapprove of the step you have taken, he cannot reproach me, as I was as ignorant of all that was groins* on as " "As the babe unborn!" interrupts the other, with a half-vexed laugh. " Of course you were, sir. Didn't I say so before ? If it would be of the slightest comfort to you, I'll take care to assure my uncle of the fact. Not that I except to find any, or, at least, much difficulty in dealing with him."

" Youth is always so sanguine, and so confident of success ! " returns Mr. Saunders, with an air of superior wisdom. " You think, then, that he won't be angry ? " "Peccavi!' 8 " I don't think so. But even if he does cut up rusty at first, I think I can get round him. Though not exactly what you would call a sweet-tempered old man" — with a short laugh — "he has always given in to me somehow, and let me have what I have wanted. He is not a man with many weak nesses, either, but I do believe, if he has one at all, it is for me, curious to say. Every body used to say that I could turn him round my little finger." "Well, I heartily hope that 'everybody' may turn out in this case to be right," answers Mr. Saunders, speaking cordially. " Of course you know your uncle best, but I can't help wondering — excuse me — that you didn't think it would be better policy to seek his consent before the marriage took place.

Miss Eyre's family is — well, very respectable and estimable, I have no doubt ; but some men in Mr. Falconer's position put an exaggerated stress on connections and " " Oh, I have no reason to suppose that my uncle cares for that sort of rubbish," says Captain Devereux airily. " I didn't marry Ruth for her family, but for herself, and I am sure that, when once my uncle has seen her, he will admire and like her ; indeed, he can't possibly help it. But as to telling him of my intention before, that's a very different thing. He might have had all sorts of objections and prejudices. Now that the deed is done, he must bow to the inevitable. No, depend upon it, I've hit upon the wisest plan. I know how to manage him." Perhaps Captain Devereux is secretly less confident than his words imply, for after a moment's pause he hastens to add, — " And, even if he does see fit to make a bother about it all, what then ?

I am surely "Peccavi." 10 old enough to do as I like, without asking any one's permission. I am my own master, and " Mr. Saunders raises his eyebrows slightly, and the young officer is not slow to compre hend the gesture. " At least, I am not accountable to him for what I take it into my head to do," he con tinues, a little hotly. " Of course, he can disinherit me, if indeed he has ever decided to make me his heir, which he never told me for certain ; but that does not tie me down to consult him about every trifle that happens. At my age " " Do you call your marriage a trifle, then ? " puts in Mr. Saunders, with a little sarcastic laugh. " Upon my word, I envy you your power of taking things so easily. Most men in your position would take some little trouble to conciliate a relation who has so much in his power.

But youth is romantic, as we all know, and quite superior to the prosaic, every day details of life. Love in a cottage, and all that sort of thing, has something very attrac tive about it, when we are quite young, and don't trouble our heads about the bread and butter side of the question." " Hang it, Mr. Saunders ! One would think you were reading off a copy book ! " exclaims Captain Devereux, half laughing, half vexed. " Do you think me an utter fool ? I know as well as anybody else that a fellow can't get on without a certain amount of money, but I don't think it's the least likely that I shall be obliged to try the experiment. Just at first I half thought of taking Ruth down with me, and presenting her to them as my wife. before they had time to collect their senses ; but I don't think I shall now.

I shall go down alone." "Peccavi" 12 "I would advise that course, rather than the other," counsels Mr. Saunders. " Well, it would not be a good plan," returns Captain Devereux, " too like a scene on the stage, don't you think ? However," he goes on, looking at his watch, " I see I have only an hour more to catch the train back to town. Don't you think, like a good fellow, you could go at once, and talk to Mrs. Saunders about letting Miss — Mrs. — Ruth come here to morrow? I'll bring her myself, and then go on straight to Whincote." Mr. Saunders rises slowly to comply, with the movement of a man who is not accustomed to hurry himself much at any time. It is not difficult to predict that, in ten years' time, he will have acquired portly, not to say elephan tine dimensions. "You will join us at luncheon before you leave ?

" he says, stopping as he reaches the door. " Mrs. Saunders will quite expect you." " Thanks. I will have a mouthful, and a glass of sherry, if I can spare the time," returns his visitor, inwardly chafing at this fresh delay. " Oh, this little business with my wife won't require much time," says the clergyman, with a light wave of the hand, indicative of his intention to quash peremptorily any possible objections she may raise. " Bless your soul, she'll be only too eager to talk it all over with you." Then he really does go upstairs, leaving Charlie to wander up and down the study by himself for fully five minutes, too restless to think of sitting down. At the expiration of that time, the study door is gently opened, and Mrs. Saunders enters the room, — a diminutive, timid-looking woman, with a de- "Peccavi." 14 pressed air about her, inspiring strangers with the notion that she is ill-treated by her husband, which is a question often mooted by their acquaintance.

She now appears more than usually flurried and nervous, being quite overwhelmed with amazement at hearing the intelligence just communicated to her. She smiles kindly, however, on Captain Devereux, for she has a warm heart, and is delighted with the permission given her to hold out a friendly hand to her ci-devant governess, at this important crisis in her life. It is a fact, moreover, — which some of her friends scoff at, — that deep down in her heart there trickles a tiny spring of unquenched romance, and this stolen marriao-e, with its secrecy, and with its suggestion of a mutual passion so powerful as to lead them to cast all prudential considerations to the winds, appeals irresistibly to her keenest sympathies. In the course of her own life the poor woman has had little enough romance, and, perhaps for that very reason, she is the more ready to take a vicarious interest in that of other people's lives.

As he hears the sound of the opening door, Charlie Devereux turns round anxiously, but a first glimpse of Mrs. Saunders' enthu siastic face relieves his mind, and tells him that the object of his journey down to Mid marsh parsonage is gained, a cordial welcome being evidently in store for his young wife there. " So glad to see you, Captain Devereux," she murmurs, in her shyest manner, as she shakes hands with him. " And so surprised at your news, which Mr. Saunders has just told me ! It quite took my breath away. Fancy little Miss Eyre being married— and to you ! Dear me, it is quite like a story in "Peccavi." a novel. But how on earth shall we get on without her ? What will the children do, poor little things ? " Charlie laughs rather unsympathisingly, and is obliged to own that this is a portion of the subject which he has not yet taken into consideration.

" You will have to look out for another governess, Mrs. Saunders," he says, with easy adaptiveness. "They're not difficult to find, are they ? " "It will not be every one that will suit me so well as Miss Eyre did," returns the clergy man's wife, with a sigh of resignation. " The children were so fond of her, and got on so rapidly with their lessons under her care. She was so conscientious, and so sensible with them. However, I must try " Mrs. Saunders interrupts her little lamen tations, seeming to have become suddenly aware that they are rather out of place just at that moment, and that she is expected to congratulate the newly-made bridegroom, rather than condole with herself. " But I am so glad to hear she is married, and I hope you will both be very happy," she adds, with a suspicion of moisture in her eyes.

" I am sure she deserves every happi ness, poor child, for she is as good a girl as I know anywhere. But she might have let us into the secret, I think — unless it was your wish to keep it from us, Captain Devereux ? " "Well, that was my doing, I am afraid," he replies. " She was very anxious to write to you about it, I know, and didn't half like keeping you in the dark. But I persuaded her not to, as I did not want it to get round to my uncle's ears before I broke it to him myself." vol. 1. c "Peccavi." "You need not have been afraid of its reaching him through us, of which indeed, there could be no possible chance," says Mrs. Saunders, inclined to feel aggrieved. " We would have kept the secret well, if you had trusted us with it. But that doesn't matter now. I am longing to see the dear child again, and Mr. Saunders says you will bring her down here to us to-morrow.

I shall never remember to call her Mrs. Devereux, I'm sure." " You will let her come and stay here, then ? " asks Charlie. " Oh, yes, of course we will," she answers quickly. " Mr. Saunders told me that he had settled with you that she was to come ; and we will both do our best to keep up her spirits while you are away. I suppose you will not be gone long ? " "Not more than two days, if I can possibly help it," replies Charlie. "I'd stay away only one, if I were my own master, but my uncle might object to so short a visit. Besides, I must wait for a favourable moment to tell my story." " There's the luncheon bell ! " cries Mrs. Saunders, interrupting him. " Do come in at once, and get something to eat. Ah, Edwin's calling me ! He does not like to be kept waiting." Captain Devereux follows his hostess into the dining-room, where he swallows a hasty meal, pulling out his watch every now and then, to see if he is in time for his train, with constant apologies for so doing.

Mr. Saunders cuts him slices of cold beef, and Mrs. Saunders presses cold apple tart and coffee cream on his notice with earnest en treaties, for they are both of them people who feel wretched if they see that their "Peccavi." 20 dainties are unappreciated. Another glass of claret is forced upon him as he rises to take leave, and once again expressing warmest thanks for the hospitality proffered to his wife, he pats the heads of her two flaxen haired pupils, and hastens to depart. Mr. Saunders has also risen from his seat, and announces his intention of accompanying his guest as far as the station. He finds it no easy task to keep pace with the younger man's rapid strides, as he hurries along, seem ingly unconscious of the burning rays of the sun, so anxious is he not to miss his train. " You'll give my kindest regards to your wife," he jerks out spasmodically, as they march along.

"And tell her that she'll be very welcome here, as long as she likes to stay. Of course I don't, as a rule, approve of secret marriages — on the contrary, I consider that they are to be much repre hended ; but still, taking into consideration the circumstances of this case, I'll judge her leniently, you may tell her." Charlie is just a little inclined to take offence at this apparently officious rebuke, but, glancing at his companion's face, he catches sight of a lurking smile thereon, and comprehends that the vicar affects a jesting humour in his speech, so he responds in the same strain. "I'll tell her!" he retorts. "I'll say that you'll let her off easily, after a pithy sermon on the evils of marrying in haste and repent ing at leisure. She'll be quite crushed by the prospect before her."

"• Where were you married ? At what church, I mean ? " the clergyman resumes, more in his ordinary tones, for they have now arrived within a hundred yards of the "Peccavi." 22 station, and, as no train is yet in sight, Charlie Devereux relaxes his speed. " At the church of St. James the Less in M Street," replies the latter. " You can see it all properly down in the register there, if you wish to go to town and have a look at it. You may take my word for it, however, that it was all done regularly and correctly." " And you were married by banns, I suppose ? " proceeds Mr. Saunders, sitting down on one of the benches on the sunny platform and passing his handkerchief lightly over his forehead. " Banns ! " scornfully repeats Captain Devereux. "No such thing ! Why, I should have had to go and stay in the parish for three weeks beforehand, shouldn't I ?

As it was, I found it no very easy matter to get leave of absence for a fortnight on ' urgent private business.' No, no, I got a special license, of course ; it's much the best way. Oh, here's the train at last. Good-bye, Mr. Saunders ; thanks awfully for your kindness ; you'll see me down with Ruth at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. I shall just bring her up to the Rectory, and rush off again at once to C shire." Then Captain Devereux swings himself into a first class carriage, and proceeds to light a cigar, leaning out of the window the while, and nodding a smiling farewell to the clergyman. The latter lingers by till the train moves on, then turns on his homeward way, impressed with a certain admiration for the royal manner in which the young officer soars high above the paltry considerations of pounds, shillings, and pence, apparently wholly untroubled by the possibility that these good times of travelling first-class may be drawing very near their close.

Chapter II. Husband And Wife

Arrived in London, Captain Devereux loses no time in hailing a hansom, and drives rapidly off to the Grosvenor Hotel, where he knows his wife is anxiously awaiting his return. Their brief honeymoon was spent at Tunbridge Wells, and they only reached London the previous evening. Very little time has been allowed to the young bride to lose the strange ness of finding herself an inhabitant of that luxurious hotel, which she has hitherto only gazed at occasionally from outside with some what envious eyes. She feels rather like a waif and a stray in this unknown world, upon which she has so suddenly been launched =4 — this young and newly-made wife — and is watching eagerly for her husband's arrival, as if they had been separated for years instead of hours. She is peeping shyly over the stair case to catch the first glimpse of him as he enters, and together they pass into the bright little sitting-room which he has engaged for her.

Ruth Devereux is rather nondescript and unstriking in appearance. She is neither tall nor short, neither dark nor fair. Her plentiful brown hair is smoothly drawn off her face, and plaited in a knot behind, and her dress is quiet and in good taste, but with nothing remarkable about its style or " cut." Nine women out of ten would have dismissed her at once from their minds with the single epithet " dowdy," and perhaps not altogether without reason. They would have wondered what on earth there could be in that very "Peccavi." ordinary-looking girl to induce handsome, popular Charlie Devereux to marry her, and to risk the shipwreck of his future fortunes. A girl like that, of no family whatever, with an utter want of good looks, without the faint est soupfou of " chic," — without, in short, any single attraction to account for his infatuation — the thing, was absurd !

But the tenth and more discerning woman might possibly admit the fact that she had a peculiarly fascinating smile, and, noting the frequent merry sparkling expression in her eyes, might allow that beneath the surface there might be hidden charms which would be sufficient to explain his falling in love with her. This smile of Ruth's is indeed her chief claim to beauty, for, in smiling, her whole face is transformed, and few, under these circumstances, would de signate her as a plain woman. She is smiling now, at this moment, — smiling radiantly, in the delight of having her husband with her again, and consequently, she is looking her very best. " Oh, Charlie, I am so thankful you are back again ! " she cries, again and again. " It has been so forlorn without you, all this morning ! I do hope you have been suc cessful with Mr. and Mrs. Saunders, have you ?

Ever since you left, I have been dreading that they would refuse to have me, and wondering what I could do in that case. For, really, I could not stay here by myself, even for two or three days." " Nor should I have thought of letting you do such a thing," returns he, with decision. " I would have concocted some better plan for you than that. But, however, we need not think of that now, for it is quite settled for you, just as I told you it would be. Mr. Saunders is ready to receive you with open arms, and his wife " "Peccavi." " Is prepared to do ditto," interrupts Ruth, laughing. "You need not try to make me believe, Charlie, that Mrs. Saunders attempted to do anything but follow meekly in ' dear Edwin's ' lead. But it is too bad of me to laugh at her, for I really am very fond of her, and " " And I consider she sets you a valuable example of wifely obedience, my dear !

" " Do you indeed, sir ? I wonder if I ever could arrive at such a state of crushed sub mission as she has done, and resign myself to being a complete cipher ! Well, but tell me, Charlie, were they inclined to look upon me as a depraved mortal, for marrying you in such a hurry, and for keeping them in the dark about it ? " " Saunders evidently thought it his ' duty towards his neighbour' to assume a little mild disapprobation at first," answers Captain Devereux, " but he soon came down from his stilts, and allowed that it was no business of his — an obvious fact, which my natural polite ness prevented me from contradicting. As for Mrs. Saunders, she was all flutter and ex citement, and in her secret heart, I believe, applauds you heartily. So everything is smooth with them, and you have nothing to do but pack up your goods and chattels, Ruth, and come down with me there early to-morrow."

" Oh, how glad I shall be to leave London !" cries Ruth, impulsively. "It is so hot and close here, and so glaring ! " " Poor little thing ! " says her husband, com passionately. " It has been a dull morning for you, hasn't it ? Well, as soon as it gets cool this evening, and all the grandees have left the Park, we'll go out there for a stroll, and have it all to ourselves, and then come "Peccavi." 30 back and wind up with whitebait and cham pagne." Captain Devereux is anxious to keep the fact of his wife's existence a secret until the momentous interview with his uncle is over, and she is recognised as one of the family. He will not take her to the Park at a fashion able hour, for he is certain of then meeting some of his numerous acquaintances, London being still tolerably full, although it is the middle of July, and the season is drawing to its close.

Ruth is perfectly cognisant of his motive in keeping her thus in the background, and is more than content to fall in with his wishes, while, with the prospect of a tete-d-tete walk with him in the twilight, she would be only too ready to eschew whitebait and cham pagne for the remainder of her life. " I am getting so anxious about your visit to Mr. Falconer, Charlie," she says, presently. " Just fancy, if he should be very angry with you, and refuse to have anything more to do with you ! " " Fancying things is a very bad habit, to which I never give way," returns he, with mock gravity. "What a little goose you are, Ruth ! I tell you it will be all right with him. He has never refused me anything in my life." " Perhaps you have never asked him yet for anything very important ? " " I've applied to him more times than I could easily count, for supplies of money," replies Captain Devereux, frankly.

" And in his eyes, that is the most important request I could possibly make, for it certainly costs him an effort to ' shell out.' And yet he has never said ' No ' to me. Don't you think that is something to go upon ? I know he's awfully fond of me, and you'll see if I don't work the thing well." "Peccavi." 32 " You certainly have the most irrepressibly sanguine nature, haven't you ? " says Ruth, passing her hands over his fair curly locks with a smile. " I only hope you are right. Then there is your cousin to help you, isn't there ? " " Milly ? Oh, yes, she's a regular brick ; and I know she'll stick to me through thick and thin. Unfortunately, though she doesn't mind bearding him the least, she isn't much of a favourite with him, so it won't better my cause much if she takes up the cudgels for me.

But still: " " Charlie, I can't help wondering how it was that you didn't fall in love with your cousin, and marry her," suddenly puts in Ruth. " It seems such a natural arrangement, and I daresay it would have pleased your uncle." " I daresay it would ; only a fellow doesn't generally marry a girl just to please his uncle," retorts he. " Besides, marry Milly ! What a ridiculous idea ! I never dreamt of such a thing ! We've always been just like brother and sister, and I'm sure the possibility never crossed her mind either. What rum creatures women are ! They jump at conclusions like a flash of lightning, with no reason on earth." " Their wits work faster than men's do, my dear, that's all," answers his wife, patronisingly. " Well, anyhow, I hope Milly will do her best to help you, and I shall feel grateful to her for the rest of my life.