A Hasty Marriage. A story of two lives. A novel

Preface

. I AM aware that in these pages I am outraging the laws of fiction. I have dared to commence my story where most novelists finish it — after marriage; but I am under the impression that there is as much philosophy to be evolved out of the story of married life, not to say as useful a moral, as there is in the stereotyped form, where the hero falls in love with the heroine at first sight, or otherwise, as the case may be, is annoyed by the villain, and eventually all ends happily in marriage. We never hear any more ; the reader is contented, and upon the future lives of those two fiction is silent. I have taken up the thread

PREFACE.

VI of the remainder, and I throw myself on the mercy of the reader for making so bold an attempt, actuated by the belief that there is often more romance after marriage than before. R. H. ROBERTS. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACE I. 'ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS' - - 9 II. A BOLD CAPTURE - - - 23 III. THE BALL AT GOVERNMENT HOUSE - - 33 IV. A RETROSPECT - - - - - 48 V. BARREN HONOUR - - - 57 VI. COMPLICATIONS - - - - - 67 VII. THE PICNIC - - - - - 78 VIII. ALTERED CIRCUMSTANCES - - - 86 IX. IN THE CITY - - - - 95 X. TEMPTATION - - - - - I05 XI. LADY LANGDALE - - - - Il6 XII. THE REHEARSAL' - - - " T27 XIII. A NEW SENSATION - - - - I36 XIV. THE MATINEE - - - - - 1 42 XV. THAT LITTLE DINNER • - - - J52 XVI. THE RUPTURE - - - - - 1 CONTENTS CHAPTER TAGE XVII. 'NEMO MORTALIUM OMNIBUS HORIS SAPIT ' - 169 XVIII. THE MOTHER-IN-LAW - - - - 1 83 XIX. MISS MARLOWE - - - - - 1 93 XX. ON TOUR ..... 202 XXI. GOING TO THE BAD - - - - 212 XXII. AFTER MANY YEARS ....

Chapter I

' ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.' Marriages, we are told, are made in heaven, against which statement we must demur. Every day the proceedings in our law courts go to prove that if some marriages are made in heaven, a large quantity are manufactured in that place which we are pleased to call hell. After the fatal step has been taken it is no use to repine, although when a man and woman — unsuited to one another — are united, the consciences of both will tell them the mistake they have made, though they won't own it. If they are good Christians, they will endeavour to bear with one another, and try to go through life as best they can, putting up with one another's foibles and sailings, and re straining their feelings for the sake of propriety; but oh, the misery of it ! Sir Owen Langdale, Bart, whose creation dates from 1620, had arrived at the age of twenty-four when he married Margaret Lyley.

Sir Owen was in the service, his regiment being quartered at Poona, in India, whilst he held the appointment of Military Secretary to the Governor of Bombay. Besides having distinguished himself as a soldier, Sir Owen had taken honours at college, was an extremely handsome man, could ride, shoot, fish, play cricket, row, and box with the best of them. In character, he was generous to a fault, utterly reckless in money matters, not knowing the value of that useful commodity, and a general favourite with everyone. Lady Langdale was an exceedingly stylish woman. Some people would not have called her features classical, and would, perhaps, have ob jected to the smallness of her eyes and the some what prominent nose ; the lips, too, were thin ; but, notwithstanding all this, few people would pass her by without saying, ' What a remarkably elegant woman !' Of her character we shall learn more as our story progresses. 'ALL LS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS' 11 As to means, with the exception of a few hun dreds that Lady Langdale had brought her husband, and Sir Owen's regimental and staff pay, they had nothing but prospects.

When Sir Owen came into the title he found that his father had left him nothing beyond his blessing and some old family plate. But they were both young ; the world was before them, and in the dim future there was an old uncle with plenty of money, who had made Sir Owen his heir, provided he behaved himself, kept away from him, and never dared to write to him — the only courtesy existing between uncle and nephew being the receipt by the latter at Christmas of two brace of pheasants and a hare. Sir Owen had been married about six months, and at the time our story opens had just landed in India and taken up his post at Government House, Bombay. It is a sultry afternoon. Sir Owen is seated in his office, which is kept cool by well -watered kuskas tatties emitting a pleasant odour as the hot wind blows through them, whilst a punkah is moved gently to and fro by the punkah-wallah seated in the veranda outside.

Suddenly the door opens, and Lady Langdale enters; she is dressed in white, and carries in her hand a large bamboo fan. 'May I come in, Owen dear?' she asks with a charming voice. What a gift is a rich, sweet voice ! how it will soothe the cares of man when he is worried or ill ! ' Certainly, my darling ; come in. I'm not very busy,* and he led her to a chair, and, seating himself beside her, fondly stroked her dark hair. ' Well, dear, what is it ? Anything gone wrong ?' ' No, dear ; only, you see, I don't know what to wear to-night, and I want to look well at my first ball in India.' ' My dear child, you'll look well in anything ! Let me see, how about that yellow dress I bought you from Howell and James', and I'll see if I can get some scarlet flowers of some sort. I dare say the molly (gardener) can let me have some.' ' Oh ! that will be just the thing.

I forgot all about that dress. Yes ; I'll wear that. It's nearly tiffin time, you know. Oh ! and shall I ride to the band-stand this evening?' ' If it won't tire you for the ball, certainly.' ' You'll come with me, of course ?' ' Of course, unless the Governor wants me.' Just then the door opened, and a short, stout, red-faced man entered the office, attired in the undress uniform of an A.D.C. 'ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS' 13 George Lawn was a brother officer of Sir Owen's, and had been made Aide-de-Camp to the Governor of Bombay at the same time that Sir Owen was gazetted Military Secretary. Captain Lawn was not a favourite in the regiment, because he was exceedingly reticent, looked upon balls and dinner parties as ' rot/ and women, he said, were stuck up, and most of them were bores or vixens.

He seldom laughed, but when he did it was a sort of spasm, his face assuming immobility after the spasm — almost immediately. He never rode, except on duty; he hated shooting; all athletic sports, he said, were only fit for lunatics ; as to croquet, or lawn-tennis, or archery, or boating, or fishing, no man in his senses could possibly find any amuse ment in such. But there was one thing George Lawn loved — what man has not got his craze ?— and that was a good dinner, and a good bottle of wine. For these he lived. ' Beg pardon, Langdale, but the Governor wants you. Did not know her ladyship was here, or would have — have — waited.' And he crossed to the table which was allotted to him, and, taking up some papers, he left the room unceremoni ously. 'What a bear that man is, Owen ! I can't stand the sight of him, with his turnedup nose and red face.

Ugh ! I hate him !' said Lady Langdale. ' My darling, you don't know George Lawn ; under that rough exterior is a heart of gold; besides, he didn't make himself/ ' Yes; but he gorges himself. Eating and drink ing seem to be his whole life, and so he is account able for his unwieldy, coarse figure.' ' Well, well, my pet, remember George is a friend of mine. And now, I must not keep his Excellency waiting. I must be off.' ' Shall you be long?' ' I don't think so ; but you can wait here if you like, and if I am more than ten minutes, you'd better go in to tiffin. By-bye.' As the door closed on Sir Owen, Lady Lang dale rose and sauntered over to the window, on the right of which was Captain Lawn's table, covered with papers, amongst which the menu for the ball supper was prominent. 'Thinks of nothing but eating,' said Lady Lang dale, glancing at the menu. 'No wonder the getting up of dinners and suppers is left to him; he can't do anything else ;' and she turned to retrace her steps, when a small piece of pink paper on the floor under her husband's table attracted her atten- 'ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLLTTERS' 15 tion.

She picked it up, and her eyes became fixed upon it, as she read these words written in a woman's hand : ' You won't escape me to-night : you must dance with me and take me in to supper. Is it possible you cannot understand what my feelings are for you ? « ' Laura.' Was she dreaming ? She must be ! But, no ; there was the letter, the words standing out in gigantic proportions as she gazed at it. Laura ! Who was Laura? and she ran over the names of all the ladies in the station, as she crushed up the letter in her hand. ' I have it,' she almost cried, after a few moments. ' It is from that little stout woman with whom he was riding at the Band Stand, Mrs. Percival. I'm sure I heard her husband call her Laura. Oh, Owen ! Owen ! and is this your love for me, after a few months of married life?

I'll get to the bottom of this, and then, Sir Owen Langdale, you'll see the sort of woman you have married.' She left the office with a set face, her lips tightly pressed together, her eyes blazing with a fierce light, and the fatal note held fast in her hand. How many men's lives, ay, and women's, too, have been wrecked by the green-eyed monster Jealousy ! How plausible he is ; how insinuating ! When he fires his shaft, it goes straight to the heart. Pride is up in arms, rampant, militant. No time for thought, no calmness to review or argue the situa tion. No allowance for temptation, no excuse, nothing but hard vindictiveness. In nine cases out of ten, no question of an explanation, and when such is asked, what is the tone assumed ? — one enough to exasperate most men, unless, like Sir Owen Langdale, they are possessed of a sweet and generous disposition.

But in jealousy there is no generosity. We will not attempt to analyze the feelings of Margaret Lady Langdale, as she sought her apartments. Hot, angry tears filled her eyes ; her heart felt like ice. She was in a boiling passion. Let us rather follow the steps of Sir Owen. Lord E , the Governor of Bombay, was a man universally beloved and respected by both Europeans and natives. A diplomatist of the old school, full of courtly manners, and with a dignified presence that commanded instant respect. As Sir Owen entered the room, he rose. ' Ah, Sir Owen ! I wanted to see you about a 'ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS' 17 communication I have had from the Chief Com missioner at Sattara. I thought the mutiny was dead ; but it appears from his report that there is a feeling in the town, encouraged by the Rajah and influenced by the Sennaputty.

Here is the letter.' ' Yes, my lord, this is rather serious,' replied the Military Secretary after reading the letter. ' It seems to me that this snake ought to be scotched promptly.' ' What troops have we at Sattara ?' ' One troop of the 3rd Dragoon Guards and one company of my regiment.' ' Hum !' said his Excellency. ' Little enough ; but we must do something, and that quickly, eh?' ' Certainly, sir. Of course, we have available troops at Poona, and in view of there being 30,000 inhabitants in Sattara, it is obviously necessary to get some help ; at the same time, I think a coup de main might perhaps prove effective.' ' I'm afraid I don't understand you.' ' Permit me to explain. I would suggest that a resolute officer, with a small escort, should surprise the Rajah during the night, make him prisoner, and bring him into cantonments.

If any show of force is made it might arouse the town, and as the Rajah has some 7,000 men— a rabble, certainly, but which he calls his army— complications might arise. In the meantime a wire might be sent to the general commanding the Poona division of the army, to have such troops in readiness to advance should support be required.' 'Yes; but who's going to do this? I don't see ' ' Pardon my interrupting you ; but if you can spare me — and there is not much work to be done — I beg of you to allow me to carry out your orders. The train takes me to the foot of the Khandalia Ghaut ; I could wire previously to the officer com manding the artillery to have relays of horses laid for me from the top of the Ghaut, and so reach Poona. There, after reporting to the general, I could ride on to Sattara, and make the necessary arrangements.' 'Well, I don't know; I think I'd better send Captain Lawn ; besides, I can't very well spare you, and then there's this ball to-night.' ' I can assure your Excellency that Captain Lawn's assistance to-night will be much more valuable than mine ; besides, I think I could do it quicker.' ' Not so much weight to carry, eh ?

Well, well ; I suppose you'd better do it, only there must be no 'ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS' 19 delay ; while you're getting ready I'll send up to the station and have a special locomotive and carriage got ready.' ' I shall be ready in an hour, my lord.' As Sir Owen left the room he met George Lawn. ' I say, Langdale, did you happen to see a letter — a pink thing — I mean pink paper — -written on, of course, on your table ?' he asked. ' What on earth do you mean, George ? I don't know, I'm sure ; come with me to the office ; I'm oft" to Poona at an hour's notice.' ' Off to Poona ? Why, what's the row ? ' Come along, I'll tell you ;' and as they went, Langdale told him. ' Oh, by Jove ! Rum go, isn't it ? Lucky the chief didn't send me; that supreme and pomphlet for supper would have been spoiled ; but, I say, look here ; that letter !

I can't find it anywhere ! that confounded Mrs. Percival sent me a chit that was very compromising ; you understand what I mean ?' ' No ; I confess I don't. ' Oh, bosh ! you know I'm not a lady's man, and she's been trying all she can to flirt with me ; and she wrote me some rot about the ball to- A HASTY MA RRIA GE 20 night. I left it on my table, and I can't find it. I thought perhaps it had got amongst your papers.' 'Haven't seen it, old man; you shouldn't leave your billet doux about. Here we are. Where's my wife?' ' Hanged if I know ! I think I smell something burning. I'm off to the bobagee khana ; that rascally Portuguese cook is letting the supreme burn. I know very well it is not the duty of an A.D.C. to superintend the kitchen, but I'm interested in this personally. Confound that note ! what can have become of it ?' And he left the office.

Sir Owen, after gathering up his papers, pro ceeded to seek his rooms and acquaint his wife with his departure ; but on reaching the sitting room he found it deserted, and, going to the bed room door, he found it locked. ' Maggie ! Maggie ! open the door ! I'm ordered off, and haven't a moment to spare,' he called. ' Open the door, quick !' ' So much the better,' came the answer in an icy voice. 'What on earth's the matter? Open the door, darling.' ' Darling, indeed ! Are you taking anybody with you ?' 'ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS' 21 ' Look here, Maggie, if you don't open the door I shall have to burst it in ; I've no time to waste.' No answer. The next moment the door flew open, and Sir Owen strode into the room. ' My darling child, is this a joke, or ' Don't come near me ! don't touch me !

I am going home to my father and mother.' ' Eh ! what, father ! mother ! Why, you must be mad ! Here, pull yourself together, and get my things. I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, but the Governor had got a most important dispatch, and I've got to start up-country as quickly as possible. I hope you'll try to enjoy yourself at the ball to-night, and look like, what you always are — a perfect angel. Come, dear, give me a kiss, and forgive me for keeping you waiting.' No answer. The figure in white remained im movable on the chair. 'Oh ! well, I haven't got any time to wait here. Hi, Ahmed ! Ahmed ! go into my room and get me out my uniform and put it in the round valise ; I'll see to my sword and revolver — gelde jowl Well, little one, I don't know what's the matter with you, but I can't wait for any explanations.

You won't kiss me, so I must go away discon tented ; however, I'll kiss you.' And taking his wise's head in his hands, he endeavoured to kiss her, but the attempt was futile ; for when a woman doesn't want to be kissed it is difficult, especially if you're in a hurry. 'What the deuce is up?' Sir Owen said to him self as he made his way to the portico where the buggy was waiting. ' Hi ! I say, Langdale, have you found that note?' cried Lawn, hurrying up as fast as his obesity would permit. ' Oh, confound your note ! Go to the devil ! but look after my wife to-night at the ball, and see she's all right.' And he was gone. ' That's deuced funny,' soliloquized Lawn. ' Never saw him like that before. Look after his wife ! — I think not. I don't know much about women, but I think he's caught a Tartar. Look after his wife ! — oh no ! I'll go and look after that Portuguese cook, or the supper will be spoiled.'

Chapter II

A BOLD CAPTURE. When Sir Owen Langdale reached the station, he found the engine and carriage waiting for him. He at once entered the carriage, and throwing himself into a corner, he commenced endeavouring to find a solution for his wife's strange conduct. This is what he said to himself: ' What on earth can be the matter with Maggie? This is the first time I ever saw her in a temper ; in fact, I always thought she had too sweet a disposition. But v/hat have I done ? what have I said ? That's what I can't make out. Now, let me see.' But cudgel his brains and recollection as he would, Sir Owen could not find a reason for his wife's behaviour. The special duly reached the foot of the Khan dalia Ghaut at the slow pace that railways in India usually travel, and Sir Owen got into a palanquin, and started up the Ghaut for the travellers' bungalow at the top.

Soon the monotonous chant of the bearers caused him to close his eyes, and he fell into a profound sleep, from which he was roused by the putta-wallah of the travellers' bungalow asking him what he would have for breakfast, as if the larder was full of all sorts, whereas the staple commodity for breakfast, tiffin, and dinner at travellers' bungalows in the Bombay Presidency is always spatchcock or eggs. At an hour before sunrise Sir Owen commenced his ride, changing his horse every twelve miles, and arriving at Poona at one o'clock. He went straight to the Commander-in-Chief and reported. ' I have not sent the reinforcements to Sattara, Sir Owen, because I thought it better to see you first ; but they are ready to start at a moment's notice. This, however, need not delay you, unless you are too tired to proceed, and require a rest,' said the General. ' If I could have a bath, sir, and take some of the dust off, I should prefer proceeding at once.' 'Very good.

I'll have everything prepared for you whilst we talk over this matter.' That evening Sir Owen reached Sattara, and was soon seated with the three officers of the detachment of his regiment enjoying a hearty supper. Just as he had finished, the Chief Com missioner came in, and a council of war was held. 'What is your plan, Sir Owen?' asked the civilian. ' Well, sir, although there is no telegraph between here and Poona, you know how quickly news can be transmitted by dak runners; and doubtless the march of the reinforcements will be known, and their destination. I should therefore advise prompt action.' 'You're quite right; but how to make the arrest ? Of course, you know we've only eighty men of your regiment and sixty-five sabres of the 3rd Dragoon Guards.' ' This is my plan, or, rather, my proposal.

Let the whole force parade two hours before daylight and march for the Bund, and halt there until they hear a shot — that shot to be the signal for them to advance on the palace as quickly as possible ; a detachment of twelve men, a corporal, a bugler, and an officer to be told off from the force, and, at the time of their departure, the remaining troops to A HASTY MARRLAGE 26 march to take up their position at the Bund ; the detachment to march up the other road through the main gate and make straight for the palace. The detachment must get there one hour before daylight, so as to effect a surprise.' ' Very risky,' replied the civilian. ' Seems to me foolhardy.' 'That may be so, but I am not of that opinion. A bold stroke before the town becomes alarmed by the news of the advance of the troops from Poona is, it seems to me, quite feasible,' replied Captain Rogers, commanding the company of Sir Owen's regiment. ' I'll go myself.' ' I think, Rogers, you will be more useful at the Bund.

No, if you'll pick me twelve men, and give me Tommy here ' — alluding to a subaltern — ' I'll go,' said Sir Owen. ' I don't approve at all of this. You're risking the men's lives, and if you don't succeed there'll be a mutiny here, and the two native infantry regi ments in cantonments will join the Rajah. No, it's rash — very rash !' said the civilian. ' I am content to take the responsibility, sir. This is no time to consider risks or danger, but, of course, we cannot move without your orders. If we are going to do anything, orders must be given at once. What do you say, Rogers ?' asked Sir Owen. ' I quite agree with you, and the moment you, sir ' — to the Commissioner — ' give the order, I'll see it executed,' replied the captain. ' Oh, very good, gentlemen. I see I'm in the minority, so you'd better do it.' ' Very good.

Rogers, it is now eleven-thirty. Will you see that the 3rd Dragoon Guards are warned, and your men, and call the parade for three o'clock in the morning ? The detachment Tommy can march down there. I'll get a little rest on this charpoy, and you'll lend me your tat: 'Very good, Major. Tommy, come with me; we'll go at once. Good-night, sir,' to the civilian ; and the two officers left the bungalow. As they crossed the compound, Tommy said to his Captain : ' I say, what a jolly lark, isn't it ?' ' I hope it won't prove anything else.' At three o'clock the little detachment was halted in front of the bungalow, and the subaltern roused Sir Owen from a troubled dream, in which he saw Lady Langdale standing under the portico of Government House, her trunks being put into a ghari, and a look upon her face he had never seen before. ' Detachment paraded outside, Major.

I've opened the ranks ; they are ready for your in spection,' reported the subaltern. 'All right, Mr. Lee. I'll be with you in a minute.' Ofisdutyhe was 'Tommy'; on duty, Ensign Lee. After inspecting his detachment, Sir Owen asked : ' How many rounds of ball have been served out, Mr. Lee ?' ' Forty rounds, sir. Captain Rogers said that would do.' ' Very good. Now, men, I want the most perfect silence kept. We are going to arrest the Rajah, who is organizing a mutiny, and I rely on every man here to follow me. The rest of the company and the cavalry will support us if necessary. You can smoke till we get within half a mile of the town. Shoulder arms ! Fours right ! Trail arms ! By your right, quick march!' and the detachment moved off. When they cleared the cantonments the order was given, ' March at ease !' It was very dark, not a star to be seen in the sky, as the handful of men approached the ancient capital of the Mahratta kings.

Occasionally the howl of a jackal broke the stillness, whilst flying foxes flitted through the air. Arrived within a few yards of the principal entrance-gate, the order came, ' Attention ! Trail arms !' given in a low voice ; but there was no one to be seen, the Rajah's ragged soldiers only sunning themselves in their uniforms during the day. Straight to the palace they marched through the empty streets. The gates were wide open. Sir Owen dismounted and whispered to his subaltern : ' Post a sentry on each side of the gate. March the rest into the courtyard and draw them up in the centre. Tell the sentries to let no one pass. I'll take Corporal Gibbs and one file. Here, bugler, tie this pony up to that post.' The orders were promptly and silently carried out. Then Sir Owen, followed by two men and the non-commissioned officer, marched to the entrance of the palace.

A large tatty hung before it, and as he entered a sort of hall he found it lighted by a cocoanut-oil lamp. Everything was still, except the loud snoring of two natives, who lay on bamboo mats on either side, enveloped in their cumlis. ' Corporal, wake one of those chaps up,' said Sir Owen. ' Yes, sir.' And the astonished native sat up. 'Get up and show me the way to the Rajah's room. Look sharp !' came the order in Hindustani. 1 You are my father, sahib. I lay my pugaree at your feet. I will show the way.' ' Corporal, you remain here with one of the men ; the other will come with me.' After several ill - lighted passages had been traversed, the guide stopped and pointed to a tatty, at the same time salaaming. ' Keep your eye on that man. I will enter alone. Don't let him stir. If he tries to escape, use your bayonet — don't fire,' ordered Sir Owen.

As he pushed the tatty aside, two silver lamps shed an uncertain light upon the apartment. It was an ordinary-sized room, and in the centre was a European bedstead of elaborate manufacture, on which, reposing in slumber, la)' the body of the corpulent king. On an inlaid table was an empty champagne bottle and a chased gold cup. A little dog was lying at the foot of the bed, and imme diately commenced to bark, which had the effect of arousing the slumberer. ' I must request your Highness to get up and follow me,' said Sir Owen. 'By order of the Governor of Bombay, you are my prisoner. I can have no delay.' ' What have I done,' answered the Rajah in perfect English, ' and by what right do you force your way to my private apartment ?' And he seized a silver whistle. ' I must beg your Highness to put that down,' said Sir Owen, in a calm voice. ' I wish to avoid bloodshed.