Taken at his Word

Front matter

TAKEN AT HIS WOKD ET W ALTER RAYMOND AUTHOli OF " MISTERTOX'S MISTAKE," ETC. IN TWO VOLUMES VOL I LONDON RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON in ©timatg to J^ct fHajtstg tfjc ©uttn 1892 (All rights reserved) CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER PAGE I. The Stranger ... ... ... ... 1 II. Pettiton ... ... ... ... 14 III. Mr. Lucas takes the Chair ... ... ... li* IV. A Parenthesis ... ... ... ... 38 V. Mrs. Fraser ... ... ... ... 47 VI. Ruins ... ... ... ... ... 57 VII. The Burial Board ... ... ... ... U9 VIII. Rosie ... ... ... ... ... 84 IX. Dead Man's Hole ... ... ... ... 98 X. The Mansion House Ball ... ... 119 XI. Rosie's Departure ... ... ... ... 140 XII. A Parish Poll ... ... ... ... 151 XIII. Sonata in F. ... ... ... ... 165 XIV. Flesh and Blood ... ... ... 178 XV. Threat or Warning ... ... ... 1S9 XVI. Going? ... ... ... ... ... 2112 XVII.

Blue Papers and Red Tape ... ... ... 2IG XVIII. Writ in a Fair Hand ... ... ... 223 XIX. Rosie's Return ... ... ... ... 232 XX. The Strolling Singer ... ... ... 243 XXI. A Chapter of Love Stories ... ... ...

Chapter I The Stranger

It was a November day, humid and still, with no breath of winter in the air. It did not rain ; nevertheless beads of moisture hung on every twig and briar in the hedgerow, and dripped from the branches of the overhanging elms. The sky was hidden, the horizon lost in soft gray mist. But sometimes the sun, like a prisoner yearning for liberty, peered through a window in the wall of cloud, to look sadly on the wooded hill-side, the winding gravel road, and the ruts and pools beneath the wayside gate. On the strip of waste close by stood a milestone, tall and ancient, leaning forward as if "In Memory of" the forgotten past, when people journeyed far by road, and conveying the information, London 132. vol. i. Pettiton 2. Opposite the gate, a few rude steps cut in the bank led to a stile, formed of a couple of parallel slabs of blue stone, on one of which was seated a young man, his elbow on his knee, his head resting on his hand.

He sat motionless, lost in thought, or in contemplation of the dreary landscape. And, indeed, it was dreary. A sodden footpath, winding down the rough hill-side, and crossing the level mead below, led to a disused factory in the valley. Its broken windows, its shaft, tall and dark — the monument to a dead industry, — were reflected in the water of a deep mill-pool, formed by the artificial widening and baying of a brook. The place looked so melancholy and forsaken, one felt instinctively that somebody had failed there. By-and-by some foot-passengers crossed the meadows and toiled slowly up the steep path. Then the stranger, drawing a book from his pocket, wandered across the road to the gate, against which he leaned, and appeared to be leisurely reading. The travellers, two young women, cautiously descended the slippery steps.

" Who is that ? " whispered one. "I don't know. I think he must be staying in the New Terrace," was the reply; but both question and answer indicated an interest previously awakened. And certainly the young man's appearance was likely to attract attention. An air of freedom and unconventionality marked him for observation, and aroused the curiosity of simple people in those quiet parts. He was below the middle height, but slight of frame, and therefore, standing alone, exhibited no deficiency of stature. But his face betokened singular intelligence. It was thin, dark, and clean-shaven, a condition perhaps involving too severe a demand upon its symmetry. His forehead was broad, his eyes were large and keenly alert. They seemed to indicate a force of observation and character unsupported by the lower portion of his face; for his mouth was well-formed, and, with an absence of sensuality, possessed something of the sweetness of childhood, whilst his chin was small and delicate almost to insignificance.

As the people passed he followed them with a glance, searching and almost predatory, which grasped and understood their circumstances. " Sisters. Daughters of small but well-to-do tradesman. Sunday clothes to visit respectable relative. The elder, confirmed in spinsterhood, carries the basket ; the younger, probably in love, the bouquet. In the basket a change of shoes and some delicate attention to respectable relative — perhaps sausages." It would have been difficult to decide whether his words were sympathetic or cynical. He turned again towards the gate ; then, apparently expecting some one, and becoming restless, he stepped into the highway and watched. At his feet a beetle, travelling over the unequal ground, had fallen upon its back. His brow con tracted as he witnessed the insect's struggling dis comfort, but he did not touch it.

He plucked a plaintain stalk from the wayside, and with some difficulty restored the wretched creature to legs and life. It was not the act of a naturalist. If he could not endure to witness suffering, neither could he overcome an instinctive repulsion for everything which creeps. At last up the hill came an old-fashioned carriage, heavy and somewhat out of date, drawn by a pair of horses. A fat coachman sat on the box, a footman by his side; and from one corner of the chariot a middle-aged gentleman surveyed the surrounding country with an air of aquiline but genial dignity. The stranger hastily thrust aside his book as if the important moment were come, and closely scanned the approaching equipage. The grandeur of the liveries, the perfection of the harness, the neat armorial bearings — no detail escaped his attention.

Then he stared at the solitary occupant ; so attentively indeed, that the gentleman probably mistaking the stare for homage, or fancying an implied recognition, acknowledged it by a slight movement of the head. Presently leaning forward, he asked, " Who is that?" " I don't know, sir. I've never seen him, to my knowledge, before, sir." The coachman muttered something, and the footman volunteered this addi tional information : " A young man, sir, fresh to Pettiton." The young man fresh to Pettiton remained watching them and laughed, not with glee, but bitterness. " A cumbrous affair. Two horses, two asses, and four wheels to convey one man two miles. It will wear out in time, I suppose." Then he gave way to disappointment and vexation with himself. " It would be no good, and if I had not been a fool I should have known it.

Why should such a man be interested in me ? I am shabby and thread-bare and without a shadow of a claim upon him. It was like my feather-brained folly to come here. He would receive me, read my letter of introduction, ask me pleasantly about Cosmo Proctor, and invite me to lunch. If I begged, he would ' teach me how a beggar should be answered.' " On the top of the hill two children, a girl and boy, jumped out of a coppice and ran laughing towards the carriage. It stopped to take them up, and there was merriment and a humorous reprimand. Then it turned the corner, the horses' hoofs beat a sharp trot on the distant level road, and the young man walked slowly down the hill. As he entered Pettiton the bells in the church tower began to ring merrily, and from a distant part of the town came the music of a brass band.

But merriment was distasteful to him. The bells jangled a discordant melancholy, which made his brain throb, and the brazen music put his teeth on edge. He could have cursed the human race for this coarse gaiety, of which he did not even care to ascertain the cause. Almost beside him self, he took refuge in his lodgings and hurried upstairs. His room was small and scantily furnished. A common iron bedstead, a narrow strip of carpet by its side, did little to cover the deal floor, of which the planks, although new, were already shrunken and warped. A cheap painted wash stand, bearing a basin and jug, both somewhat chipped, stood in one corner. The dressing-table (deprived of the looking-glass, which was laid upon the bed) had been dragged from the window and was covered with papers and materials for writing.

One solitary chair stood beside it. On the mantel piece rested a card bearing, in text hand, the notice — Apartment for Single Gent But if the furniture were poor, his personal effects were even more meagre. They consisted of a violin case carefully locked, and a leather bag, old and travel-worn but open, displaying without reserve a scanty wardrobe almost buried in voluminous writings and packets of letters. The care with which he now examined these was inconsistent with the carelessness which previously left them open to the investigations of inquisitive ness. He sat down and took from his pocket a few gold coins and some odd silver, which he carefully counted. "With strict economy," he muttered, "six weeks. And after that, unless I steal — " He stopped and laughed scornfully at the idea, believing it impossible.

" And yet, why shouldn't a man steal, if he only know how ? Life is nothing but robbery. Nature displays nothing else. Civilization, more than savagery, reeks of it. Once it was muscle, and now it is money and — and ingenuity in advertisement. Let a man adopt their cursed ways, and lie, and cringe, and steal without scruple within conventional limits, and he may hand his name down to posterity on a marble monument, all his good works extolled — whereas my excellent works in three volumes and otherwise " The man's bitterness was unmistakable but contrary to his nature and short-lived, being quickly extinguished in a sense of the grim humour of his situation. He prudently shut the bag containing the immortal works and, hearing the scuffle of footsteps in the street, went to the window. A small but magnificent pageant was passing the house.

In front, the town-crier, wearing a cocked hat and braided frock-coat with gilt buttons, and having several times drunk His Worship's health that morning, staggered under the weight of the municipal mace. Next came the newly elected Mayor in a heavily furred robe of office, and wearing the municipal chain ; but the robe was long and His Worship short, and, to prevent it from dragging, he had drawn it around his somewhat corpulent figure, which showed to great advantage. He was escorted by his pro poser and seconder, each firmly holding an arm, to support him under the weight of his new dignity. Their march was triumphant, and they smiled exultantly on all around them. They were the leading spirits of Pettiton, fresh from a great fight for principle, and they had carried their man. The proposer, Mr. Walter Beech, burly and well made, in a high hat and a frock of broad cloth, was the Pettiton tailor, who, being fond of sport and a wonderful judge of a horse, also kept a livery-stable.

He had a large round face, like a harvest moon, and a glassy eye, which you always suspected of winking at somebody else at your expense. Mr. James Martin, commonly called little Jimmy Martin, the seconder, was a dapper little silversmith, of a nervous temperament, and wearing a long gray beard. He was returned by the democracy, and moved amendments to everything. Behind them straggled the municipal council in pairs, and mostly attired in black. There was a wasted man, with a blue ribbon and a soft hat, returned by the votes of total abstainers, and an overfed man, with a red face and a brown bowler worn dangerously on one side, elected in the interests of the licensed victualler. But these were mere " porridge after meat," until you came to the Major. He marched alone, a little behind the rest, carrying his umbrella under his arm in a most martial manner.

He wore a flower in his coat and walked with a jaunty httle step, as if he were marking time. And if he was short, mea suring not more than five feet four in his shoes — why, so was Napoleon; and nature is kind, and sometimes compensates for deficiency of stature by greatness of mind, so that a little man may often have a good opinion of himself. Besides, nothing could exceed the ferocity of the Major's moustache. As the procession passed the window, an urchin in the crowd threw up his cap and shouted — " Three cheers for Mr. John Lucas ! " The newly elected Mayor bowed with difficulty, but without loss of dignity. The young man started and drew closer to the window. " So that is John Lucas ! " he whispered. As he narrowly scanned the thick-set, pursy figure of the Mayor, and realized his coarseness and vanity, he could not control a feeling of dislike and scorn.

" The man is amere brute," he said. He turned to the bag, and from a bundle of letters drew a document, which he spread on the table before him. It was a certificate of marriage between John Lucas and Janet St. Clair, but the ink was faded and the paper stained. It was dated five and twenty years ago, and no doubt the incident were best forgotten. Suddenly a perception of the power involved in the possession of this document flashed across his mind. He started as if he were afraid and thrust the paper quickly aside. The possibility of committing a fraud had followed with terrible aptness on the heels of his reflection upon theft. " Yet what harm would there be ? " he muttered to himself. " The man isa mere animal — a coarse low brute. Nature writes no lies on a man's face, and you can read vulgarity as he passes.

He is fat and overfed. His soul is smothered beneath a load of pride and superfluity. There is no greater wrong in fleecing him than in taking the wool from a sheep's back. And what a small sum might carry me on to success and freedom ! Then I might know what life is — life untrammelled by limitations or follies. Witb only the means to live, I might realize the whole of it. With such a stake, why should I spare a man with a chain around his neck ? " He had forgotten his scorn and was lost in enthusiasm. In his heart he was thinking, " I am a poet and this man a pig." Then with an effort, as one who musters strength to throw aside a dream, he seized reality, and seating himself before the little table, presently became absorbed in his writing.

Chapter II

pettiton. The curious reader will attempt in vain the identification of Pettiton. Not that the place is insignificantly small and thereby escapes observa tion ; not that it lacks interest and is unworthy of notice. Far from that. A thriving borough is our municipal borough of Pettiton. A business borough — our market borough of Pettiton. For merly a parliamentary borough — our free and independent borough of Pettiton. Nor was it ever that mere miniature, that toy of opulence, the great man's plaything, a pocket borough. But why revive the forgotten past ? A new era has swept away corruption, human nature together with the franchise is reformed, and a veil shall cover the ancient disfranchisement of Pettiton. No. The multiplicity of Pettitons renders inquiry vain. The name is generic, and in the FETTITON, 15 "New National Gazetteer" its number legion.

There is Pettiton Magna, but it is not that ; and Pettiton Parva, but, indeed, it is not that. Ours is plain Pettiton, signifying a little place. On the adjacent hill stand the ruins of an ancient castle, but docks and burdocks fill the moat, and daws nest in the crumbling towers. Thence peering through the woods may be seen the turrets of Pettycombe Hall, long while the seat of the honoured family of Barber, a family which has provided High Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace, and Deputy-Lieutenants of the county for centuries. Even fiction hesitates to dream of a Somesuchshire without a Barber. But alas ! The present representative, unmarried and without an heir, is the remnant of that illustrious race. The town itself presents a strange commingling of old and new. A pent-house still adorns the market-place ; a circular dove-cote stands in the parish churchyard.

Thatched cottages squint from irregular windows under overhanging eaves at brick terraces, drawn up rigid and red as a file of British infantry ; and opposite the ancient Gothic building known as the Abbey, a modern factory from its tall chimney emits insufferable smoke. The streets are almost deserted except on Thursday, the market-day, when farmers con gregate to chaffer about cattle and corn ; or at noon and eve, when work-people, men and girls, hasten homewards from the factories in hurried streams. Thus an aspect of drowsiness alternates with an appearance of eager activity ; and, to be frank, Pettiton is a trifle dull, though prone to periodical excitement, which finds relief in disputes, parochial or private, as the case may be. As to dwellings of pretension, there is the Abbey Grange, where lives the Major, a volunteer officer of more than military appearance and irascible temperament, whose courage is above dispute.

Alone he has braved the Pettiton Town Council and contradicted the Town-clerk. Single handed he opposed the parish vestry, was beaten, moved an adjournment, carried it, and was beaten again. He then proved from Prideaux that the vestry was not, never had been, nor could be a vestry, a point upon which Pettiton has ever since been divided. What matter ? The gallant Major performs his duty, and the country in going to the devil receives no help from him. Then there is the Manor House in the middle PETTITON. 17 of the town, standing in a small paddock sur rounded by a stone wall, high and exclusive, the abode of Mrs. Fraser, a widow of prop well, of some means. She has one son, a young man of elegant manners and appearance, who haunts Pettiton, and is said to be a surveyor. But the architectural wonder of Pettiton is a mansion in the style of Queen Anne, recently built on the Pettycombe Road.

People flock to look at this extraordinary structure, with which very few are pleased. Some say that John Lucas ought never to have thought of building without first acquiring the paddock on the opposite side of the road. Some ask, why the devil, when he was at it, he did not put the place farther back, or buy the paddock at any cost, and build on that ? That is what they want to know. Some consider the house ostentatious and would not live in it rent free. Mrs. Fraser calls it vulgar, and the Major protests that " a fellow like John Lucas has no business with such a place. Paugh ! it is out of all reason. Why, who on earth would his executor find to take that house if Lucas should get cut off ? And let me tell you, a stout, short-necked man of that sort pops off before he knows where he is." vol. i. Thus the Major, with a parting glance at the stables and conservatories, fires off denunciations of nineteenth-century pride. But the new house is the joy of its owner, now comfortably settled within, and to its hospitable walls the reader is at once cordially invited.

Chapter III. Mr

LUCAS TAKES THE CHAIR. " Yes. I am satisfied. More than satisfied.' It was an evening in November, and the newly elected Mayor of Pettiton, attired in evening dress, was standing, legs apart, with his back to the dining-room fire. On the table were the remains of a feast from which he had just risen, but he was not expressing triumph over a defeated appetite. He held at arm's length before him a placard, displaying in letters of flaming red the information — JOHN LUCAS, ESQUIRE, MAYOR OF PETTITON, has kindly consented to TAKE THE CHAIR. An occasional stride to the extremity of the hearthrug favoured the inference that he was re hearsing a speech. Sometimes he raised one arm, sometimes two. Then paused, reflected on his popularity and the civic chair, puffed as if from over-exertion, and repeated, "More than satisfied."

As the reader has learnt, he was short and stout, like a money-bag; but his features, although somewhat coarse, were indicative of rough good nature. He wore a beard, now slightly mixed with gray, but shaved his upper lip, which, being disproportionately long, gave a commonplace appearance to his face. His eye was not large but alert ; his complexion tanned by travel and reddened with good living. His head, thrown slightly back, seemed to add, " more than satisfied — self-satisfied." And, indeed, for many reasons Mr. John Lucas might well congratulate himself. No one in Pettiton had been so successful since the estab lishment of the boot-and-shoe trade. At the age of twenty he went abroad abruptly, and at thirty returned penniless to his native town. Now at five and fifty he had amassed a fortune, raised the red-brick factory to the envy of the neighbour hood, and built the mansion, now satirically named the " Mansion House."

People pointed to him to prove what may be made out of boots ; but other manufacturers, anxious to deny excessive profits, explained that he had only one daughter to bring up. Besides, John Lucas had been lucky, exceptionally lucky, there could be no doubt about that. Was he not an original shareholder in the Western Universal Bank, a concern which coined money almost as effectually as a mint ? And after all it was not certain that he was so rich. Pettiton people had believed old Dicky Fraser rich, until he suddenly died and cut up scandalously— considering his previous pretensions, of course. However, in spite of envy, a rugged inde pendence made John Lucas popular. He was returned by the democratic party of Pettiton to the Municipal Council at the head of the poll, and elected Mayor in spite of strenuous opposition.

True, the majority was small, but that made the victory more complete. Then the Major wondered what the town was coming to, and what they should see next. Picturing improbable contingencies, he shuddered. " What if His Royal Highness or some distinguished guest should visit Pettiton during this fellow's year of office ? Paugh ! A pretty thing indeed. A loyal and patriotic address without a single h ! (Under excitement Mr. Lucas did drop an occasional h.) What if the town should suddenly become the scene of some intricate and subtle crime ? Then the folly of choosing an ignorant man for chief magistrate must become evident to all." Certainly the affairs of Pettiton were come to a fine pass. Prince of the blood, Crown Prince or criminal, young Fraser offered to lay odds that, unable to appreciate the requirements of either, John Lucas would ask him to drink.

Not that Mr. Lucas was addicted to drinking. In that matter he was moderate, but free of hospitality and pushing with his purse. Lacking chiefly education and refinement, he was rich in those commonplace virtues which cannot add a grace. Never had a bill delivered twice. Never missed a train in his life. To such a man life contains nothing intangible, That which cannot be handled does not exist. The triumph of civi lization is to wire and get a thing down by return, and intellect in its grandest form produces com modity at a cutting price. However, so well did he fit his times that his dining-room was spacious and richly furnished. His walls were covered with the works of old masters, whose names printed on the frames prevented all mistakes. He glanced doubtfully at the huge timepiece on the mantelshelf, checked its accuracy by rapid reference to his watch, and rang the bell.

" Ar'n't the ladies 'most ready ? Isn't Miss May 'most dressed yet ? Hark ! There's the wheels on the gravel path. Say the brougham is round," he said in his usual rough way. "Coming, papa!" cried a distant voice; and a young girl, elegantly dressed and flushed with excitement, entered the room. " Coming ! So I should think. So is next quarter-day, and — and the millennium. Where's your ma ? " But there was a bearish playfulness about this rebuke, and he was looking at her with delighted admiration. " Quite ready, papa," she replied, holding a pearl-handled button-hook between her teeth whilst she struggled with a glove of prodigious length and number of buttons. Then glancing at herself in the side-board mirror, she cried with real vexation, " But I am so annoyed. I never liked playing such a thing at all.

And now it looks so ignorant ; and everybody will think us so silly." " There, don't worrit yourself, my dear. Don't worrit yourself. Keep yourself cool. You may trust me to set that little matter straight. What a sweet thing this is, to be sure ! " The words would well have applied to the wearer, but he was testing, between his finger and thumb, the delicate fabric of her sleeve. "Ha ! I knew Perks and Bruce would do some thing tasty if we just dropped a post-card," he cried exultantly. Then Mrs. Lucas, throbbing with anxiety and breathless with running downstairs, piped timidly from the hall, " Waiting ! " "It is us that 'ave been waiting," retorted the Mayor, sententiously. And they drove away to the Pettiton Assembly Room. " Now, I shall make a few remarks, my dear, short an' appropriate, and then — call upon you.

Now, see you're ready. It conveys a bad impres sion to have to wait. Here you are." Fresh from school, and flustered with the novelty of the situation, May entered the little ante-room where Pettiton artists are wont to wait. The local flautist ceased his assiduous tuning to look at her in bewilderment. The reciter, imported from a neighbouring town, whose soul soared above petti coats, turned pale and fancied he had forgotten his lines. Never had such delicate combination of colour, such novelty (for Perks and Bruce could even anticipate fashion) dawned on that green room. Literally she was a being from another world. Struggling nervously to remove her glove, she peeped between the hinges of the door into the Assembly Hall. Every seat was filled, and she quailed before the rows of expectant faces.

Her heart beat in competition with the town-clock striking eight, as with magisterial dignity her father ascended the platform, and took the chair. He sat in it. This was his first appearance since the election and people applauded. He rose to speak, and the enthusiasm of his supporters knew no bounds. Then he raised his hand, calmly, as if on his own hearth-rug, and the audience became hushed. She could scarcely follow his sentences in their beautiful redundancy, as he indicated the elevating tendency of penny-readings and the rich repast of local talent spread before them : " eh — on these boards — eh — for the first time, on this inaugural night. But first, ladies and gentlemen, it is my duty — eh — my pleasing duty, I may say, to cor rect a small but inadvertent mistake. The piece claiming priority on our programme, a — eh" — he glanced at the programme in his hand — " a fantasia on the piano-forty, has, in a clerical error, been described by 'omer.

But it is not 'omer, ladies and gentlemen, 'omer was a Grecian poet. I have read his work, as doubtless you have your selves. But the — eh — piece, which is so soon to delight our ears, is by a more modern composer nearer our own days. And I have much pleasure " — he glanced towards the door, smiled approvingly to find her ready, and raising his voice gave out the title like the first line of a hymn at a con venticle — " in calling upon Miss Lucas to open by a fantasia on the piano-forty by — eh — by Norma." Her heart sank. But shame triumphed over fear and renewed her courage. She saw people whispering and smiling as she crossed the plat form. Then she became conscious of a settled stare of astonishment. But she trampled their scorn beneath the marches of that celebrated opera, and brought out the pathetic airs with the skill only acquired of the best finishing masters.

This was her first performance and debut in life, and at the conclusion some persons behind cried "encore." People in the front seats turned to each other to talk of her beauty, and wonder that anything so glowing and graceful could be the daughter of that ignorant fellow Lucas. The air buzzed with her praises. " Surely this is not the little girl so recently to be met in short frocks in Pettiton street ! " "But how she has changed ! " " Ah ! been abroad, did you say ? Most likely the costume came from Paris. A little startling for Pettiton, eh ? " " But what a charming face ! " " Though I doubt if it is the type of beauty that wears well — those black-haired Spanish -looking girls become all eyes by the time they are thirty." " Yes; but really quite an elegant figure ; too tall to be insignificant, but not tall enough to be ungainly."