The Stigma: a novel. By E. R

Introduction

. The writer of this little story is aware that the frequency of moral reflections on passing events may be open to criticism, as novel-readers gene rally like to hurry on with the story, and dislike so many meditative pauses. But tastes differ. Perhaps these passages may be considered by others of a more reflective turn of mind the best part in the book. At all events the Authoress finds no help for it. She can only say to the reader " you must take me as you find me." Some of the incidents in the narrative, however improbable they may appear, are founded on fact. The writer is indebted to Kaye's War in Affgha nistan for many of the historical references. E.R. CONTENTS. Chapteb. Page I. — Life and Death 1 II. — "Bella, Hobbida Bella!" 18 III. — Good Samaritans 24 IY. — Down at Huxley 29 V. — Love in an Orchard 40 VI. — A Fond Farewell 50 VII. — "Fresh Fields and Pastures New" 53 VIII. — The Lawyer's Wooing 72 IX. — Tnn Worm in the Bud 79 X. — In the Valley op Humiliation 88 XL— " More Ates !" 107 XII. — Out op the Jaws op Death 115 XIII. — A Bondage Worse than Death 123 XIV. — Deliverance 132 XV. — A Heart's Misgivings 139 XVI.— Nora 144 XVII.— Isabelle 161 XVIII. — The Doctor Dissected 166 XIX. — Cupid on Ecclesiastes 174 XX. — Home at Last! 183 XXI. — Friends in Council 208 XXII. — Looking Back 216 XXIII.— Exit Scweitzch 219 XXIV.— The Eabl at Home 225 XXV.— Halcyon Days 243 XXVI. "All's Well that ends Well"

Chapter I

— LIFE AND DEATH. '* The Beautiful, that men and gods alike subdues, Must perish ; For Pity ne'er the iron breast of Stygian Jove Shall cherish ! " SCBILtER. The whirl of busy life carries with it daily a heavy freight of human hopes and human sorrows. To what bourne does the tide run ? It is the flow of Time into Eternity. Has the working of that life-blood, which has stu'red the energies of busy thousands, been but for the sustenance of mortal life ? Nay, it has ano ther end ; the labour of life may give the daily bread, but the ferment of the passions has a higher object; it forms the soul, and sows the seeds of an Eternal Future. The great variety of character which results from the ebb and flow of circumstance becomes of itself a trial, both for the understanding and the heart ; the best are liable to err, both in their feelings and in their judgment.

It becomes, then, an important study to n seek to learn how to discern between the evil and the good, owing to the innumerable disguises the former assumes, and the specious appearances under which it lurks, as serpents under flowers, so that good men are often duped (as we all know) while the knave frequently carries the day and wins the applause of the undis cerning world. The hero of this story was born beneath the roof of an humble abode, and, like us all, made subject to the vicissitudes of life ; now to be smiled on by its sunshine, now to be frowned on by its storms, and liable to be tossed on the billows of circumstance. It was on the 6th of May 1815 that he first saw the light. For the present we will simply call him Little Harry. And who were the inmates of the lowly dwelling where this child was born, besides the mother and her babe ?

A woman of about fifty years of age was exert ing herself, with all the activity she could muster, to tend both the child and its mother, the former a beautiful boy " as lusty as a young eagle." On that modest bed, in the most sheltered corner of the room, lay the suffering wreck of what was once so beautiful that it might have been compared to the embodied inspiration of Love itself. The lovely mother of the little stranger was the Lady Evelyn. Her nurse was known as Dame Janet. The cottage belonged to the latter, who wished to end her days in peace there, for her heart was too sad now for the busy world, since she had survived the children she had loved dearer than her life. Her husband had been a steward on the estate of Lady Evelyn's father, and had LIFE AND DEATH. died bequeathing her this little shooting-box or cottage.

She herself, too, had been in service with Lady Evelyn's mother, and in the capacity of foster-mother to Lady Evelyn. It was not, therefore, altogether surprising that the latter should have selected Janet's cottage as a refuge at so trying a moment, for there she might be sure at least of care and watchfulness. Other motives also lent their aid to her selection of this hidden retreat. Pride alone would never have chosen so simple a roof, but Pride was not the master passion which ruled the bosom of Lady Evelyn. Though her lineage was noble, her spirit was humble and gentle ; moreover, she was already broken-hearted, though but nineteen years of age, and the gauds of luxury could bring no comfort to her wounded breast. Riches may soothe the cold and unfeeling, and the gay children of the world ; but here was one who, though reared in the midst of all that wealth could bestow, valued the superficialities of life only at their real worth.

They were not despised, but they could never stand to her in lieu of the tender ties which her true womanly nature needed. Those in whom excess of tenderness predominates too often carry within them weapons against their own peace. Lady Evelyn seemed created foi love from hei infancy, and for love only. Nothing seemed to esta blish any hold on her feelings, but that which she loved. Such a one was ill-suited for the ordinary lot of mortals. One would have supposed that Nature had taught her everything, and had led her to imagine to herself an ideal world in which her soul delighted, till Love TnE STIGMA. presented itself in Reality. Was she then its victim ? Our tale will show. So far as regards natural advantages, Lady Evelyn could not have selected a more lovely spot than that where her babe was born.

The " lowly thatched cottage " was half hidden by a clump of luxuriant trees, standing in a dell embowered amid Nature's charms. Flowering shrubs, creeping plants, the fern, the wild ivy, and many other beauties of the teeming earth, assisted, together with the stately fir, the silvery barked beech, and the mountain oak proud of its red berries and graceful leaves, in con cealing the little cottage from the eye of the pass ing traveller : not however that many travellers were likely to catch even a glimpse of the hidden cot. There was too much copse and too luxuriant a growth of wood to allow the path-way which led to Janet's abode to be visible to the careless passer-by. Moreover, the spot was one altogether out of the track of either ordinary tourists or of men on business bound. The spot was near a heath, on which were but few signs of life, save an occasional horseman spurring rapidly along, or a ragged urchin intent on guarding the cattle which had wandered thither to graze.

No village bells heralded the birth of the little stranger ; no boom of cannon struck pompously on the rustic ear, although he was the first-born of noble parents. Nought was to be heard save the cooing of the wood-dove, the twitter of the swallow, the carol of the nightingale, and the warbling of the lark. A plaintive sound filled the air, like the moaning of a LIFE AND DEATn. sorrowing spirit : it was the murmuring wind which waved the branches to and fro, and sighed, as if it were the voice of Nature wailing a lament over one of her suffering children. To return to the interior of the cottage. Whilst Dame Janet was busied with the many requirements of both her patients at that particular moment, a low moan from the bed aroused her attention. The lady opened a pair of the most beautiful blue eyes that Nature had ever bestowed upon woman.

Her features were of the Grecian order ; the broad and intellectual forehead, the small straight nose, and delicately curved mouth, would have offered charms for a sculptor, how much more for a lover ! As soon as the low moaning had reached the not too quick ear of Dame Janet, she hastened to moisten the lips of the sufferer with some simple beverage, for there were strong indications of fever, which was much to be dreaded at that critical moment. The thin and emaciated, though fair, hand of the lady wandered beneath her pillow apparently in search of something, and her eyes rested inquiringly on the nurse. The latter interpreted their meaning without any other language, and replied — " It's all safe, darling, I've packed it away, where it'll not take any hurt." Lady Evelyn's eye shone with startling lustre as she murmured feebly with nervous anxiety — " Oh ! do not take it away ; pray let me have it again, that I may wear it to the last ; and when I am gone, my faithful Janet, take care that when he is old enough it is given to my boy.

Bring him to me." Dame Janet brought both the treasures so anxiously asked for. The living treasure was fondly embraced, and then restored to his little cradle. What was the other ? A beautiful miniature, set so that it could be worn round the neck. It represented the noble face of a man of about seven and twenty years ; the forehead high, the eye of lustrous blue, finely cut nose, but little of the mouth perceptible, being overshadowed by the moustache, forming a tout ensemble which was entirely patrician. When she had covered it with kisses, she heaved a deep sigh, and beckoned to Janet to place it round her neck, and then she sank into an uneasy slumber, during which her pulse beat faster and faster, and the colour rose in those hitherto pallid cheeks till it reached the crimson tint denoting the much dreaded fever.

Distress of mind at that dreadful hour had no doubt brought on those fatal symptoms. Ah ! what a complication of feelings struggled for the mastery in the heart of that poor sufferer ! Horror, delight, misery, pleasure, despair, hope, the desire to live, the wish to die — they were all there, but amidst them all the strongest emotion was — Love. Janet left the house for a minute or two, and looked out on the heath to see if there were any signs of any one coming, but no, there was no indication to eye or ear of any human being. The monotonous aspect of the heath was varied only by broken ground, gravel pits, furze bushes, and occasional firs and clumps of trees. She was returning in despair, muttering and groaning to herself much in the following strain : — " Oh, dear ! that it should come to this, that my poor eyes should see my darling die, and ne'er a soul at hand to help !"

As she was stumbling down the bank on her way back to the cottage, she heard some sounds which resem bled the calling of cattle. She scrambled up the bank again, and caught sight of a ragged cow-herd, who was in quest of the cattle that had wandered on the moor. She beckoned to the urchin, who obeyed her summons rather unwillingly, giving her to understand that he must mind his cows. He was about to scamper off, when she tried the effect of a silver six-pence upon the lad's cupidity, promising him another if he would run to the village and tell the doctor he was wanted. The boy promised to do her bidding, drove his cattle on the right track to their sheds, and at length presented himself at the door of Dr. Selwyn. Cer tainly, if the doctor had not been a benevolent man, the lad stood a good chance of being driven away from a gentleman's door, for his appearance did not come up to the respectable; but Dr. Selwyn was a philanthropist, and had given strict orders that no one applying to him for relief should be sent away unheard ; so the little cow-boy's tale was listened to, and but a short time elapsed before the doctor, accepting his guidance, was hurrying on towards Dame Janet's dwelling.

The boy received his promised reward and scampered off. Not long after the doctor had entered the cottage, the truth, or something very near it, flashed upon him. At the first sight of a beautiful woman, evidently a lady, stretched on a bed of sickness in so lowly a place — for although everything was kept in great order and neatness, it could not boast of much pretension — the doctor started; but a short cry from the little cradle in the corner of the room enlightened him in a moment. He therefore asked no question, for he saw all at a glance ; but, notwithstanding the many sad scenes he had before now witnessed, he felt a sharp pang of sorrow when first he took the patient's hand within his own, for he knew he could not save her. He knew the case in a moment. He was a man of action, not of words.

Of the latter he uttered no more than were necessary to instruct Dame Janet what to do, and to make himself acquainted with such circumstances of the case as were necessary for his guidance : neither did Janet appear inclined to be unnecessarily communicative. Into what strange circumstances medical men are sometimes thrown ! There are moments when they must lay aside the stranger, and become the friend, the comforter, and the nurse — all in one : there are cases when a touch of Abernethy's bluntness would be more likely to kill than to benefit a nervous patient. It is not every one, however, who can play the part of a tender comforter. Some medical men are much more suited to attend on ladies than others. Dr. Selwyn bathed the sufferer's forehead with the greatest tenderness, so that she might not be disturbed, and, after administering other remedies, he had the satisfaction, in about an hour, of seeing the fever abate.

But the mind was the obstacle to perfect cure, and that he had no power to heal. Whilst the fever was at its height, the incoherent ravings of delirium had revealed too much. But no man could have been more suited to such a case — the secrets revealed by delirium were sacred in his breast, for he was the soul of honour, there was naught of coarseness in the heart that beat under that good broad cloth. He felt that he was in possession of the secret of his dearest friend, and that it concerned the happiness, and perhaps even the honour, of one of the loveliest beings the sun ever shone on. Doctors may differ in opinion and in feeling : some are callous, others the contrary : this one was divine ly Jin man. He was anxious to leave his patient as soon as the fever had in some measure subsided, lest she should experience too great a shock on perceiving him by her bed-side ; for he had some insight into human nature, and, above all, into woman's nature.

What balm could he bring for the broken heart ! WThat opiate could he offer to lull the torture of a mind wrung with a despair so great, that, like Noah's dove, the soul seemed to find no spot whereon to rest ! The art of the physician may accomplish much, but there is a limit to its power, and the impassable boundary is found in the thorns of mental suffering— the agony of the mind. Fortunately, Lady Evelyn did not wake during the doctor's visit. He returned home, after impressing on Dame Janet the necessity of implicitly following his directions. As he sat in his snug little parlour, thoughts crowded B rapidly upon him. What could he do ? There were no telegraphs in those days, by which to apprise his friend, who was in London, of all that was going on. He would start off himself, the village of Huxley was but sixteen miles from London, and he knew where his friend was generally to be found.

This idea was adopted, and he was soon on the back of his swiftest horse, spurring away on the road to the metropolis. He had not gone many miles before the clouds began to lower and the rain to fall, but he was not one to give a thought to the weather. He was nearing the outskirts of the city, when he perceived a horseman wrapped in water-proof clothing riding as fast as him self, but in the opposite direction. There was a wildness in his way of riding and in his manner, but he knew him in a moment : it was the very man he was seeking. It seemed hopeless, however, to expect to attract his attention, he seemed heedless of all around him, and dashed on as fast as his eager grey Arab could carry him. Yes, it was his friend, Captain the Honourable Harry Greville. It was useless to turn back with any hope of overtak ing him, for his own horse at that very moment cast a shoe, and he would necessarily be delayed some time in procuring another.

However, this might be all for the best, for it was easy to perceive from his friend's manner that some startling news had reached him ; he was no doubt aware that his presence was urgently wanted, hence his haste, and nothing that the doctor coTild tell him would tend to relieve his anxiety. With these reflections he comforted himself as well as he was able, and turned homewards ; but he was attached to his friend, he had loved him from his boyhood, when they were playmates and school-fellows together, and he could not allow to pass without sorrow the thought that his friend was unhappy. He had heard some twelve months ago of his love for the beautiful Lady Evelyn, but he had not been admitted entirely into his confidence in this matter of the heart. A few vague remarks had led him to imagine that there was some mystery some where, but, with a delicacy by no means common, he sought not to penetrate into his friend's secrets.

Once more let us leave the good doctor in his snug little parlour, surrounded by books and other literary pabu lum. He was writing a " Treatise on Human Nature," but of course no one had yet seen it, save the maid, who generally turned the written pages upside down, when she carefully put the room in order every morning. To return to the cottage. The lady had slept more calmly since the doctor's visit. It was midnight. She was no longer alone. There was a watcher by her bed side. Who sat there watching, fanning her heated brow ? A cry from the little crib attracted his attention. He went up to it, took the baby in his arms from the crib in which it had hitherto lain unnoticed by him, owing to his anxiety for the sufferer, imprinted a kiss on its fore head, heaved a deep sigh, and, laying it in Dame Janet's lap to be comforted, returned to his post.

The storm had increased, and just at that moment, a loud peal of thunder startled the sleeper, and, opening her eyes, she beheld the watcher. In what relation stood he to her ? He was her adored, her almost idolized husband. For him, what had she not forsaken ? What struggles had not been endured by that tender heart ? What inward conflicts had not reached her soul, unknown to him ? The outward smile, the inward sigh, pangs of remorse, which had been as a hell within her, greetings of love resembling the smiling vineyards which clothe the sides of a smouldering volcano, where the inward throe is concealed under the face of beauty : these had been her portion, and her life might have been com pared to an April day, half sunshine and half showers. But such a state of things could not long endure, for a certain amount of calmness is absolutely necessary to the mind.

The heart cannot live when for ever on the rack. That of the fair sufferer was soon to burst its cords. On awaking, she perceived him, and extended her arms, but was too feeble to raise herself in her bed. He leant over her, imprinted a burning kiss upon those beauteous lips which answered to his own ; and in that one, long, fervent embrace, those two hearts, which were soon to be parted for ever, spoke volumes to each other. Lady Evelyn heaved a deep sigh. " My love ! and is it thus ?" — whispered he. A sob, a tear, from Lady Evelyn, and then these words — " I am better, love ; but I know I am dying. Weep not, dearest Harry, for 'tis better so." " Do not break my heart," replied he in a low voice ; " but cheer up, and live, my own one, for me, and for another. How beautiful he is !" " Ah !" murmured Lady Evelyn ; " you have looked at him ?"

" Yes, love, and kissed him, and blessed him." Lady Evelyn sobbed hysterically. " But what am I to do ?" " Fear nothing," answered he. " Trust in me. A merciful Providence will enable me to shield you till brighter days shall dawn and all obstacles to our perfect happiness be removed. To mine, there are none now, save your own distress, and that, how can I remove it till Time clears the way ?" " Do not deceive yourself, dearest Harry, — I'm about to leave you, — yet not for ever. In the far off Future, in the world beyond the stars, we shall meet again, where none can divide us. Promise only that I shall live in your memory/' " For ever, and for ever, doubt it not. But why bid me despair ? You are better, darling !" " False hopes ! I feel that I have that here," laying her hand on her heart, " that no physician can cure, and which even your love cannot heal ; but 'twill soon be over."

A sigh broke from his manly breast, tears from those loving eyes fell fast on the neck and bosom of her he loved so tenderly. He became conscious of the difficulty with which she drew her breath. He kissed her again and again, 'twas the pure and holy kiss of a deep and true affection which came from the heart, and which an angel would not have condemned. He bade her be calm, but was answered with tears and sighs, to which succeeded a long hysterical fit, during which she lost all consciousness. The storm increased without, and the vivid flashes of lightning illumined the lowly hut. Lady Evelyn's fever returned, and delirium took possession of her. Her broken sentences shewed him the agony of her mind. "When," said she, "will it be over? I thought Love could conquer all things, but it has not conquered my remorse !"

He started, and paced to and fro the room. He struck his forehead. " This, then," said he to himself, " is the cause of all the sorrow which is killing her ! Why so much agony ? Could my love not suffice for her !" He gnashed his teeth. But no, the heart is too tender, the conflict is too great ! Then, turning towards her, he fell on his knees at the bed-side, and, taking her burning hand in his, he exclaimed — " Oh ! my Evelyn ! Evelyn ! my beloved ! Are those eyes still unconscious ? Have I then failed to heal those sorrows, to restore that loving heart of thine to happiness ? Wretched man that I am ! It is then I who have blighted thy pure young life ! It is then he who adores thee who has caused thy misery, perhaps thy death !" Then, again pacing the room, he raised his eyes, as if invoking the pardon of Heaven.

Just at this moment, and whilst the storm was at its height, the door of the cottage was opened ; the vio lence of the wind, the rain, and the thunder, had pre vented the rapid tread of a horse's feet being heard by the distracted watcher, too much absorbed in his own overpowering thoughts to be sensible to external sounds. A man entered, but, as the light had waxed a little dim, the stranger was not at first recognized. Greville started with astonishment and anger on finding himself thus intruded upon, but it was only for a moment : the stranger was no other than his dearest friend, Doctor Selwyn, who had come to offer his services. The moment he recognised him he wrung his hand in silence and turned away his head to hide his emotion. The doctor had not been able to rest, and heed less of all the opposing arguments which presented themselves, he had resolved on visiting his friend, braving all risks, for he knew he must be wretched, and in need of comfort and assistance.

How could he then keep away from him, even though he should appear to be an impertinent intruder, for the secret of the cot tage had never been confided to him, nor would he have known anything of the suffering that was going on there, had it not been for Nurse Janet's alarm and anxiety for her mistress. " How," said Greville, " how could you know ?" " I know nothing, Harry, further than that I might possibly be useful to you, and you know that at all times, and in all trials, I am at your service." What is more eloquent than the pressure of the hand ! It was again the only reply his friend could offer him. Strong feelings often impede all utterance. The doctor approached the sufferer, but he saw that it was too late. The brain was already affected, and hopelessly so ; the fever had risen to a high pitch ; it was evident, too, from the convulsive spasms which flitted over that lovely face, and the tossing of those fair and beauteous limbs which rivalled Canova's marble, that there was agony of body as well as of mind.

Doctor Selwyn did all that human aid could do. His friend threw himself on his knees at the foot of the bed, and wept bitterly. The tears he shed were tears wrung from him by the keenest anguish that can rend the human heart, for he loved the beauteous one before him with a truth and fervour beyond that common to men. He remembered the words of the Poet : " Tis all too late, thou wert, thou art, The cherish'd madness of my heart " and he felt that the words were only too applicable. The dreadful night of intense misery was passing away, morning would soon dawn, but, for one of the inmates of that simple dwelling, the day-star of his existence had set for ever. " The struggle will not be long now," said the doctor to his friend, "neither is it desirable that it should be. It is too late for human aid."

He was answered by sobs. An hour passed by, and Lady Evelyn grew feebler and feebler from the exhaustion consequent on fever, pain, and delirium. The sufferer was now subsiding into a state of calm. After she had been thus for about half an hour, she suddenly exclaimed — " Harry — dearest — Harry — farewell !" He rushed to her side, and, kneeling, leant his brow upon her hand. After the lapse of another hour, the signs of approaching death were visible on that much-loved face. He kissed her pale lips, and, as he pressed them, it seemed to him that the kiss was feebly returned. This was the last sign of life, for in a few hours more the object of his love lay like a marble statue, alike insensible to his embraces and his vows. c

Chapter II

—" BELLA, HOKRIDA BELLA!" Hark ! Hark ! to the clarion of war ! The sound hath a charm for his ear ; In the thick of the fight he will bury his woe, For his love is laid low on her bier. When the irresistible conqueror Death had laid low the beauteous form of Evelyn, Greville became com pletely powerless, and prostrated with grief. His friend hastened, therefore, to draw him away from so painful a scene, and insisted on his going home with him. He then sought the good clergyman who lived near, and made with him every necessary arrangement for the interment. The Rev. Mr. Dawton was an old friend of Dr. SelwjTi, and was ready to oblige him even so far as to undertake the care of the child, with the intention of bringing it up " in the right way." Nurse Janet and her charge were accordingly soon installed as regular inmates of his hitherto solitary dwelling.