Yorke House. A novel

Front matter

Ifir, Itohg's $tcfo |juMixa&rrts. In 3 vols., price 31s. Gd. THE CLIFFORDS OF OAKLEY, By the Author of " CONSTANCE DALE. " Of ' Constance Dale' we spoke in laudatory terms, and we are glad to be able to give still higher praise to ' The Cliffords of Oakley,' for it is a work of greater power, as well as greater thought. It will rank with the best novels of Miss Bronte', Miss Muloch and Julia Kavanagh." — Express. "A more healthy moral novel has rarely eome under our notice. It is extremely interesting; the plot well contrived, and the language evidently from the pen of one who has seen the best English society. It is a first-rate novel." — Albion. In 3 vols., 31 s. 6d. THE COST OF A CORONET, by j. McGregor allan. " The author's heart is in his work and his diction rises to the dignity of his subject.

The author has hit upon the happy idea of using the conversation of his fashionable characters as a vehicle for the expression of his own opinions upon theology and metaphysics." — Saturday Review. In 3 vols., post Svo., price 31 s. Gd. MARRYING FOR MONEY, By Mns. MACKENZIE DANIELS, Author of "My Sister Minnie," "Our Brother Paul," "Fernly Manor," &c. " 'Marrying for Money' is much better contrived as a story, and much better written as a composition, than any of her former works. Its incidents are natural and interesting ; its tone is pure and refined, its moral lofty, and its central character, a sweet and womanly por traiture, free from exaggeration or affectation. There is nothing in this book to injure the strictest susceptibilities."* — Morning Post. " Readers of every class will be delighted with it.

We consider it far the best novel by this talented authoress." — Express. "An excellent novel and one which deserves higher commendation that is accorded to the large majority of works of fiction. The characters are skilfully drawn, and the descriptions fresh and vigorous." — Observer. " It does credit to the taste and skill of the fair authoress." — Naval and Military Gazette. "The sentiment, tenderness, humour, and delicate touches which pervade every page, will give it a lasting popularity, and foremost place in the ranks ofthe most instructive kind of fiction — the moral novel." — Sporting Review. YOEKE HOUSE. A NOVEL. IN THREE VOLUMES. By WILLIAM PLATT. AUTHOR OF " BETTY WESTMINSTER," <_C, &C. VOL. II. •Hontion : T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1862. [_The Right oj Translation is Reserved.]

Chapter I

1 GOES ON WITH THE PORTRAIT. If Joel Yorke had been gentle and generousr instead of mean and miserly-minded, his face, taken as a whole, would have been handsome. Individually, the features were good, but there was an expression in the eyes and mouth of so much care for self, and cunning, and con tempt for principles, coupled, if might were on his side, with so little regard for right in any sense, that, though he smiled his sweetest, VOL. II. B no one but his mother ever really loved him. While a boy, his father eyed him, any one could see, with very different feelings to what he felt for his brother Roland, who was meek and tractable, and ever cheerful and willing, and patient and contented, and never caused him a moment's uneasiness ; whereas, Joel was continually out of temper, and often so dull and sulky, that not even his mother — the only person whose feelings he seemed to regard much — could do anything with him, when those dark clouds were over him, which he appeared rather to seek than shun, and, by choice, to gloom under for whole days, nay, some times weeks, when his watchful, jealous nature took offence at any supposed preference that was shewn by word or deed for Roland.

And manhood made no difference. It deepened the dark shadows of his character, rather than otherwise, confirmed the plague-spot which his mother had fondly hoped that riper years and sounder judgment would shew him the misery of, and give him the moral strength to do away with. His father hoped so, too ; but evidently was far less sanguine about it than she was ; and still continued to arch his eye brows and shake his head, when one or the other of them brought him those flattering ac counts of his eldest son's " astonishing business qualities !" which, now he had taken to it with all his heart and mind, far surpassed even Mr. Geoffrey Dray ton's warmest expectations. Clearly, there was always a doubt on the father's mind, ofthe genuineness of his eldest son's conduct. He had many serious conver sations with Mr. Dray ton on the subject.

And these did not mend matters, for Joel's lynx eyes were ever on the watch, and nothing escaped him that his jealous, curious, craving spirit seriously coveted after. It was after one of these cabinet councils between his' father and their head confidential clerk, that Joel relapsed again into that long gloomy mood which bathed his mother's cheeks with tears ; till he sidled up to her in the little back-parlor, and putting his lips, after kissing her, to her ear, whispered those affectionate words in it which made her all b smiles again. Charlotte Yorke loved her first born — what mother does not ? and Geoffrey Dray ton " deemed it his duty to withhold nothing from the mother, in confidence, which by any possibility might affect the interests of either of her children." Wherefore, he unburthened his mind of rather a heavy weight on it, placed there by no other hands than his highly respected em ployer, " for whom, or for any member ofthe House, he would have gone to the world's end and back, without a farthing's return for it, if it would have done them a service," — unburthened it thus : — " That Mr. Yorke was going to make a new will — that he had told him so the day before ; and, furthermore, that he talked of giving both his sons an equal and conjoint share in the business when he died ; expressing at the same time his ' entire approval of Roland's ex cellent conduct on all occasions, and how happy he should be! if he could think that Joel as his heir, would improve the talents com mitted to his charge, as wisely and wrell as Roland would have done, had he been his first born."

Was it likely that Joel was unaware of this tete-a-tete between his mother and Geoffrey Drayton? Hardly. He was up in his room at the window, when Geoffrey crossed the road to the front door, and heard him ring the bell ; and, presently afterwards, his heavy step on the stairs, going into the room his mother was sitting in at work as usual of an afternoon. That Joel was mean enough to take his shoes off, and slip down, and listen at the keyhole, we won't say for certain, though it is very likely : and if he did, he must have heard what, on a mind like his, would be sure to leave a very strong and disagreeable impression. However this may be, he would seem to have com pletely controlled himself by the evening, when finding his way to his mother's side, he in a moment silenced all her maternal fears for him with a magic word or two.

Oh, that mother's love ! what is there that it will not think, and hope, and believe, and go through for the adored one ? Though hanging on the gallows before her eyes, did she ever credit that the fruit of her womb was guilty of all the crimes they charged him with ? Charlotte Yorke built her hopes on riper years and sounder views, to secure for her first born his father's love, and great was her joy, when Joel came to her to say — " He knew what she wished him to do, to please him, and he would do it!" But she had another sure rock on which she placed great trust. It was no secret in the family, that for many years past Joel had looked at Annie Walcot with admiring eyes, nay, had often said " she was the only girl he had ever seen that he should like to marry." His mother had pondered it over many a time, and thought how fortunate it would be for him, and how happy it would make her! if Annie reciprocated the feeling, and their fathers would consent to the union ; for, in that, Charlotte Yorke saw, as she thought, a safer and surer guiding star to all that was permanently good here, and happy hereafter, than in all the rest put together, for a temper and turn of mind like Joel's. " A great pity there were any obstacles in the case ! a thousand pities the Yorkes and Walcots had ever disagreed ! was it possible to make them the same fast friends ever again, as they used to be?" and Charlotte heaved a forlorn-hope sigh, as she asked herself the question.

No, it was impossible ! Even if her husband had buried that unfortunate affair of the dishonoured bill in oblivion, Sir Hugh would never forget it. He treasured the memory of it like a personal affront, and how foolish and unreasonable it was ! when, looked at as a matter of business, the same result would have attended any other bill, similarly unprovided for, without any personal disrespect being either meant or taken. Sir Hugh was so hasty and irascible, too — there was no arguing the point with him. "Nothing should ever convince him," he declared, ''that the bill might not, as between friends, have been held over for a day or two, till he had been communicated with;" and that being the case, what hope was there of a return ever of those kindly feelings of mutual amity and confidence which had for more than a century cemented the two families together so happily, and, but for this sad rupture, might have ended in a far closer union?

Still, Charlotte Yorke was not without trust in that wonderful ' chapter of accidents' which occasionally revealed such extraordinary and unlooked for events in peoples' histories, that, when they happened, read more like pleasant fables, than stern facts of every day life ; con soling herself with which, she never wearied of talking of Annie Walcot to Joel, nor of listening to her praises from him. Every hour brought to pass more incredible things than what her heart was fixed on : — and Charlotte Yorke died, with "Joel and Annie" coupled to gether with the last breath on her lips ; though, after her husband's tragic end, there seemed less hope than ever of her dying prayer to Heaven, on that score, by any possibility being granted. The grave took from him his mother, and, or the first time in his life, Joel Yorke felt alone in the world.

He had always loved her, for she had always loved him ; and now what was all his wealth worth, to fill the va cant chair opposite him with that dear old face and form again ? and let him hear those kind loving tones once more ? since he last heard which, calling him by his name, and querulously impatient if he left her for an hour — "Oh how deserted and desolate the old house was ! how gloomy ! how wretched ! how could he live in it ? how bear to listen to the dismal echo only of his own voice? or Nanny's me lancholy hymn-tunes over her needle and pots and kettles, everlastingly chanting the death dirges, as they sounded to him, of every joy that made life endurable — everlastingly chant ing them!"

Winter succeeded winter, and the stormy winds swept round the old house, howling, and sighing, and sobbing as piteously as ever, through every chink and crevice where they could find an entrance ; and Nanny kept up the same old dismal ditties over her darnings and scourings, and scrubbings, that nearly drove Joel Yorke mad, after he lost his mother; B but still there he eat of an evening in his par lor all alone, with his chin on his chest, and either biting his nails till they bled, or dreamily gazing at his bony hands in his lap, till Nanny brought him in his onion porridge or gruel for supper, when he would hold her in conversation, if she had nothing else to do, till he had eaten it ; and then having seen to the careful locking and bolting of every door, before he went up stairs, with his own eyes, go to his pillow, to such rest as was in store for him on his gold-stuffed bed — a description of couch remarkable for making its occupants dream of all sorts of horribles, and as often as not, though with millions at command, of dying some terrible death, or ending their days in a work-house.

Possibly, Joel Yorke's rest was broken more than it would have been, had he not lost his mother whom he loved, and Aunt Eleanor had been a person of less consequence to his sister Mabel than she was, — by which he was left all alone, with Nanny and Nelly Finch, in that great, dark, dingy old house, that had not had a coat of paint on it, inside or out, for more than twenty years — Joel, like his an cestors, hating the sight of fresh paint on any premises of his, where business was carried on, and preferring to see the windows so thick coated with dust and dirt that you could scarcely see through them, rather than have them cleaned, and people think he had time for any such idle vanities. Till Mabel left him, to reside at Rexford with her aunt, he had a companion of an evening, after the day's work was over, to whom he could talk or not, as he felt inclined, and this helped to pass the hours till bed-time, and to enliven the dismal old house a little — as the presence of loving woman would a dungeon, even where no gladdening sun ever penetrated the gloom, but that of her own sweet smiles and angel voice, sufficient of themselves to make a prison a million times better than any earthly para dise, however heavenly, without her.

True, Mabel, as Nanny Glynn said, was " a curious girl," and, seemingly, took little pains about anything ; but she had a woman's feeling heart in her breast, and though, in that mammon house in which she was born, and brought up, feeling of any sort had but little chance, weighed again those stubborn facts that could be tested, beyond doubt, by more sterling pro ducts, she was all the greater curiosity in Aunt Eleanor and the Colonel's eyes, because, not withstanding she had heard little else but the eternal jingling of gold in her ears ever since her cradle, the chirp of a robin pleased her more, or the thrill of the wood-lark, or the rill's gurgling murmur, or even Nanny's dull old ditties, when she pitched the key plea santly. And, the counting-house closed for the day, Joel would come back to his arm-chair by the fire-side, with its back to the light, sometimes almost cheerily, while Mabel was with him, and get so animated, as he told her of the " capital bargains he had made one way or the other !

" that the parlor quite rang with their voices ; hearing which, Nanny would set up an accompaniment of her own, with Nelly Finch, in the kitchen, till the old house seemed not a bit like the same it did in the morning, when Nanny opened the shutters, " and passers-by, though they knew her face as well as they did their mother's, stared at her, in her close crimped cap and black and white spotted cotton gown, as if they had never set eyes on her before, and there was something queer about her, and she could tell them something, if she liked, about the murder." But aunt Eleanor was ' imperative ' on one point : — " Mabel's education had been sadly interrupted by family afflictions. It was high time she returned to her studies. She was of an age now when it could no longer be neg lected with impunity.

She ought to see more society, too, — society of a rank befitting her expectations, and the position she would, in all probability, be called on to fill ere long. Yorke House would not afford it her. Above all, it was necessary that she should have the constant companionship of those of her own sex, whose habits and manners, from their superior birth and breeding, would best correct what was faulty in her style and deporlment, and supply what was deficient. Mabel Yorke must be a credit to her aunt, and herself. Moreover, aunt Eleanor had a sufficient pri vate fortune of her own, to live in affluence. With that fortune she could do what she pleased. She was her own mistress entirely. Was she, when it pleased God to call her away, to leave it to her niece, Mabel Yorke ? or to somebody else ? or to the Queen ? or to charity ?

If to her niece, then Mabel Yorke would be pleased to understand one thing, — she must come and live with her, and keep her company, and be a dear, good, kind, affectionate, dutiful niece to Auntie, and cheerfully do everything she was bade, that was good for her ; and then Auntie would be to her, as a mother, and love, and do for her, as if she were a child of her own." Had every other argument failed with Joel, to induce him to part with his sister — dear to him as she was, as the last ray of light, as it were, left him in his cheerless solitude, — Aunt Eleanor's hook was too temptingly baited, for hungry insatiable eyes like Joel Yorke's to resist it. What he might do for her at his death — and a cold tremor ran through every nerve at the thought of it — he had as yet hardly had time to consider.

" But it was a great com fort to him ! to know, that in consigning her to Aunt Eleanor's maternal care and guardian ship, it entirely depended on herself, whether she were amply provided for or not. In that case, she was perfectly safe. She would be a rich woman some day ! Her fortune was in her own hands ;" and he embraced and gave her the parting kiss, in the full assurance that he was only acting the part of a good brother, to so sacrifice himself for her sake ; and that " she would be all that dear Auntie could wish her, and a credit and an ornament to them all !" Yorke House, gas-lighted from top to bottom, would not have been a cheerful abode. Some parts of it looked as grim and ghost-like as if not so much as the flicker of a farthing candle had ever intruded itself into them ; where the dust, and moth, and mould rot, and the rats and mice, and spiders and cobwebs had had it all to themselves, no one could tell how long.

There were fifteen rooms in it, but six of which ever saw mortal face in them from one year's end to the other. Once a twelvemonth Nanny and Nelly unlocked the doors and opened the windows for an hour or two, and then shut them down again as tight as they would go ; and, nearly stifled with the unwholesome smell, gave their annual look round, as fast as they could, and fastened them all safe and sound up again till next summer ; and by no chance, since the murder, were the doors of those unused chambers opened again for any purpose whatever. The rest of the rooms looked more habitable, and were kept swept and dusted regularly once a week, in case at any time Mr. Roland should stay late at the house, and take a bed there, or Miss Mabel come for a day, and be prevailed on by Joel to stop and have supper with him, and remain the night ; but Joel himself never en tered any ofthe rooms up-stairs, or down, but his own bed-chamber, and the front parlor, in which he lived and ate his meals, and summed up the day's gains, over his candle and high desk in the corner.

While Miss Mabel was with him, Nanny ivould always put two candles on the table, the same as she had ever done when their mother was alive ; but, after Mabel left him, Joel would have only one, and that being of the commonest kind, Roland would jokingly start back, when he sometimes dropped in of an evening for an hour, and shading his eyes with his hand, complain bitterly of " such ex travagance ! and wonder what his brother could be thinking of, poor as he was, to be sitting there, blazing away at that rate indeed ! as if he, his brother, shouldn't know him by his shadow, cast by a farthing rush-light, without all that needless display !" And one night, finding him dozing over his desk, with the long wick of his single candle playing sad havoc with the last guttering inch of it, and threatening to leave him in darkness, Roland ventured to advise him, " To make haste and look out for a wife, who would bring him a save-all, to save him from ruin !"

Joel smiled. The idea seemed to tickle his vanity. It was like the laugh of the street urchin at his seedy old hat, when he went -to Rexford market. There, he could have b ought up all the new hats in the city, if he had liked, with the little sum he had just turned by a lucky hit, while poor Sir Hugh was five hun dred pounds out of pocket : — and now — " Ha ! ha! ha!" as he rang for another candle, "a wife ? Yes, why not ? I could buy a wife, too, couldn't I, as well as anything else, if I wanted one?" " Yes," said a voice within him, when Roland was gone, and he repeated the question to himself, as he paced his bedroom from end to end, while undressing, and his heart felt as if grasped by an icy hand that wanted to choke it ; " yes — but not the one, perhaps, you would give all you have got in the world to possess.

Joel Yorke ! Joel Yorke ! there is one thing that gold will not buy ; without which — " — and falling on his knees, and bury ing his face in his hands, — Nanny must have been a sound sleeper, if she heard not those hollow groans, which, may be, if they caused her to start up in bed and breathlessly listen to more than once, were no new sounds to Nanny, and so did not break her rest then, as much as they used to do. The ' save-all, to save him from ruin,' how ever, had taken too deep a hold of Joel's mind, to be driven from it by any phantom-fears or goblin menaces ; and the more he pondered it over, the stronger grew his faith in the power of that mighty talisman to which he trusted, to procure him in this life whatever his heart lusted after. " What was there on earth that wealth like his would not buy ?"

Again the voice answered as before, and Joel's soul quailed within him at the sound of it ! but the mighty means lay in heaps before him, " all his own, — with which empires were bought and sold, and thrones and dynasties tossed from one to the other like shuttlecocks, — and was he to sue in vain for — " u Annie Walcot ?" added the voice, in a tone of derision that made him start to his feet as if he had been stung, and clench his hands, and grind his teeth, and pace the room to and fro, with the froth on his lip, as if the poison were in his blood, and he was madden ing with it : — " ask your brother Roland." Curiously enough, that night Joel Yorke slept soundly. He never remembered to have passed a happier night. And when he woke in the morning, he could hardly credit that daylight was come, and he had been fast asleep ever since he put his head on the pillow.

It seemed like a blissful dream ! yet not with out a vague feeling of dread. " What, if anything had happened while he was sleeping so ?" and the icy hand crept over the scalp of his head, and, for a moment or two, he fancied he heard footsteps coming up stairs ; but they died away again, and then he knew they were Nanny's. And getting up, the sun shone brightly in his face, as he drew back the window-curtain ; and it put him in mind of past days, and his mother, who used always, when he was a little late of a morning, to come in his room, and draw the blind up, and offer to bring him up his breakfast, if he were poorly. And going to his drawer, he took out a suit that had not seen the light for five years. And it was an hour after his usual time, when he came down to his breakfast ; and well Nanny might stare, to see the meta morphosis in her master ! who only the day before had told her to take his coat to the tailor's, to be new cuffed and buttoned, " and then it would last him very well for another winter."

" There then !" exclaimed Nanny, as if struck by a sudden thought, and letting drop the cloth in her hand with which she was washing up the cups and saucers, just after her master had gone down to the wharf, " as sure as that's a plate, he's going courting up at Lyncourt, by what he said yesterday, among that fine, high, grand set at the Hall, where Miss Mabel's staying — God help him !" Nanny was no magician, but she had a keen eye, where she had a mind to sfee her way clearly, and was near enough the mark now, to feel like many others do, who have found out how right they are — rather puzzled with her own convictions. "God help him!" she kept repeating to herself, but that was all she said then, for her heart was full, and she could have sat down and cried bitterly ! if there had been time for it, and Nelly had not been looking on, with the mingled gush of thoughts that came over her.

How story-telling defies all tether, as one goes on. The additional touches to Joel Yorke' s portrait were to form the commence ment of a fresh chapter, and here we are, with what ought, with any pity for the reader's patience, to be the end of it. Well, we can't help it. We must tell the story in our own way, or not tell it at all. Of course we may be shied into the corner. If so, we shan't pick ourself up affronted. As Nelly used to say, "It's the natural nature of things, for somebody to grumble, do whatever you will for them." We shall take it as the ine vitable consequence of our own incapacity, to deviate from the prescribed order of things, making sure, that if the amiable reader will only kindly take up his or her pen, to do like wise, he or she will find it rather difficult just to say, or not to say, to a ., that which shall please himself or herself, as the case may be, and, at the same time, satisfy everybody else, too.

Well, then, with the obliging reader's gracious permission, we will now step with Mr. Yorke, of Yorke House, into the charming conservatory at Lyncourt Hall, and presently see if there is any foundation for Nanny Glynn's shrewd predictions.

Chapter II. Throws Some Light On The Meaning Of Joel Yorke's Improved

OUTWARD MAN. If an apparition had stood peering in at them through the glass door of the conservatory, Mary Grey and Annie Walcot could scarcely have been less amazed ! than they were to see Joel Yorke' s pale, lean, pointed face and shrunken form, watching them filling their bas kets, with a look at once so pleased and, yet, so painful, that for a moment or two they could hardly believe their eyes, and stared at him, as if he were some strange, uncouth crea ture that had found his way there, against all rules of rhyme and reason. Not so his sister Mabel. She was not aware of his presence till nearly half a minute after Annie and Mary first caught sight of him, gazing up at them, with one foot in the door ; when gaily calling to him to " tarry an instant, till she had picked the bunch over her head, which Annie wanted to reach, if she could," she went on with the song she was humming to herself, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world for Joel Yorke to be paying afternoon visits in his" best clothes, and " the most natural and proper thing, too, for a brother, whoever he might be, to come and see his sister sometimes, whatever else he might have to do, or think of."