The Spirit of the Day. A novel

Preface

. A mere journalist — an ordinary newspaper man — it is with no little amount of trepidation that I place this volume in the hands of the reading section of the community. I am well aware of the fact, to begin with, that it is impossible to please everybody, and conscious that the story told in these pages is interwoven with a set of opinions that may not suit the taste of every thinker, I regard it as a foregone conclusion that many and serious objections will be raised against the theme of my perhaps somewhat weird philosophy. Mr. Justin Huntly McCarthy makes Pink Jannaway say, in " My Friend the Prince," VI

PREFACE.

. that " any fool can write a novel," which is rather consoling, having in view the theory that whatever a fool does is ex cusable. I have a profound veneration for criticism, whether it be lay or professional — as it is a potent factor in the realm of opinion — therefore, all I ask the reader to do is to blind his microscopic eye — that discerning eye, made so very fine and nice, that, while it discovers the atoms and grains, it fails to comprehend the whole— and when delivering his judgment, to have before him the raison d'etre of the book which is intended to serve as an object-lesson in our domestic life. M. O.

Chapter I

"WHAT CAN AN OLD MAN DO BUT DIE?" — Hood. SIR GEORGE OSBORNE, of Belvoir, Parkshire, was an eccentric character, a confirmed invalid, and, like other ailing old men, inclined to be cranky, fidgetty, and irascible to a degree. He was what medical men call a Neurotic. The poor old soul was generous and kind enough in many respects, but hardly ever a day went by without some new sorrow being added to his old ones, some fresh complaint he fancied he had discovered, or that made itself known to him, and woe betide the man or woman that crossed him when he had "one of his fits on." On such occasions as these he was happy only when he was hurling abuse at some luckless member of the household. At the time B our story commences, he had been an invalid for many years, and although he had tried every remedy to improve his unhappy lot, yet his cure was as far off as ever, and at length, disgusted and disappointed with everything and everybody, he threw up allopathic treatment and went in for a round of quack remedies, much to the annoyance, if not disgust, of his medical adviser, who, notwithstanding the old man's rebellion against his treat ment, still kept up daily attendance upon him.

But it was of no use ; the cantankerous old man gained little or no relief from the hundred and one elixirs and pills, soothing plasters, and lotions that he tried, and eventually he gave up the idea of ever getting better, reconciling himself as best he could to the harassing thought that he was day by day surely journeying on to his grave. He had had a good sound sleep for at least two hours, and begged to be allowed to remain where he was for the rest of the day because " he felt so much better." But his nurse-in-chief was implac able to his entreaties and could not be persuaded out of her reckoning. She insisted on his retiring to his own room under the pretence that the library corner he was wont to spend an hour or two in daily was not conducive to the maintenance of his slight improvement, and so protesting, but in vain, he was led away.

All the doctors he had had from the commencement of his illness, all the nurses that had ministered to him throughout his long years of suffering, all the friends that had wiled away many an anxious hour by their chatter, not all combined ever had the influence Lilla Duncombe exercised over him. Why ? Because she was his dead sister's only child ; an orphan ; because she was his one great hope in whom was secretly centred the all-important wish of his heart, that one day she would espouse his son and heir, her cousin, and thus probably save the line of succession of Osbornes, for Archibald Osborne had vowed not to espouse anyone but Lilla. But she appeared to be rather whimsical in the matter, and, as a result of the severely religious training she received at her mother's knee, although having a deep love for Archibald, looked askance at the marriage of cousins.

Yet she loved Archibald Osborne with her whole heart. Sir George, how ever, never gave up hope, and contented himself with the thought that as she grew older she would probably grow wiser, and see that the disposition of life was not moulded either by circumstance or events, but by a divinity All-Wise. Up to the present she had thwarted her uncle's desire. He had never tired of making known his wish to his B more intimate friends, some of whom, those with a turn for narrowmindedness, threw up their hands in pious horror at the bare thought of such a union, while others, those of a more liberal creed, urged on the marriage, affirming that while flowers continued to blossom on the bosom of Mother Earth, love would blossom too, even though within the prohibited degrees of kindred ; so they applauded the efforts of Sir George to bring about so desirable a union between Lilla and Archibald.

It was a beautiful day in the month of August, and Lilla, tired and worn out from her constant waiting and watching at the sick man's side, sauntered out into the garden for a brief spell of rest. She singled out one particular spot — a favourite corner — which was shady and cool, where with book in hand she sat down to read. Presently she closed her book, and lent her mind to thought. Tall, fair, and slim, Lilla Duncombe was just within a few days of completing her twenty-fifth birthday. Her large, thoughtful looking and expressive dark-blue eyes were set rolling, and, as she sat and thought on and on, a cloud seemed to pass over her fair and care-worn features. " May Heaven direct me for the best ! " she murmured ; " I don't know what to do. I cannot live on in this deceit — I cannot endure it.

The truth must out some day. It makes me feel such a coward, and the thought kills me." Baron Goldsmid approached from behind. Lilla saw, what she had once seen before, that he was under the influence of drink. ' Deceit killing you, Lilla ? Bah ! Deceit is the standard coin of the world. It propels the world. Deceit is one of the problems of life that finds its own solution in the manners of men and women. Come, Lilla, play your part ; it is your natural inheritance as a daughter of Eve. Don't be foolish. Be one of the world's people, and use the same means to gain your end that kings and statesmen employ to guide the affairs of the world — deceit ! I assure you it is an heroic accom plishment. Ah, Lilla, I am afraid you do not realise the fact that this is an age of moral topsy turvydom, when the outside-cut of men and women is stamped with a mark which is all its own.

Have courage, my darling ! Play on in your deceit, for to deceive for Love's sake is a virtue not to be despised." "Carl! " she ejaculated with surprise. There was a moment's pause, during which the Baron made a cigarette, and in between the seconds of lighting it, said, " I've been anxious to see you. I have been wanting to see you to say something about our affair, but up to this moment I have not had the opportunity, or, rather, the opportunity has not presented itself before." " Yes — well, what is it ? " Lilla impetuously asked. " Don't you think that Archibald and Sir George ought to know of our marriage ? " " O — no ; not yet awhile ! They will know the truth soon enough." " We are honourably married. They are sure to storm and kick me out of the house, but I am quite accustomed to such trifles as generally follow in the wake of such a surprise as this.

But in this case the inevitable ' kick-out ' would be accompanied, besides Archibald's boot, with a solatium of -£50,000, your little windfall. 01 course, we run the risk of not getting a penny of it, but I've got a plan in my head for getting that money, which is sure to come off." " My windfall — £50,000 ? What do you mean, Carl ? " enquired Lilla, who was greatly surprised at the Baron's information. " Ah ! you are astonished ! So was I when I heard it. But you are entitled to a sum pretty near that figure under your mother's will, and Sir George has the money in trust for you." Lilla stared harder than ever at the Baron. "Tis alright, my darling. Archibald has told me, and that is why," he added with a cynical smile, " that is why he wanted to marry you." " Carl, I don't believe it. Archibald would not stoop to such a vile thought," exclaimed Lilla, with indignation.

" Men have to stoop to many vile purposes to gain their object — very often against their own will. For instance, I must ask you to lend me your money when you get it — a thing I heartily dislike, but it must be done, as I am cornered for money. If I don't find a certain sum between now and Thursday I shall run the risk of losing my reputation, and Sir George would not like that. He would not like the husband of his niece to be tarred with the brush of social isolation." There was another death-like pause, during which Carl pulled some papers out of his pocket and examined them carefully. " Don't you think you might get the ear of your uncle, and in a favourable moment — say when he harps upon the same old string of you and Archi bald — tell him the truth of our marriage, and get him to give you what is legally yours ?

It would be useful to me — to both of us — and help me to save my honour. My stocks have all gone wrong : everything I hold has gone down to zero. I stood to win a splendid deal in Nortralians had the confounded things been alright, but you see they weren't, and have landed me on the rock of bank ruptcy. However, I am one of the luckiest men on 'Change, and have got a diamond-field in you, my darling. I'm getting up a syndicate with a capital of £250,000 for a venture — nothing better in the market. This will retrieve all my losses. Now, see me safely over the difficulty — get me your money, Lilla. It is a matter of life and death for both of us, for if it ever leaked out — that is, our marriage — before either you or I told Sir George about it, we should run the risk of being turned out on the world absolutely penniless.

I want to pay off my dealing debts and plank down the remainder of the money in the new venture." Lilla stood as one petrified, scarcely conscious of the presence of her husband. She knew not what to say, or think, or do. His revelations were totally unexpected, and naturally bewildered her. The calm albeit defiant and unmistakeably nervous husband, outwardly showing no sign of mental anxiety, lighted up a third cigarette and attacked the subject once more. " Dr. Merton tells me Sir George cannot possibly live out another month. I can't wait for dead men's shoes. But why don't you sit down ? There is no reason for you wringing your hands in such a frenzied way. I thought you would have just been delighted to hear the news — I mean about the money. When your mother died, she only left a few thousands in trust for you, but judicious hand ling has nearly quadrupled the amount during the last five years.

The Osbornes don't want £50,000 to be taken out of their funds, and when I come to think of it, I think you will have your work cut out to get them to pass over the amount to you. To go back to what I have just said, Dr. Merton is quite sure that your uncle won't live another four weeks, and as I am quite as sure that I must have at least -£50,000 in less than seven days, it has occurred to me that — well, you know, we might bring it about earlier, and so save us from perishing," said he in a half whisper. "Bring what about earlier?" gasped Lilla. " Why, his death," answered the Baron, bending down close to his wife and hissing the words in her ear. Lilla sprang to her feet like a wounded tigress. "Murderer!" she cried, but before she could utter another word her husband had seized her by the wrists, and forced her down upon her knees.

" Silence, not another word ! " he muttered between his teeth, placing his hand over her mouth. She turned as pale as death. So did he. Not unnaturally she became half-dazed, and almost lost her reason. She crouched down at his feet pant ing like an over-chased deer, daring hardly to breathe. At length he released his hold, and standing over her, and in the coarsest of voices, said, " Who talks of murder ? How can you kill an old man who is dying day by day ? Death would prove a happy release for him, and the hand that invited death would be blessed ! We want money, Lilla, and must get it. We are young, he is old and dying, and has your money in his keeping. See the position we are fixed in, or I am ? Give him a dose of something to finish him ! Your diploma of medicine protects you. You are entitled to do your best to give a patient relief.

There is no hope for him ! Relieve him ! Will you do it ? I am desperately in earnest. I am thinking of my social honour, which the mere want of money must not tarnish. I want money. I have tried to make it honestly — as honestly as a man could in this world — I have tried to get it by all manner and means, but the accursed fates have been against me all along. They have turned over the last page in my volume of bad luck, and the next volume is in my own keeping — mine, not theirs, and I shall have it all my own way. Lilla, will you do it ? Will you get this money for me ? " " Carl, he will refuse to give it to me when he hears of my marriage," faintly replied the terrified wife. " Well, then, if you won't finish him, shall I ? " he asked with a murderous glare in his eye. " O, God ! No, no !

Take my life first ! " she cried, rising from the ground and throwing herself upon him. " No ! I will kill him," he said, throwing her off. " Take my life first, Carl ; but for God's sake stay your hand on his. Think of the awful con sequences, Carl. Murder ! Wait a little longer, Carl, and all will be well — wait a little longer," she cried out in appeal to him. " Wait ! wait ! I have been waiting for the last ten years — waiting for the appearance at my feet of that golden ball which fatalists say rolls there at least once in a man's lifetime. At length it has rolled at mine, and shall I now kick it away ? Will you get me this money — in time to save me from ruin ? " Lilla mechanically replied, " Yes."

Chapter II

" DONE ! A BARGAIN. ' Baron Goldsmid was a man under forty years of age, fair, tall, and good-looking. He was a Prussian of good family. The son of the young Emperor William's intimate and confidential friend, Carl Goldsmid was in every way a man whose friendship was much desired by the young men of the day, and no man knew better than he how to cultivate an acquaintance when once formed. He and Archibald Osborne were at Bonn together in their younger days, and from that time to the present had remained staunch friends. A well known man in English society, the Baron could claim as his maternal uncle the late German ambassador to the English court. But that was not all. He was a sportsman to the backbone, and enjoyed an agreeable reputation on both sides of the Channel. Baron Goldsmid loved and adored the English turf, and he, in turn, was admired by English sportsmen ; indeed, in more than one important race his colours (orange and green) went flying in first past the post.

He was a member of White's, too, and a particular favourite at the Marlborough. In Parisian society he was just as equally well-known. But latterly ugly rumours had been going round among the mem bers of gilded clubland, both in Paris and London, to the effect that Carl Goldsmid had lately been playing rather a wild game of fast and loose, and was insolvent, a commonplace rumour among men of fashion, but nevertheless in the present case a somewhat serious one. There was — as is not always so — truth in what was rumoured. His friend Osborne, reluctant to follow in the wake of the more knowing ones who turned their backs upon an old " chum," invited him to spend a few weeks at Belvoir, a visit which extended over many months. In the meantime, and under cover of the strictest secrecy, the volatile Baron had by treachery wooed and won Lilla Duncombe in one week, and become her husband the next ; but not a soul at Belvoir knew of it.

Carl Goldsmid sat reading the newspapers before breakfast on the morning — after his memorable scene with Lilla in the garden — consulting the money columns with anxiety, in a secluded spot in the park, a favourite place of his, when Archibald, who was riding home after his usual morning gallop in the park, happened to turn that way. He at once stopped and dismounted on observing his friend. The heir to the Osborne baronetcy and estates was a tall, striking young fellow of one-and-thirty. He was essentially a gentleman before everything else. Nature had moulded him dark, and, according to old women's tattle, he was therefore not likely to be fickle in love affairs. He was endowed with an affable and lively disposition, graceful in his manner and speech, and was a particular friend of everybody's. " Well, Goldy, the wild storm of last night I see hasn't done much damage to you, although a house or two, and a bit of the old church, several trees hereabouts, and a few sign-posts on the roads, not to mention roofs and chimneys galore, have succumbed to the demoralising influence of the storm-fiend," remarked Osborne, jokingly.

" O, no, my boy, storms don't affect my nerves. I can stand against any amount of wind, but I don't like gas," replied the Baron. " What a contrast, old fellow ! Gas and wind ! Ha ! ha ! Where does the gas come in ? " " In the newspapers, which are all full of it, and it is all so beautifully managed that they never get blown up, though explosions do occur when men read the price of shares, and now and then find stocks they hold are going down. Ah, it is a terrible sensation. You've never tried it ? " " No, I have not tried it as a regular thing, although I did experience some slight sensation of disappointment when I lost that £1,250 in the Mazurkas which you placed for me." " My dear fellow, that was a mere tiny spray in the huge ocean of gamble. People win and lose thousands in a single day. £1,250 !

Bah ! Your father is right — you are not a hero. Ha ! ha ! " "'Easy come and easy go,' is a maxim the gambler fully believes in, but who benefits by it besides the money-gamblers ? " asked Archibald. "The furniture people! You look surprised. The millionaires we now have amongst us have led the way, and with their new or increased fortunes have been furnishing their newly-acquired mansions on the most lavish scale ; while the less well-known speculators, but none the less lucky disciples of Crœsus, have followed behind in close order. Their houses, gorgeous as they never were before, are now stored with the most costly furni ture that the West-end can produce. ' Booms ' prove a veritable gold-mine to West-end furniture establishments." " Certainly that is one of the curiosities of Company promoting."

" Curiosities ! My dear fellow, Throgmorton Street curiosities are worth knowing, but you can't frame them, nor stick a label on them with the legend, written in gold letters, on it, ' Presented by innocent humanity' Here is a curiosity which is often duplicated. On one occasion, a company was floated with a nominal capital of one million, whereas the paid-up capital never exceeded £200. What do you think of that ? " " Who is it makes the money ? " " Sundry persons. For instance, the members of the City Corporation have had a by no means insignificant share of the good things that have been going of late. Last week a Corporator added £50,000 to his bank balance, and several others realised profit running into five figures. Oh, it is something to wear the mazarine gown of the Corporation of a big city.

You think there is a prospect of sharp practice in my trade ! Well, it is possible to turn over an honest penny, and by that I mean a few thousands, and it is often done — but there can't be sentiment in business. Osborne, do you want to make money ? Do you want to be rich ? Could you do with £50,000?" enquired the Baron, rising and laying his hand familiarly on the shoulder of his host. *' If you do, I can do it for you." " Honestly ? " dubiously asked the young master of Belvoir. " Yes, honestly. I have the first refusal of a part share in a magnificent diamond field out near Kimberley. If I can find my share of the purchase-money — £25,000 — there is wealth for me. I am short of £20,000. Can you raise this sum ? Your cousin, Miss Duncombe, you tell me, is entitled under her mother's will to £50,000 on her birthday, which is close at hand.

Now, as you are going to marry her, and she is to be the future Lady Osborne, why not persuade your father — for her sake — to take up with me a quarter share in this absolutely certain under taking ? Let's all go shares. The company will be floated at a million capital, and it will be subscribed for to-morrow. Think of it — £100,000 in exchange for £25,000. What do you say ? " " I have perfect trust and confidence in you, Goldy, and will heckle my father, as you say — for her sake." " Done ! A bargain," cried Baron Goldsmid. " Yes, a bargain," replied Archibald Osborne ; and the two young men wended their way home wards. c " To-day, Archie, is Tuesday. I should like you to make arrangements as quickly as possible : say by Friday morning, if you can get your solicitors to convert your stock by then.

At all events, we ought to sign the papers on Friday at latest." " Oh, I don't see any particular difficulty in the way," laughingly remarked Archibald. Lilla was standing at the hall-entrance awaiting the home-coming of the two friends, and went out to meet them as she espied them coming along. " This will be a red-letter day both for you and me, Archie," said Goldsmid, with a meaning in every word, " and when the deal comes off, how rich and happy we shall all be, and what a day of feasting and merry-making it will be, too, when Lilla becomes your wife ! Good ! good ! good ! Fortunatus will yet deign to smile upon all of us."

Chapter III

"TO BE ONCE IN DOUBT, IS ONCE TO BE RESOLVED." Othello. LlLLA was, of course, considerably depressed in mind and spirit at what had taken place the day before. For the first time in her short married life she now feared her husband, and when once fear enters the wifely heart Love is throttled. When she awoke in the morning she was not quite sure whether she really loved her husband or not. She realised her position — that she was his wife for life. She tried to charm the thought of bitterness away. She laughed — or thought she did — once or twice at her own natural weakness. She was faint-hearted, but of one thing she was, alas, too sure, that Carl was a desperate man at heart, — a street angel, a house devil. She knew he was determination itself. That awful, terrible glare, which had set his eyes ablaze but yesterday, set fire to her soul.

It was the glare of the would-be murderer. She had seen nothing like it before. C Fear danced before her eyes and made her wonder what he was doing at that moment, whether he was at home or not, for they occupied separate apartments, and she had not seen him since the preceding day. Not unnaturally she entertained grave doubts of Carl, and " to be once in doubt, is once to be resolved." Like a true ministering angel she had already seen to the corporeal comforts of her uncle, and although it was, as yet, quite early in the morning, yet she had prepared his early morning meal her self, and done many other little things for him, as only those who have waited upon the sick can understand. For a wonder, Sir George declared that he felt much better. Was it due to Dr. Merton's "beastly rubbish, called physic?"

Not at all. He gratefully owed his improvement to " my niece Lilla," whose loving attention had worked wonders — that morning. How the sick vary. One day, goaded on by pain and misery, they look for sympathy in vain, as they think, from others, and grieve over their fate, declaring that existence is miserable and painful. On the next day, they look on the picture of life with pleasurable feeling, believing that it is heroic to trace the line of life, as delineated by the invisible finger of Chance or Circumstance, in the sands ot time, and to take things as they come. Light hearted and pleased, following some slight change in their condition, they think that everybody ought to try and live the life that is given to all — try to live it courageously and uncomplainingly. De spondent no longer, and released for a short time only from the fetters of illness, they see the force of the philosophy contained in Longfellow's lines, " Know how sublime a thing it is, To suffer and be strong.

" But, alas ! on the following day all is changed again ; life is painful, dull and miserable. Life is not worth living at all. And so it goes on changing with each succeeding day. Sir George Osborne was no exception to the rule. He looked upon life with infinite pleasure, and in his hollow tones were heard his grateful thanks. When he was comfortably ensconced in his room downstairs he affected the smile of gladness, and felt stout and brave. " Lilla," said he one evening, rubbing together his death-white and waxy-looking hands, and half chuckling, " Lilla, I'm not going to die yet. I'm going to live on for another twenty years. He ! he ! he ! Yes, but I want to say something very particularly to you. Come here, my girl." She advanced towards his chair. " It is a human thing to love," he began, taking her trembling hand in his, "and to my mind a heart that loves not is a cheerless thing ; it is like an empty house without a tenant.

Do you love anybody ? " His " anybody " meant one certain person. Lilla made no reply. " Do you love Archibald ? " " Why do you ask, uncle ? " " Because I want to know. Of course, I know it is an idle question to ask, because I think you do love him. Come now, that roseate canopy, that blush of maiden shame, becomes you well, but tell me, is Archibald the one admired object of your heart ? " continued the old baronet, gazing as fondly as any young lover in her sun-lit but saddened eyes. Still, she refrained from replying to such a direct question. " Perhaps you would like to say that you didn't know, eh ? Do any of your lady friends know ? " eagerly asked Sir George. " Oh, uncle, do please talk of something else," she pleaded hardly. " Well then I will, Lilla. I'll talk of something else — your marriage portion for instance.