A Stormy Past

Front matter

a BY MAY ST CLAIRE (Mrs GANNAWAY ATKINS) X o n & o n DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 1 8 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. TO MY DEAR SISTER HELENA I DEDICATE THIS BOOK CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. In Drear November, . . . . i II. Miriam Delforth, .... il III. Checkmated, ..... 22 IV. The Encounter, . . . .31 V. ' You are No Wife of Mine,' ... 40 VI. Three Years After, ..... 48 VII. The Major won't be Managed, ... 70 VIII. A Time for Thanksgiving, .... 82 IX. Langley Grange, ..... 95 X. Avice, . . . . . . 104 XI. ' Whom have I in the Whole World to Love but Thee?' 115 XII. Take Everything that I Possess but Restore to me My Child, . . . . .121 XIII. Ben to the Rescue, .... 137 XIV. Safely Home, ..... 148 XV. Love's Young Dream, .... 162 XVI. ' Only Then shall this Weary Heart find Rest, . 172 Vll CONTENTS VIII CHAP. PAGE XVII. ' On Your Answer my Happiness depends,' . 180 XVIII.

Father Clement's Resolve, . . .189 XIX. A White Form is Seen falling into Space. . 197 XX. The Prediction, ..... 206 XXI. Laid to Rest, ..... 225 XXII. Wedding Bells, 236 XXIII. In My Lady's Garden, . . . .248 XXIV. After Many Days, .264

Chapter I In Drear November

It was a dreary night, all fog and gloom without, all brightness and warmth within. Two men are sitting earnestly discussing what seems to one of them a very important subject. ' And so you will not help me in this matter, Jack ? ' ' I will not, Anton. The last thing I did for you nearly ruined my poor old father, and but for his paying up this money which you should have paid, I should have been an inmate of one of Her Majesty's prisons for some years to come. I was your dupe, Anton ; but, God helping me, I steer a straight course for the future.' ' What rot you talk, Jack Dealtry ! I should never A have let things come to the worst. I should have paid up. You may be sure of that.' 'Better do it novv then, Anton. My father, as a poor parson, has not the money to lose, I can assure you.' The speakers were a good-looking pair — Anton Gordon de Wynne and Jack Dealtry.

De Wynne was tall and dark with clear-cut features, and eyes of a peculiar grey tint. Most people would call him a very handsome man. His eyes, however, were shiftless. They never looked one straight in the face. Jack Dealtry was very fair, tall and thin. His was a good-looking face, illumined by a pair of clear blue eyes and a sunny smile. But, as their friends said when they were boys at college together, 'Jack was out of the running when compared to Anton de Wynne.' They are sitting in De Wynne's chambers at South Kensington. It is a most lux urious apartment, fitted up with an utter disregard to expense. Anton Gordon de Wynne is the eldest son and heir of Sir Roger de Wynne of Wynne Abbey, situated upon a wild part of the west coast of England. The grey old abbey stood upon an eminence, almost overlooking the sea near the village of Branton.

It was flanked by bleak, bold rocks upon both sides ; from its front one descended by a zig-zag precipitous path to the sea-shore. From the back a hill wound round to the village below. Far in the distance, to the right, was a dark, black forest, and on the left was a bleak, brown moor. So far as the eye could see, with one exception, the broad lands and the houses upon them belonged to the De Wynnes, and consequently formed a goodly heritage. Sir Roger de Wynne, the present chief and head of the family, had only two sons — Anton, the heir, and Basil, the younger, who was held of slight account in his father's eyes ; but to the gentle mother, who had been taken from the family circle a year or two previous to the opening of our narrative, Basil was as the very apple of her eye, and she had left the boy a very fair fortune, much to Anton's disgust and Sir Roger's chagrin, for Anton, the heir, had very expensive tastes, and had already over-taxed his father's pockets by his constant demands for money.

It had lately been more and more difficult for Sir Roger to pay his son's debts, for, owing to Sir Roger's wild living and extravagance in his early youth, the estates were much encumbered. Five years previous, Sir Roger had bought his son a commission in a crack cavalry regiment, thinking that in the years to come Anton would sell out and settle down as he, Sir Roger, had done before him. ' The lad will be all right,' Sir Roger would say to his only sister, who lived in the village of Branton, near. ' Once he is married to Madge, he will be all that we can desire.' Time passed on ; Anton became Captain Anton, and had been engaged to his cousin, Madge Villiars, for the past twelve months. Things, however, had nearly reached a crisis with Anton de Wynne. He was deeply in debt and was mixed up with some very shady individuals in town.

Owing to certain rumours having reached his father's ears, Sir Roger had written to say that for the future he must expect no more than his regular allowance from him. Further, he advised him to sell out and to come home, adding, ' Your aunt is getting tired of the long engagement, and I must say that your treatment of Madge is very bad, not to say cruel.' But we must return to Anton and his friend. ' And so you positively refuse to help me, Jack ? It would be so easy for you to do this. Just borrow your father's clerical robes and do the job so as to satisfy the girl.' Presently he added, ' If you don't consent, I can go elsewhere, I suppose.' ' Who is this poor girl, Anton ? ' ' I know I can trust you with a secret, Jack. Her name is Delforth, and but for her being as poor as a church mouse, I would throw propriety to the winds and marry her outright, and let my cousin go hang.' Jack Dealtry gave a start unseen by Anton, as he replies in a low tone, — ' Suppose I could get a friend to undertake this office — what then?' ' You would earn my eternal gratitude, Jack.

There must be a certificate, you know, just to appease her. As for myself, I need not look at it.' ' I will see what my friend says, Anton, and let you know by to-morrow ; and now, if you will excuse me, I have an important engagement for this evening.' ' Certainly, dear boy, you were always my good friend, Jack. Ta-ta until to-morrow.' Jack Dealtry hastily left the apartment. Once outside, his blue eyes glow with anger as he says to himself, ' My little Miriam, my poor little fluttering bird. If it is Mirry, he shall find Jack Dealtry for once a match for him.' He hastily called a cab and gave the address, The Rowans, Alton Crescent, St John's Wood. It seemed to him no time before the cab pulled up in front of a trim, well-kept villa* which, in the murky gloom, looked bright and cheery, being well lighted up from within.

On being admitted, Jack ascended the stairs, three steps at a time, until he reached a cheerful study. The door was wide open and a gentleman, some what older than himself, arose to greet him. ' Why, Jack, old man, what a time it is since you honoured us with a visit ! I am alone, Jack ; Alice has gone to her mother's for the night.' ' So much the better, Hal. There is much I wish to say to you.' Looking at these two men, one would scarcely think they were brothers. Harold Dealtry, the elder, was dark, with a mass of curly, dark brown hair. His eyes were dark brown, and the face looked as if its owner was given to deep study. He was shorter than Jack by an inch or two, but there was the same sunny smile when he spoke. He was, at that time, the rector of a small country parish, but was just then taking duty for his father, who was abroad for his health. ' During Alice's stay in town, she is anxious to be with her mother as much as possible,' he said, after closing the door for a con fidential chat. 'And now, Jack, what is it?

You seem very anxious to commence.' 'Just this, Harold. I have seen Anton de Wynne to-night.' ' I am sorry for that, Jack. You promised the dear father and me not to have anything more to do with him.' ' And I mean to keep my promise, Hal, as well as I am able to. Do not fear. Never again do I touch a card. He left word that he wished to see me on an important matter, and I, thinking he was going to repay the dear old dad, visited him at his chambers to-night. I am afraid he is a bigger scamp than we thought him. Harold, you have ever been to me one of the best of brothers — you know how grateful we have been to the dear, gentle woman who gave us a mother's care for the first year or two after our mother's early death. The good, sweet soul has gone to her last, long home ; but there is one, whom she left to mourn her, who is in danger.

It is Miriam, Hal, our little friend, our almost sister in the years gone by. And another thing, Hal, I love her, God knows how dearly. I told her so ; but how could I expect her to return my love ? She looks upon me as a true friend, as a brother, perhaps, but she told me at once it could never be as a lover. For a time the pain of her refusal sent me to the very devil, poor, weak-hearted fool that I was. But it is past, thank God ! I saw the pitfall De Wynne and others meant for me, and it has left me a sadder, perhaps, but a wiser man. Miriam is in the habit of meeting De Wynne every Saturday. You know she is at the Grafton Ladies' College, and returns home from Saturday until Monday each week. Miriam, poor child, has consented to a secret marriage, and that hound wants me to perform a mock marriage to satisfy Miriam, so that in the end he can, I suppose, cast her off.

He does not know that we know the family. I distinctly refused, but told him I knew of someone who would perform the ceremony. I must see Mirry. If it were for her happiness, I could see her married to-morrow. I will tell her I know all, and beg of her to give him up. If she will not, promise me, Hal, you will perform this marriage. Fortunately he is unaware that I have a brother and that that brother is a clergyman.' ' It wants most careful consideration, Jack. I do not like doing such an underhand thing ; but if Miriam will have this man, then it is our duty to look after her future. As you say, we owe her family more than we can ever repay. What is De Wynne's objection to Miriam, I wonder? Mr Delforth must be well off", and he is a gentleman.' ' De Wynne spoke very slightingly of Miriam.

I doubt that he knows the family history ; he is pro bably unaware that Miriam will inherit no mean fortune upon the death of her father. The De Wynnes are of very old family. Their ancestors came over with William the Conqueror.' ' That may be,' said Harold, ' but I hold that Miriam Delforth is herself Anton de Wynne's equal any day. For her own sake, I hope she will re consider the matter. It is Friday eve, Jack ; to morrow she will be home from school. You had better try and see her alone. She meets De Wynne, and he takes her nearly to her father's door. How did he meet her ? ' ' Claude is in the same regiment and took him home one evening. Since then, Claude has probably heard that Anton is no better than he ought to be, and has not asked De Wynne to repeat his visit there. I will call to-morrow night, and try and see Miriam alone, and postpone my visit to De Wynne until Monday.

I will return here to-morrow, Hal, if you can put me up, and let you know Miriam's decision.' ' Do so, Jack. I shall be anxious to hear. I trust Miriam will throw the fellow over. I should be sorry to have to perform this marriage; but if I have to, it shall be as lawful and binding as the law can make it, and for once De Wynne will find that he has met his match in the man he would have condemned to a felon's cell. ' The night wears on, Jack. I must finish this address which I have to give at the reading-rooms to-morrow. I dined early, but Mary must get you something. When I have finished, I will come down to the dining-room.' ' Don't hurry, old man,' says Jack, as he prepares to go below. ' I am afraid I have scattered your thoughts to the winds.'

Chapter II Miriam Delforth

It was a dreary night in chill November, just the sad time of the year, when the leaves fall and everything seems enveloped in grey mist, fog or gloom. The dreary day seemed in harmony with Miriam Delforth's thoughts as she made her way up the steps of her father's rather gloomy - looking town house in one of the London squares. It formed one of many, this old house. It had a touch of stately grandeur which belonged to a by - gone age. Miriam's thoughts, as we have said, were sad. She, as a rule, was open and truthful to a degree, and she hated to have a secret from the dear father who loved her so dearly. But she con soled herself with the thought that it would not be for long. ' Anton is a gentleman,' she reflected ; ' father will be proud of him. Dear father, Anton promises to write him directly after my marriage, and I know he will forgive me in the end.' Miriam Delforth was in form a magnificent girl ; tall, digni fied and yet of very slender proportions.

She carried herself with a sort of queenly grace which well became her stately beauty. Her features were very regular ; her hair was of a ruddy brown, tinged with gold, and her eyes were of a deep violet blue. Very expressive eyes they were, too, and as they gazed upon one, they told of a sweet, pure mind within. But she looked strangely pale to-night, so the father thought who greeted her with a look of love and pride, as was his custom on these weekly occasions. ' You are looking unwell, child,' said he. as he kissed her fondly. ' Too much study. Well, never mind, dear ; it will soon be over. No more school after Christmas. You must hasten with your dressing, Mirry. I have a letter from Jack Dealtry ; he will call upon us this evening. It's a long time since we saw the lad,' and then her father looks at her as he continues, — ' I once thought you two might in time to come be united.

He is fond of you, child.' ' Yes, father, dear, and he is one of the best of men, but I could never love Jack. Dear old Jack ! Why, he has always seemed as much my brother as Claude is.' ' I told him I should never force your inclinations, Mirry ; but oh ! I wish it could have been otherwise, for I have known the lad from his birth, and the Dealtrys have ever been honourable men. Jack's father and I were as brothers in our early youth, but I will say no more ; perhaps, in time to come, you will change your mind.' Miriam now retired to her cosy bedroom, and found a cheery fire and her old nurse awaiting her. Lyster Delforth was the younger son of a poor army captain. He had in his early youth studied hard for the medical profession. But, alas ! it was the same with Lyster as with a good many others before him.

When but half way through his medical training, and after he had passed all his early examinations with distinction, he found that a lack of means prevented him from reaching the goal. With an aching heart, he was obliged to dismiss the idea of being a doctor from his mind. He did not do as a good many had done — return to his father to lead an aimless life at home ; but with the small sum he had left he took a chemist's shop in a busy thoroughfare up west. Things prospered with Lyster Delforth. In ten years from the time of his starting in business, he had numerous shops in and around London, and had been enabled to help his parents, who had struggled so hard for their children in days gone by. Five years after starting in business, Lyster Delforth married Mabel Langley, orphan sister of his great friend, Major Langley.

The marriage was in every way a happy one. Two children were born — Claude, the elder, who had now a commission in the army, and Miriam. Mrs Delforth died when Miriam was sixteen years old. Mother and children were devoted to each other, and it was a day of bitter grief and sorrow for Lyster Delforth and his two children when the gentle wife and mother was taken from them. That was two years ago, and Miriam was now eighteen. She sits down in one of the daintily-draped wicker chairs before her bedroom fire, and Lucy, the maid, who had been her mother's maid before her, bustles about, brings hot water for her young mistress, and still she lingers. Miriam looks at her wonderingly, for Lucy, who is generally so quiet, seems restless enough to-night. ' What is it, Lucy ? ' asks she at last, with a sweet smile. ' Is it that you have said " Yes " at last to poor Jim ? ' 'That's jist about it, Miss Mirry, 'and a rare ole fule I am to think that I, Lucy Bobbit, aster all these years should be such an idjot as to get married.

An' it 'ull jist break me 'art to leave ye all. But ye see, Miss Mirry, darlin', ye've grown up now, an' the dear mistress she always said, " You treat Jim very badly, Lucy." P'r'aps I have, but I know this. 'Tis twenty years agone, and he still keeps plaguing me to say " Yes," drat him ! an' I forty-five gone Michalmuss.' 'Jim is a real good fellow, Lucy,' says the girl, putting her arms around her nurse's neck and kissing her. ' Father will miss you dreadfully, dear,' says she, with tears in her eyes. 'An' you, Miss Mirry?' ' Need I say so, dear, good Lucy ? ' And then she says to herself, ' Dare I tell her ? Oh, that dear mother was alive ! I could tell her all. But Lucy — better not.' ' Then you have to go to Paris, Lucy ? ' ' Yes, that's about the worst of it. Fancy goin' to live amongst them French heathen, where they eat snails an' frogs an' sich like !

Augh ! 'tis jest dreadful to think of. 'You must jest write me every week Miss Mirry, dear, or I shall be right down miserable. ' P'r'aps I sha'n't go ; I've told the idjot not to be too certain ; but there, he's got a way of windin' one round his little finger.' ' Paris is a beautiful city, Lucy ; you will be happy enough. I am so glad, for your sake, you have said " Yes," and it is a good appointment for Jim, is it not ? ' ' Very like, miss ; but fancy me, Lucy Bobbit, over there where they parley voo, an' I not knowin' a bit about it.' ' It will be all right ; by the time we see you again you will be quite a French scholar. But I must go now, Lucy. Can I tell papa ? ' ' Oh, yes, miss, please do and get it over. 'Tis a nice teasin' I'll have from Master Claude. God bless 'im ! ' Miriam had donned a simple gown of yellow spotted muslin, the neck and sleeves draped with filmy white lace, and as Jack crossed the room to greet her, he thought her a fit bride for a king.

Never had she looked more lovely in his eyes than she did that evening, with just a cluster of rich tinted damask roses nestling amongst the folds of lace upon her breast. ' Why, Jack,' says the girl, her face aglow with pleasure, ' this is delightful. Why have you been so long away from us all?' They are soon joined by Mr Delforth and Major Langley, Miriam's uncle, who is staying in town with his brother-in-law previous to starting for a three years' appointment in India. Major Langley was a white-haired, handsome old soldier, some years older than Miriam's father. He was devoted to Lyster Delforth and his children. Miriam was perfect in her uncle's eyes, and it was she who could soothe him and drive away care when he happened to have an extra bad attack of the gout. Pat, his Irish valet or servant, would often beat a hasty retreat and leave his master to Miss Miriam's gentle care.

Never had he spoken a cross word to her, 'An' it's no whondher Pat would say ; ' shure, she's jest an anghel wid 'im.' After dinner, Miriam and Jack take their way to the handsome drawing-room. Jack does not smoke, and it is the custom of the Major and his host to have a game of chess together every night. They excuse themselves and say they will rejoin the others after the game is finished. It is just the opportunity Jack wants. There is no time to be lost, he thinks, so he commences at once. ' Miriam, dear, I have come to see you to-night on a most important matter. What I have to say, you will take in good part. You know, dear, the great debt our family owes to yours.' ' Nonsense, Jack.' B ' Not at all, Miriam. When my mother died in giving me birth, five years before you were born, your dear mother took me, a helpless babe, and fed me at her breast equally with Claude.

She was the only mother I ever knew, or Harold either, for that matter, for he was but eighteen months old when our dear mother died. As we both grew to manhood, we worshipped the dear, noble woman who could give us a portion of the love which she gave to her own lawful children. She was my ideal of everything which was good and pure, and when I heard of her death my heart ached for myself; but more, Mirry, for you. And oh, Miriam, dear, for the sake of your dear mother, whom we all loved, consider well the step you are about to take. I know, Miriam, no matter how, of your constant meetings with Anton de Wynne. He is unworthy of the love of a good woman. Believe what I say, Mirry, and think of me only as a brother who could rejoice in this union if it would be for your future happiness.' The tears steal down the girl's cheeks and she gives Jack her hand and says, ' Jack, dear, I know Anton has his faults, but they are not grave ones ; he loves me very dearly and will alter after our marriage.

Oh, I am so glad to chat this matter over with you. I have promised faithfully that I will say nothing to dear father until after our marriage. Then I will write and tell him everything. It is my one bitter sorrow that I have to deceive him.' ' Why should you do so, Miriam ? Why can he not win and woo you with your father's consent and approval ? ' ' There are reasons, Jack, which I cannot divulge. Believe me, Anton means well ; and, oh, it would break my heart to separate from him.' ' Tell me about it, Miriam, and I will help you if I can.' Miriam told him all. They were to be married in some quiet spot. Anton would be awaiting her in the early morning when she left school for good. You see, Jack, it will be better so ; there will be no bother about my luggage. I cannot tell you at present where Anton intends to go for our wedding tour.

He has not quite settled about that, but he has promised to bring me home after our tour, and I shall come straight to papa and ask his forgiveness. But oh how I wish uncle were here to plead for me ; he will be in India, you know, by then ; but you will talk to father, Jack, and tell him how crieved I was to have to deceive him.' fc> ' I will do what I can, Miriam, providing you promise me one thing.' 'And what is that, Jack?' ' Just this. Anton de Wynne is unaware that we are life-long friends. He must remain in ignorance of the fact. I ask it for your father's sake, and above all, for your own. Harold will marry you, and I will witness the ceremony.' ' There is nothing I should like better, Jack. But why this secrecy ? ' 'You trust me, Mirry. For ever and always, Jack 'Then do not ask me, dear; leave it to Harold and me to settle.' ' I am content to do so, Jack,' and then the girl lifts her large blue eyes to his and says, ' Oh, Jack, dear, how good and noble you are.

I have often thought there is not your equal in the world.' ' How little you know me, Miriam,' replies Jack, bitterly ; 'do not imagine that I am better or worse than my fellow-men. But always remember, Mirry, that I would go to the end of the world to serve you or yours. As long as I live 1 shall never cease to love you, dear, though the dream which I once foolishly cherished has passed. I shall rejoice if this marriage is for your future happiness. But, oh, how grieved we shall all be if it is otherwise.' ' I have no fear for the future, Jack, believe me. If dear father and uncle forgive me, we shall be the happiest couple in the world, Anton and I.' Their conversation was now interrupted by the return of Mr Delforth and the Major. Miriam had a beautiful voice, which had been thoroughly well cultivated.

She sang to them some of the quaint old ballads which always delighted the Major. Many times later on did Jack think of that November evening, and of the girl in the heyday of her glorious beauty, surrounded by those who loved her. And as the clear, bird -like voice sings ditty after ditty, Jack wishes in his heart that her future may be as bright and unclouded as her past has been. He thinks not of himself and of his dreary future. ' Time enough for that,' he murmurs, ' when she is lost to me for ever.'

CHAPTER I II CHECKMATED

It is Monday evening, just two days from the time of Jack's visit to the Delforths, as that worthy once more wends his way to Anton de Wynne's chambers. The wind is howling without like a thing in pain. The streets are one mass of snow and slush. A black fog shrouds everything in its murky gloom, and makes locomotion very difficult ; but at last the cab reaches its destination and Jack is soon into De Wynne's presence. ' Ah ! here you are, Jack, friend of my boyhood. Sit down old man — have a B.-and-S.' ' No thank you, Anton ; I ask you once more, do you still desire this mock marriage ? ' ' Rather. It is distasteful to me, the question of marriage. I have written to my father, and I have told him that I cannot enter the matrimonial yoke for three years. If Madge Villiars does not care CHECKMATED 23 to wait, let her tack on to someone else.

There's no fear she will do that. She's awfully gone on me, dear boy, I can assure you, and I suppose it will be absolutely necessary for me to marry her, for I don't mind telling you, old man, I shall be devilish well stony-broke by then. Truth, 'pon my honour, I am selling my commission, and I must go to old Moses for another loan and raise the wind somehow. But a fig for dull care. Tell me what you have arranged. I hope you have got a fellow who can look the character: that's why I wanted you to undertake the job.' 'You need not fear on that score,' said Dealtry. ' You are aware that my father is at Nice for his health. That being so, why not be married at my father's church ? There shall be no one present but Gorton and myself.' 'The very thing, Jack; how clever you are! And Jack smiles in spite of his bitter thoughts, and says, ' Well really, De Wynne, I believe I am.' ' No doubt about that, old man.' We must now return to Miriam.