Beneath the Wave. A novel

Front matter

BENEATH THE WAYE % Uobel BY DORA RUSSELL author of " footprints in the snow," "annabel's rival," "the vicars governess," "the miner's oath," etc. etc. IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. II LONDON JOHN AND KOBERT MAXWELL MILTON HOUSE, SHOE LANE FLEET STREET MDCCCLXXVIII [A.U rights reserved] CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAP. PAGE I. Hayward's Relations 1 H. Florentia Villa 26 III. Among Type , . . 40 IV. A Change 55 V. Wedding Guests 76 VI. A Good Marriage 94 VII. Hilda's Pupils 117 vm. " How Wonderful is Death I " 146 IX. Bride and Bridegroom 156 X. Isabel's Friend 181 XI. Bane and File 198 XII. An Unexpected Blow 224 Xm. A Hesitating Answer 242 XIV. Close on Life's Tbead Steals Death . . . 263 XV. Husband and Wife WAYE.

Chapter I. Hayward's Relations

When Hayward felt himself clasped in his mother's arms, for a few moments a sort of rest seemed to come over his miserable heart. There was someone in the world to love him stUl, he thought. Then Avhen she asked him with fond affection, as she pushed back his hair and kissed his brow, " Why did you not tell me you were coming, my dear ? " Hayward gave a bitter, conscience-stricken sigh. " Why ? " Oh, poor mother ! She who held him to her breast, who kissed him as she had kissed him when he was a little VOL. II. B child, must never hear this question truly answered. Hayward thought a moment. Then falteringly, and Avith quivering lips, he said — " I — I — came up unexpectedly. But, mother," he Avent on more firmly, " why did you not tell me you were ill ? " " I could not bear to spoil your pleasure, dear.

You had worked so hard, and it must have been so pleasant for you at Sir George Hamilton's," ansAvered Mrs. Hay ward ; and as she did so, Hayward, with a violent effort for her sake, controlled his emotions. " Sir George Hamilton has left Massam for the present," he said, "and so I came away." ' Oh, of course, dear," said Mrs. Hayward, " but you must tell me all about it, my Philip," she continued, smilingly — "all about the beautiful young lady, and " But at this moment, while Philip Hay ward's quivering lips were framing a suitable reply, a rap came to the door of the room, and Mr. Jervis, the curate, appeared. " May I come in ? " he asked in his gentle way. " Well, Mrs. Hayward, you see your son and I are already friends." "I do not understand," said Mrs. Hayward, looking from one young man to the other.

" We travelled up together in the same carriage," exclaimed Mr. Jervis. " I knew him by his photograph," he added, smilingly, " and so took the liberty of introducing myself to him." " Oh, Philip ! " said Mrs. HayAvard, with some agitation of manner, " you can never thank him enough for all his goodness to me ! " And she looked at Mr. Jervis. " He must not begin now, at any rate," said the curate, again smiling kindly. " No," he added, holding out his hand, " he is tired, and you, Mrs. HayAvard, are also tired, and so for this evening, Avith your permission, I shall take my leave." " No, do not go," said Hayward, eagerly. He was afraid to be left alone with his mother now — afraid of the ques tions that he felt sure she would ask. " Where will you stay for the night ? " then asked the curate.

This question led to an inquiry about the accommodation that the house could afford. Then it was found that there was no un occupied bed-room in it, and on hearing this Mr. Jeiwis immediately invited Hayward to be his guest for the night. Hayward looked at his mother. Could he leave her ? he thought ; but Mrs. Hayward herself pressed him to go. She could not sleep unless she knew he was in a comfortable bed, she said ; and so at last, half unwillingly (yet feeling that he scarcely had the strength to stay) Hayward bade his mother good-night. " Come the first thing in the morning, my dear," she said ; and Hayward promised to do so. Then he Avent out with his new friend into the streets, passing through the crowd and the glare, silent and absorbed. He was worn and weary. The excitement, the sudden change, and the great shock of hearing of his mother's Ulness, all now told upon him.

He was so pale, and even faint, when he reached the curate's rooms, that Mr. Jervis was almost alarmed. But Hayward made as light as he could of his condition, and as soon as he could retired to his own room. When there, he dared not think. He flung himself on the bed, and after a while nature came to his aid, and he sank into a heavy sleep. The next morning when he awoke in the misty yellow haze of a London fog, he could not at first remember where he was. Then memory came back — memory — misery. Even Isabel Trevor's cold heart would have been touched if she could have know*n what the young man felt — the dead cold weariness of life, the sickening despair. Yet he rose with a set purpose. His mother ! He had forgotten her yesterday, but he thought of her to-day. " As long as she lives," he told himself, " as long as she lives !

" The mother, with her panting breath, the same hour Avas praying for her son. Hay ward thought that he had deceived her the night before about his leaving Massam ; but the sight of love is clear and keen. Mrs. Hayward kneAV that something grievous had happened to her boy, and — womanlike — guessed that a woman Avas the cause. So in the dull grey morning, Avith his grey set face, Hayward rose. Many things lay before him, for he had to begin a fight for daily bread. He Avould take nothing noAv from Sir George Hamilton, he told himself, and he was absolutely nearly penni less. But he Avas well educated, young and strong. These Avere three things in his favour, but even with them he kneAV that employment Avas sometimes not easily nor directly obtained. He thought of his chances as he dressed himself.

In the early part of this history it has been told Iioav a certain Mr. Moxam was his mother's brother-in-law, and he had prospered of late. He Avas a merchant in the city, with great warehouses standing by the river edge, to Avhich bales were drawn up, and from which bales were let down daily, and in whose dusty fusty precincts money was made. When a young man he had married Mrs. HayAvard's sister. They were the orphan daughters of a clergyman, and both pretty girls ; but, as is too often the case, when their father died he left nothing behind him. So they were thrown upon the world, and went out as governesses. They both married. Mrs. HayAvard accompanied the family of a colonel to India, and married Lieutenant Hayward, Avho Avas in the same regiment as her employer. Mrs. Moxam went to be the governess of a rich trades man's family at Peckham, and married Mr. Moxam, who was nephew of the tradesman.

Thus, Avhen Hayward's father died, Mr. Moxam promised to educate his Avife's sister's only son. And he did educate him, but while this process Avas going on his Avife died, and he married again after a couple of years. This event naturally changed young Hay ward's position. The first Mrs. Moxam left two daughters, the second Mrs. Moxam had one son. So as years went on, and they grew richer, the second Mrs. Moxam began to grudge the money spent yearly on the first Mrs. Moxam's nephew. She grudged also the trifling assistance which Mr. Moxam had occasionally given his first wife's sister, ever since the days Avhen, as a poor, young, broken-hearted widoAV, Mrs. Hayward had returned to England. Under these circum stances Philip Hayward had felt himself almost compelled to leave college. He, in fact, accepted a tutorship, so as to be able at once to assist in supporting his widowed mother.

Now we come to the time when he lived at Sanda ; to the time when he first saw Isabel Trevor, and when he saved Sir Georg-e Hamilton's life. He had written a modest account of that incident to his mother. His mother Avas very proud of his conduct, and perhaps prouder of its results. Indeed, when she heard of Sir George's offer to push him on in any profession he might choose, she AVAVE. was full of joy, and when he went to stay at Massam, her hopes for his future life were very high. She had seen nothing of her relations, the Moxams, for some time. They were getting on in the world, and did not therefore care to be stopped by poor relations. The girls remembered her, and sometimes (very rarely) mentioned " poor aunt Hayward." Mrs. Moxam the second did not care to be re minded of her existence.

So they let the poor widoAV drop out of their sight. They knew their cousin was a tutor " down in the North somewhere," but they did not care for cousins who were tutors. All this had grieved and annoyed poor Mrs. Hayward once, but the Moxams could not grieve or annoy her noAv. For one thing, she was about leaving the world for which the Moxams existed ; for another, she had lately hoped that her son would live to rise far above them. Philip Hayward knew all these things. He despised and disliked Mr. Moxam, who was pompous, silly, and ill-bred ; but for his mother's sake he made up his mind that he Avould go and beg Mr. Moxam to give him employment. He did not know of the poor little store his mother had laid by. There was a letter lying ready written in her desk, addressed " To my dear son, to be given to him after my death," and in this letter there was an enclosure.

The poor Avoman had literally grudged herself the necessaries of life. She had faded faster because she had not taken AA*hat she ought to have taken, so that she mig-ht save this little sum for her son. Hayward decided that he would not tell his mother of the application he was about to make to Mr. Moxam. It would be time enough to do that, he thought, when he had got w*ork. He therefore went to her bedside on the morning after his arrival in London with forced smiles on his lips. Poor Mrs. Hayward Avas very ill. She was Avasting and Avearing fast away. Her face had a painfully transparent look, and her eyes were large, big-pupilled, and glittering. But she Avas quite prepared to die. She put her hot hand into her son's and looked into his face and smiled. " God has been very good to me, my dear," she said, " and given me my heart's desire, for I prayed long to see my boy's face before I died."

" And — yet you never sent for me, mother," faltered HayAvard. " God sent you to me, dear," answered Mrs. Hayward ; and Hayward made no reply. He sat down by his mother's bed, and after a Avhile began talking; to her. But she asked him nothing about Massam. She kneAV he Avould tell her bj'-and-bye, Avhen the gap which absence makes betAveen those who love each other Avould gradually pass away. She had plenty to tell him. How good Mr. Jervis was to her, and all the troubles of her neighbours in the house. Her circle was so narroAV that she was naturally interested in the curly-pated children who tumbled up and down the stairs, and cried and screamed by turns. Of the Moxams she said nothing, for she had nothing to say. Philip was thankful for this. He feared to hear of some fresh slight, which would make his task a shade more bitter.

So after sitting an hour or so Avith his mother he went down the uncarpeted stairs. As he descended he was met by the hard faced landlady of the house. " Oh, sir, can I have a word with you, please ? " she said. "Certainly," ansAvered Hayward; and she accordingly ushered him into a small room at the back of the house. " It's about that poor lady up-stairs," she began, after closing the room door. " You see that clergyman who comes here some times told me last night that you were her son." " Yes, I am," said Hayward, " Well, then, you see," continued the woman, tAvisting the corner of her apron as she spoke, " she's certainly not long for here. Anyone can teU by her face she's going fast, and to tell the truth I can't abide corpses in the house. I don't Avish to be hard, but I must live, and coffins are awkward things to drag up and down stairs, and then I have tAvo other parties to consider.

So if you can make it convenient to take her away at the end of the week " And the landlady paused. Hayward's face blazed aU over when he understood what she meant. " Do you call yourself a woman ? " he said. " But she shall go." And without another word he left the landlady and the house. " Oh ! my poor mother," he thought, as he went along the streets. But this inter view nerved him at once to encounter his intended one with his relation, Mr. Moxam. He meant to go to Mr. Moxam's place of business in the city, and not to his house. He had been at this place of business before, having gone there as a lad, and had nearly always returned from these visits wounded and stung. His uncle, Mr. Moxam, was not troubled Avith fine feelings, and tenderness for the unfortunate was not one of his qualifications.

He froAvned, therefore, and grunted uneasily on the present occasion, when Hayward's card was brought up to him. " What can this chap Avant noAv ? " he said, putting the card into his son's hand. Let me describe the sire and son. Mr. Joseph Moxam, senior, AA'as short, red-faced, and pursy. A man of narrow, warped, unintellectual nature, Avho made money his god, and who estimated a man exactly by the length of his purse. Not an uncommon type among his class, perhaps ; but Mr. Moxam was a shade rougher, ruder, and harder than most of his fellows. Noav for the son, Joseph Moxam, junior, as he was named in business transactions, " Young Joe " as he w*as commonly called in the society he frequented. He also was short, with a narrow forehead, small mean-looking blue-grey eyes, light musty hair, a high nose, and a mouth that unpleasantly pro truded.

He grinned when his father placed Hay ward's card in his hand ; a grin expressive of contempt, and expressive also of him. " Begging, I dare say ?" he said, face tiously. " Not the right shop to come to, eh, then, Joe ? " said the sire. " Not the right ticket by any means ; but, let him try it on," said the son. Then entered Philip Hayward, pale, composed, and gentlemanly. He was not nervous about this interview now, and over his face had passed the shadow of a great grief. He bowed to his uncle and half cousin, who nodded in return ; the old man extending two fat fingers patronisingly. " Well, sir," he said to Hayward, " and Avhere are you from ? " " I have come to ask a favour of you, Mr. Moxam," said Philip, in his clear voice. " Humph ! " said Mr. Moxam, senior. "Thought so," muttered Mr. Moxam, junior.

"Can you give me, or get me, some employment?" continued Philip Hayward, briefly. "Thought you had a berth," answered Mr. Moxam, senior. " A tutorship or some thing of that sort, down in the North? Have you got the sack?" "No, sir," replied Hayward, still calm and cold. " But my mother is dying, and I therefore wish for employment in London." " Dying ! " echoed the old man. " Non sense ! " "Yes, sir, dying," repeated Hayward. " The doctor gives no hope. She has only a short time to live." Mr. Moxam, senior, moved his stout little body rather uneasily at this piece of infor mation, and a sort of feeling stirred within him under the left side of his waistcoat. He remembered at that moment his first wife and her pretty sister. Remembered how proud his poor Anna had been of her sister marrying an officer, and the bright happy letters that had come from the young bride in India.

Then he remembered the widow coming home — the woman who was dying noAv. "Humph!" he said again, "this is bad news." " So you will understand," continued Hay ward, " that I cannot leave her. I am ready, therefore, to accept anything you can give me ; and I think I could undertake a clerk's work." " So you should be, lad ; so you should be, after the education I gave you," said the old man. " For which I am very grateful," said Hayward, slowly. "Well, I'm not grudging it," said Mr. Moxam, pompously. "It's a great thing education, and a man ought to be grateful for it ; and if your poor mother really is so ill " At this moment young Joe winked his eye at his sire. VOL. II. c " No humbug about all this, is there, now ?" said the old man, roughly, taking the hint from his offspring. "You are not trying it on, are you, eh ?"

" What do you mean ?" asked HayAvard. " Your mother is ill, I suppose ?" Avent on Mr. Moxam. " She is dying," again repeated Hayward, but this time his face flushed. "Well, well, I hope not," said Mr. Moxam. " At all events you think you ought to be near her — -humph ! — well, we must see what we can do. Joe, come in here a moment, will you ?" Joe followed his father into an inner office, and the two remained there together for about a quarter of an hour. Then Mr. Moxam reappeared. " I've been tanking it over with my son," he said pompously, " and we find we have no vacancy in our office at present, and so are unable to offer you employment. But my Avife's brother, Mr. Newcome (Salkeld and Newcome, the printers), want, I understood from Newcome last Sunday, a literary chap with a good education, as ' reader ' or something of that sort, in their establishment.

There ! do you think that wUl do for you ? It's only to read over novels and bosh, I understand, so I think you ought to be up to it." " I think, perhaps, I could manage it," answered Hayward, with a grim smile. " Well, then, I'll say a word for you," continued Mr. Moxam. "I'll tell you what — come down and dine with us next Sunday, at Florentia Villa, Brixton, sharp two, and you'll meet Newcome himself. And now give my respects to your mother," and Mr. Moxam held out his two short fingers. "Sorry she's so Ul, but hope she'll pull through. Good morning." And Hayward's interview Avith his rich relations was over. Then he returned to his mother's lodging, purchasing on his way thither, almost with his last pound, a few little luxuries that he thought would please her. Her eyes brightened, and she smiled softly when she saw them.

Her boy had thought of her. This was what she was thinking of as she put her thin fingers through his dark hair, and murmured her fond thanks. But stern care was in Hayward's heart. The absolute want of money was oppress ing him, for he knew that his dying mother could not now remain in the house where she was. He sat there holding her hand, thinking what he should do. Then he remembered the gentle parson down at Sanda, and he knew that the Rev. Matthew would help him if he could. So by-and-bye he sat down and wrote to that good friend. He told him circumstances had happened which prevented him now accepting aid from Sir George Hamilton, but that he hoped soon to obtain work. In the meantime he was in immediate want of a small sum of money for the purpose of removing his dying mother to more comfortable rooms.

Five pounds Avould be sufficient for this purpose ; and this, with a burning blush passing over his face, and, with a trembling hand, he asked the Rev. Matthew to advance him. • " For my mothers sake," he told himself again, as he did this, as he had told him self when he Avent to ask his uncle, Mr. Moxam, for employment. But it was bitter, very bitter. Life is often so, but to be forced to borrow money is inexpressibly galling to a sensitive heart. Yet nothing is SAveeter to a generous one than to lend it. When, therefore, the Rev. Matthew received his late tutor's letter on the following day, he only felt regret that he was poor, and true sympathy for Hayward. But it never crossed his mind to grudge the few pounds that he was so glad to have it in his power to lend. Poor Hayward had asked for five, but the kindly parson went at once to his desk and took out ten.

This did not leave many behind ; but without a word to Avife or daughter, he put his hardly-earned money into his pocket and started to the postoffice, sending from thence an order for the amount to HayAvard. But he sent something else as well,- — kind, thoughtful, gentle words; an offer that whenever he chose his old home at Sanda Avas open to him ; and though it must be admitted that he felt some curiosity as to the cause of Hayward's rupture with Sir George Hamil ton, he made no inquiries on the subject. " It Avill be about a Avoman, no doubt," thought the parson, shaking his head, though there was no one near to see him. " Ah, ah, they bring a vast deal of trouble." Then there came into his mind something his wife had told him about Miss Trevor. Mrs. Matthew had warned Hayward about her, and she had told her husband that she had warned him.

They had been staying in the house together, the parson pondered. Was this it ? " Poor lad, poor lad !" was his next thought, and with another shake of his head he began reflecting on Miss Trevor's charms. Miss Trevor, as we know, Avent upon the AVAVE. principle of trying to fascinate aU men. Once or twice therefore, for amusement, or for the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Irvine look disturbed, she had condescended to bestow a few smiles on the parson. The parson remembered what he had felt when he received these few sweet smiles at this moment, and he gave a little sigh, and his comical look stole over his face. " And I am fifty," he was thinking, " and poor Hayward quite a young fellow still !" When he returned home after despatching the money order to Hayward, the first person that he encountered was his wife.

" Matthew," said Mrs. Irvine, in her hoUow tones, " I've a piece of news for you. " Well, my dear ? ' Rev. Matthew. meekly asked the "You must guess," Avith grim jocularity. said Mrs. Matthew, The parson thought, " You have found at last he said. the lost teaspoon ? " " No such luck," replied Mrs. Irvine ; " guess again." To please her (for he was very sweet tempered) the parson made various guesses, all relating to little household affairs, but to each of his suggestions Mrs. Irvine solemnly shook her head. At last, the Rev. Matthew declared he had exhausted all his surmises, and asked his Avife to keep him no longer in suspense. " I ahvays said it," then remarked Mrs. Irvine. " But Avhat is it, my dear ? " asked the parson. " Miss Trevor has succeeded," answered Mrs. Matthew, with a certain amount of triumph in her tone.

" I always said it, did I not, Matthew ? and now my words have come true." Then Mrs. Irvine proceeded to tell her tale. Miss Trevor's maid, Fanny Becker, had written to her cousin, Jane Becker, who was cousin to Mrs. Irvine's cook, that Miss Trevor was engaged to Sir George Hamilton ; that the family Avere to return very shortly to the Hall, and that the marriage was to take place soon after their arrival. The parson listened to the news, and then he remembered Hayward's letter. So this was the probable cause Avhy HayAvard had parted Avith Sir George Hamilton — this ! " It's a great marriage for her, I suppose ?" he said, after a moment's silence. " That Mr. Hannaway, who was down about the time of the wreck of the yacht, told me that Sir George Hamilton is a very rich man." "That's why she is going to marry him," answ*ered his wife, sharply.

" You should not say that, my love," said the gentle parson. " But I do say it," reiterated Mrs. Irvine. " Matthew, mark my words," she continued, " if ever there was a bad Avoman in the Avorld she's one ; if ever there was a heartless woman in the world, she's one also, and you men will live to find it out." And having thus distinctly expressed her opinion, Mrs. Irvine left her husband to his reflections.

Chapter II. Florentia Villa

The parson's ten pounds came like a gift from God. It enabled Hayward to pay off his mother's heartless landlady, to procure her fresh rooms, and to buy her various small comforts absolutely necessary for her condition. Thus the last feAv Aveeks of Mrs. Hay ward's life were perhaps the most beautiful and peaceful ones she ever spent on earth. We all, more or less, I believe, live on hope. It is not the present that we clothe in shining light, but the dim horizon that we scarcely see. Her hope now lay beyond the earthly boundaries, and far away in imagination she seemed to realize the golden land beyond. Hayward, passion-tossed and world-weary, stood awestruck by his dying mother's side. Plating his life here, he yet could not rise above it. A beautiful face came between him and peace — a beautiful face betw*een him and hope.

But he had set himself a task, and he meant to fulfil it. This was to comfort his mother's last days ; to let her soul pass away undisturbed to rest. It was in a neat and modest house, over looking the Chelsea pensioners' gardens, Avhere he had found her a home. For hours when she was asleep, he Avould sit watching the veterans, for whom " life's fitful fever " was about OA*er, walking stiffly about, arguing and quarrelling. It was like a peep into the other days. There Avas one old man that he had once travelled with in an omnibus to the city. He was in the last stage — drivelling, childish. A bold, ill-bred man, who was in the omnibus also, had on this occasion begun " chaffing," as he called it, the old soldier. WAVE. " So you've been in hotter climates than this, I suppose, old fellow ?

" asked this obtrusive traveller; but the poor pensioner scarcely seemed to understand. Then a comrade, who accompanied him, and who was perhaps ten years younger, spoke up. "He's not been in India, sir," he said, " but he served in the Loav Countries. He's a Waterloo man." And as his friend spoke, the old man nodded his head, and laughed aloud. Yes, memory came back at the well remembered word, and he was ready to tell his tale, the tale he had told a thousand times before, and which brought such stirring memories to the listeners' hearts. Hayward used to watch this old fellow hobbling about on the verge of the grave, from his mother's windows. In his day, perhaps, he had been brave and happy ; noAv he Avas only testy, drivelling, and selfish. It was one of the lessons of life, Avas it not ?

The lessons which the thinker daily learns. The curate, Mr. Jervis, grew deeply interested in Hayward. He saw that he was unhappy, and the efforts that he made to conceal this appealed to the curate's sympathies. Many solemn conversations the two young men held together, as they wandered up and down in the evenings, by the dusky river's edge. They had begun life about the same time, but from two very different starting points. Horace Jervis was the son of a rich man, Philip Hayward of a very poor one. But a shadow had fallen on the Jervis famUy whUe Horace was yet a boy, and the bitterest blush that had ever dyed his cheeks had been for bis mother. He had been a refined and sensitive lad, and the agony and shame that he had then endured had left for a long time a most marked impression on his mind.