The Renunciation of Helen

Front matter

NEW VOLUMES OF HUTCHINSON'S SELECT NOVELS. Each in crown 8vo, handsome cloth gilt, 3J. 6d. GRIF. By B. L. FARJEON. Author of " Aaron the Jew ", etc. This is a reissue of the author's most successful story, of which a quarter of a million copies have been sold. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. By DARLEY DALE. Author of " Lottie's Wooing ", etc. The British Weekly says : — " A thoroughly healthy story, skilfully constructed and briskly told, without padding, mannerisms, or snobbishness." The National Observer says: — "If taste, style, and humour go to the making of a good novel, then 'The Village Blacksmith' ought to rank high. All the characters are well drawn, and many of them are felicitous conceptions." A STUMBLER IN WIDE SHOES. By E. SUTCLIFFE MARCH. The Speaker says : — " Singular beauty and charm distinguish this new novel of Dutch life.

The book is excellently written, thoughtful, wise, and tender. As a faithful picture of Dutch life, the novel is extremely interesting, breaking fresh ground with the happiest results for the reader." The Pall Mall Gazette says: — "A book of rare charm, originality, and power. The novel will, we prophesy, find a wide and appreciative welcome." TATTERLEY: The Story of a Dead Man. By TOM GALLON. Author of "A Prince of Mischance", etc. This novel met with unqualified approval by the press and public. Already four editions of the book have been issued and this new and cheaper edition will appeal to a still wider public. Punch says: — "The reader will find the book delightful in its pathos, its humour and its humanity." London: HUTCHINSON & CO., 34 Paternoster Row. NEW UNIFORM EDITION of B. L..

FABJBON'8 MOST SUCCESSFUL NOVELS. In crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. each. GREAT PORTER SQUARE. IN A SILVER SEA. THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS. THE SACRED NUGGET. MISER FAIRBROTHER. A SECRET INHERITANCE. THE TRAGEDY OF FEATHERSTONE. Nothing could better show what an established favourite Mr. Farjeon is than the fact that many hundreds of thousands of copies of his novels have been sold, and from this fact it may be safely assumed that his readers may be reckoned by millions. This is not surprising when the qualities of his work are considered. He weaves excellent plots, and there is pure sentiment and true pathos in most of his books. He deals with human nature as it is generally understood, and not with abnormal products ; and he appeals to the hearts of his readers for his characters are made real to them.

Chapter I. An Enigmatical Family

"Talk of Pygmalion," muttered Maurice Furnival, as he sat on his window-sill smoking. " Pygmalion may have been an ass to fall in love with his own work, but I am a greater one, for I verily believe I am in love with my own imagination. He did manage to turn his ideal into substance at last, but mine is likely to remain a shadow to the end of the chapter." Here he knocked the ashes out of his pipe against a nowerpot, and, instead of flying temptation, shaded his eyes with one hand to gaze the better on a flitting figure in the next garden. The figure was feminine, and, it must be confessed, employed in a very commonplace action; she was carrying a plate towards the house from a rustic fowl-house at the end of the lawn. " Shadow, did I call her ? " thought Mr. Furnival, ecstatically, " she is a gleam of light !

How that pale blue gown catches the sunlight, and look at the golden glints in her hair ! I wonder if she is Zbe TRenuncfatton of Delen. 2 as bright as she looks, or whether she would turn out sulky or commonplace if one knew her? I wonder whether old Pygmalion found his living wife as easy to get on with as his statue? I wonder- Why, what in the name of all that is marvellous js she doing now ? washing tea-cups-Like a housemaid !" Maurice's window commanded a view not only of the garden, but of a receding wing of the house at the back, in which he had an oblique sight of a kind of butler's pantry. At the window of this he could see a delicate white hand with a ring on it, and a ruffle of lace pushed up to the elbow of a pretty arm, and this white hand and arm were certainly placing cups to drain on the board of the washing-tank near the window.

As the pretty fingers flashed into sight every now and then, Mr. Furnival's meditations grew more bewildered. " What does it all mean? " he ejaculated ; " now I come to think of it, I have not seen a servant about the house for days. Have they only one, and is she ill? or are they training the girls as lady helps ? That lovely creature ! Bah! impossible! " Here Maurice Furnival began to smoke in such a furious style that he ran great risk of choking himself. He had, in fact, existed in a chronic state of wonderment from the date of his taking Mrs. Letham's first floor apartment ; that is to say, he relapsed into that state every evening on his return from his office ; being junior partner in the legal firm of Davitt and Furnival, his days were probably occupied by other and sterner interests.

The first signs of his next door neighbours had revealed themselves on the very evening of his arrival, a month ago, when his landlady not having his dinner ready, he seated himself on the window sill among the geraniums and began smoking a pipe to beguile the time. It was May, and after criticising the shrubs in Un Enigmatical jfamil?. 3 Mrs. Letham's garden, which seemed to have a superfluity of leaves and a paucity of blossoms, and wondering why suburban gardeners would confine themselves to three plants — geraniums, calceolaria, and nemophila; — the lilacs and laburnums in the next garden attracted his attention, and a voice from the door said, "Oh, Meriel, Meriel, don't be a baby!" while a merry peal of laughter rang out with the reply, "How can I help it? he is too funny." The " he " evidently referred to a little pug dog, who, with a young lady's hat on, was chasing a girl round the lawn.

The girl was lithe and joyous, and danced in circles with the dog at her skirts Uke a kitten at play; the sunset light gleaming on her fair hair, which the breeze was blowing into a cloud of little rings all over her head. An elderly lady, whose white hair was covered with misty lace, then came down the steps. The girl, ceasing to dance, ran quickly into the house, returning with a fleecy white shawl which she wrapped round the dainty little lady, saying, " Thoughtless mammie, you know you are under orders not to take cold." She put her mother's arm within hers, and led her round the lawn, chatting gaily; when they turned, Maurice Furnival saw that she was not a child at all, but a maiden of seventeen, bright and lovely. The first impressions of Maurice Furnival had been followed by others, so curious and contradictory that their life had become a riddle to him, and as yet he was not the Œdipus to solve it.

For instance, why had they given a large party the day after he arrived, and received no friends since ? What could the lovely Meriel have been doing at the window of the china pantry washing tea-cups ? And what could the stately elder sister with the dark eyes have had to say to the butcher's boy at the area door? Yet when they played lawn-tennis, how graceful and charming they both were, and how refined their voices! If they were ladies, why did they do servants' work? If not, where did they get their courtly breeding? In the evening, too, when sitting over his wine and newspaper, he heard the strains of a violoncello from the next house, and at times a young voice, evidently trained abroad, carolling German melodies, and he speculated a great deal about that. Were they amateurs or professionals?

Would that beautiful young face ever be profaned with paint? But at this point Maurice's reflections usually ended with " Faugh ! What a donkey I am to be speculating like this! One would think I were a detective. What difference can it ever make to me? " And, putting away the decanter, the astute young lawyer resolutely put on his hat, and went for a brisk walk down the street and back again, on his way casting a glance at the windows of the next house. The last glance appeared to calm his feelings ; he caught a glimpse of a curly head among the flowers; then, coming home, he straightway set to work to study certain crabbed old parchments which he had brought from his office. The houses are number 7 and 8 Gayroad Terrace ; they are simi-detached ; enough out of London for the gardens to keep fresh and green, and yet near enough to be easily reached by all the kinds of locomotion commonly in use.

They are of the style that usually represents an income of £> 7 00 or £, 800 a year in their possessors, and would certainly presuppose a moderate establishment of ser vants ; yet on the evening Mr. Furnival had watched the blue gown in the garden, the stately Miss Hawthorne was unmistakably occupied in spreading the cloth for that nondescript but comfortable meal called " High tea, " Meriel, meanwhile, making Hn Enigmatical Jfamils. 5 lively sallies from the china pantry with tea-cups. The cups were elegant, the teapot silver, yet when the meal was prepared it could not be said to deserve its name of " high. " In fact, although good taste and means were discernible in the ser vice, frugality of the strictest kind marked the provisions. I should be afraid to specify the mi nuteness of the bit of cold beefsteak which gave the meal its name of " meat " tea, or the careful preservation of the remainder of a pat of butter on a silver dish.

The trio being assembled, it was a remarkable fact that nobody had an appetite for meat, and the steak was twice handed round before it finally got divided into three morsels. Meriel declared that she enjoyed dry bread more than any amount of butter, Mrs. Hawthorne soaked in her tea the dry toast which Meriel had made her pretty cheeks rosy in preparing, and said " she could wish for nothing better." " I am the only really ravenous person among you," exclaimed Miss Hawthorne, "and shall eat all the butter myself," upon which she took an infinitesimal piece with a reckless air, and performed miracles in making it cover the surface of a thick slice of bread. And all the time they kept up a gay conversation as though never a care oppressed them. " I met Mrs. Willsome to-day, " remarked the elder sister, " and she is going to take you to Lady O'Brien's garden party on the eighteenth, Meriel."

" H'm ! very kind of her, " replied Meriel. " I hope the next supplies will have come in by that time, for I have nothing to wear." " If they do, you shall have a gown of the love liest aquamarine surat, which I saw in Liberty's window as I passed. It would be perfectly exquisite with Meriel's complexion, mother." Mrs. Hawthorne sighed, then replied with a sudden bright smile, " We will content ourselves by im agining Meriel wearing it." m m " And then descend to the reality of Meriel in a spider cloth at 4d. the yard, if the fates are so good as to give it to her" laughed that young lady. " By the bye, what are we going to do about Mrs. Milliard's dinner party ? " " I sent a refusal yesterday. Dinners are too ex pensive a luxury for us now." "Especially other people's dinners, which area challenge to give them an equally good one in exchange," added Mrs. Hawthorne.

" Not to mention the insurmountable expense of cabs. What would Mrs. Milliard say if she knew we could not grace her table because we could not afford a cab to get there? Upon my word, I do believe we are the greatest set of hypocrites possible," exclaimed Meriel. Again Mrs. Hawthorne sighed, and again chased the sigh away with a smile. ■ My dear child, we don't call a lady a hypocrite if she wears a veil to hide a defect in her face; she is doing her friends a kindness to conceal unsightliness. " " I would rather not wear the veil, all the same, mother dear. I should just say outright we cannot afford this and that." " Darling, you know this question has been discussed before," replied the mother wearily, and the two girls without another word rose to remove the tea tray, disappearing for a time to those regions below, generally supposed to be sacred to that high priestess of modern households, the cook, with her myrmidons.

A slight sound as of washing of cups was heard, and this was the moment in which Maurice Furnival's nerves received such a shock at seeing the white hand at the pantry window. Half an hour later, Miss Hawthorne was at her work-basket in the drawing-room, and Meriel en- Hn Enigmatical jfamilp. 7 sconced herself among the flowers in the bay window. "Mother, I'm going to bring up the tabooed subject again. Don't you think we do too much of that veil-wearing process ? " asked Helen. " If our income is not sufficient " " We must make it so, " was the quick, decisive reply. " I have never yet gone into debt, and never will.'' " But if we aimed at less it would go further : we might have a smaller house, for instance." " And pay rent for it. Here we pay none, the roof over our heads is at least our own."

" This would let for more than we should pay, " pleaded Helen. " A chance, my love, a mere chance ; while we are here, however, it remains a certain shelter." " I wish one could inherit daily bread as well as a roof, then," and Miss Hawthorne shrugged her shoulders. "Indeed, then, and it was our fault entirely," retorted Mrs. Hawthorne, relaxing into the Irish idiom, as she did when excited. " What business had I to buy a black silk dress at Christmas at all? I've hated to put it on ever since. If it were a burning iron it couldn't hurt me more." " But, mother dear, you couldn't possibly do without a decent gown. And last quarter, what was it ? " said Meriel. " Ah ! " cried her sister, " don't speak of it ; that was my unlucky tennis-party. But really, we could not have gone out at all this season if we had not given it.

One must make some return to society." " Well, " replied Mrs. Hawthorne, " we are all agreed that it was necessary to eat our cake at once, and so none is left." " But it is such a very little cake — an infinitesimal cake — a phantasmagorial cake," put in Meriel. " Only fancy, living in this house on a hundred and twenty pounds a year, paid quarterly, thirty Zbe "(Renunciation of Ibelen. pounds at a time, to stretch out for day after day, always going out and never coming in for ninety days, and temptation meeting one at every corner. I never see a pretty cap but I want to put it on your head, mother, or look at a stylish costume without imagining how well it would become Meriel." " And I," said the latter, " never look at a concert programme without wanting to go. As for the opera, it is a very demon of temptation.

If ever I find myself near the box office with three guineas in my pocket I shall inevitably be drawn in by that human spider who sits inside, and come out with pasteboard instead of gold." " In the olden days, when æsthetics made the laws of society, they seemed to find it a hard task to ' live up to a teapot ; ' but it is infinitely more difficult to live down to a teakettle and wash-tub," ejaculated Helen — a bit of wit which produced so much appreciation that the trio forthwith forgot all their difficulties in laughter. Meriel stopped suddenly in her merry peal to droop her head and blush. Her sister, turning to the window, saw the shoulder of a young man just disappearing from view in the street and asked : " Who was it, Meriel ? " " Oh, only — only the young man from the next house. I hope he won't think I was smiling at him." ■ He looks respectable, but I wish he would choose some other place to smoke his meerschaums than that window overlooking our garden.

I am afraid he will see more than is expedient ; that veil will not reach all round the house, and I have a horrible suspicion that he one day saw me sweep out the fowl-house." Helen looked such a very unlikely person to be so employed, that her remarks had quite the effect of humour. " And I am sure he saw me washing the tea-cups ; the pantry window is at right angles with his, you know," said Meriel. an Enigmatical Jfamtls. 9 " Very useful occupations, too," added Mrs. Haw thorne ; " besides, what can it matter ? one never knows one's next-door neighbours in London." It was curious; but Meriel did not look at all relieved by this axiom. " I do not think that need be a law, " she said, with a slight frown. " We must find out the antecedents of that young man. He carries a blue bag, which, you know, might belong to a clerk or a counsellor," laughed Helen.

"Clerk!" cried Meriel, "where are your eyes? Why, he's a gentleman." " My dear, the finest gentleman I ever knew in my life was a clerk," said Mrs. Hawthorne gently. "Who was he, mother?" "Someone I knew long ago. But come, are we to have no music to-night?" Mrs. Hawthorne had the air of one who forcibly puts away a pathetic memory. Meriel slowly rose from her nest among the flowers and went to the piano. Her sister tenderly took her violoncello from its red-lined case, and soon the room was full of sweet sounds, that were wafted in subdued cadence to the ears of Maurice Furnival. They struck him with that romantic interest which charming sounds coming from unseen sources often arouse. The sounds were those of a quaint old " gigue " of Corelli's ; the visions they brought were those of a flash of pale blue in the sunshine, and a laughing face amidst the flowers.

"What a sunbeam she must be in the house," he mused; and the thought came like an unbidden gleam of light into the chaos of his cogitations on the case of " Barry versus Poster. " If anyone had accused Maurice Furnival of being in love, he would have repudiated the idea with Zbe denunciation of ibelen. 10 scorn; yet such is the subtlety of that levelling passion, that a few glances had established a mysterious affinity between two young people who did not even know each other's names. It aU lay in the power of fate whether this interest should, by a few meetings, be ripened into love, or cooled into disenchantment. Mr. Furnival, however, considered himself quite above such romantic ideas. He was a young man with a clear head and prudent mind, whose fore sight had already mapped out a satisfactory future prospect for himself.

He decided that he must make a good income at his profession, say two thousand pounds a year, and then marry a sensible girl with a fortune in her own right. He had reasoned it out logically that no career is possible in these days without money; and it was his firm conviction that he was a young man " with something in him," and that it was his destiny to "make a career." This model young lawyer had been fed upon worldly wisdom from his youth up; his father having been a " keen" man, and his mother an ambitious woman ; so that his head, which was very clear, was well stored with worldly maxims. There must, how ever, have been some more remote ancestor from whom he had inherited a heart as well as a head; and it was surprising how often this neglected appendage cropped up and asserted itself in the wrong place, upsetting all his material wisdom, and leading him into a course of action diametrically opposed to the dictums of the money-making mind.

" I don't mind who is run down ; I mean to win," he had exclaimed, as the mile race began at the athletic sports, when he was a boy at school. But just at the end of the last round when httle Pearson, who had kept up so pluckily before him all the race — though Maurice was nearly neck-and-neck with Sn Enigmatical jfamilg. 11 him — tumbled over a dog that ran across the course, Maurice suddenly dived down, and set the boy on his legs again, so that he darted in and reached the goal. " I never saw such ridiculous nonsense in my life," cried his father; "you had it all in your own hands then." " I don't know how I came to do it, " replied the gasping boy ; " but it seemed such hard lines on Pearson ; he's such a plucky little chap and was safe to win, you know. I was doing all I knew too, but he beat me."

" There's something wanting in that boy, " said his father ; " he always seems to lose his chances at the last. " ■ Yes, " smiled the master, who was patting Maurice on the head, " his heart and his head are antagonistic, and pull different ways. Mundane triumphs are very seldom achieved by a heart. Never mind, Maurice, my boy, there are prettier prizes than ath letic ones, in which hearts will win." Such was Maurice Furnival, the astute young lawyer, who was fully persuaded that he was not at all in love with his interesting next-door neigh bour, but only devoured by curiosity at the seeming contradictions in her surroundings — the natural con sequence of possessing an investigative intellect.

Chapter II. The Solution Of The Problem

I AM aware that the Hawthornes are sufficiently unlike the decorous households who lunch and dine with due regularity within the ornamental gates of the usual semi-detached villas, to require a certain amount of introduction. Mrs. Hawthorne was an Irishwoman, deUghtful as an Irish lady always is, and perhaps as inconsequent. Her charms were a lively manner and bright face, with dark eyes which had lost none of their fire, and hair of silvery white. With this personality she had a habit of hopefulness which kept her lively under misfortunes that would have utterly crushed any other woman. She was a widow, her husband having been partner in an Enghsh wholesale house of business at Frankfort. On his death, she inherited, with a clause of succession in favour of their daugh ters, her husband's share in the business, valued at thirty thousand pounds, and the house, No. 8, Gay road Terrace, in London.

Unluckily, Mrs. Hawthorne had no head for business, but was blessed with unbounded faith in those who had; and so, when the surviving partner represented to her that she would gain a much larger income by leaving her money in the business, she was perfectly trustful in doing so. As soon as her hopeful nature recovered from her bereavement, and TXbe Solution of tbe problem. 13 the girls' education might be considered finished, she removed to London, taking up her abode in her own house, which just then became vacant. Lady O'Brien — once Molly Hawthorne's girlish friend, Norah O'Hara of County Clare — became their sponsor in their introduction to London society, and they thus got a position somewhat above their surroundings. Long residence abroad was quite enough to account for their unlikeness to the London type, and for the exceptional musical training of the girls.

Indeed, a more delightful trio never existed; and as Lady O'Brien delighted in originality, " those dear, funny, lively Hawthornes " were soon welcome everywhere. There was one peculiarity about the family. In stead of taking rank according to age, the youngest reigned supreme in virtue of her youth. Yet bright, happy Meriel, was nothing of a tyrant, and would have been incredulous had she been told that she ruled the family. Meriel's happiness, however, had become a sort of religion in the household, and her enjoyment of life was so full and unfeigned, that her mother and sister had reached a tacit under standing that neither anxiety nor worry must touch the young girl; and if suffering came, it was to pass her by as lightly as possible. Helen was of an utterly different personality. She was as dark as Meriel was fair, and though not strictly handsome, was gifted with large brown eyes, which seemed to have a capacity for expressing every kind of emotion, and yet a general habit of laughing at Use from her own standpoint.

She could even jest over her mother's inconsequence, and the sacrifices she herself was called on to make for Meriel. Mrs. Hawthorne, whose gaze was superficial, in good faith took her for the careless humorous person she seemed, and never dreamed of the deep complicated character which lay beneath her jests. TXbe denunciation of Ibelen. 14 She had a vague feeling that strength was there, and leaned on it to the utmost, so that all the anxieties which were kept from Meriel, were thrown upon Helen, who bore their weight with seeming ease. Two years had passed, andMerielwas " comingout ". Mrs. Hawthorne had anticipated her child's first ball as much as the girl herself; and had given heart and soul to the idealization of a snowy costume for the occasion. On the very morning of the ball a letter arrived from Frankfort which changed all their prospects in life.

The house of Mellor, late Hawthorne and Mellor, had failed for a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and not a farthing remained to Mrs. Hawthorne, except her own small fortune invested in the funds. Mr. Mellor wrote as gently as he could, and, with a kindness which was perhaps cruel in the end, told her not to be without hope, for as soon as he had got over this crisis — by which euphony was meant the Insolvency Court — he hoped to start the business on a new basis, and promised that her claims should be always equal to his own. This was enough for Mrs. Hawthorne's hopeful nature. After a few moments of speechless astonishment and despair, a few tears which softened her despair to self-pity, Mrs. Hawthorne and Helen got over the stunned feeling that life had come to a standstill and could never go on again, and forthwith began a great deal of mutual consolation on the grounds of Mr. Mellor's promise.

Helen declared her faith in her own youth and spirit, and promised to work for all. Mrs. Hawthorne believed in shewing a brave face to the world, and awaiting the profits of the new business. She could not take her misfortune with entire carelessness, however, and bewailed bitterly the loss of " Meriel's fortune " for the dear child's sake. " It is not more Meriel's loss than ours, " suggested Helen. "Yes, yes," cried Mrs. Hawthorne, "Poor child, all her prospects gone." Then seeing the amazed look in her elder daughter's face, she hastened to smooth over the impression of partiality by saying, " Of course we all suffer, but the real loss is hers." " Do you mean, mother, that the money we have lost is more Meriel's than yours ? " "Of course not; as long as I live it is mine," interrupted Mrs. Hawthorne.

" More Meriel's than mine, then? " persisted Helen, looking at her mother with a truth-compelling in tensity which seemed much to bewilder that lady, who immediately became incoherent. " My dear, don't be so positive ; you really take away my capacity for knowing what I do mean. I mean, perhaps, that our little Meriel is not suited for troubles, which you and 1 can put up with." But from Mrs. Hawthorne's inability or unwilling ness to return her straight glance, and from an uneasy fluttering colour in her cheeks, which had been so pale after the shock of her bad news, Helen felt sure that was not what she had meant, but she forbore to press the subject. An uneasy doubt of something— she knew not what — rankled in her mind, as it often did after her mother's unexplained, impulsive speeches.

" Well ! The question is what are we to do at present ? " she said, returning to the most important point. " Ah ! " said Mrs. Hawthorne airily, " let us take time to think. We cannot decide a life question the first moment it is propounded, and mind, Helen, Meriel must enjoy her ball all the same. Don't tell her." " Mother ! " exclaimed the girl, opening her brown eyes in mild astonishment, " you don't mean to say — " " I do mean to say there is no need to crush the child's pleasure in her first ball. The dresses are made and must be paid for, whatever happens; if her first glimpse of the world is to be her last, let it be a pleasant one. Surely we can put away thought for twenty-four hours." " We can keep it down, if we cannot put it away, I suppose," said Helen, reluctantly consenting to a painful reticence, so that Meriel's anticipations in her ball might be realised.