A Man of Mystery

Front matter

THE BACHELOR VICAR OF NEWFORTH. EY MRS. HARCOURT-ROE. ' The Vicar is vigorously drawn, and the perplexities and difficulties in which he finds himself are imagined with some cleverness, and described with an ingenuity which keeps them, though somewhat sensational in themselves, within the limits of probability.' — Guardian. ' The principal charm of this very agreeable novel is the delicately satirical way in which the author hits off some of the weaknesses and follies of modern society. The book is attractive and enjoyable throughout. ' — Manchester Courier. ' The ideal both of a man and a clergyman.' — Westminster Review. ' Full of incident. The dialogue is smartly written.' — Figaro. ' Drawn with light, easy touch.' — Quarterly Review. ' Her manner of telling a story is a very pleasant one . . .

Very graphically described by the author, who has the rare gift of bringing her characters as real living beings before her readers. . . . Some of the minor characters are particularly well-drawn ; the story is brightly and prettily written, and will be read with pleasure by many.' — Literary World. ' Mrs. Harcourt-Roe has managed to introduce her readers to a distinctly interesting specimen of the genus ; the vicar in question is worthy of his name. Mrs. Harcourt-Roe tells her story well, and should not lack readers.' — Society. ' The hero of the tale is a model clergyman ; if anything, he is too noble. She has fashioned a splendid model, she has imbued it with attributes that all can admire and all should emulate. . . . Depicted with much subtle reasoning. The authoress is gifted with an insight into human passions not often observable in lady novelists.

It is a small psychological study. The work is full of interest throughout. In some parts we are reminded of Mrs. Oliphant's "Salem Chapel," in others we get a glimpse of political arid social economy. . . . The thread of the story is never lost, and the impression left on the reader's mind is pleasant. The " Bachelor Vicar " has sufficient in it to stand on its own merits, and it has the advantage of containing nothing that could offend the most delicate taste.' — Lewisham Gazette. ' She has a very agreeable and natural way of describing the doings and sayings of society in an English seaport. Provincial angularities come in for some good-humoured satire, and several types of the genus " Naval Officer " are drawn to the life. The whole story is bright and adable, and correctly reproduces many of the lighter phases of nodern society without degenerating into flippancy.'— Athenæum.

Chapter I

A MYSTERIOUS DWELLING. In one of the most secluded parts of Dartmoor, half-way up a towering, rock-capped hill, stood an ancient farmhouse, built of granite, the walls solid and of a tremendous thick ness, but the whole aspect of the place was desolate in the extreme. The windows were small, their diamond-shaped panes admitted little light ; the woodwork of the doors, case ments and wainscots was rotting, the flooring broken from age. The ceilings were low, and grimy from the smoke of past fires, while the scanty furniture was of the oldest description. The kitchen, a large apartment some twenty feet by sixteen, contained a long worm-eaten oak table, a set of oak chairs, curiously carved, but black with dirt, a few rude and primitive cooking implements. The flooring was of flagged stone; the passages and numerous lower rooms were paved with stone also.

A straight staircase, almost resembling a ladder, led to the upper story, which was divided into a large number of small rooms, some with one tiny casement, some without any light save that which came through the imperfect roofing. The sides were sloping and the architecture most irregular, leading one to suppose that many a secret hiding-place might be contained within the walls. During wet weather the rain came through the holes in the roof, while large patches of damp, mould, and mildew were visible. The furniture upstairs consisted only of a few very old wooden bedsteads, here and there a pitcher and basin, and several most uncomfortable wooden stools and chairs. The farm outbuildings were large, and built of granite ; they were entirely deserted and empty : even the rats seemed to have forsaken them.

The court-yard was grass-grown and moss-covered : what had been a garden was now a wilderness. The unpruned trees of the orchard were so choked with weeds and rank vegetation that they had long since ceased to bear, while even the oak-trees beyond were stunted, and, although thick and bushy, did not average ten feet in height. The deep silence was broken only by the screams of the curlew, or the shrill whistle of the stone plover and the lap wing. The sparrow hawk, the different species of harrier, and the buzzard might at times be seen, otherwise of life there was none. In spite of the exquisite views afforded by the wild and rugged scenery, the dells and ravines below, the moorland stretching for miles around, it seemed a spot either unknown to, or avoided by, the pedestrian ; for weeks, nay months together, no one climbed the rugged bridle-path leading to the farm gate.

One evening in spring, a man and a woman arrived at this house. She was tall and commanding-looking, about forty years of age, with a clever and resolute face, every feature expressing intense determination. Her figure was slight but wiry ; to judge by her appearance she was a woman possess ing great powers of physical endurance as well as strength. She had ascended the long steep hill without once pausing to take breath, although her companion, who was younger and very distinguished-looking, had stopped every now and then to admire the beautiful views. They went through every room in the house in silence, and, the inspection over, stood facing one another in the old kitchen. ' Will it do ?; asked the woman doubtfully. ' It must be made to do,' replied the man with decision. ' About furniture ?' she asked, still with an air of irresolu tion quite foreign to her nature. ' Name what is absolutely necessary ; let it be as little as possible.' He laid some slight stress on the word ' absolutely,' and kept his eyes fixed on her face as he awaited her reply.

She gave it with evident reluctance, not as if she were naming her own wishes, but repeating a lesson. ' Some mattresses are necessary, a few blankets and sheets, certain cooking utensils and tools.' ' Thev shall be sent.' A MYSTERIOUS DWELLING 11 Books ?' she asked doubtfully. ' None,' he replied firmly, ' save those of our faith 1 Not for myself?' ' Not for yourself.' ' Carpets ?' He smiled and looked at her. ' We shall not require carpets,' she continued hurriedly. ' It is well you have remembered,' he said coldly. She glanced at the doors with some uneasiness. ' None of the fastenings are secure. Ought there not to be locks and bars ?' ' For whose benefit? To keep the inmates from going out, or the outside public from coming in ?' 1 Both. There is a convict prison on Dartmoor, you know.' ' I do.

You shall have a couple of loaded revolvers, which you well know how to use ' (she shuddered), ' to protect you from outside perils, but as to bolts and bars, I refuse them ; if the inmates wish to go, by all means let them. You are not going to be Superior of a Roman Catholic convent.' ' Is nothing more to be sent ?' ' Food and coal.' ' And when you come ?' ' I shall fare as you do.' ' You could not have chosen a more secluded spot ; is the seclusion to be complete ?' ' Absolute for as long as I please, or, rather, until the lessons havebeen learnt, andthework — the real work — accomplished.' ' Do you think it will ever be accomplished in this busy, hurrying world ?' His eyes lit up as he replied, ' It shall be done.' ' And when do we take possession ?' 'To-morrow evening. You will find the articles you re quested already here when you arrive.' She gave a slight sigh.

He held the door open and looked at her. ' The door is open, the world is before you ; go now if you would rather.' She fell on her knees before him. ' I will not go ; I will never know any master but you.' ' Rise,' he said coldly; 'it grows late, we must return ;' and, in complete silence, they departed.

Chapter II. The Challoners' House

From Mrs. Henry Worsley, Rosemount, Penlist, to Miss Ethel Hatton, Newforth. ' My dear Ethel, 'I arrived at Saltash without any accident, and found Mr. Challoner— looking the picture of middle-aged and somewhat fat good health— ready to drive me to Penlist. His first words were : " Why, Gertrude my dear how remarkably handsome you have grown since your marriage!' This being an undeniable fact, I did not contradict him. I cannot tell why, but the mere fact of being engaged causes most girls to go off for a time ernbly; sometimes I think it must be the worry of the lover and sometimes of the trousseau. You yourself, Ethel, though you are so happy, have grown much thinner ot late, and I am truly glad your wedding-day is fixed for next month. ' Penlist is a lovely little village, built on the slope of a hill, so that some of the cottages overhang one another liiey are such charming, picturesque, tumbledown, dirty cottages covered with ivy outside and full of confusion rlinrf arC h6arty' genial' s°mewhat proud Cornish folk, whose manners are primitive and their customs not always pleasant to strangers.

But we grow bvekse°lfeVthyP S m UT? The Church is 0n a littlehill by itself, the graveyard slopes down all round it. There are queer old monuments and head-stones in the midst of Tl °n HhlCu the h°rSeS and cattle are tu™ed in to 8 I ♦ I heTJchur^h ls veT ugly; it is cold, bare and neglected. But there are such lovely winding lanes, and such gl0 Vlews and ro s]?ores g ™f that one doesn't care much about architectural beauties Talking of these, I must tell you such a good story. The THE CHALLONERS' HOUSE 13 Challoners' house, Rosemount, is most comfortable to live in ; there is a long large drawing-room, beautifully though not splendidly furnished : one doesn't feel afraid to sit down on the very comfortable chairs and sofas, and there are little alcoves in the walls with just room enough for two, with a hanging basket of flowers in front to prevent (I suppose) people's faces being seen too plainly by the public.

(Some times I quite forget I am married, when ! I consider how charming those alcoves are for flirtation.) There is a large dining-room also, with massive furniture, and silver, and a few pictures, everything very good and very solid, but made homelike by the profusion of flowers they put about everywhere, as we should like to do at home, only, having no gardener and no hothouses, we cannot very well manage it in December ; but the air here is so mild that even now we have quantities of winter roses. Then there is a charming breakfast-room, with pretty hangings, and water-colours on the walls ; and as for the bedrooms, they are perfection : the freshest of furniture, the softest of beds, the most luxurious of sofas. Everything in the house is in keeping and in perfect order. Well, I was going to tell you that, delightful as Rosemount is, it has not the smallest pre tensions to any sort of architectural beauty.

It is a large, low, rambling stone building, presenting the appearance of a row of cottages ; the kitchens and out-offices are at the back and form a quadrangle, in the midst of which is a small flower-garden and a fountain. The lawn in front is fringed with trees, and slopes down to the beach, and from all the windows there is a glorious view. ' I step from my room on to the veranda in the morning, and admire the beautiful little bays and headlands, and listen to the roll of the waves as they break on the shore. ' It is very pleasant for people, no doubt, to live in mansions of pure Elizabethan or Queen Anne architecture (poor Queen Anne ! let us hope she cannot now see the erections put up as belonging to her period), but there are corresponding advantages appertaining to those humbler individuals who dwell in houses, and can study the dictates of convenience according to their own sweet will, without being bound down by the iron law of tradition of what is due to the estate or the family.

A MAN OF MYSTERY 14 ' Whenever Mr. Challoner wanted an extra room, he built one on to the end of his house, without caring in the least whether it were artistic or scientific ; it was quite enough for him that it was useful. And yet the tout en semble is really very pretty. Ivy grows thickly over the walls, and, as the seasons come round, there are Pyrus Japonica and Jachmaneye in blossom, and great clusters of splendid roses, and scarlet Virginia creeper, finally holly, so that altogether the Challoners are very proud of their abode. ' But pride goeth before a fall ! ' Mr. Challoner praised his house so warmly one day at the Plymouth Club in the presence of an eminent architect, that the great man asked permission to visit Rosemount, and received a cordial invitation to lunch there the following day. ' During the journey, which he took in company with Mr. Challoner, he discoursed eloquently on the various orders of architecture, Greek, Egyptian, Indian, Arabian, Norman (all of which were quite unknown to his host), and at last asked him to which order his house belonged. ' " Oh," responded Mr. Challoner cheerily, " it is English, essentially English." ' " Ah, Early English," replied the architect. ' What he saw when he arrived in view of the much vaunted dwelling gave him, Mrs. Challoner says, a shock from which he will never recover.

He had taken a three hours' journey to see a simple rambling cottage ! She declares that he instantly averted his wrathful gaze and rushed away, tearing his hair ; but, as a very excellent luncheon was ready, and as even the most æsthetic of architects must eat to live, it is much more probable that he sat down and made a very good meal. It unfortunately was the first of April, and the great man firmly believed he had been made an April fool ! ' Mrs. Challoner is charming. She is about forty-five, but looks younger. She has a bright, clever face and quick, energetic manners. Her husband thinks her perfection, as I am inclined to think a great many men would believe their wives (men with all their strength and supremacy being creatures easily led when the right means are used), if these same wives would make as much effort to be agreeable to their husbands as Mrs. Challoner does.

I never could THE CHALLONERS' HOUSE 15 understand why some women think that as soon as they are married they need be no longer entertaining, but must become old frumps and fogies. Every man likes a laugh and a little bit of fun, and I intend to keep up that system with Harry. ' As to Rose, she is greatly altered since we were at school with her. She has grown lovely. Her features are small and refined, but her whole soul seems to shine through her marvellous gray eyes. She is a most intellectual, spiritual (or spirituelle is the better word) looking girl, and seems to me as if she had too much mind for her delicate little body. She looks too ethereal, but she is wonderfully pretty. ' Someone else thinks so besides me, for who do you imagine is down here now, and is Rose's very shadow ? Jack Ashworth — dear old Jack Ashworth.

His father lives in the only other gentleman's house there is in the place, and is a dear old man. Don't you remember how we all used to play together years ago, and what firm friends our fathers were ? 'Jack was delighted to see me. He took both my hands, and gave me a hearty kiss ; he has grown such a fine fellow. Then he walked me off to his father, with whom I have fallen in love. He is a fine, stout, hearty old gentleman, just as thorough a sailor as father, only rather more polished. He has a very comfortable house and large garden, and, unlike most naval officers, has money of his own. I believe he has twelve hundred a year besides his pay, out of which he is so kind as to give Jack six. Think of that ! almost half his income ; but he adores Jack. ' They wish me to stay here as long as I like, and although dull is no name for the life we lead as far as amusements go, I am yet extremely happy.

Besides, it is so convenient to be near Plymouth. The moment Harry's ship comes in he can telegraph for me to join him, which you may be sure I shall do upon the wings of the wind. You may imagine how little there is to do when I can write you such a long letter, but now at last I will conclude, and with best love to all remain, ' Your affectionate sister, ' Gertrude Worsley. ' P.S. — I wonder if there could be any excitement or mystery ever connected with such a sleepy place as Penlist.'

Chapter III. Dr

FELL. ' Here comes Jack Ashworth,' said Mrs. Worsley, looking out of the window ; ' it w7ould really save a great deal of trouble if he lived in the house altogether.' ' He does not come every day,' returned Rose Challoner. ' He is certainly here six days out of seven,' said Mrs. Worsley with a slight shrug. The subject of the conversation came up the garden with a quick step, and entered one of the French windows of the dining-room without ceremony. He was a tall, well-made young man, with a fair complexion and burnished locks. He possessed the man-of-the-world look and keen, bright expression of a clever young barrister of the present day. He had honest blue eyes, and he looked you straight in the face as he spoke. His voice had a hearty, genial ring. It was very evident that on the whole he found the world a good sort of place to live in, and that he had scant sym pathy for those of his acquaintance who had discovered that all is vanity and vexation of spirit.

A vigorous vitality caused him an immense amount of enjoyment in the mere fact of living, and made him think lightly of such minor troubles as darkened the days of some of his friends. He was great at all outdoor and athletic sports, and he lived the life of a healthy young English gentleman. ' Well, girls,' he exclaimed as he entered, ' I have a piece of news for you.' ' I am glad of it,' said Mrs. Worsley, ' for it will be the first I have heard since I have been here.' ' I told you Penlist was dull before you came,' said Rose. ' But I am not dull, and Penlist is charming, my dear. Now, Jack, what is it?' ' There is a gentleman rejoicing in the name of Fellerman come to stay here ; a bachelor — think of that, girls !' DR. FELL 17 ' But what is that to us ?' asked Rose ; ' I don't suppose we shall make his acquaintance.' ' I say you will, if I choose.

He has brought a letter of introduction to pater from Major Lothian, and I am going to look him up this afternoon. I'm afraid he won't find his quarters at the inn extra luxurious, especially at Christmas time. Should he be in any way presentable, I really think we must put him up ourselves. That is to say, on condition you leave him to Gertrude, and don't flirt with him yourself, Rose ; for look you,' continued the young man with some earnestness, 'that won't do.' ' I am not aware that you have the smallest right to control my actions, Mr. Ashworth,' replied Rose, laughing. ' Not yet,' returned Jack significantly. ' And allow me to observe that I am married, and married women don't flirt,' said Mrs. Worsley. 'I am glad I have come down to Arcadia !' said Jack, raising his hands. ' Married women, who live in the world, and are young and handsome, don't flirt !

Truly we live and learn.' ' Well,' returned Mrs. Worsley, instantly changing her ground, 'if a woman really love her husband, it doesn't matter if she flirt with one hundred and fifty other men, because she will never let them go too far, and will always keep them in their proper place.' ' And if she don't love her husband ?' 'Then it's playing with edged tools — a sport best avoided. ' And suppose they break their hearts, madam?' ' Their hearts ! Talk about Arcadia ! you must have come from that region, Jack. Do you really suppose that men of the world in the nineteenth century, who go in for flirtations with married women, have hearts ? If they have any (which is very doubtful, their affections having been mostly frittered away piecemeal), it would do them a great deal of good to find it out.' ' Upon my word, you are a moral young woman !' returned Jack. ' Pray what does your husband think of your sentiments ?' ' He agrees with me, because he is so honest and true himself, and he knows he may safely trust me to enjoy myself.' ' Well, flirt away with Fellerman to your heart's content ; in fact,' with a glance at Rose, ' I shall be very much obliged to you for doing so.' ' Fellerman sounds foreign ; is he English ?' ' I know nothing about him.

Major Lothian is merely an acquaintance of pater's, whom he has met at the " United Service," and his letter was very short. If I stay to lunch here, you girls may walk with me to the village afterwards, when I can pay my call.' 'May walk ! How truly kind ! I said you might as well live here altogether, Jack,' replied Mrs. Worsley. 'And are we to call also ?' ' You may ; you are a married woman, and can take care of yourself. It would be a slightly marked and unusual step in flirtation.' ' / flirt !' returned Mrs. Worsley, with some scorn ; ' let us first see what he is like. If he isn't a man of the world, nothing will induce me to do so. I have some con science, though you may not think so. Other men do take things seriously, and I have not the slightest wish to have a "blighted life" laid at my door.

Now I will go and find Mrs. Challoner.' ' Jack,' said Rose gravely, as Mrs. Worsley went away, ' I wish you and Gertrude wouldn't talk as you do. It seems to me to dishonour love to make it appear as if, as if — you know what I mean.' ' I do know, dear,' he replied, with equal earnestness ; ' but you also know that we say a great deal that we don't really mean in the way of small-talk. It is sometimes thought that in the present day we are hypocrites, and take pains to appear better than we are; but I assure you the fellows I visit with often go on just the other tack, and are ashamed to acknowledge how much real good is hidden away in their hearts. And as to Gertrude, where would you find a more honest or better girl, or one more devoted to her husband ?' ' Exactly,' said Rose with warmth, ' and therefore I don't like her to do herself injustice in her conversation.' ' You are too particular, my dear ; you mustn't take life too seriously.

But I will do my best to conform to your views — one day.' ' That is another thing,' said the girl, interlocking her fingers nervously ; ' I wish you wouldn't ' DR. FELL ■9 ' I wouldn't what ?' ' You wouldn't — ■ — ' ' I must teach you to finish your sentences,' said Jack, looking with honest admiration at the girl's delicate flushed face ; ' you mean you wish I wouldn't take things so much for granted. Well, in truth I don't take them for granted. I am waiting before speaking plainly, because, on my honour, I am quite in the dark as to your feelings, and I am literally afraid to risk a refusal.' At this moment Mrs. Worsley re-entered, an open letter in her hand. ' This is from my sister Ethel,' she said ; ' she wants me to return shortly. She and Mr. Manly will soon be married. Ah, talking of men, there is a man for you.

Who would wish to flirt with him ¥ ' Not fascinating enough, I suppose,' returned Jack coolly. ' Quite the reverse ; but because one respects him so much. You frivolous young men can't hold a candle to him.' ' He is a parson ; he ought to be good.' ' That isn't the reason. If you men only knew how often women would rise to your level if you were to take life a little more earnestly and truly, you wouldn't have to com plain of us for being flirts.' ' I declare I will go home if this sort of thing is to be the order of the day,' said the young man good-humouredly. ' As a general rule I come here to talk and laugh, but to-day, while you were out of the room, Rose gave me a sermon, and you are now following suit with obnoxious good advice. Now, both of you, don't try to do me good. I haven't any moral strength of character, and I pity you if you are going to rise to my level. — Ah, Mrs. Challoner !' as a handsome lady came in, ' I never was so glad to see you in my life.

These girls are pitching into me right and left, and, I give you my word, I haven't done anything at all.' 'Never mind them; I will take your part, Jack. And now lunch is ready, you might as well stay.' ' I am getting seriously uneasy as to the amount of food I consume in your house. Oughtn't I to send you a sheep or two every now and then ?' 'Sheep?' said Mr. Challoner, coming into the room, ' we haven't room for them. They would get into the garden. Well, my boy, when are you going back to town ?' ' My numerous clients must wait, sir. I believe I have once had a brief. I really shall be obliged to marry a lawyer's daughter.' ' I would,' replied Mrs. Challoner. 'But other paths of glory are open to me,' said Jack, laughing. ' I'm thinking of giving up the Bar and taking to literature ; I have been writing for years past.' 'You have?' asked Rose. 'How is it we have never seen any of your works ?' 'Simply because they have been going the rounds without managing to obtain the dignity of print.

But I had one short story accepted by the Family Herald — I suppose they were hard up for copy at the time — for which I received two guineas. On the strength of this I gave a supper party, and I'm not at all sure that the transaction paid.' 'Go on with your lunch,' said Mr. Challoner, helping himself to more roast beef. 'If you were as hungry as I am alter a hard morning's digging, you wouldn't have time to talk nonsense.' ' But why dig, sir? cui bonof ' If there is one thing more than another that I dislike, it is Latin quotations, sir,' retorted Mr. Challoner testily, his face very red from his exertions ; ' I always think that people who use foreign languages don't know English.' 'I don't know English,' returned Mr. Jack humbly, 'and that is why I want to take to literature. I can strike out a line of my own, as other young authors have done.' ' You are a young puppy, sir,' said his host, laughing.

The December sun was still shining feebly, the air was sharp and frosty, when the young people set out for the village. They had no great distance to walk, only some half-mile down a narrow lane, the hedges of which were bright with holly. ' We will go to the church, Jack, while you pay your visit,' said Rose. ' I promised to put up some holly. Will you call for us there ?' He walked up the churchyard and left them at the porch, whence his quick steps soon took him to the Rose and Crown, a primitive village inn built of weather-beaten stone, and thatched. The landlord, a fisherman formerly, was standing in the doorway, smoking the strongest of coarse tobacco in a clay pipe, his coat off, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A long, untidy stone passage went DR. FELL 21 through the house from front to back, both doors of which being open, the draught was, as the landlord complacently observed, enough to blow your head off.