Philip Darrell. A romance of English Home Life

Chapter I

Philip is puzzled as to what he should do for Katie Wright — A visit from Mr Allerton — Tom in difficulties — Mr Allerton feels honoured by an introduction to Dr Renhard — A conversation wherein sundry Gordian knots which Philip could not untie are cut by a modern Alexandrian sword much to the Alexander's satisfaction ... 1

Chapter II

Philip speaks to Tom about Katie — Tom's promise — His subsequent determination — A chance meeting opposite the Seigerts' shop — Tom and Katie — The old fascination — John Wright watches — Kate goes away with Tom — John Wright follows — What happened in the forest glade ... Contents. VI

Chapter III. Page

.Strange conduct of Madame De Erenne — Adele hears from Philip — Mme De Brenne becomes worse — Disappearance of this eccentric woman — Philip hurries to Maidstone — Philip and Adele — Mme De- Brenne suddenly re-appears and makes an amusing request— Philip goes back to his brother 51 — 79

Chapter IV

Tom recovers — Philip goes back to work — A degree of M.R.C.S. England — A three days' holiday — Philip's marriage and honeymoon trip to Prance — Old friends and places in new lights — An urgent letter from Mrs Heyson — Philip and Adele return to England — What had happened during their absence 80 — 122

Chapter V

Philip and Allen find Mme De Brenne— Dying ■ — -A quiet funeral with few mourners — Terrible revelations from the old teak desk — Madame's crime — Philip settles down in Maidstone ... ... ... 123 — Contents. VII PAGE 192

Chapter VI

A mother's love supplies a bloodhound's instinct — The scent grows hot, and Justice steps in to claim its own — John Wright flees from the Law — A glimpse of a well-known face arrests his footsteps — 'Didn't I kill him, then?' ... 152—165

Chapter VII

Philip and Adele at Maidstone — Cares of housekeeping ■ — Adele's deficiencies — Philip's impatience — Little evils harder to bear than great sorrows — An applicant presents himself for work — John Wright is made gardener at Mr Griffith's ... 166-

Chapter VIII

Sophy McCleak's devoted' admirer- — Tom DarreU, altered, but not improved — Billiards, cards, and betting — Debts of honour — Friends becoming impatient for their money, and bills requiring settlement, force him to find money 'somewhere' — The ' somewhere ' — Results of this action —Philip and Tom 193— 21T Contents. VIII PAGE ■236 25ft ■264-

Chapter IX

Tom at Maidstone — Allen Heyson becomes watchful — The torments of an honest lover — Philip's foUy justifies Tom's exclamation on the stairs — A kiss in the morning and a kiss at night — Adele and Tom 218

Chapter X

Progress of the friendship between the Allerton and the Renhard families — Fanny Eenhard and John Ailerton, junior — A burlesque of love — Fanny captures the bashful youth — A grand, dinner-party ... ... 237

CHAPTER XL

Adele wonders what has become of old John — She finds him at his usual work in the garden — She begs him to come to set her place in order for the coming spring weather — John sees Tom Darrell — The inner devil grows strong again ...

Chapter I. Philip Is Puzzled As To What He Should Do For

KATIE WRIGHT — A VISIT FROM MR ALLERTON — TOM IN DIFFI" CULTIES — MR ALLERTON FEELS HONOURED BY AN INTRO- DUCTION TO DR RENHARD— A CONVERSATION WHEREIN SUNDRY GORDIAN KNOTS WHICH PHILIP COULD NOT UNTIE ARE CUT BY A MODERN ALEXANDRIAN SWORD MUCH TO THE ALEXANDER'S SATISFACTION. A FEW days passed quietly by, Philip all the time turning over in his mind the many projects he had formed for Kate, with out being able to come to any definite conclu sion as to any of them. Life is so fuU of perplexing problems, vast and mysterious, and the powers man brings to their solution are so small , and so easily counted, that individual effort to resolve them is like the falling of a drop of water on granite* centuries are required for the task. And it is for this reason that all progress having been initiated by individual effort, the world has advanced so slowly on the way to perfection as to make the goal seem yet hopelessly distant.

Fortunately from time to time the seeds sown and watered so courageously by in dividuals do not fall on arid ground, but spring up hardy and strong, and bursting into flowers of radiant hue, charm the eyes and senses of all who see them. And after that, when the flower has faded and every sepal and petal has left the growing pistil, it develops into fruit, whose richness bears within it the seeds of future plants. But oh, how long a time elapses even then before the new flower is thoroughly appreciated, before each man takes home a slip and plants it and waters it to make it live. In four thousand years there was only one Socrates and one Christ ! How many thousands of years must elapse before the type of Christ is common upon earth. Vague thoughts such as these often flitted through Philip's' mind, and at no time were they so persistent as during the time he spent thinking what to do for Katie.

For in her he saw illustrated one of the ideas that had germed in his own mind and was throwing out deep and strong roots. It was the idea of the mutual respect that should prevail among men, and the restraint such a feeling would entail. To him it appeared monstrous that any man should be able, with impunity, to disturb the quiet and peace of an honest family. He felt that such would not happen if the first article of every religious creed should be ' Re spect thy neighbour.' And, also, he longed that man could be awakened to the dangers he suffered, and would in the future suffer, if he left the law of his moral life in the same chaotic state as at present. A family may be wounded in the tender est spot, and have to groan and writhe in silence, lest its honour as well as its heart be touched.

A man may knowingly deceive and betray a poor young girl, an infant before the law, bring upon her and her family immitigable shame, and leave his miserable victim to en dure all the agonies of despair; perhaps to become so mad and unhappy as to make attempts upon her life, or upon her child's, if she have one. Then only does the law step in to punish. Whom ? The man whose wanton self-love has wrought all this misery ? or, the poor victim ? How easy to answer this question. Society forbids its members to deprive themselves of tlieir lives, and punishes any such attempts with severity. Why not go a step further, and punish those with equal severity who give a life to Society, and refuse to accept the responsibility of their voluntary action ? For be it well noted that this action is voluntary only on the man's side.

The woman can merely submit. What could Philip do with Katie ? She had as yet done no wrong ; for surely it is not a crime for a woman to feel love ? Yet everything he proposed mentally to himself, he rejected as unsuitable, or as impracticable. He had no sooner resolved that such a plan would be the very thing, when instantly objections crowded in thick and fast and de stroyed it. He had thought of asking his mother to take Katie as her servant ; but Tom often went to see his mother, so that would not do. Then he proposed the Heysons', equally im possible, for the reason that Tom might go there. And yet he desired to place Kate with kind people, and somewhere whence he could easily hear how she behaved. His cogitations, deep as they were, had no result, for the reason that they all were directed to one point, What to do with Kate?

It would have been wiser to put it otherwise, and ask, What would Kate like to do? One evening a gentleman vvas shown into the consulting-room ; and the servant, rapping at the surgery-door, opened it, and announced ' A gentleman for Mr Darrell.' ' Whoever can it be ? ' said Philip. He went into the room, and a big man stood up and came quickly to him, seized his hand in a vice-like grasp, and cried, ' Damme, sir, I hope I see you well.' Philip recognized the voice instantly, and told Mr Allerton, as he reciprocated the health inquiry, that he was very well. ' How is my brother Tom ? ' he said. ' I have not seen him for a few days.' ' Oh, ah ! He's — very well, I fancy ! * said Mr Allerton ; then paused and clutched at his chin in a confused sort of way. Philip wondered what he was doing, and thought he was very peculiar.

Suddenly Mr Allerton began to wag his head, and make the strangest contortions of visage that ever were made by man. At last the pent-up words found vent — ' Your brother's a very foolish fellow, Mr Darrell' 'Ah,' said Philip. 'What has he been doing recently ? ' Mr Allerton stared a moment, then said — ' Well, you see it's about that money he lent you.' Philip said nothing, from sheer astonishment. ' It was done I've no doubt with a very kind intention, and as you were in such a ter rible fix at the time, why it's partly excusable. Stdl it was my money, not his.' ' Good God ! ' cried Philip, the words wrung from him in perfect dread of what was coming. ' Ah, I see, you were not aware of this of course.' ' I assure you solemnly,' said Philip, ' that I knew nothing about it.' ' Stupid fellow,' cried Mr Allerton. ' How very foolish he is !

You see he collected the -fifteen pounds for me last week, on Saturday, and I find to-day that the amount has not yet been carried to the credit of the name. I asked your brother about it, — you know he keeps those books. At first he told me it had not yet been paid. I knew that it had. Then he confessed to me how it was he had misappropriated the money, you standing in such urgent need of it. You met him on Saturday and asked him whether he could lend you that amount. At first he refused, but as you showed him how much you wanted it, — he did not tell me what that need was, — he, in a moment of kindness, and relying on your promise to let him have it again on Monday, lent you that which did not belong to him.' Mr Allerton ceased speaking. Philip groaned, ' Oh, Tom ! Tom ! ' Then with a strong effort looked up and said to Mr Allerton, 'I'm afraid you cannot have this money to-night, but you shall have it as soon a,s it can be got.' Mr Allerton took these words for a con fession on Philip's part that he had had the money, as Tom had stated. ', I'm very glad I came to see you,' he said, ' for I did not like to suspect Tom of doing wrong.

Now I must be off again.' ' I should like you to know Dr Renhard,' said Philip, ' as it luckily happens he' is in.' ' Ah, well, so would I. Your brother has a very high opinion of him,' replied Mr Aller ton. Philip begged to be excused for leaving him, went into the surgery, spoke to the Doctor, who had heard glowing accounts of Mr Aller ton from Tom, and brought him into the con sulting-room. The two old fellows bowed. ' Dr Renhard— Mr Allerton.' ' Mr Allerton — Dr Renhard.' They bowed again, and shook hands. Each spoke at the same time. ' I am happy to make your acquaintance,' said the Doctor. ' I am glad to know you,' said Mr Allerton. The two men felt an instantaneous and mutual sympathy arise between them. Both had the same object in life — to make money. Perhaps the handling of much gold had imbued each one's fingers with a peculiar VOL. II. tactibility that acted like an electric shock, sending a sympathetic current through them both at once.

Anyhow they seemed pleased to know each other, and had not conversed for five minutes before the Doctor invited Mr Allerton to tea, and Mr Allerton had cried ' damme ' and accepted. Philip was rather pleased to have brought them together. Somehow Mr AUerton's communication to Tom had produced very little effect on him. Philip's whole mind was absorbed with the affair of Tom and Katie, and the interest he felt in the former was diminished by that caused by the latter. And besides, he had a feeling of helplessness, such as a man would have whose hands and feet are tied by a robber, who asks him to give up his purse. Of course it is a case of nolens volens, and as Tom had quietly shelved the responsibility of his action on to his brother, Philip was persuaded that the only thing he could clo was — to pay.

So beyond resolving to see Tom, and read him a lecture before he did pay, Philip dismissed the subject from his mind, and set about his usual work as if there had been no Tom nor Mr Allerton in the world. This state of feeling on Philip's part need not cause any surprise, since we know that when a man is struck by a bullet he does not feel the pain at the instant he is wounded, but some few minutes afterwards. There is certainly one reflection that he made about this last affair of Tom's, and which we ought to place before the reader. It occurred to Philip that Tom's conduct and attempted baseness towards Katie were now better explicable by the light of Mr AUerton's communication. How is it possible for a man who does not respect himself to be able to show respect to others ? Tea-time came, and Philip found the Doctor and Mr Allerton amicably discussing questions of the day, and resolving to their own satisfaction some of the social and political problems that then and now agitated the public mind.

Philip's presence seemed to add an impetus to the conversation, and to give it a more argumentative turn than it had at first. Mr Allerton was speaking as Philip entered and took his usual seat at the corner of the table. ' I quite agree with you, Doctor Renhard, that punishment for crime is not sufficiently severe in this country. There is far too great a leniency shown to criminals.' ' I am afraid it is so,' said the Doctor, making a bite at his bread and butter, and taking half the slice into his mouth ; ' you are quite right in saying that the law is too lenient.' ' Now I will just tell you a case in point,' said Mr Allerton, ' and one which occurred in my own place. One of my -workmen, foreman of one of the floors of the warehouse, a very steady fellow, who had been with me for years and years, was found the other day carrying away with him a small box.

Well, a sharp fellow of a policeman stopped him, asked him what he had in the box, saw that he hesitated and equivocated, and quietly marched him off to the police station. The box was wrenched open and found to contain a quantity of valu able jet ornaments — you must know that we occasionally receive a parcel of these things — and when he was asked if they belonged to him he told some stupid tale or other, and the upshot of it all was that they found out that he was one of my workmen, came to me, I identified the goods — or rather one of my warehousemen did — and, in consequence, the fellow was committed for trial ; and what do you think was his punishment ? ' Mr Allerton paused and looked round. Philip suddenly said, ' A brand of shame for the rest of his life.' ' Pooh ! ' cried Mr Allerton ; ' a great deal of use that would be.

No, but only fancy that the sentence passed on that man was simply eighteen months' imprisonment ! ' ' Not too much, I must say,' said Dr Ren hard. ' What was the value of the goods ? ' cried Philip. ' About seven pounds and a few shillings,' said Mr Allerto . ' Ah ! and if you do not consider it imper tinent, what wages did you pay this man?' asked Philip. ' What wages ? Oh ! twenty-five shillings a week,' replied Mr Allerton. ' Twenty-five shillings a week are equal to £64 10s. a year, that is for the eighteen months £96 15s. ; so that the law deprives that man's family of about £89 sterling for one single wrong action,' said Philip. Mr Allerton stared at him speechlessly, the Doctor laughed and said : ' Darrell is a republican, and has strange theories.' ' Oh ! ' said Mr Allerton, ' he may have.

But I cannot quite understand how his calcu lations of £64 and £96 and £89 refer to the punishment of the crime committed.' ' Allow me to put my idea clearly before you,' said Philip. ' Pray do so,' cried Mr Allerton ; ' for at present I am quite puzzled as to your meaning.' ' Well, my idea is this. I clo not consider it right or humane to punish a man so severely for a first fault. And, independently of that consideration, I think it is wrong to punish the stealing of an article worth £7 by the forcible confiscation of £90. As everything now is judged by a money standard, I think the sum of value and the sum that could be earned are disproportionate. ' But however would you have these kinds of offences punished ? ' cried Mr Allerton. ' By making punishment for a first crime simply punishment, and not degradation,' ' Phew ! ' whistled Mr Allerton. « You have very odd ideas, Mr Darrell,' said he, when he left off whistling. ' Haven't you ever heard Darrell speak before in that strain ? ' said the Doctor. ' No, I never have,' answered Mr Allerton ; then turning to Philip, he continued : ' You remind me of my partner, for he has just the same notions.

I have often heard him jaw for an hour about the virtues of clemency and all that damned rot. I do believe Frank, my partner, is fool enough to forgive any man entirely for a first offence. "Damme," I say to him, "you're an idiot, Frank, and all your kindness only encourages the blackguards to thieve again." Why, he even wanted me to overlook that case I just told you about, " because," says Frank, " the man only did it to help his widowed mother." Damme, sir, — but I laughed in his face, I couldn't help it, — what the devil do I care about the man's mother ? No, no, you must knock 'em down at once, else they go on thieving as soon as you've forgiven 'em.' Philip had listened with a smile on his homely, thoughtful face. When Mr Allerton ceased speaking he looked round the table. All the Renhards were secretly rejoicing that Philip had found such a resolute antagonist, and waited with a certain anxiety for Philip's answer. ' You are forgetting the lesson History has conveyed to us, Mr Allerton; and a lesson learned by the wittiest and most enlightened nation of antiquity, the Greeks.' ' Ah, I don't apprehend the drift of your words,' said Mr Allerton.

The Doctor looked at Philip and nodded his head, as if to say, ' Go on ! I see you are on the right track.' Then Phdip continued with the same smile on his face : ' I simply wish to remind you, that Draco had to make way for Solon.' ' Good, Darrell,' cried the Doctor. ' What the deuce has Draco or Solon to do with England ? ' said Mr Allerton. ' And besides, who were they ? ' All the Renhards, excepting the Doctor, — Vaughan was away, — laughed. Philip felt. that his classical reference was nearly useless, since his opponent did not understand it. Mr Allerton saw his advantage, or fancied that the laughter was an approval of his arguments, and triumphantly continued : — ' That's where you make mistakes, you theorizers. You don't care to descend into actual life, but choose to remain perked up with your Solos and Dracons, as far out of reach as possible.

I've heard before some thing of this kind from a fellow, who called himself a philosopher, and he quietly set to and proceeded to jaw away about the Rich and the Poor, and Masters and Slaves, and all that humbug. Why, sir,' — here Mr Allerton banged his fist on the table, — ' we treat these people a great deal too well. Damme, I am certain we do. Look at them, how they guzzle and drink ! The poor are a bad lot, sir, and there's a deal too much fuss made about them.' ' I believe "you are right, Mr Allerton, in this,' said Philip, with a sarcastic twinkle of the eyes ; 'it is quite a mistake to treat the poor so well. The workhouses are not suf ficiently repulsive yet, and the prisons offer great inducements to poor men out of work and out of food to knock some one down, and get arrested. We ought to go back to the times before Howard.

Ah ! They knew how to settle your vagabonds then ! They let them rot away ; and if the rats could stomach such loathsome food as a dead human being, why they allowed the rats to eat the dead prisoner up.' 3 'Come, come, Philip,' said the Doctor, ' you go too far ; and besides, I feel certain you are not serious in your advocacy of a return to the prison-life before the days of Howard. No ! although our prison discipline is too lenient by far, I think that is a better extreme than the opposite one.' ' You are wrong, sir,' cried Mr Allerton, now thoroughly excited and hardly conscious of what he was saying or doing — 'you are wrong. The oidy way to repress crime is to punish the criminal with the greatest severity. I'd have thieves flogged, sir, with the cat-b' nine-tails.' ' And women whipped again at Bridewell,' muttered Philip. ' Td make 'em smart, damme I would,' continued the excited man. ' It's all a pack of humbug about clemency and the virtue of kindness to these rogues and vagabonds.

Whip 'em and starve 'em, and let 'em rot if they like ; of what consequence is a thief more or less in the world? Of what consequence is ' ' A soul more or less in Hell ? ' muttered Philip. ' A lot of vagabonds ! Whether they die or not, what does it matter ? ' continued Mr Allerton. 'I tell you the world is getting turned quite topsy-turvy with all these new fangled ideas about kindness and gentleness. How do you teach a dog, or how do you break in a horse ? Why, by blows and by starving them into submission. Well, treat thieves and vagabonds in the same manner.' ' Like brute beasts ! ' said Philip. For a few minutes there was a silence after Philip's last remark. Then the ladies got up and bade good night to the disputants, after setting the spiritdecanters and hot water, and tumblers and sugar, &c, handy.

Philip and Mr Allerton took some whiskey and water, the Doctor had brandy. And after a few sips on each side, the Doctor turned to Mr Allerton and asked him what he thought of the late Revolution in France and our own Chartist riots ? ' What do I think of them ? Why, what all City men think, sir : that the blackguards ought to have been mowed down with grape and canister, as soon as they began to form their beastly processions. It does not do to be lenient or merciful to these agitators. Cut them down, sir, shoot them and kill them wholesale with cannon-shot, that's the right sort of thing to do.' ' Yes ! That's very well as far as it goes,' said the Doctor. 'But I should like to know your opinions of the Riots. What do you think of their demands ? ' ' Of the Chartists, you mean, of course ? ' said Mr Allerton. ' Decidedly !

The French Revolution has only a secondary interest for us Englishmen,' replied the Doctor. 'Well, sir, I am bound to own that I never took the trouble to investigate the sub ject ; I only know that they were damned low agitators, and my opinion of the whole affair is that they were thorough rogues and vagabonds and ought to have been all shot,' said Mr Allerton. The Doctor stared for a moment at the man who acknowledged his ignorance so can didly, and who yet condemned so harshly those of whose motives of action he had not the faintest idea. But Mr Allerton, with the peculiarity of men who ride a particular hobby, set off again. His hobby was respect for Authority, what ever the authority was, and hearty contempt and hatred for those who dared to arraign the actions of that authority to which he, Mr Allerton, bowed.

A patient for the Doctor stopped his tirade for a few moments, and as Philip went out to prepare the medicine required, he was left alone with his reflections. As soon, however, as the Doctor and Philip returned, Mr Allerton shifted on his chair and opened the batteries of his faulty arguments again on a fresh topic. The Doctor had mentioned that the last patient was a poor wretch who only earned sufficient money to barely keep body and soul together, so that he hadn't the heart to make her pay for the medicine he gave her. ' It's very kind of you, Doctor Renhard,' said he, ' to do that sort of thing. But don't you think it tends to encourage improvidence in these people ? ' ' Well, I hardly know how to answer your query,' replied the Doctor. ' For really it is difficult to be improvident much on seven or eight shillings a week, which I think the poor woman I spoke of earns.' ' But that is an exceptional case,' cried Mr Allerton ; ' she must, besides, have earned more when young ; why did she not make some pro vision against old age?

That's what these people never do.' ' I fancy it must be for the reason that they hardly ever earn more than is sufficient for their current expenses,' said Philip. 'Then they should go to the workhouse,' said Mr Allerton, ' and not come plaguing private people to assist them. What do we pay rates and taxes for, if the people don't go to the workhouses that are provided for them, I should like to know ? Why, I am always being troubled by poor people coming to me begging and whining that they have nothing to eat and can't find any work to do. It's all humbug and nonsense ; they could find work easily enough if they liked.' ' Have you ever tried the experiment of setting one of these beggars to work in your garden, and so assisting him ? ' asked Philip. ' No ! Decidedly not ! ' cried Mr Allerton. ' I wouldn't allow one of the thieving; lot to come inside the gate even, if I could help it.

It's no business of mine to give them work, it's theirs to find it.' At this moment the clock on the mantel piece struck eleven, and Mr Allerton jumped up, swore that he had no idea it was so late, and begging the Doctor and Philip not to forget that he had invited them to dinner some clay of the next week, shook hands and trotted off. ' Well ! ' exclaimed Philip, ' what do you tliink of Mr Allerton, Doctor ? ' ' It is difficult to give much of an opinion on so short an acquaintance,' replied the Doctor ; ' I shall know more about him when we've dined there. Will you go down, as usual, to see after the doors and fastenings, and the gas ? ' ' Oh yes, sir,' said Philip. ' Then I'll say Bon soir,' said the Doctor. ' Bon soir, Monsieur.' They shook hands, and the Doctor went up-stairs, whilst Philip dived down into the kitchen regions to see that all was safe.

Then he sat up for Vaughan, who was at a labour, and at twelve he came in disgusted at having missed seeing Mr Allerton, and at not having had any tea. After taking his dog out for a turn up and down the Square, he and Philip stumped up to bed. Philip lay awake that night thinking of Mr Allerton and of Tom. He resolved to put a condition upon his payment of the money Tom had borrowed, or lost, or stolen, and determined to get up very early in the morning and take a cab over to Little Ryder Street. 3 VOL.