Honesty is the Best Policy. A novel

Chapter I

Calmly the evening shades close round me ; nought save the murmur of the sea is heard. I can lean down and in spirit wander to the time when, mihgling with those waves, came a sound more melodious, fuller, deeper than all, chiming with my very soul, my life. I hear it still, though now it is hushed for ever. Yet it is best. I am still young ; have duties, ties, strength, and power left me ; all but what my soul yearned for, what has, perhaps wisely, been denied ; but the last page has been closed. To-morrow I wake to a new existence : let the past roll vol I. B back in those clouds of darkness in which my life has been veiled from you. Read the enclosed ; learn why I have been so variable, why I have recoiled from love — your love ; and yet I cared for you ! now your bride, your wife, you will not love me less for proving to you that though in your eyes almost faultless, I have been, and still am, weak and erring.

" I have been writing my life up to the present time. Do you care to read it ?" said Inez Wentworth, as she moved towards the open window where her lover was standing. " You have often thought me a mysterious girl." " I have always thought you a most fascinating one, Inez ; but are you weeping ? or does the dusk deceive me? Come near me." and so saying, he pressed her to his heart ! then, leaving her with earnest eye and cheek paler than usual, Charles Hunt ingdon pored over the following manuscript. I was born in India, and, had my father lived I should have been sent, as numbers of children are, each year, to be educated in England, then borne back to that scorch ing clime, introduced, married, and settled. This was not my destiny. My father dying in action, and my mother from ill health and a broken spirit, I was left under the care of two guardians ; one, my only uncle and near relation, Colonel Wentworth ; the other, one whom you have known and cared for, Edward Churchill ; but he comes later on the scene.

My childhood had passed ere I knew him; would that we had never met! but all must feel the same, regarding some being or other that crosses their path in life. Such trials as I have borne bring heaven nearer, for earth, till now, brought no winged herald of joy to me. When my mother died Colonel Wentworth and his wife had only just arrived in India. He was rich, of old family, good presence, HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY. and agreeable manner; his wife young. handsome, and clever. I will not here descant on her merits or failings. Indeed, how much better would it be, in general, if we could refrain from canvassing the con duct of others ! it does not change them, but it lowers us. Let those who suffer from persecution and tyranny feel that silent sub mission is ever preferable to striving to clear themselves ; the truth may rest with them, and falsehood on the side of the accuser ; yet in all probability the powerful will flourish like a green bay tree.

Then Valerie, my only cousin and companion, can I say that in you I found an honest, open-hearted friend. Alas ! alas ! Mercifully, then, was it ordained that my childhood was not passed among such as these. Might not I have grown up amid scenes of treachery and falsehood, with no right ideas of justice or of mercy, like those I dwelt amongst, thinking the weak and defenceless were born only to be kept down and humbled by the powerful. And if 1 had remembered the words issuing: from the lips of the beautiful Mrs. Wentworth, — " Seymour, promise me that child shall not be an infliction on me. Send her to school in England," I might, child as I was, have blessed her for those words. A few weeks after this, under the charge of a nurse, I left those Indian shores, glowing in all the splendour of eastern beauty, but whose scorching clime had paled my cheek and weakened my frame.

How long the voyage seemed ! sometimes borne along the clear calm ocean, I felt the gentle murmur of waves sounding like soft music to my childish senses ; at others, tossed about 'mid storm and tempest, the waves roaring and rising like snowy mountains, till they seemed to reach the sky, which was black as night, I would hide my head and shudder till the danger passed. When the kind old captain would sometimes take me on his knee and strive to soothe me, he, with his open heart HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY. and honest face felt for the orphan child, and perhaps thought my life would continue as it had begun, tossed on the sea of life, now calm and sunny with my first youth, then chilled and rent with trial and care. Yet my life has not been unhappy ; accident, strange chance threw me amid scenes and people that influenced my feelings and affections, which no earthly power could root out or efface.

You who have watched me through many trials, feel tho truth of this, nor do you blame me. On reaching England I was placed at a school near London. Each schoolgirl's life is perhaps similar in most respects. The difference is to her without a home, except when, taking pity on my forlorn condition, a friend would ask me to accompany her home. I remained with Mrs. Holford, and experienced only kindness on her part. How many, placed as I was, entirely in her power, might have been treated differently, with harshness or neglect ! Yet those long years of schooling I can look back on with plea sure and gratitude. Glancing quickly over these childish years I come to a period when, cast amidst other scenes, 1 was subjected to trials, of which the remembrance is now softened by distance and the bitterness past and gone.

Yet would not most have envied me the change ; taken from school and hard study to remain for a time among gay people, with a companion of my own age ? Assuredly they would : and I set off for the town where my uncle's regiment was then sta tioned, with a vision of happiness so spark ling and vivid that I never stopped to conjecture whether they would be cold or warm in their welcome, just or unjust in their treatment of me. At sixteen it is perhaps fortunate that we pass quickly on from scene to scene, with little thought, buoyant spirits, and no bitter memories to torture us ; all is fresh, sweet, and lovely as the first burst of spring into life. My uncle having only just returned with his regiment to England, this was my first meeting with them after so many years of separation, and as I had left India when I was very young I had no very clear recollection of my uncle and aunt, of whom I had seen but little, as I was entirely left to the care of servants and the companionship of my cousin Valerie.

My other guardian, Mr. Churchill, I had never seen ; he was travelling as tutor in a baronet's family on the continent. I sometimes wish that fate had divided us by sea and by land ; that mountains and seas had sprung up betwixt our love. Vain wish ! — I might as well hope that those waves upon the shore would cease to break at my bidding, and be still for ever. In my aunt's letter to Mrs. Holford she had said that for another year I was to study with Valerie, who, being a year older, had dismissed her governess and was studying with masters. I should like Valerie, I thought; and study would be pleasant with a young girl whom I could love. — Love ! one glance sufficed to make me feel that could never be ; admiration, interest, wonder, but not love ! yet how beautiful she was, bursting on my already overstrained and imaginative mind, as I might have said, an angel ; but have you ever seen one clothed with light and beauty, charming your senses, but not touching your heart ; the outward mask almost perfect, but with no soul shining through the dazzling orbs ; no truth marked or expressed in the full red lips, smiling blandly ?

Such was Valerie ! When I alighted from the coach and entered a spacious house on the outskirts of the town, which was large, and seemingly thickly populated, evidently a garrison town, I received no kind of welcome. Mrs. Wentworth, I heard, was out in her carriage ; and my uncle and Valerie on horse back. I was ushered, therefore, into the drawing-room, where, with a wretched 2 B nervous feeling, I waited their coming. Presently, a loud clear laugh rang on the staircase ; and a voice, not harmonious, but somewhat harsh and loud, drew near. The door opened, and a girl, holding up her long riding dress, and flinging aside her veil, walked into the room followed by her father and a young and handsome man, who carried her whip, and looked admiringly at her. She started on seeing me ; but, holding out her hand, said — " I had no idea you could have arrived so soon.

Papa, this is Inez, my infantine companion in India." My uncle drew me towards him, kissing me, and welcoming me to his house, and hoping I should be happy with them. I grew flushed, but lifting my eyes up, glanced atthe trio, as they stood before me. First at my uncle, who was still hand some, but hard-looking — a regular man of the world, courteous though, and kind in manner. By him stood Valerie, tall, but not elegant-looking, or well-proportioned: her complexion dazzling as a white cloud contrasted with the glow of an evening sunset — a deep rose hue — while golden hair swept in luxuriant tresses over her dark riding-dress ; splendid eyes of light clear blue, full, intense in their expression, but with no redeeming softness to shadow the strongly marked classical features : exqui. sitely full mouth, finely rounded chin, and pearly teeth.

As my uncle stood talking to me, Valerie turned to the young man who had entered with them, and lowering; her voice to a whisper, I heard her say — " You had better go before she comes in ;" and with her words a meaning smile played round her mouth. Soon after, Colonel Wentworth followed him, and Valerie, throwing herself upon the sofa, exclaimed, " What an absurd youth that is, to be sure !" Smiling, I remarked, " He is decidedly good-looking ; who is he?" " Mr. Frazer ; he has not been long in the regiment : he is so silly he makes me laugh. He talks great nonsense, as all young men of that age do, I think ; they're so tiresome ! but it is late, and my singing master will be here directly, so I must go ; but will first show you your room." Lead ing the way in silence, she opened the door of my room, and begged me to excuse her, as she had not a moment to lose ; and ran hastily away.

I sat at my window7, after taking my bonnet off, and looked out on the high road ; on one side of which w;is a broad pathway bordered by a railing, over which large trees cast their shadows. It had a gay, cheerful appearance : numbers of people were passing up and down : manv a pretty face passed ; and several young officers were sauntering up and down. I could watch all, unperceived by them. Evidently the music lesson had begun, for Valerie's voice, loud, clear, aud bell-like, rang through the apartment near ; but, strange to say, though I had seldom heard good singing, her voice, although fine and POLICV. 13 powerful, gave me no pleasure. It was wonderful in power and expression, but wanted, what would have made her beauty perfect, harmony. How weary I felt, listening for full an hour, to passages of dish - cult Italian songs, repeated over and over again, till, happily for me, the door of the room opened, and Valerie, entering mine, laughingly said : — ' It is over for to-day, thank goodness ! and I have come to have a chat witb you.

How strange it appears for us to meet again ! I trust we shall not quarrel in the frightful manner my old nurse declares we did in India. I cannot say I remember it," she continued, " though I am older than you." " Nor I either : but we must be very good friends, now, to make up for the bad behaviour of our infancy." " Oh ! I have made up my mind to like you immensely !" answered Valerie : " I am sure you are a nice little thing : will you not be glad when we have done with all those stupid old masters, and are allowed to go out into society ? I envy my friend, Agnes Wilton, every time she goes out." "Is she a great friend of yours?" I asked. " Yes, she was at school with me when I first came to England ; and I am extremely fond of her ; but she is no favourite gene rally, being a sentimental dreamy kind of girl, always in love."

" The pain cannot be very great, when so often repeated," I answered. " But why do you fix on so romantic a friend ? Yon are not romantic, I am sure." " No ; that is to say, I should not enjoy love in a smoky cottage, with butchers' and bakers' bills pouring in through the jessamine and roses, with no means of paying them !" answered Valerie with a loud laugh. " And you are too young to have felt love," I rejoined, looking at her. " That is a thing I never could accom plish, 1 am confident : It's such utter folly," she continued, as she flung herself back and opened a book which I had hastily glanced over in my solitude : a book of sermons, very high church doctrine. " Do you agree with the opinions in that book ?" I asked. " I should hope so," she answered gravely ; " and I trust, so do you."

" My opinions as yet are hardly defined to my own heart, being so young ; but I don't think I could agree with the doctrine in that book. Religion is a thing of the heart, not of the senses, or of forms ; but do not let us split upon this point, Valerie ; I know little of such matters." " I know a great deal," answered my cousin, proudly ; " and I feel that much as you, or any one else, may despise forms, they are very essential to our service ; but I am very high church, and hope, in time, to make you a convert." " We are early acquaintances," I an swered, " to talk thus seriously ; but do not hope for that, for it can never be. Do you read much ? And what reading pleases you most ? Do you care for poetry ?" " Not much, I confess, Inez. Byron, I consider the only poet worth reading ; but mamma allows me to read but little of that.

Nevertheless, I contrive to get through most of it, when she is from home." A reproof rose to my hps ; but I repressed it, and merely said : — " I never cared much for his poetry : Tennyson and Wordsworth are my favourites ; how exquisite are some parts of the " Excelsior !" and then have you read Tennyson's " Morte d' Arthur," and " Locksley Hall ?" indeed in almost all his poems, there is something original, and very beautiful. I have them, if you would like to read them." " Oh ! 1 have read most of them," an swered Valerie, carelessly ; " but don't think much of them ; as for Wordsworth, I never have patience to read ten lines of it, so dull and insipid do I consider it ; but I plainly foresee that you and Agnes will be found weeping together over — ' The Pet Lamb,' and ' Mariana in the Moated Grange,' she is such a sentimental crea ture !"

" I thought she was your friend : yet your description of her is not engaging." " I am fond of her, notwithstanding," answered Valerie, colouring : " but we must not talk any more of her, now. There's mamma coming in; you must go down, presently, and see her. I hope you will like her," she added, in a sneering tone ; " she is never out of temper, my dear. But do you know, Miss Inez, that papa told me just now he admired your appearance, and thought you had turned out a pretty grace ful little girl. Do you care much for ad miration ?" " I have never received any," I answered laug-iiingr ; " but think it would be delightful, to be admired, approved of, and liked." " Approved of, and liked, my dear ! that's very moderate. I soar higher ; but I must go now, and will send my maid to assist you." So saying, Valerie left the room.

Chapter II

First impressions are often correct, and my first impression of Mrs. Wentworth was that although hard and haughty in manner, there was more of openness, a daring bold kind of sincerity about her, than in Valerie ; a look, as if she would scorn anything mean or treacherous : her beautiful haughty eyes still conveyed to me the idea of truth ; her manner rather that of one made worldly by those she had been brought up amongst, and in contact with, than her natural disposition ; and I have since found I was not mistaken in this idea. Still with the traces of great beauty about her, and a figure befitting a queen, tall and majestic, yet I felt no shrinking from or fear of her. She was one, I then thought, whom I could never have dared to speak openly to, but whom I could still entertain an en thusiastic admiration of, perhaps even, in time, love.

So I might, had one who stood near when this first passed through my mind, permitted it ; but that cold, beautiful blue eye glanced at her mother, then on me, and something in its expression told me she had resolved it should not be. "You had better go and practise the harp, Valerie," said Mrs. Wentworth, " after dinner, Your master tells me you are very idle ; I cannot hear of it." " Why do you listen to that stupid man, mamma ?" answered Valerie. " I practise quite as much as I have time for." " I listen to whom I choose," answered her mother, " and it's my desire you should practise." Valerie left the room frownino-. D Mrs. Wentworth flung herself on the sofa, and taking a French novel that lay beside her, commenced reading, whilst I, with my work, sat silent near the window. And I was to live with these people, with whom I felt I had no sympathy, whose feel ings were as apart from mine as the roaring cataract, foaming down some mountain headland, is from the still rivulet that flows calmly through some green vale.

If sorrow should touch me, where then, I thought, should I fly for help and sympathy ? Not to her who lay there, proud and cold, I almost dependent on her bounty ; not to the beau tiful being whose fingers now swept the chords with a powerful, thrilling touch, in the adjoining room. With near relations I was still alone, and as my work fell from my hands, tears of loneliness coursed each other down my cheeks, burning with suppressed emotion. The nov el had been laid aside, and in a short time Mrs. Wentworth lay sleeping on the sofa : the harpstrings ceased to vibrate, and Valerie entered. She either did not notice my grief, or did not choose in any way to enquire the cause ; for, merely look ing at me inquisitively, she took up the book that Mrs. Wentworth had been perusing, and quickly glanced over its contents ; but at any stir or sound as if to warn her of her mother waking, she placed it in the same spot.

" Are you not allowed to read novels ?" I asked. " Of course I am. Why should you en quire ?" she replied. " Any one would imagine I read by stealth." " I did not mean to insinuate such a thing," I answered, " but many girls of our age are not ; it would therefore be nothing remarkable if you were not." " I am no longer a child," answered Valerie, " nor do I choose to be treated like one : it is different with you who are younger ; besides, I have far greater know ledge of life and of the world than you can have : the very life of change and scene I have led would cause that. Dear little Inez, you are so very young, and appear to me like one who must have been brought up in some wild, and fed on bread and milk ; but a few months with us will let you into some of the realities of life, my dear."

" I have no wish to be initiated," I replied, " knowledge must bring pain ! it will come soon — too soon !" I added, sighing. " Come, don't give me a sermon," said Valerie, laughing ; " all realities need not be painful : for my part, I never intend to distress myself about anything, or let mis fortunes weigh on me, if they do come : en joyment is what I seek, and what I will have. I wish to be admired and sought after, and to make dozens of poor creatures break their hearts about me, while all the time I am heart-whole and free. You will see ntxt spring, when I come out, what I shall do ; but alas ! this is only September." I told her I could not approve of such sentiments, and that perhaps when the long wished for time came she might be disap pointed ; but she answered only — " What a methodist you are to be sure! depend upon it, Miss Inez, you will be as fond of admiration as anyone else, so don't preach any more, or hereafter I shall bring up this conversation against you."

I smiled and answered, " No doubt she might, and I had no wish either to be a methodist or prude ;" but I don't know how it was, as Valerie and I talked there seemed a jarring and discord of feeling. She seemed to grow weary for awhile ; but coming closer, whispered — " To-morrow I must take you to see Agnes Wilton : I could tell you such a funny story about her, but it's a profound secret." " You had better not, then," I answered, " not knowing her, I feel no anxiety to be burdened with her private history." " Private history ! that would indeed be long in telling, as she is now quite passe' e, and has been engaged, or fancied herself so, ever so many times, for none of the unfortunate men ever wished to marry her, but merely to flirt and amuse themselves ; but lately she has fallen deeply in love with a young officer in my father's regiment ; writes to him every day, and I believe has gone so far as almost to propose to him, while he, poor man, thinks of her as his great grand mother ! and the best of the story is, he is in love with me, and has proposed for me over and over again.

Poor persecuted creature ! no field or lane, however remote, which he endeavours to have a quiet ride or walk in, but Agnes finds him out ; and all the time he is riding in search of me, and whenever he has an opportunity, pours into my ear his unhappiness, and his love for vol. i. c me, and disgust at Agnes. Oh ! it's such fun to hear him." " This is a strange story," I replied, looking at Valerie, " and one that seems to me both unnatural and painful : how disgusted you must feel at such conduct on her part, and love on his, that you cannot return ! The less you see of so strange and forward a girl, the better ; and as for taking me to call upon her to-morrow, pray excuse it ; I have no wish for such acquaintance." " Dear me, how particular ; but do come once, and remember. " Just as Valerie uttered these words Mrs. Wentworth suddenly woke up and bade Valerie ring for tea.

She did so, but turned to me with her finger on her lip, in token of silence. I sat silently pondering over what she had told me, fancying I could, in my own mind, sift the truth from the false hood. Still Miss Wilton might be all she said ; but should not her friend have shielded her from a stranger? or, if she had told me her weakness and failings, shown some sorrow or pity for them, instead of relating them only to ridicule ? I judged of her ac cordingly : treacherous was the word to express her character ; and I mourned that so fair a form should contain so much that was evil. Valerie and I set off the next morning to call on Miss Wilton, and though some years have passed since then, my remembrance of that v,ralk is as vivid as if it were but yester day. It was a bright morning, towards the end of September, still and warm for the time of year.

Our path led through fields, away from the town, divided only by low hedges and fences, in which cattle were feeding, and as we walked quickly by we cast many a disturbed glance towards them, feeling glad when we had passed the danger and had entered the narrow lanes leading to Mrs. Wilton's house. Deep lanes they were, with high banks on either side, and here and there, at some turning of the road, some grand old forest tree would stand gleaming in the full light, some of its branches green almost as in early summer, whilst others hung soft with yellow autumn tints, ming-lingf with the rich red leaves that were trembling in the breeze and soon would be lying pale and withered on the cold ground. One large hornbeam in particular I stood for some time gazing on in rapt admiration, as it hung over a pool of water belonging to an old farm-house near, till Valerie said, — " Come, we shall never get there, Inez, if you will stand looking at every old rub bishing tree and pond you pass : what do you see to admire in them ? you might be a cockney, my dear, fresh from the city, never having before feasted your smoke dried eyes on green pastures and verdant lanes."

" I am sorry to have kept you," I answered with a smile, " but I must own that although neither a cockney nor immersed in smoke, it does give me very great delight gazing on these things, particularly on so glorious a day as this ; and, remember, it is all new to me." " Well, I am glad you are so easily amused," she answered, laughing, " and you have my full permission to watch these rare trees and duck-ponds as long as you like, only do not ask me to follow your example ; but I declare, here is Agnes !" Walking towards us I perceived a girl, apparently about six-and-twenty, not tall, but of a good figure, with a face that was not strikingly pretty, though on closer in spection I noticed marks of real beauty about her, though her complexion was not dazzling in colouring, like my cousin's, or pleasing from animation ; on the contrary, she was pale and rather sallow ; but then, those fine dark eyes were full of feeling, and although too much of sadness was marked upon the high forehead and exquisitely pencilled eyebrows and drooping lashes, it seemed a face full of interest, and I wondered, as she drew near, that Valerie had not mentioned she was good-looking.

" Dearest Agnes," said Valerie, stooping to impress affectionate kisses on her friend, " how many days have passed without our meeting ! I could wait no longer, and have trudged through fields and lanes and wet grass, passed savage bulls, and everything that is horrible, to come to you. Allow me to introduce my little cousin, Inez, who is come to live with us." Miss Wilton looked, as she shook hands with me, as if wondering whether the end of Valerie's sentence accorded with my wishes, and certainly the words that I was to live with them, were startling and painful. Walking by their side I listened to their talk, which consisted merely of what had occurred in the few days' absence ; but still it struck me there was a painful constraint in Miss Wilton's manner towards Valerie, which she was endeavouring to remove, and a few words, spoken in almost a whisper, made me wonder more and more at every sentence Valerie uttered.