Cosmo's Violets: a novel

Chapter I

" Marie ! " "Well, father!" " The shooting is let to a — a Mr. Cosmo Villiers/' read Mr. Lunsford, peering into his sheet of paper, " and he will come on the 1st of September, and he will lodge here, so Mostyn says. He will not mind roughing it at all. He is quite young." " And to day is — is the 28th/' said Marie, half to herself, half aloud. " He must have the south room with the bay window. Ob, dear me ! it must all be put ready for him. I hope lie won't be a very grand person ! " Mr. Lunsford possessed one of the largest Lintonshire farms in the county. Miles and miles of level, black, rich land, owned him master. For ten miles straight as the crow flies, after you left the little county town of Seaford, it was all Lunsford land, and had been so for generations and generations; heavily mortgaged, it is true, right up to the very doors of the old farm house.

Therefore, he was only too glad to let his wonderful shooting to help to make both ends meet. Marie was the old man's only child — eighteen now in age. Tall, straight, slim, with great dark blue eyes, black lashes, level black eyebrows, golden-brown hair, and with a rich, ripe flush of colour in her burnt, bright cheeks. As to her life, she was as happy as it was possible to be ■ she had never known any other existence • up at sunrise over the fields, walking or riding all day B long, in summer-time living in the bright sunshine, feeding the live creatures, walking in the old fruit garden, picking herself flowers. She was the very impersonation of strength, youth, and beauty. Mr. Lunsford was ancient, feeble, wanting in vitality. The Manor House was a grey stone, old-world building, with long, echoing, silent rooms, heavy mullioned windows, lichen grew on the walls, and some red Virginia creepers.

The farmyard was one way (and the only one used) of entrance ; the high, stone gate way, with its carved pedestals and wrought traceries, was never opened ■ a periwinkle had clambered half way up the bars, green grass had grown along the lower parts j there were no trees about, save one or two tall, gaunt poplars. The Manor House was on a slight hill. From it one could see over miles and miles of farming land ■ a few stacks here, a shelter for cattle there. Thyme, the village, boasted of a rector's house ; the occupant was past seventy, and proportionably old and infirm ; a few labourers' cottages of the grey stone, 'indigenous to this part of the country. The fields were divided by loose, grey stone walls, built without mortar, here and there tumbling down and lying scattered about. Egress and ingress over these walls was given now and again by a heavy stone stile, built of great blocks.

The one noticeable feature in this otherwise bare and uninteresting piece of view, for I cannot call it a landscape, was part of an old castle, which still stood ma jestic, immoveable, grand. It was but one tower that remained of what had been an enormous building • but this was perfectly sound, in repair. It stood frowning darkly on the surrounding country, untouched by time, proudly defying the winds and storms that in the bleak winter swept around it. A low arch way, then hundreds and hundreds of winding stairs, and then a small room, with windows looking east and west, and north and south. These windows, guiltless, as you may imagine, of glass or shelter, iron stanchions down the centre of them. The walls are very thick. There is a beautiful, view from these said apertures. On a fine day you can see right away past Sea ford, on and on, till everything fades into blue mist.

Marie often clambered these stairs • and, looking out vao-uely abroad, a strong feeling would possess her — a sort of yearning to get right away from Thyme, as far as she could see. She wondered what was in this blue mist, what came after it. She felt prisoned here, bound ; would, dreaming with her arms on the great stones, lean forward, and gaze eagerly into vacancy; dream of the knights and ladies who had been in this very room. The church is very large and ancient ; there are huge monuments and tablets ; these line the walls, and people tho pavements with the records of their lives and histories, all cut in stone. Marie used to wonder which of them belonged to the tower. Perhaps none did after all ; but there was no room for wonderment as regarded the Manor House folk ; for here slept, duly recorded, whole generations of Lunsfords, in an unbroken chain for over 400 years.

She was the last. She used to consider whether she would be buried here, too ; perhaps so, then it would be all ended. For, into her thoughts love-making and matrimony never entered. To take care of her father all his life, then to stay on in the old home, a lonely, silent woman, then to be buried near her own people, this was the life and the ending that she imagined for herself. Sometimes iii youth one fancies and thinks what will be for us, what will happen; one plans this, one wishes for that, and very often God means for us, and sends us something quite different. August 31st. — At five in the afternoon Marie was feeding her pigeons and chickens. She stood in the full sunlight in her grey dress, with her great basket of yellow barley, her stone and blue and white fantails and pouters and blue rocks round her, fluttering in the air, settling again and again.

The chickens were scurrying hither and thither in frantic greediness. The farm hoi-ses were all home — were drinking majestically in the pond; the cows were munching their supper ; here and there a great barn door was flung widely open. It was all a very pretty picture, and right in on to it drove Cosmo Villiers, this said afternoon, in a Seaford dog cart, laden with portmanteaus, railway rugs, hat boxes, books, whips, sticks, gun cases, and all the endless paraphernalia of a young man of fashion. He got down slowly, and advanced towards Marie. He was a broad-shouldered, tall young man, with sleepy grey eyes, a straight nose, a fair moustache, and a very bright, pleasant, kind smile, also a soft, gentle voice. B He took off his hat instinctively. He knew she was a lady, though she had her dress over one arm, was standing in a farmyard, and surrounded by winged animals.

" Miss Lunsford." Marie bowed, gave a final handful to her pets, and then, very composedly : " And you are Mr. Villiers ? We thought my father said you were coming to-morrow. Anyhow, you are very welcome." " I came to-day so as to have all to-morrow." " Yes ; my father is out, but he will be in directly. The farm men will see to your luggage," as Cosmo looked rather help lessly at his avalanche of property. " We will go in." Through a great farm kitchen, with an immense open fireplace, hung round with smoked hams, down a passage, into a room. It was Marie's sitting-room ; she and Mr. Lunsford always used it. It was a very pleasant, old-fashioned room, oak-panelled, hung with Lunsford ancestors. There were many farmers, but also here and there the old Lunsford fighting blood cropped out; here in a cavalier of Charles's time, in his brave lace ruffles and crimson doublet, his long perfumed lovelocks, and embroidered riding gloves ; there in a sailor ; by the window, a young man clad entirely in burnished steel armour, with a pale, resolute face.

The old oak boards were polished ; a Turkey carpet, very worn, very faded, covered the centre of the room ; carved oak chairs and settees were scattered about, a rack filled with whips and guns and sticks was hung up ; a leather glove — a lady's — on the table. This is what Cosmo saw. Marie put herself into a chair, after having pushed one towards her visitor, but said not one word. This did not in the least disconcert Cosmo ; he sat quite still and silent, looking apparently at nothing. Marie had never in her life before seen a really fine gentleman — a dandy— and in every sense of the word Cosmo was this. His perfectly fitting black coat, the white rose in his button-hole ; his beautifully brushed hair, shewing the squareness of his head ; his white, strong, firm hands ; on the third finger of the left one a very thick gipsy ring, with blazing diamonds • above that another with coral and pearls ; on the other hand a snake with ruby eyes.

He was from beginning to end a mystery to Marie. His quiet voice, his sleepy eyes, his languid way of walking, these puzzled her. Would this dawdling, quiet man, be able to stand fatigue and shoot, jump the big ditches, walk up to his birds ? The whole idea so amused her that she caught herself smiling, almost laughing, as she took another look at " this young aristocrat." He was regarding her attentively, their eyes met, he smiled involuntarily. When Cosmo smiled his face was a very pleasant one, all his bored look vanished. "What are you thinking of, Miss Lunsford ? Something about me, I am sure. I saw it iu your eyes." " Yes, I was, but I can't tell you what it was. Now, here is our tea, o-or will you have some — " She nearly said "beer," but stopped herself. Surely such a fine gentleman wouldn't drink beer.

" I will have some tea, please." Marie made it for him, and over their two cups they became much more sociable and friendly. She told him about the shooting ; he described his drive. He had imagined he " would never reach Thyme, it was all so desolate and end of the world-looking." And then in came Mr. Lunsford, who was introduced, and he and Cosmo were friends directly. Mr. Lunsford, in his youth, had lived much in London. Men of Cosmo's description were, therefore, not so entirely unknown to him as they were to Marie. She looked on wondering and pleased, and, to a certain extent, admiringly, as she listened to her father aud Cosmo talking.

Chapter II

After dinner was over Cosmo began to fidget. At last he said : " May we go out in the garden ? I haven't been in it ; saw it from my room window." He really was wishing to have a smoke. " Certainly," said Mr. Lunsford, " 1 don't go out in the evenings now; they are too chilly for my old bones. But Marie will be delighted." Two minutes afterwards they were in the garden, sauntering down the great, broad gravel terrace. Those who know the old Manor House pleasure ground will remember that it is essentially and entirely composed of potatoes and cauliflowers, beetroot, carrots, turnips, parsnips, save for each side of the gravel terrace, that runs straight down the very middle of it. Here were a perfect profusion and mass of all old-fashioned, old-world, far away flowers, picotees, carna tions, roses, John Hoppers, old crimson, damask, red and white, York and Lancaster ; bushes of southern wood, marjoram, honey suckles, great tall Virgin Mary lilies, musk, bushes of lavender, rosemary, white Scotch roses, Turk's caps, mignonette, violets, and lilies.

At all times it was a sweetly-scented piece of garden ; but to-night it was perfection . The sun had gone down, but the air was still warm and mellow; it was an Indian summer's evening. The sky was all golden, and crimson, and violet. It was so still and silent that one could hear plainly the voices of the children in the village. At the farther end of the terrace the ground rises a little. Marie and Cosmo stayed here for a moment or two. From here one sees right across the great corn lands ; they were to-night heavily laden with shocks of golden wheat, bowin-r with their own weight. " It is very beautiful," said Cosmo, absently. " May I smoke ? " " Of course," gravely nodding. " No one ever asks here if they may. They always do it." " That does not matter to me," said he, gently and impertur bably filling his pipe, " I shall always."

" And suppose I say no," — with a sparkle of fun in her great dark eyes, and a smile, almost the first he had seen, certainly the first to him — " what then ? " " Then I should put away my pipe at once." " How good of you ! " " Not at all. Common courtesy. How pleasant it is out here to-night ! This garden is like an enchanted place ! I feel quite happy — a sort of £10,000 a-year feel." "What is that like ? " smiling again, and staring intently at him with her great eyes. Cosmo had already discovered one difference in Marie Lumsford to the young ladies to whom he was generally used ; she had a habit of looking anyone — himself, for instance — straight in the face when they began to speak, and continuing to do so till they finished. Now, even the merest baby accustomed to society is aware that you should never look at gentlemen when they speak, especially if it is a young man who addresses you.

Cosmo couldn't make up his mind at first, if he liked it or no, but found himself talking on, so that he might see her eyes. "A £10,000 a-year feel," says he, " is one I only have after a very good dinner, when I am having a very good pipe, and have a very pretty " — here ho came to a dead stop, but went on, after a moment, fluently — "view in front of me. Then one feels benign ! " "And I feel," says Marie, impatiently, "very bored here. ("Pleasant for me," soliloquised Cosmo, " very pleasant.") I should like to bo out riding, or driving, or walking ! But to saunter up and down here — with " " Say," said Cosmo, " with a very stupid man by your " " I think you are not very stupid," said Marie, consolingly. Cosmo went on puffing ; now smiling, this was charming ; quite a new experience for him.

"You ought to have a hat, Miss Lunsford. You'll catch cold and spoil your complexion." " I go about all day with nothing on my head or hands. Look at them, how brown they are ! " "Very," says Cosmo, contemplating the hands attentively, " Very, very indeed." " I expect," says Marie, suddenly, " you are astonished with me ! I never thought of it before, but I must seem different to you from the other girls you know. Don't I ? " "Not at all. You are very like all the rest of them," (with a difference,) he ended to himself. " If I were to pick flowers you wouldn't be offended, would you ? Father told me to amuse you, but — " "I shall be delighted to watch you." Half way down the garden there is a very ancient broken pedestal of a sun-dial. Cosmo sat down and smoked peacefully, watching Marie attentively.

She went backwards and forwards, filling her hands with anything that pleased her fancy — finally turned out of sight and was lost to view ; but in a while returned, laden with her flowers and some golden plums. She came from the very far end of the terrace ; he had thus time given to him to admire her. She was excessively beautiful to his jaded eyes, simply because she was the very impersonation of intense health, and strength, and youth, and divine life. She was tall and finely formed — life seemed to flow fast through her veins ; she walked as if on air. Her hands were full of her red and white and blue flowers ; in her apron she carried her plums. These she, bending forward towards him, presented smiling, but without a word. Cosmo instinctively got up and offered her his seat. "No, no. I'll sit on the ground."

"You'll catch cold." "I never do that. I have brought you some fruit because I left you for so long. Did you miss me ? Was it rude ? " She asked him these questions just like a child would have. " It was not rude at all, and — and," smiling kindly at her, "I am afraid I did not miss you much. You see, I had a o-reat many pleasant things to consider. The good day's shootinoto come — my gun ; but I am glad you have come back if you bring me such nice fruit. What is all that quacking ? " "That," says Marie, "is Edwin and Angelina — my two fat white ducks. They eat up the slugs in the garden. In these damp parts there are many slugs. Here they come, waddle, waddle ; they are quite tame." Cosmo flung them the stones of his plums and the skins ; they gobbled them up with delight, and presently went off in quest of more dainties in the shape of slugs.

And then Cosmo and Marie went indoors together. In Marie's sitting-room was a piano ; she could play a very little herself — easy tunes ; tum-tc tum they went. After a while she asked Cosmo if he could — would. He could, and would, and did, very, very well. When he began to sing, Marie, perforce, dropped her scarlet knitting ; it was such a grand voice, such a volume of irresistible sound. He sang then " The Standard Bearer " and " Sleep, my Love, Sleep." This is by Sullivan; it is very, very beautiful. It affected Marie — she could not appear unconcerned. He swung round on the music stool when he had ended, and caught her listening, with all her soul in her eyes, her bright colour coming and going, her hands clasped. " Then you like it." " Like it ! " with a deep breath, " How can I help it !

Your singing is beautiful ; your voice is like a great bell. How foolish it sounds, what I have said, but it is true." Cosmo was pleased a little with her enthusiasm. He was used to being petted and admired, but this girl was different to other young ladies. She seemed to him to have more forcible, stronger feelings, therefore interested him strangely.

Chapter III

At eight o'clock punctually, when Cosmo came into the dining room — a great, echoing, vast apartment, with little furniture — he found Marie down and making the breakfast. A red wood fire burned in the vast hearth; she was attentively watching her kettle. The windows were wide open. The fresh morning air blew in " Good morning." " Good morning," said he, admiringly, considering her and her freshness. Marie could stand a perfect blaze of light and sun, and yet look well in it. When she had seen to her tea-making satisfactorily, she went to the window, and, resting her arms on the broad sill, leant out. Cosmo followed her. In the sunlight her hair was magnificent, it was a glory — it framed her beautiful face like a halo. " How pleasant it is. Did you see a little parcel for you ? It is by your plate."

" Thanks. I'll get it." He went back to the table, found his bos:, and, bringing it to the window, opened it. It was a lovely scarlet rose, packed securely in white cotton wool. "Ah, how beautiful!" Marie cried, admiringly. "Is it for your coat ? " " Yes ; I always have a fresh flower every day of the year sent to me wherever I go. It is my one extravagance. I should be wretched without it." He fastened it into his light brown frieze shooting-coat. Marie looked on at the proceeding with unmixed wonder and interest. He was an entirely new order of being to her. To-day he was in light brown frieze knickerbockers and coat, a very thin silk shirt, crimson stockings, a crimson scarf loosely knotted round his turned-down collar, and very thick shooting-boots. He was so excessively handsome, with his sleepy grey eyes, his beautiful straight features, his fair hair, that he was very pleasant to look upon.

She smiled. "You are amused at my flowers." "You amuse me altogether," said the girl, frankly, looking him straight in the face. " I know but one or two men, and they do not in the least resemble you ! " " Very probably not. Ah ! here is your father." And then during the whole of breakfast shooting prospects were dis cussed. Marie went to the door to see them start. She watched them away. Cosmo looked back once at her ; why, he did not know — an irresistible impulse seized him. She was standing, outlined against the old grey stone house ; the clambering red Virginian creeper threw pretty figured lights and shadows over her brown gown ; one hand was raised above her eyes to shield herself from the glare, to be able to see them more distinctly. She was a very pretty picture, he thought, and then he forgot her till late the same afternoon, when, miles away, they crossed the main road, and he saw a grey fluttering short habit, and a chestnut mare.

" Who is the young lady, Springer ? " (This to the game keeper.) Mr. Lunsford had knocked up at the end of a couple of hours, aud gone home. " It's the young mistress, Sir." And sure enough it was. As she came nearer, Cosmo recog nised hcr ; he stopped by the side of the road and waited for her. She came up handsome, flushed, happy. She rode very well, and did not know that she did so, which added to the attraction. It was a lovely, sunshiny afternoon ; altogether she felt exhilarated. She made him a soldier salute, with two fingers and her hunting crop, and pulled up Molly close to his feet. " Whither away ? " " To Seaford to buy — would you like to know what ? " " If you will like to tell me. Not else." " A blue ribbon for my collar, some postage stamps, and a Seaford Observer. Do you want anything ?

I will faithfully execute your commissions." Cosmo considered. "The only thing I do happen to want 1 am afraid you'll not be able to manage for me. I smashed my watch glass getting over a gate a little while ago ; but you can t carry the watch." " Yes I can, if you'll trust it to me ; inside my habit, tucked in ; it will be quite safe." " It won't be a bother to you." "A pleasure," says she, gaily. He took it off, and gave the whole thing, watch and chain, into her hands, and then she departed. Cosmo came in at six, pleasantly tired ; he had had a very good day, had enjoyed himself, had shot beautifully. He found Marie, and his tea put carefully down by the fire to keep warm for him. " Here is your watch, properly mended. What a pretty old tur quoise ring you have at the end of the chain — I could not help seeing it — and the dear little knife.

Why do you keep it there ? " Cosmo flushed. "A fancy," said he, briefly. Marie was still in her habit, she had flung her wideawake down on a side-table. Cosmo could not help thinking how well this grey habit suited her beautiful curves and outlines. " Who did you see in Seaford ? " " John Dampier." " And he " " And he is the doctor there — at least, one of them. He is a friend, rather, of mine — is very clever." " Does he doctor you ? " smiling. " Me ! " cried Marie, with huge disdain. " I am never ill — -have never been ! I can't imagine what it is like ! Have you ever been ? " " Very seedy once or twice," says Cosmo, gravely. " It is a detestably disagreeable thing ! I was ill at Malta, terribly — caught a sort of fever. The heat did for me." " What made you go to Malta ? " " I was a soldier then."

" Ah ! How nice to be one ! How I envy you ! If I were — ■ had been — a man, I must have been a red-coat." "You'd have made a very good one. I know you've any amount of pluck." " How can you tell ? " " I can see it in your eyes." "Have you looked at them?" says she, solemnly, like a child. " Several times, and I can hear it in your voice, and tell it by the way you walk. Where's Mr. Lunsford ? " " He goes to see the rector every afternoon. Are you dread fully tired ? " " Not at all. Why should I be ? " " I thought — I thought," said Marie, hesitatingly, " you looked so — so weakly — languid. I mean you move so gently, you talk so softly." "You thought I was a cockney." Marie nodded gravely. Cosmo did not take the trouble to contradict her, but dawdled away to his own room, where he reposed in his arm-chair, and read a novel till dinner-time.

Marie was astounded at his leaving her ; she was used to men who bowed down to her, hung on her words, watched her about the room. Cosmo did none of these things ; he was simply commonly civil, and very polite. She did not understand him in the least ; therefore, he became interesting to her. She thought of him as she changed her dress.

Chapter IV

Sunday morning they all three went to church. The rector was very old, very prosy. Cosmo yawned a good deal, opened and shut his watch several times, read all the Lunsford monuments, finally went to sleep. Marie, who was good, looked at him with horror and dismay. She watched him with amazement settle himself most comfortably in a corner against the faded, red lining of the square, high pew — close his eyes. He flung his head back a little to rest it more completely. In repose he was so excessively handsome, that she — erring female — could not resist once or twice peeping at him furtively. His long black lashes touched his cheeks. When the sermon was over he still slumbered peacefully. Marie, scarlet with shame, unwilling that he should be exposed to open obloquy through all the congregation • seeing him when they stood up, touched his arm.

He opened his eyes, and meditatively gazed at her, then awaking to the sense of his whereabouts, got up slowly. Marie was astonished that, after church, he discoursed of the weather, the monuments, but never alluded to the sermon. She thought he was ashamed of himself, but reckoned wrongly ; he had only totally forgotten the whole occurrence. After lunch he announced his intention of going up the old tower. " Come as well, Miss Lunsford ? " " No, thank you," gravely. " Why not ? " " It's— it's Sunday." " And therefore " " It is not a Sunday occupation." " What are you going to do ? " "I am going to the churchyard," said Marie, simply, "to take some fresh flowers for my mother's grave." Not one word more said Cosmo. But when Marie, with her great cross of white, Virgin Mary lilies, was starting, he walked by her side.

" Then you are not going up the tower ? " " How could I when you think it so wrong." Then Marie spoke : " How could you go to sleep in church ? You horrified me." " The sermon was very prosy," he cried, fun dancing in his grey eyes. " The pew was so very hard and uncomfortable ! How I everitnanaged to do it I can't tell ! It must have been a special — " But stopped himself, for Marie looked black as thunder, did not smile, would not look at him. As he held open the church gate : " I am sorry. Am I forgiven ? May I come in with you ? " She gravely nodded an assent. They trod quietly in and out of the many green mounds till they came to a great white stone cross — the only cross in the whole churchyard. Marie stayed her steps here. When they were well on the way home, she said, as if they had been talking about it before : "She was a Normandy farmer's daughter — a Le Breton.

Father says she was very, very beautiful ! It was too cold for her here. She only lived one-year-and-a-half. This was hers," touching a great, golden crucifix, that she wore round her throat. Cosmo had noticed this ornament with wonder before. Marie always had it. On Saturday evening, when he came in from shooting, he had come on to Marie with a child in her arms. It was a pretty little smiling baby ; it had caught hold of her goldeu crucifix, pleased with the glitter, and was holding it tightly. Even the unromantic Cosmo was struck with the picture — Marie. the very essence of youth, beauty, strength — the little child — the wrought image of so much agony and suffering. "It is very beautiful." "Yes. I like the feel of it about me always, have always had it as long as I can remember anything.