Dearer than Honour: a fool's tragedy

Preface

. The main circumstance of this story is an utterly improbable — fact. CONTENTS. Chap. page I. POLICY -----. i II. THE IMMACULATE ORD 9 III. HAUNTED BY A THOUGHT - - - 18 IV. AN IDEAL MOTHER .... 03 V. HUMAN VIVISECTION . . . . 30 VI. A TRAGIC SECRET 39 VII. MISS DUVERNOIS' LITTLE SUPPER - - 49 VIII. ROOTED IN HONOUR 57 IX. "THOU SHALT NOT—" .... 66 X. THE HUNT IS UP - - - 74 XI. THE MIDNIGHT RIVER 86 XII. THE IDOL FALLS .... 98 XIII. AN ICE PALACE ----- 108 XIV. THE STOIC - - - - - 119 XV. THE PLACE OF SHAME - 129 XVI. PASTOR, NOT MASTER - - - - 1 42 XVII. THE BEST MAN WINS - - - - 153 XVIII. JANET'S COMFORTER - 160 XIX. "THE SUN TELLS NO LIES" - - - 170 XX. THE PRIMITIVES - - - 1 Contents. Chap. Page XXI. STORM AND CALM - - - - 193 XXIL OBDURATE ----- 200 XXIII. THE WILD BEAST SHOW - - - 213 XXIV.

MASTER, NOT PASTOR - - - 224 XXV. THE SWEETS OF VENGEANCE - - 237 XXVI. A DARK CORNER . - - - 247 XXVII. THE PRODIGAL'S WELCOME - - - 256 XXVIII. ST. SOPHIA ----- 266 XXIX. FAMILY PATRONAGE - - - - 277 XXX. THE PARIAH ----- 287 XXXI. POWERS OF EVIL - - - - 297 XXXII. THE PENITENT ... - 303 XXXIIL A NEW TIE - - - - - 311 XXXIV. "MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" - - 319 XXXV. LEFT ALONE ----- 327 XXXVI. ULTIMA THULE ... - 336 XXXVII. THE SCOURGE OF GOD - - - 345 XXXVIIL SWEETER VENGEANCE - - - DEARER THAN HONOUR

Chapter I. Policy

" Edwin ! " Mrs. Wemyss, making an evening toilet, whose elaboration arose less from vanity than in adequate material and a painful need of hiding the stains and rents of many social campaigns, listed a sharp voice — sharper than society ever heard — in the utterance of this gently pastoral name. Mr. Wemyss, with a sandy fluff of hair brushed on end about a shining, bald head, and sleeve-links dangling from the fatally-worn buttonholes of highly polished shirt cuffs, trotted in, obedient. He was curiously like some tiny quadruped, snuffing hither and thither with blinking eyes, pricked ears, and twitching movements; but a gentlemanly little person, nevertheless. Mrs. Wemyss possessed a " fine " profile and figure, a fixed complexion of florid red and white, a lavish A display of large, glistening teeth, and prominent hazel eyes.

She was like some houses which are all windows, and yet reveal very little of what goes on within. " Well, my dear ? " said Mr. Wemyss. Mrs. Wemyss adjusted a fold of lace so as to hide a darn, and remarked pregnantly : " I asked Theo Finucane to come half an hour before anybody else to-night." Mr. Wemyss winked his red eyelids perplexedly, and there was a pause, only filled by the incessant traffic of a London May. Number One, Dearford Street, a shallow strip of fashionable house property, looked half on the flower-decked windows of big mansions opposite, and half on the malodorous pre cincts of Dearford Mews. Hence it had become, at a low rent, the prize of the Wemysses, who were very poor, absolutely heroic in their effort to keep up their position, and utterly unscrupulous otherwise. They rendered to Cæsar his due, and more than his due, with anxious exactitude, altogether ignoring the higher claim.

They possessed one valuable investment in the person of their niece, Janet Heriot, of whom they had just advantageously disposed to Mr. Ludovic Ord, of no occupation more laborious than his own amusement and the conciliation of a great-uncle, General Feversham, whose heir he was. The article invested was, fortunately, as well satisfied as the investors, who policy. 3 would, however, have sold her just as freely to any battered rake with a pedigree and a fortune. Since, a shy, silent child of twelve, newly orphaned, they had brought her from the secluded stone house, wrapped in fir woods standing above the grey, wind-ruffled lake, far up the barren strath, she had lived her own life, beside, but not of, them, now in a dream of wild purple hillside, pine forest, and flashing summer sea, now gazing forward through youth's golden mists into a future of unexampled delight and wonder.

" And what is that for ? " Mr. Wemyss inquired, with the nervous admiration he always felt for his wife's policy. " I told Janet to be dressed early," said she, with a slight flicker of her shallow eye, and cold humour in her full, false voice ; " and I am going to send her down to him." Mr. Wemyss started, and puffed out a dismayed — " But — bless my life ! " — instantly borne down by a scornful explanation. Thus might Juno arrange and satirize the love and hate, gains and losses, of puny mortals. " Theo Finucane is the sort of young man who makes a tremendous fuss at a pin's prick to his own vanity, though they say he cuts up rabbits and guinea-pigs alive by the hundred. And I am not going to undertake to heal , the wounds my niece has inflicted ; though I must say the whole is entirely his fault.

Janet has no idea of flirting — absolutely no moyens, indeed — which makes me most thankful she's engaged." " But as handsome as paint ! " said Mr. Wemyss, rubbing his hands gleefully. " Poor Finucane ! " " Oh, he'll get over it," snapped his wife. " The other will make a much better husband, although—" " Well, yes," Mr. Wemyss chimed in. " One doesn't seem to know much about Ord, some how." " We have made every necessary inquiry," said she tartly. " The money is all right, and the only fault people can find with him is that he doesn't make everybody his confidant. He's a dull man, of course ; but what does that matter in a husband ? Call Janet, will you, Edwin ? " Mr. Wemyss, failing to resent the invidious com pliment conveyed, disappeared to pipe up a steep, narrow staircase, " Janet, your aunt wants you," and then retired to finish dressing.

A little later, Miss Heriot stepped daintily down the stairs, and entered the drawing-room, festively arranged for the musical "at home" which was all its narrow limits permitted. Candle-light mitigated the threadbare shabbiness of carpets and curtains, and lit the faded miniatures of Sir Hugh Wemyss, colonel and courtier, with his breast covered with orders, Judge Wemyss, in a grey, curled wig, and the shadowy presentment of Janet's dark eyes lookpolicy. 5 ing out from the portrait of a court beauty and coquette of the last century. Those eyes, in actual life, were wells of wonders as yet invisible ; as nearly black as human eyes can be ; passionate, but with the passion of a visionary, spiritual, not sensuous. Their heavy curtain of silken lashes, and their delicately drawn brows, were darker yet.

Her profile was finely, even severely, chiselled ; the deeply indented and curved upper lip had a look of proud appeal ; while massive coils of glossy, purple-black hair crowned regally a small head, set with stately grace on a long, swan throat. Her cheek, of transparent olive, tinged with the delicate yet vivid bloom of a scarlet flower, had scarcely lost the round contour and velvet texture of childhood. She was tall and slight, with a coy youthful majesty of step and movement. Her white dress was simplicity itself, well calculated — by Mrs. Wemyss — to bring into more striking contrast the brilliant purity of her colour ing. She was vestal fire and virgin snow, and it was not much to be wondered at that her prudent aunt sometimes regretted that so attractive a possession could not be openly knocked down to the highest bidder.

" Mr. Finucane," a malign, under-sized footman sadly announced, and Janet gave the slim hand, which was now Ludovic Ord's property, carelessly to the newcomer, who happened to desire it, and all that it represented, more sincerely and disinterestedly than he had ever desired, or probably ever would desire, any other earthly object. Finucane had been somewhat unfairly dealt with by Mrs. Wemyss. She had allowed him a discreet amount of intimacy for the past year or so, because his means were fair, and his prospects fairer, and though something of a dandy and dilettante in appearance, he was considered as a rising star by the scientific world. He was now a doctor by pro fession, though not in practice ; already distinguished as an investigator in obscure by-ways of disease, and, withal, an accomplished man of society.

Janet, with another and absolutely opposite entity filling her thoughts, viewed, with youthful deprecia tion, Finucane's slender gracefulness of figure, and almost effeminate delicacy of feature ; his large eyes of brilliant hazel, which spoke of quick per ception and feeling ; carefully disposed waves of glossy, chestnut hair ; and slight moustache, ending in a fine silky spiral, veiling red lips, and teeth femininely small, even, and pearly. She despised, with a child's crude judgment, his flights ot imagination, and the soft voice, with its swift variety of inflection, which uttered them ; not understanding that she saw but one side of the man. Her heroes were all martyrs or saints ; lofty abstractions, incapable of change or weakness ; fault less statues, burning with an inner flame that only initiated worshippers could discern.

Therefore, she policy. 7 received Finucane as she always had done — with the demure manner of a proud, shy child. He looked eagerly in her face, cast a quick glance about the room, and, as it fell on a large bouquet of orchids and maidenhair placed stiffly in a vase, said, in a disappointed tone : " You got my flowers, I see. But — you haven't honoured me by wearing them ? " " No," said Janet. She paused a second ; then, with a fatal decision and distinctness, which turned the request into a command, added, " Please do not send me any more." His face fell. " Why mustn't I ? If you only knew the pleasure — " " Because they cost a great deal," Janet answered, with the rigid candour of her covenanting ancestors. " And " — seeing him about to break in — " I — don't like it." He drew nearer, and tried to look into her down cast eyes.

" Ah, Miss Heriot — Janet ! — if you only knew — " " Mr. Finucane ! " His name dropped like an icicle from her lips, and froze the passion on his. He said dully, " Yes ? " and waited. The rich crimson of her cheek mounted to her dusky lashes. " Only one person must send me flowers now," she said, in a childish whisper. Finucane's eye flashed. "And that person is — ? " Mr. Ord." Finucane ejaculated something she could not hear between his clenched teeth. Janet continued : " I have been engaged a week. Indeed, I'm very sorry if — " He waved his hand in bitter deprecation of further words, and there was a dismal pause, during which Janet gazed at him with wide eyes of awe arid remorse, and a glimmer of tears on her black lashes. Presently he heaved a long sigh, and, stooping over her, said very gently, with an attempt at a smile, which failed to hide evidence of enormous effort in tone and look : " Ah, well, somebody must win, I suppose.

I hope you may be as happy as you deserve. I know Ord a little. He's a good fellow, and — a good match." He stopped, unable to force another word. Janet gave him a demure monosyllable of thanks; but, in the perfect assured delight of her face, he caught a momentary glimpse of the wondrously idealised vision of Ludovic Ord present to her eyes ; and the sight was hard to bear. He drew back from it with a physical shiver, and leaned against the wall in silence, while Janet slid back into her happy dream. Next moment, the malignant footman announced, with a pompous congratulatory 'emphasis which seemed to say, " To take anybody away from here is meritorious " : " Mr Ord."

Chapter II. The Immaculate Ord

LUDOVIC Ord was large, tall, and fair, inevitably suggesting to the most undiscerning mind every adjective expressive of bulk, and also, it must be owned, of stupidity. If his powerful frame had not been kept in training by constant physical exercise and sport, he would have been pre-eminently clumsy. Finucane, repressing a malediction as the great success appeared, looked like a slim boy beside him. Ord's head, covered with close, crisp rings of flaxen hair, was big like his body, and solidly set on a solid throat. His features were passably regular, but uninteresting, though a pent-house of yellow moustache, hanging low, softened the stubborn out lines of a long upper lip and square chin. His naturally fair skin had the golden tan which comes of an open-air life, and heightened the curious effect of eyes of the lightest blue, with irises pencilled like a wax doll's, and equally lifeless.

He was slow and self-contained; but this was not so much affectation as the deliberateness of movement and thought natural to a large person and a cool temperament. He was no favourite with women in general, and though popular enough had no intimates among men. The only passion he ever acknow ledged or displayed was for horseflesh, and, despite his heavy weight, he had " pulled off" more than one steeple-chasing event. He came straight across to Janet, at whom he had stared covertly through his thick, blond lashes from the moment he stood in the doorway, and said, bend ing over her with a grave smile : " Well ? " Ord was great at monosyllables. This one was a concentrated caress, and his large hand enclosed hers with excessive gentleness. Janet's cheek glowed as she answered the question, whose implied scope she perfectly understood, with a detailed account of her own doings that day, punctuated by flashing smiles and dimples, and small suggestions of native romance and humour, to which he listened with steadfast admiration.

Nobody else had ever ventured to invite so prosaic and withal so serious a person to dream or to play. He glanced down at the silvery fabric of Janet's dress, which brought the velvet crimson of her cheek and the purple depths of her hair into more vivid contrast. "What is this pretty frock, or train, or whatever you call it, made of? It's uncommonly fetching! But then, everything is that you wear. Is it moon shine — snow — starlight, — what ? " Ube immaculate ©r&. 11 "Perhaps," said Janet gaily. "Only, I don't believe you're half so stupid as you pretend to be." " You'll have to initiate me into these profound mysteries, and ever so many things besides." Then he drew closer and looked full in her eyes. " But not how to love you : only how to express it. Also, how to be good. One doesn't feel the need, some how, until — " " Aren't you good ?

" Janet interrupted playfully. When Ord found a question difficult to answer, he adopted the simple expedient of not answering at all, and, moreover, stared straight at the questioner, to intimate that this was intentional. But he saw the corners of Janet's mouth droop a little, and he substituted a deprecatory and tender — " What do you think ? " The veiled glow of her lifted eyes, and the shy radiance that rippled over her face, was reply enough, and well understood ; but his only outward sign of appreciation was a low — " Thanks," and another long look. Then he said, With a stare of dislike towards the rapidly assembling guests, " We'll talk about that some other time," and led the conversation to one of Janet's favourite topics — the wild, sombre beauties of her Highland home. " And then, there's that dream of yours," said he, with a slight, indulgent smile.

"Those wonderful islands, eh ? We must go yachting among them ; and there's a sort of eyrie of an inn, you said, on one ; we might encamp there." Janet drew a long breath of delight, and her eyes grew full of visions. " I used to think they looked like jewels set in silver, and gold, and mother-of-pearl. But father was too ill and too busy ever to take me there." Then she was summoned by her aunt to receive, proudly and shyly, the whispered congratulations of her friends. Ord, solemn and impassive, was pre sented right and left, and some ladies pitied Janet and some envied her ; but all agreed that Mr. Ludovic Ord was the embodiment of commonplace. When Mrs. Wemyss had done with him in the capacity of Janet's suture husband, and, with his back propped against the wall, he was indifferently considering that special epitome of society, Janet snatched a moment to whisper, her little white glove just touching his arm : " Ee kind to Mr. Finucane !

" He straightened himself and looked down at her in careless surprise. " Kind to Finucane ! What for ? " Janet twisted her fan and glanced up side long. " Oh, because — because — " her timid murmur pro gressed no further. " Of course I will be, as far as I know how, if you say so. But what does ' because ' mean ? " Ube immaculate ©r&. 13 Janet drew a little nearer, and lifted her eyes to his. " Because — he — wanted — what belongs to you ! " Ord was silent a moment ; then said, in the deepest diapason of his bass voice, " Poor beggar ! " and this unromantic comment contented Janet entirely. The question Ord had himself raised a little earlier in the evening, or a collateral spectre, seemed to haunt him ; which was the more remarkable because his imaginative faculty was of the scantiest. Perhaps it was the beguiling power of the little old ballad, " What will you do, love ?

" that somebody was sing ing. He listened with attentive gravity, appeared to turn something over in his mind, and finally said to Janet, with an air of puzzled conviction : " Do you know you're teaching me a great deal already ? I begin to wonder about things, and to be half afraid, instead of taking life as it comes." He seemed to extract these speculations with difficulty from the quarry of an undeveloped self, and to be somewhat dismayed thereby ; so Janet, an expert in fancies and dreams, began to help him with arch compassion. " What things do you wonder about most ? " He murmured, with a half smile, the words that had just been sung : "' If distant tidings Thy fond confidings should undermine ?' You have all sorts of grand ideas of the fool you have honoured. Supposing they were wrong, and I were to turn out a villain ?

" "But they won't be wrong," said Janet of seventeen. " But supposing they were ? " the fool in question persisted, with native obstinacy. " And you found out that I was altogether a bad lot — ' guilt and shame,' as that girl was singing, and all the rest of it ? " " You couldn't be." Her large, dark eyes, proud and tender, rested lovingly upon him. " If? " he persisted. She seemed to look inward. A faint, stern line drew itself between her brows. " Then you would not be the Ludo I loved, any longer," she whispered, under her breath. " Well, no," he said. " But I don't think I'm the sort of fellow to distinguish myself either way. How about the other part of the song, though? If my ship shouldn't come home, or my uncle should take some fad into his head, so that I was an utter detri mental, instead of an eligible blockhead, and had in honour to efface myself?

" " Ah ! then," said Janet, and there was a fine flush on her cheek and a glorious light in her eyes, that would have made Mrs. Wemyss faint with horror, " then — I should run after you to the ends of the world : " ' I'd bless the morrow, in want and sorrow ' Ube immaculate ©r&. 15 Oh, any sort of sorrow ! — " ' That left me— you.' " The eloquence of look and tone lit a faint reflection on the stolid listener's face. He slipped his hand down, taking advantage of the press of the polite crowd, and almost crushed her slender palm in its still grasp. It was his sole and sufficient reply. Finucane carried himself bravely during the even ing. Though his nature was intensely jealous, and love and vanity alike were wounded to the quick, pride forbade a retreat. So the two men, when the party was over, met on the hall steps, and, as they lit their cigars, Ord said, with the easy amiability of a victor, to his defeated rival : " I'll go your way, if you'll let me, Finucane."

Finucane flushed high, and glared at him for a second, then assented, with a confused, " Oh, certainly," and they walked silently away, each wrapped in his own musing. Now, if this had occurred, say, on the west coast of Africa, instead of in Park Lane, Finucane would have sought ambush, and, taking the privilege of the weaker, would have smitten Ord incontinently with his barbaric weapon. As things were, he turned, after a brief pause, and muttered a dry formula of congratulation. " Thanks very much," said Ord ; but there was little of superlative bliss or gratitude in his tone. The light of a street lamp they were passing fell full on his massive profile, and an odd suggestion of having seen that profile, or one like it, in a past stage of existence, flashed across Finucane's mind. Its association was vaguely painful or sinister, and he turned it over wonderingly in his thoughts ; then, half idly, half for distraction from racking heartache, determined, if he could, to learn more of his fortunate rival, and, perhaps, follow out that shadowy clue.

" Going to live in town after your marriage ? " he asked carelessly. Ord shook his head. " We may run up sometimes." — Finucane's foot smote the pavement sharply at the plural pronoun. — " But my uncle doesn't like me to be away for long." " His heir, aren't you ? " Ludovic nodded. " Somebody told me General Feversham was a trifle hard to get on with," Finucane hazarded. " Not at all," Ord drawled, with more than his usual slowness. " But I should think — you don't mind my saying it, do you ? — you were an easy-tempered sort of man ; eh?" " Possibly." " I shall hope to see more of you. I know lots of people in Berkshire." The other smoked tranquilly, and gazed with interest at a lamp-post. Zbt immaculate ©ro. 17 " I say, haven't I met you somewhere before, Ord ? I don't mean in society ; some out-of-the-way place, in the dark ages."

Ord looked him straight in the face, with a blank " No." Then Finucane, nerved by a sudden vision of the child-like, adoring trust of Janet's upraised eyes, put one more question, with a nervous laugh — a blunt question, at which even the impassive Ord started and stared : " Doesn't the reigning star of all the high-class music-halls — the fair Duvernois — live in the next flat to yours ? Do you see much of her ? " At this, Ord's flaxen eyebrows lowered heavily, and he growled between his teeth, in a final tone : " Nothing whatever." There was a faint pink streak on his cheek, and a dim gleam in his eye, which, if it did not quench curiosity, forbade its further expression, and Finucane said hastily : "Too inquisitive, eh? Let us talk of something else." Ord acquiesced with calm patronage, and the con versation reverted to innocuous neutralities.

Chapter III. Haunted By

A THOUGHT. Finucane's imagination, quickened by that vague memory, continued to play uneasily around his com panion. Jealousy, and the remotest suggestion of danger to Janet, made him feel he must know more. So, before they separated, he repeated, with a touch of that self-abnegation of which even a selfish passion is capable, an apology for his catechism, readily enough received ; partly because Ludovic had so much the best of it that he could afford to be calm and just, partly because Finucane's general reputation was by no means that of a meek man. After the two men had parted, Finucane's eyes, dragged back by that thread of haunting likeness or familiarity, encountered those of Ord, who also was glancing back. " One would think the fellow suspected me," he thought, while Finucane's vague discomfort was increased.

He strolled slowly along Bayswater Road. It was a still, dark, hot night, with a few faint stars pricked above the London murk. Carriages dashed past, omnibuses and carts rumbled on, without disturbing ibauntefc Bs a Ubougbt. 19 his perplexed reflections, and every foot-passenger outstripped him. His eyes had the introspective glitter — absorbed, yet acute — they wore when he was hunting down some vagary of nature or secret of disease in laboratory or "theatre." In the midst of the bustle he was alone with his quarry of thought. He was opposite Kensington Gardens, with his eyes on the dim ribbon of the path among the black tree trunks and formless masses of foliage, when he suddenly halted, and said softly, " Good heavens ! " This only was audible, but inwardly he was telling himself, with a spasm of horror, that he had indeed seen that profile before, and had noticed that name in a certain dreadful register.

He reeled back a step as if somebody had struck him, then stood still again, and, putting two fingers on his throbbing temples, considered. " Can it be fancy ? " So ran a passionate tumult of thought. " No. I never forget such things." He consulted his watch, and the trivial action stilled him. Conscious that the few passers-by glanced at him in wonder, he resumed his slow pace, while impulse crystallised into some sort of plan. " At any rate, nothing can be done till to-morrow. Then — Oh, it's my sacred duty to trace it out ! To think of her married to such a — " He shuddered feverishly, and began to walk fast. A recollection of the good-natured blankness of Ord's eyes as he had said, " I'll go your way, if you'll let me," and the friendly grip of his hand at parting, was unnerving ; but the master passion, and a show of righteousness in its indulgence, conquered.

Next morning, after some professional work, in which excitement made his usual insight almost miraculous, he took a hansom to his father's house in a country suburb. Dr. Finucane was a robust original of his son, bronzed by travel, with hair prematurely white, and an eye at once more dreamy and more genial. He had been everywhere, and seen everything in his profession — and, indeed, outside it : a naval surgeon in Arctic explorations ; a medical officer in foreign and transatlantic hospitals and gaols, and at Australian and African gold-fields. He possessed a library of note-books, official and unofficial, of these varied experiences, which were always at Theo's service for comparison and research. After an affectionate greeting, the latter betook himself to the study, and stood in sombre reflection before the long rows of volumes, which ranged from the commonest sixpenny account-book to the octavo of strange foreign paper and odour, sea or sun stained, or a portly official-looking series, bound in white calf, red-backed, and gilt-lettered.

He selected one, tolerably new, but well-used, seated himself at a knee-hole writing-table, and began slowly and carefully to turn its leaves, the cool accuracy of the scientific detective warring strangely ibauntefc bs a Ubouebt. 21 with jealous passion on his mobile features. Presently his delicate finger-tip stopped, and his eye fixed and glittered with something like the stoop of a kite on its prey. He read and re-read, a dark flush waver ing in his cheek, then lay back in his chair, deadly pale, with a cold dew on his forehead, muttering to himself: What a coincidence ! It must be — meant — ,; He turned back to the page, and sat brooding gloomily over it, rose, and wandered about the room, and out through the long window into the green stillness of the wooded grounds. Returning at length, he sat down deliberately at the writing-table, made sundry clear and careful inscriptions on a couple of blank pages of the folio he had been study ing, took a copy, appended a brief headnote, and, after verifying the whole, placed it in his pocket book, and restored the volume to its place.

He next wrote briefly to Ord, requesting an inter view that evening, and sent the note at once. On his return to town, later, he received an affirmative answer. His reflections grew disjointed ; perhaps some self-deception — possibly remorse — mingled with them. " The question is — how much he knows ? Well, it is a curious experiment, even if it should end there." He moistened his dry lips nervously, even in that silent speech. " Something mysterious about him, too ! Sensitive ? Stoical — ? " The thought of Janet's innocent joy, which he seemed to be plotting to spoil, fell on him like a chill cloud, chased in turn by a lurid glare of hope, and something like vengeance ; but he quelled him self into civilised calm, had a short conversation with his father, made an inquiry to which the answer was satisfactory, and departed, with a careless promise to turn up the next afternoon.