One Only [A novel.] By E [leanor] C. P

Part I. Chapter Page

I. Rose 1 II. Mary on the Steps 10 III. The Fortunate Man 22 IY. Another Victim ... ... ... ... .... 36 V. An Object Gained ... ... ... ... 47 YT. Victory and Defeat ... ... ... ... 55 VII. The Major's Headache 66 VIII. Mrs. Fenwick's Tea 78 IX. Woods and Meadows ... ... ... ... 98 X. Pink Geranium ... ... ... ... ... 116 XI. A Drive - 128 XII. The Last of the Turkscaps 138 XIII. Mary's Mission VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XIV. On False Pretences 163 XV. Midsummer Day 179 XVI. Missing 199 XVII. The End of the Fete 213 XVIII. The Letter 227 XIX. Visitors in High Street 244 XX. The Troubled House PAKT I

Chapter I. Rose

" The fishes in the flood When she doth angle, For the hook strive agood Them to entangle." Michael Drayton. Aldersham is a place that has not changed much during the last thirty years. The lime trees that Charles Fenwick planted on each side of the main street are grown tall and strong, and throw a pleasant ripple of shade on the pavement and the houses, and over the wide white road. Near hy the western entrance of the town, the lazy wheel of the water-mill goes VOL. I. B splashing on, and the willow-trees bend over, dipping their long boughs into the yellow foam. On the other side of the bridge, half hidden by high walls and elm-trees, rise the old mossy gables of Charles Fenwick's house, where he lived, and suffered so much ; but I hope it is all made up to him now. Aldersham is not a county town, and yet the best and oldest bank in the county has its headquarters in the main street ; and to this day there is not a better market in that part of England.

The neighbouring gentry used to drive in on market-day, and meet their friends under the lime-trees ; it is a custom that has gone out now ; those were cheerful, sociable old times. Thirty years ago the beauty of Aldersham was Miss Rose Camden, the only daughter of an old major, who lived in a small house half-way up the hill behind the town, and was employed as his agent by a nobleman in the neighbour hood. This young lady was standing one morn ing — it was a market-day — at the end of the ROSE 3 bridge near the water-mill, talking to a gentle man who had dismounted from his horse, and was stroking and caressing it absently, while he gave her his full attention. It was May-time ; the pear-tree on the end of the mill was a mass of blossom, and so was an orchard higher up the lane ; a blue sky was over their heads, birds were singing, and merry sounds came from the street.

The gentleman who was talking to Miss Camden thought her prettier than all the flowers in May. She was fair, small, delicate, and certainly very pretty, with the complexion of a lady in Sevres china, and blue smiling eyes, 'Hke Wedgwood saucers,' as they were described by one of her rivals. For she had not many friends of her own ses ; being one of those people who enrage sensible women, the latter being naturally angry at theninfluence over sensible men. Rose did not trouble herself about the approbation of the Aldersham ladies ; gracefully wilful,, exacting, and variable, she reigned over their sons and brothers, and seemed quite contented with her position. Her present companion was John Atherley the banker, a young man of eight and twenty, who had succeeded his father a year or two before as head of the firm.

People grudged him to Miss Camden more than any of her con quests ; he was such a clear-headed, sensible fellow, so much respected wherever he was known ; very good-looking too, with his tall straight figure, curly hair, and quick expressive dark eyes that nothing seemed to escape. He was rich, though not nearly so rich as Charles Fenwick, his friend and rival; but John had never suffered a moment's uneasiness from the rivalry till this very May morning, when it first occurred to him that his personal advantages might be weighed in , the balance with Charles's money-bags, and found wanting. Miss Camden stood at the end of the bridge, and looked past Mr. Atherley at the elm-trees on the other side of the road. " Why does Mr. Fenwick live in that house ? " she said. "I can't understand it. He is very rich, is he not ?

" " Tremendously rich," said John : certainly ROSE 5 Charles should not suffer from any crying down of his. "Three old relations have died within the last six years, and each left him an estate and a fortune. He is the richest man in the county." " Then why does he live here ?" repeated Rose. " He likes the old place. And you know what an invalid his mother is, and poor Gerald. They couldn't get on at all without the old doctor to come and see them every day." " They might find doctors in other places, and cleverer ones." " But not an old friend Hke Stevens. Fen wick will never leave Aldersham as long as they live. He is a quiet fellow ; he don't care much for anything but reading, and he has a famous library." " How do you come to be his friend ? you are such a contrast to each other." " I suppose we are ; but I Hke old Charley."

"I should think he would be a very good person to go to if one was in any trouble," said Rose thoughtfuUy. " It would depend on what the trouble was. I You might find better people to take you through a crowd, or to advise you — about some things. But if it was anything he could do for you, or that money could do — there's not a kinder feUow in the world. At the same time, if you reaUy do want help in anything, I hope you won't forget me." Rose looked at him with a moment's hesitation, as if half inclined to take him at his word ; but there was something in the shrewd dark eyes, admiring and kindly as their expression was, which decided her the other way. " Thank you," she said, shaking her head and laughing. " I know how good you are — but I was only in fun. I was speculating a little on Mr. Fenwick's character, that was all.

He is such an unusual kind of person." Here Rose turned round to bow and smile to a young man with a fishing-rod in his hand, who came out of the town and turned up the lane, looking hard at them, and walking in a slow lingering way. "Do you lmowhim?" she said to her com panion. ROSE " Never saw him before, to my knowledge." "Ah, I forgot; you only came back yesterday. His name is Dupuis : he is an Oxford man, and the son of an old friend of papa's. He is stay ing at the George for a Httle fishing." " How does he manage to get away in the middle of term?" " He is not going back tiU after the long vacation. He is working this term with a tutor in London for some particular examination." "And doing a Httle fishing in the intervals." " Don't be ill-natured, Mr. Atherley : nobody can get on without a holiday sometimes.

You have just had one yourself." " Not much of a one. But I certainly don't grudge it to him — on the contrary, he looks as if he wanted it." "Yes; you see what a complexion he has. after aU the late hours and hard study. Dread ful, isn't it? Wen, good-bye. I don't know why I am keeping you here." "By way of compensation for the last fort night. Yes ; your friend's appearance would be improved by a walking tour : tell him so, with my compliments. Good-bye." "Don't caU him my friend, please," said Rose, as after shaking hands Mr. Atherley mounted his horse, which had been growing rather impatient. " Anything you like. Good-bye," he answered, raising his hat as he rode on into the town. She stood still an instant where she was, looking after him ; it was excusable, he rode so well and gracefully ; there was not a man in the county who looked better on horseback, or rode finer horses, than Mr. Atherley.

" I wish I did not feel afraid of him," thought Rose, shaking herself indignantly as she walked up the lane. " But he is such an unmanageable creature, with those eyes of his that see through stone walls. One feels it so impossible to deceive him in the least thing. I don't know, however. I think I have perhaps succeeded in one little matter." Thinking thus to herself, she hurried up the lane, which led past her father's house, a cot- ROSE 9 tage buried among trees, and into a pleasant wild country of woods and heaths, where the little river that turned the miU had its rise, a merry stream abounding in fish and playing gently round the stones. She met two or three market-carts coming down into the town, country-women with baskets, farmers on horse back and in then gigs ; it was too early yet for carriages.

Nobody troubled themselves about her; she hurried silently past her own thick hoUy hedge, and soon after turned into a path which led through green shady meadows to the river. Some distance in front, under a row of golden oaks, a grey figure with a fishing-rod was walking slowly along.

Chapter II. Mary On The Steps

" Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair Was seen beneath the sun ; but nought was seen More beautiful, or excellent, or fair, Than face of faithful friend." Pollok. Mrs. Atherley, John's mother, was sitting that morning in her drawing-room, with her friend and companion Mary Leigh. The house stood in the High Street, next door to the Bank, to which there was a private en trance ; it was one of those large, substantial, comfortable town houses which are not built now a-days, extending a long way back, with a lane leading up to its own large yard, and a dehghtful garden behind it, where turf centuries old was shaded by two stately cedars. There was a long range of stone steps leading down from the drawing-room windows to this garden. The drawing-room itself, though low, was very large ; the furniture was rather heavy and out of date, without any modern improvements ; if you wanted to find them, you must go to the stable yard and look at the accommodation of John's horses.

There was a good deal of handsome old china, however, and some good pictures on the waUs, but the prevailing colour of the room was a sober drab, and there was not a single easy chair, properly so caUed ; those with arms were stiff, high-backed erections of many years ago. John never complained ; he was not a lounging man ; and Mrs. Atherley always sat upright ; as for Miss Leigh, if her bones ever ached, nobody knew it ; she was a Spartan too in her way. Rose Camden, after her first visit to that drawing-room, amused herself with fancying all the improvements she would make when she was mistress there ; but that was some months ago now. Mrs. Atherley was sitting in her chair by the window, with a shawl in her hand which she was knitting for a poor woman, now and then looking up to watch the progress of her two gardeners, one of whom was putting out geraniums, and the other mowing the grass ; the gentle swish of the scythe went on in measured time.

Now and then the street noises made their way so far ; but they were very faint and distant. Mrs. Atherley was very like her son ; there were the same fine dark eyes and good clever brow. Her features were rather strong ; and the whole effect was severe, as she sat there in her widow's dress ; but like her son's, it was a severity only to be feared by evil-doers ; sound sense and a generous temper were written in every line of her face. Mary Leigh, the orphan child of an old schoolfellow, and her adopted daughter, was sitting working on the top step, just outside the open window. She was a quiet-mannered, dark-complexioned young woman of two or three and twenty. Nobody knew what to make of her ; and only Mrs. Sandford, the rector's wife, who had tried to draw her out, could say from experience that there was more fun and clever ness in Mary than in aU the rest of Aldersham put together.

"Make her eyes flash, and then you'U see," said Mrs. Sandford. She had her suspicions, too, that Mary was not quite so indifferent to aU that went on around her as she seemed to be, and that she had happinesses and unhappinesses of her own, quite undreamt of by Mrs. Atherley or any one else ; but she never hinted these ideas to anybody but her husband, being reaUy fond of Mary and anxious about her future. "John will be late for luncheon," said Mrs. Atherley, after a long silence. "That will be strange; he is generaUy so punctual," said Mary. " Here he is." John opened a door which led from the yard into the garden, and came across the sunny lawn. "Why, Maiy, sunning yourself like a cat!" he said, sitting down beside her on the warm grey steps. A bell rang in the back regions, and the two gardeners laid by their tools and went out by the same door.

" Did you see the old man ? " said Mrs. Ather ley from her seat inside the window. "Yes; I saw him. Stevens and I are the executors. Everything is left to Fenwick." They both exclaimed. " Mr. Fenwick will be too rich," said Mary. " Two thousand a year more. Well, he'll marry, and his wife will help him to spend it. I suppose aU these people think he is a safe person to leave then money to — sure not to squander it. They are right enough, probably." "A great deal of the money must be doing nothing," said Mrs. Atherley. "All out at good interest. Fenwick takes care of that. What a pleasant day it is ! Have you been out ? " " Not beyond the garden. You had a pleasant ride, I dare say." " Very. Turpin was fresh ; he wants work." " His master has been away too long," said Mrs. Atherley, and getting up, she laid aside her knitting and left the room.

Mary with her work, and John playing with his riding-whip, were left upon the steps. " I must teU my mother more about the old feUow at lunch," he said. " Such an old screw ! Everything dirty, wretched, and miserable, in the house and out of it. AH gone to rack and ruin, like some Lish place. I never saw any thing Hke it," said Mr. Atherley in disgust : aU his own surroundings were so tidy and precise. " Poor old man ! is he very ill ? " " No ; I think it's half fancy. He believes he shaU die to-morrow, but I don't. However, Stubbs is to go over on Monday." " I wonder why he leaves his money to Mr. Fenwick." "He has no relations, and according to him Fenwick is a respectable young man who will make a good use of it. Of course I didn't suggest that he had enough already — but I must say I thought so."

"Did you meet Miss Camden on your way back?" " What put that into your head, Mary ? " Miss Leigh looked up and smiled as she met his quick glance. "Don't be angry. I saw her go down the street, and I thought you might meet some where about the bridge." "Yes; I did meet her — and very pretty she was looking. I stopped and talked to her for a few minutes. Was there a great deal of harm in that ? " "Of course not. Your mother was talking about her this morning," said Mary, lowering her voice, so as not to be heard from any of the other windows. "What did she say?" " She was asking me whether you meant to marry her," answered Mary, in a cool matter of-fact tone, but colouring a little at the same time. "It is not so easy to answer for your intentions." " What did you say ? " " I could only say that you admired her very much.

I suppose you will marry her if you can -but I did not care to enter upon that." "Why is it that mothers always dislike any body their sons happen to admire ? It can't be exactly jealousy. What is it ? But my mother may make herself happy, for as to Miss Rose, I don't believe she'll have me." This was quite a new view ; one that John had certainly never taken before ; with his strong sense, he was tolerably well aware of his own advantages. Mary looked round quite indig nantly. " What do you mean ? " " I think Charley Fenwick wiU be the lucky one. If ever a feUow was bom with a golden spoon in his mouth ! " Mary could hardly repress her feelings. " Then I have had much too good an opinion of Miss Rose Camden," she said severely. " To prefer Charles Fenwick to you ! She can think of nothing but money."

"You are very land, Mary, but much too VOL. I. c partial. He is something besides money. For my part, I think she shows her good taste. Now be reasonable. He is a clever feUow, a perfect gentleman, good-looking " Mary groaned. "Yes, good-looking. Everybody don't agree with you in preferring dark people. Quite devoted to her— I've seen him watch her along the street as if he was in a dream." " He generally is in a dream." " Don't be unjust. The grapes are sour. You wanted to catch him yourself." This last attack was too absurd to be resented, so Mary only smiled. " I am disappointed in Miss Camden," she said. " So you have given her up ? Very wise of you, under the circumstances." " No, I have not. I shall wait and see. Per haps I am quite mistaken, but she was asking so many questions to-day about him and his money.

Keep all this to yourself, Mary." " Of course." " There's a young feUow called Dupuis staying at the George. Have you seen him ? " "With a fishing-rod? I've seen him several times passing up and down the street." "He is a friend of the Camdens' — or rather an acquaintance, for she scolded me for caHing him a friend. — I think I shaU look him up. There's the luncheon-bell." They went into the house. John hung up his whip, and meeting his mother hi the hall, foHowed her and Mary into the stiff handsome dining-room, whose two high windows, half darkened with wire bhnds, looked into the street. Mary was rather grave aU through luncheon, but stillness was so general with her that no one noticed it. John and his mother talked a good -deal, chiefly about the old man he had seen that morning, till a message came for him from the Bank, and he went off there for the rest of the afternoon ; there was a great deal to be done on market-day.

Major Camden and Rose, meanwhile, were sitting at their shabby little luncheon in a small brown room looking out into a bowery garden. Rose, at the head of the table, was Hke a lovely miniature in an old worm-eaten frame ; her father resembled nothing so much as one of those ancient black engravings of German and Swedish heroes, Gustavus Adolphus and the Hke, wielding his carving-knife Hke a field marshal's baton, with a bristling reddish-grey moustache and small fierce eyes. He was fierce to every one but his daughter, who knew how to manage him, and generally contrived to get her own way, a favourable circumstance being his blindness to everything that went on under his eyes. He was very busy eating his luncheon, while she, having finished hers, was leaning back with an air of fatigue. Their poverty was a continual source of trouble and mortification to her, and she felt it especiaHy at their ill appointed meals ; the bright flush of pleasure and excitement which her face had worn when she came in from her walk in the fields was gradually fading away.

"Papa," said she, "are you very much en gaged next week ? " "Lord Aldersham is coming down on Friday. ■21 MARY ON THE STEPS. Till then I don't ' know of anything particular. Do you want to go anywhere ? " " Only I wish you would call at Mrs. Fen wick's with me. You really must, papa. They sent us a quantity more asparagus the other day, and those lovely flowers, too." "One is never let in," said the Major, helping himself to some more cheese. " You forget, papa, Mrs. Fenwick was very ill when we caUed before — one of her bad attacks. We couldn't expect to be let in then. It is quite a duty, when people are so kind and attentive." " Can't you go by yourself ? " " I don't Hke it. I want you to go with me. Monday, papa, or Tuesday. I should be afraid to face Mrs. Fenwick without you." " Is she an ogress ?

Tuesday, then. I'll put it down — Tuesday, at four o'clock in the afternoon." "Thank you, papa," said Rose, and she escaped as soon as she could, to perform a Httle waltz with herself round the drawing room. "Now I shaU be stupid indeed if I can't manage it," she said to herself.

Chapter III. The Fortunate Man

" Farther, where the river glides by the wooded cover, Where the merlin singeth low, with the hawk above her, Came a foot and shone a smile — woe is me, the lover ! " Lord Lytton. At a few minutes after four on Tuesday after noon, Major and Miss Camden were shown by the solemn butler into Mrs. Fenwick's drawing roont. Rose had stared rather contemptuously at Mary Leigh one day, when she said that room always choked her; but now, coming out of the fresh pure air, she herself had a feeling of oppression. The room was charming in its way ; furnished with studied elegance, and crowded with aU sorts of pretty knick-knacks ; mirrors on each side, and between the windows, reflecting it three or four times over ; looking out into a still, large, sunny garden, blazing with tulips, and partly shadowed by the tall elms which grew inside the wall.

But the room was scented, not with flowers, but some strong essences, so that a healthy person found it difficult to breathe ; and darkened with Venetian shutters, so that at first, dazzled by the sudden change from sunshine to twiHght, the visitors lingered near the door in a puzzle, afraid to move for fear of tumbling over furniture, and scarcely knowing, in spite of the servant's announcement, whether there was any one in the room or not. "We must trouble you to come here and shake hands with us," said a sweet and yet im patient voice, and Rose, following the sound, arrived at a low invalid sofa near the window, where a lady, very smaU and shadowy in the uncertain light, stretched out a thin white hand. "I am glad to be well enough to see you," she said. " My son Gerald is on the other sofa — there, behind you."

A young man of John Atherley's age, but stunted in growth and wasted to a skeleton, shook hands with Rose with a pleased smile, and motioned to a chair beside him. Poor fellow, a spinal complaint had kept him in that position for years. It was like visiting a hospital, Rose thought, as she sat down ; her father was making himself agreeable to Mrs. Fenwick. Her eyes were growing accustomed to the gloom ; she could now clearly see the lady's pale refined face, still very pretty, and full of life and eagerness ; none of the sweetness of pain borne patiently, but a peevish, restless expression which told its own tale. Gerald, when she glanced at him and met the large blue eyes which were gazing at her so curiously, gave a more pleasant impression ; he looked patient, and not unhappy ; only tired of his helpless life, and ready to make the most of any little variety.

"We came to thank your brother for all the beautiful flowers and vegetables he Has sent us," said Rose, dreadfully puzzled what to talk about ; she was not used to sick ' people, and could not flirt with him. " Charles was glad to have the opportunity. You must see the garden ; the tulips are splen did. I can see them through the shutters." " You go out sometimes, don't you ? " " Yes ; they wheel me up and down the garden ; but I don't Hke it ; it shakes me. When the sun is off the window, I can see the flowers weU." " You have a great many pretty things to look at indoors." "What a ridiculous babyish way of talking!" Rose thought afterwards, but she reaUy did not know what to say, and poor Gerald seemed quite satisfied. "Yes; you can see them now, can't you? I dare say you found the room dark when you came in."

" I couldn't see at aU," said Rose, with a little laugh. "I don't think either papa or I knew that there was any one Here." " We are generaUy here, both of us ; except on my mother's bad days, when she doesn't come down, and then I find it rather dull. Not really, though," he went on, half to himself. " Charley reads to me. I miss him very much when he goes away. Yes, you musti look round at all our pretty things. He never goes away without bringing home something new; we shall have quite a collection in time. Books, if nothing else ; but most of the books are in the library ; you ought to see that." " Perhaps Mr. Fenwick will show it me," said Rose ; she was beginning to feel more at her ease with him, as he went on talking in his soft low voice. "He will be delighted," said Gerald. "I wonder he doesn't come in."

Then there was a little pause, and they listened to the conversation of the others. Mrs. Fenwick had discovered that Major Camden had served with a brother of hers, who was killed at Water loo, and Rose listened with some amusement to reminiscences of her father's life before he was married, when Lord This and Lord That were his friends and brother officers, instead of his employers. Mrs. Fenwick's opinion of the old soldier was evidently raised by these recollections ; her manner became more polite and friendly, and less impatient ; she seemed to acknowledge that she had met with an equal ; and the Major became quite Hvely and agreeable,. so that his daughter looked on in surprise. They had just arrived at these good terms when the door opened, and the master of the house came in. Rose, as she got up to shake hands with him, felt that his mother was watch ing them both keenly ; but Mr. Fenwick himself did not seem to be conscious of this ; his manner was just the same as usual, unfeigned pleasure at seeing her, half veiled under the gentle old fashioned pohteness which was natural to him.

He stood by the window and joined in the con versation. Rose found herself watching him anxiously, perhaps to see whether she and Mr. Atherley had read his character aright. He was certainly a contrast to his friend : one darkr curly-haired, Hvely, decided, and good-naturedly matter-of-fact ; the other four or five years older, and much of the same height, but with a slight stooping figure, a fan young-looking face, straight light hair, and mild blue eyes, — a refined, dreanry expression, a sweet smile, and a slow quiet manner, which often seemed undecided and weak. Mary Leigh need not have groaned when John caHed him good-looking, for his features were rather handsome in themselves, but perhaps Mary was prejudiced ; however, most people would agree with her in preferring a more manly appearance.

" Charles," said Mrs. Fenwick, to Rose's astonishment, when her son had been in the room about five minutes ; " Miss Camden would like to see the tulips. Why don't you take her into the garden? No, Major Camden, I have not done with you. I must hear something more about that campaign. Mr. Fenwick will take very good care of your daughter." "I have no doubt of it," said the Major; and he kept his place by the lady's sofa. " Do you really care to see the flowers ? " said Mr. Fenwick to Rose, who was sitting quite stiU in her amazement ; it seemed incredible that Mrs. Fenwick should play into her hands in this way. Fate was almost unnaturally favourable ; but she was in no mood to reject its kind offers, though she felt a Httle nervous, and could not quite remember aU the details of her plan.