Breezie Langton; a story of Fifty-two to Fifty-five

Front matter

A STORY OF FIFTY-TWO TO FIFTY-FIVE. BY HAWLEY SMART. " Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives ; And marriage, and death, and division Make barren our lives." A NEW EDITION. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1869. [All rights reserved?i, CONTENTS. CH&PTEB PAOK I. THE GHOST OF DUNNINGTON HiXL 1 II. A COUNTEY BALL AND AN APPARITION ... 13 m. A MATCH, LIKEWISE A CATCH 21 IV. "WHEN GBEEK MET GEEEK THEN WAS THE TUG OE WAE" 32 V. THE THEEMOPOLIITM — THE LADY OE KING'S CEOSS . 45 VI. TOM LYTTLEBECK'S EOOMS 59 VII. THE HUNT STEEPLECHASE 71 VIII. THE SMALL HOUSE AT IULHAM 84 IX. PEIVATE THEATRICALS AT ETALSTON .... 94 X. A SMOKING BOOM BEVEL 105 XI. " THE CAPTAIN " WANTED 117 XII. THE PARK 128 XIII. EPSOM DOWNS 140 XIV. MES. BAETLET AT HOME 154 XV. A EEATEENAL VISIT 165 XVI.

MEN PEOPOSE 175 XVII. " THE THEEE CEOCUSES " 189 XVIII. BENEDICT THE MAREIED MAN 203 XIX. DOWN AT FOLKESTONE 215 XX. AN OLD STOET 228 XXI. BEJECTED ADDEESSES 244 XXII. DELPRE EARNS HIS WAGES 258 XXIII. "good-bye, sweetheabt, good-bte" . . . CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGK XXIV. CONSTANTINOPLE — MISSEEl'S HOTEL .... 286 XXV. ON THEIB WAY TO " THE EEONT " . . . . 299 XXVI. A QUIET DAY IN THE DITCHES 312 XXVII. THE LYTTLEEECKS AT HOME — A CEIMEAN LETTEE . 323 XXVIII. WOMEN AEE KITTLE CATTLE TO SHOE .... 336 XXIX. DISCAEDING A LOVEE 350 XXX. TnE STRANDS OE THE COED 3G1 XXXI. SCUTAEI HOSPITAL 374 XXXII. CEUMBS COMES OP AGE 389 XXXIII. A DOMESTIC CRASH 402 XXXIV. THE EIGHTEENTH OE JUNE, '55 413 XXXV. BEEAKING THE NEWS 424 XXXVI. TEN XEAES APTEB

Chapter I. The Ghost Of Dunnington Hall

Drip, drip, drip ; the rain splashed on as if it never meant stopping. London had already arrived at as much dayhght as is consistent with a wet November day, and the view from Mr. Frank Forbes's chambers in the Temple was certainly depressing. That gentleman, one of the "just caded," was pacing his apartment in anything but a happy frame of mind, and puffing savagely at a short clay pipe. " Disgusting !" he exclaimed, as he paused for the twentieth time to look out at the unpromising day. " What the deuce is a fedow to do1? As if London wasn't bad enough in November without this sort of thing. Wed, if I had gone down to my uncle's at Wddmore, shooting would have been very poor fun such weather as this — kind of day a f eUow's profession ought to stand to him. Why don't some one send a brief V A man's step, and a man's voice humming " The Young May Moon," were now heard in the passage.

A sharp tap at the door, and the new comer entered. " HaUoa, Tom !" said Frank Forbes, " charmed to see you again : but I thought you were in Berkshire." "So I was. Only got back last night — found tins in the letter-box, and so came over to you. Read it ;" and he handed Forbes an open letter. Tom Lyttlereck had been caUed to the Bar some four or fiv& I years back, and had at once made up his mind that that was as far as he wished to go in the profession. Having embraced it originally to please his friends, he now neglected it to please himself, and being in possession of a small independence, was enabled to do as he liked on that point. For the rest he still caUed himself a barrister ; kept chambers in the Temple ; was seen a good deal at Richmond and in the Park during the season ; assisted with great regularity at the carnival of Epsom and the more decorous festival of Ascot ; had a numerous and very varied acquaintance ; and in the autumn dved a wandering hfe amongst country houses, where he assisted greatly in the promotion of private theatricals, the destruction of par tridges, the support of country baUs, or anything, as he ex pressed it, that " gave signs of vitality in the rural districts."

" Who's it from ?" inquired Forbes, as he took the letter. " My cousin, Charlie Repton ; he wants us to go down there for the Moretown baU. Give me a pipe whde you see what he says." " Well," said Forbes, as he finished the letter, " nothing can be more disgusting than the state of things here. I vote we go ; Dunnington with a cheery party beats the Temple in a wet November." " Go ! of course we'd go," replied Tom. "I'd scribble a line by to-day's post to Charlie to say we'd be there for dinner to morrow." " Let me see. Repton's an only son, I know. Has he got any sisters 1" " Only one — Agnes." The next afternoon saw our two friends speeding along the Great Northern, bound for Moretown Station, Blankshire, from whence a waggonette conveyed them to Dunnington. Dunnington Had is a fine, though quaint old budding, standing, not like most country houses, in a park, but in the middle of the village.

Passing through a low square gate-tower, a short gravel-drive brings you to the house, a long rectangular building of red brick, having a quaint pepper-box turret at each angle. You enter through a smad lobby into a very fine had, decorated with old armour and a good deal of carved oak. This had is in the centre of the building, occupying the whole breadth of the rectangle, and over it runs a long oak gallery ; the consequence is, that to get from the rooms on one side of the house to those on the other, you must either cross the hall on the basement story or the long gallery above it. This large haU and gadery over it have been often condemned as a great waste of room, and undoubtedly the house has not the ac commodation you would have expected from its outside appearance ; but then the haU is just the place for a biUiard table, and the gallery, with its pohshed floor of old oak, is such a place for a valse, to say nothing of battledore and shuttlecock, or of its capabihties for transformation into a theatre at short notice, that, take it all round, there are few more cheery coun try houses than Dunnington Hall.

Running up against one side of the budding is a magnificent standard body, which, passing the windows of the great gallery, rears its top proudly level with the roof. It stands a httle to the right of the entrance. Connected with this holly there is a story, of which we shall hear more by and bye ; in the mean time, do not forget its situation. " Deuced glad to see you. How do you do, Frank V and Charhe Repton stepped forward, cue in hand, to welcome them as they entered the hall. He was a good-looking fellow, about eight-and-twenty, who took life very easdy— fond of shooting, hunting, &c, as long as it was attainable without much trouble ; but Charlie was a very Sybarite in his pursuit of pleasure. The run of the season would not compensate for twenty mdes to cover, in his philoso phy ; and at a similar distance, the prettiest girl in ad Blank shire keeping the after supper valse for him, would have had a poor chance against an easy chair, a regalia, and the last popular novel. i — " Train pretty punctual, I see ; wants ten minutes to the dressing-bell.

Have a glass of sherry after your drive ;" and Charhe rang. " Not a bad idea. Who have you got staying here 1 How's Agnes, and when's the ball V responded Tom. " Can't you ask one question at a time, instead of convert ing yoursed into a regular edition of Mangnad 1 Agnes I shad leave to report on her own health ; the baU's to-morrow, and as for the people, I thought I told you all that in my letter. The Breretons are the only addition. You know them." " Yes ; jody girls, rather. Old Brereton, I should think, looks upon the odd trick as the great end of hfe ; and now I'm off to dress ;" and Tom, who was evidently quite at home, bustled out of the had, leaving Forbes to the care of Charhe Repton. Clang goes the bed from one of the pepper-box turrets, and the party is rapidly mustered in the dining-room.

Glance your eye down the table, and let us examine them. Charlie Repton is flirting disgracefudy with Mrs. Inglemere, five-and-twenty, a widow and brunette, with such a pair of eyes ! Charhe would be perfectly imbecde to neglect such an opportunity. Wed. we cannot find fault with him on that score, as, judging from appearances, he is evidently " doing all he knows." Then there are the two Clippington girls, mignonne, fair, capital figures, and with deep blue eyes — that deep, deep blue that verges on black. Minnie and Laura were two country born young ladies, who had latterly lived a good deal abroad, and who, having grafted foreign habits on sporting propensities, had acqiured the reputation of being extremely fast. They were both pretty, rode wed, carried valsing as near vodtion as practicable, sang a dttle, drew a httle, hated humbug, had lots to say for themselves, and were not afraid to say it, had but short patience with stupid partners, and none at all with " bad goers," as Laura said.

" Stupid, poor things, they were born, and talking to a mild extent they may deem a necessity ; but dancing is an acquired taste, and when you can't do it, or don't hke it, inflicting misery on your fellow-creatures is inexcusable." It was, perhaps, Laura's too ready tongue more than any thing else that had obtained for them the reputation of being " fast ;" but she was a clever girl. Her mother had died almost before Laura coidd recollect, and showing a httle contempt for " the conventionalities," was a temptation she always found so difficult to resist. Fdrting, I need scarcely say, they both had reduced to a science. After aU, as a general rule, it is a very harmless amusement, and if there be some few sufferers, why, whatever the game, somebody wiU now and then be hurt. Flirtation is but two persons of opposite sexes exercising aU their powers of pleasing on each other.

Of course, a mistake occurs occasionally, one or the other forgets they are but playing for sugar-plums, and begins staking the gold pieces in ear nest. What would you have 1 We cannot aU keep our heads and play cool. " To faU in love is much easier than to get rid of it," saith the French phdosopher, hinc illoe lachrymce. What are termed fast young ladies are, for the most part, cruedy dbeded. Because they dare to say a little of what they know and think, and to break through the upper crust of f or mahty that surrounds society ; because they presume to feel bored and sick of platitudes, and show it, the " foohsh virgins" who dcvnot think and cannot talk, the respectable matrons who vegetate in country places where the flood-tide of civdization hath not yet reached, hold up their hands and exclaim, " shocking," "forward," &c., tdl they culminate in the epithet of "fast."

But away with such moralizing ; the entrees are going round, and the champagne sparkles in the glasses. Old Brereton is explaining an abstruse point of whist to the rector, who is fond of a rubberthe " Vienna Coup," perhaps. The Miss Breretons are looking pretty ; they come, perhaps, under the head of the " foohsh virgins," who cannot talk ; but then, do not the Easterns ted us that " sdence is golden." Old Mr. Repton is detailing the absurdity of that last poaching case he subndtted to the Moretown bench, having been disposed of with "a month," when " three, sir, would not have been half enough for the scoundrel !" Frank Forbes and Minnie Clipping-ton are deep in theatricals, while Lyttlereck seems to be getting on very satisfactorily with Laura. "No, Mr. Lyttlereck, you don't qidte understand me.

I didn't say that I was a judge of character. I meant that I can hardly understand anybody with brains not to a certain extent studying character. Of course, not in every case ; for some people, poor things, don't seem to have any. I don't speak morally," laughed Laura. " Though you might ; but I see what you mean. I was in Edinburgh some few months ago ; there I met an old banker, Macpherson by name. How dehghted you would have been with him. I reveded in him. The first time I met him, a young lady we ad knew was under discussion. She was a nice enough girl, but I'm afraid no favourite of his, for he suddenly summed up and gave judgment in these, words: 'She's just a born idiot ; she can neither play the piano nor baud the candle.' " " Neither useful nor ornamental would be, I suppose, the southern translation."

" Yes ; but how extremely destitute of force after the racy and epigrammatic diction of my friend." - Mrs. Repton's head here bent, and the ladies rose. " How late you all are," said Agnes Repton, as the gentlemen entered the drawing-room. " Now do make haste with your tea, we are going to dance in the gallery." " Yes, we want to see d you are as good at the deux temps as at sketching character, Mr. Lyttlereck. In fact, Agnes, we really must know what reliable valsers we have for to-morrow night," said Laura, with much gravity. "WiU you honour me with a turn1?" asked Tom, rather amused. " With pleasure. Don't you think the deux temps ought to bs a leading subject in the competitive examinations \ I would give two thousand marks for proficiency, and I believe they would, only you men are afraid that we should carry off all the prizes.

Fancy our getting all the civd service things and com missions. How we should improve the bands." " Wed, haven't we thrown open the Universities to you V " Oh, yes ; but then you see, we don't so much care about being clergymen tdl we begin to get old," said Laura, de murely, " and I don't think, as a ride, we should look well in wigs, d we went to the bar." " Now, Tom, I'll give you a lead," said Charhe Repton, as he whirled by with Mrs. Inglemere. " A fair chadenge," said Tom, and he followed with his part ner down the gallery. '" Not so bad," said Laura, as they stopped. " You can valse ; but tell me, have you been at a Moretown ball before 1 Shall we have either a decent room, or decent music V " It's a fad room, and this time the music wdl be good, for Charhe is one of the stewards, and has barred Pandean pipes and the violin resources of the neighbourhood.

Apropos to studying character, I always pick up a good story at a country bad." " Charming, don't forget our mission to-morrow night. Blenchng instruction, no— improvement, that's the word, with pleasure." " The proper study of mankind is man," quoted Tom, imbecilely. " No such thing, sir, it's woman, and what dreadful geese you do make of yourselves, when you pretend to understand us." "Quite right, I never think a man in real danger till he affects that knowledge; it's generady combined with youth and inexperience." " Laura, Laura !" exclaimed Mrs. Inglemere, " do come and look at this picture. He was so dehghtf udy wicked, and he walks about this gallery all night, and throws people out of window if he catches them, doesn't he ?" " Not exactly," replied Charhe Repton ; " but I'll teU you the legend if you'U come and have some wine and water in the drawing-room."

A general move was now voted in favour of Charlie's story and refreshment. " Fire away," said Tom, as he handed some sherry and water to Laura, " we are aU armed now against excess of prosi ness." " Mr. Lyttlereck, you must be banished to the gaUery i£ you interrupt in this way," cried Mrs. Inglemere. " Hold your tongue, Tom, and look interested," laughed Agnes. " Now, Charlie, with all the horrors. Spoil somebody's dreams, we can't afford to have our ghost laughed at." "Well," said Charlie, "in the days of Charles II., the Der ringtons were lords of Dunnington. The then peer was a hard drinking cavalier, and as little likely as most men to look with a severe eye on the escapades of his eldest son ; yet the Hon. Herbert had proved not only too much for him, but even the dissolute society of that Court voted the Hon. Herbert to have gone even beyond the extremely liberal license they adowed.

Whatever did duty for Tattersall's, Ascot, and Baden in those days, I don't quite know ; but as history teds us, even in the time of the Romans their equivalents were perfectly under stood—" " That'd do, Charlie," interrupted Laura Clippington. She always called him Charlie on the strength of a mythical cousinship. " That'll do, keep that for the next penny readings at the Moretown Institute." "Ah, I forgot you were past improvement. Wed, the Tattersalls and Baden of those days speeddy finished Herbert Derrington. Now, though impecuniosity was even then a crime, yet people did not drop Herbert Derrington for that ; when rumours were rife that he occasionally rode by the light of the moon d la Duval, and finaUy when he lost and didn't pay, the world agreed that they coidd bear with Herbert Derrington no longer, and that he must be cast out from among them.

With his father he had quarrelled irreconcdably some time before, and what now became of him nobody knew. Oc casional rumours of his having been seen in some of the most vdely dissolute haunts of London were heard ; but in this part of the world he had not been seen for years. In due course of time the old lord took his departure through the medium of gout and strong potations, after the manner of those days. Some months elapsed, and then the new lord arrived with a troop of servants. The old hall was soon fided with a set whom the neighbouring gentry voted more than questionable. They drank deep, and played deeper, were readier with a rapier than a cheque, whilst a pale face turned up to heaven, and a sword thrust through an embroidered waistcoat might occa sionady be seen midst a flushed and disordered group 'neath the big hody as the sun rose.

The Hon. Herbert had ever been of a saturnine countenance ; but now he waxed grimmer and grimmer. He sneered at his guests, and grew bitter in his cups. If the cards ran against him formerly, he was fast friends with them now ; the dice came at his cad, and he swept up the broad pieces nightly with a mocking laugh that was bad to listen to. Dark stories were rife about unfair play and unfair duels, and the jeering, saturnine Lord Derrington was looked upon by the neighbourhood with mingled feelings of fear and distrust. "Now, ladies, out with your pocket handkerchiefs, I am coming to the pathetic part." " Now, pray go on, Mr. Repton, I'm so interested," said the widow. "Yes, go on, Charlie. I do so want to see you do the pathetic." " Wed, with your eyes, Mrs. Inglemere, a handkerchief's a mistake," continued Charhe, calmly ignoring Laura's remark.

" Let's see, where was 1 1" " On eyes," said Laura, quietly. The widow coloured slightly, and Charhe resumed : " The prettiest girl in those days, for miles round, was Mary Malcolmson. She lived with her grandfather in a neat cottage in what was then the Chase. Her father had faden fighting with the old Lord at the fatal field of Naseby ; her mother had died while Mary was still young, and she had been brought up by her grandfather, who was stdl nominally head-keeper or ranger. She was betrothed to one of the under-rangers. One evening, about sunset, Mary left the cottage, telling her grandfather she should be back in half-an-hour ; but days passed, and she never returned. She was sought far and wide — her lover was in despair — ponds were dragged, but ad in vain 1 nothing coidd be seen or heard of Mary.

" It was about ten days after her mysterious disappearance that her betrothed, a bold, determined fellow, was coming moodily up the village. The moon shone brightly, "and the stragghng hamlet was almost as visible as d, it were day. He had arrived within some twenty yards of the low-arched gate way leading to the Hall, when the wicket was thrown violently open, and a man, his eyes starting from his head, and his face blanched with terror, almost ran into his arms. " ' The ghoast, the ghoast !' was all he could mutter, whde his limbs shook, and his teeth rattled from fear. " Whde the keeper yet tried to pacdy him, Lord Derrington and his confidential servant came to the wicket, cast a hasty glance at the ghost-seer, and inquired whether any one had passed. The keeper answered in the negative, and his lordship, with a savage execration, turned back to the Hall.

The keeper had by this time recognised the man as a helper in the stables, and when he had partially recovered from his fright, his story was this. He was coming down the drive when he heard a cry behind him, and saw something white (or, as he called it, the ' ghoast,') spring from the top windows of the house and disappear into the big hody ; then he heard moans which were succeeded by curses and mocking laughter— then he could stand it no longer, and fled. " Before the end of that night, more than one villager had seen the ' ghoast,' and in the morning Mary Malcolmson was found bleeding and senseless on the steps of her grandfather's cottage. She lingered a few days, but was never fairly in her senses. Stid, enough was gathered from her wandering incoherent talk to show that Lord Derrington's people were her abductors, and that to escape his lordship's persecutions she had thrown herself from the window of the long gallery just -opposite the body.

The tree broke her fall, and she escaped into the shrubbery, though fearfully bruised and lacerated ; but . the shock to her nerves proved fatal. "Her lover disappeared on the day of her funeral, and some two months afterwards Lord Derrington and his friends were rudely disturbed by the incursion of an armed and masked band. His lordship and his friends were all men to whom cold steel was no novelty, and though caught rather hke rats in a trap, they made up their -minds to die hard. A desperate struggle took place, in which they divided into two parties. One lot cut their way through their assailants and escaped, whde Derrington and the others were driven upstairs to the gallery, there most of them were kdled. The legend goes on to say that the ex-keeper, who was their leader, with a refine ment of vengeance, strove to force Derrington through the identical window from which his mistress had thrown herself.

He was killed in the attempt, and Derrington, hotly pursued, made his way to the roof by the turret stair, leapt into the big holly tree, by which — at the cost of some severe scratches — he descended safely to the ground, and escaped. He had to yield to popular opinion and fly the neighbourhood, but is said to have hved many years afterwards. " Still, any night after twelve, you may see those two fearful leaps repeated. You see the ghost of the girl, with her hair ad flying loose, throw up her arms, and then, with a shriek, spring through the window, whde Lord Derrington, with a blood - stained sword in his hand, fodows with demoniacal laughter. My story is ended. Sit up who wdl and judge for themselves." " Thank you, no, I think we had better look for our candles," exclaimed Agnes. "Good -night, Charlie; but I "don't think you were had pathetic, you never even described Mary Malcolmson," said Laura.

" No, it wasn't worth whde," rephed Charhe, seriously ; " d you go about that gaUery much after midnight, you wdl be able to do that yourself." " Nonsense, Mr. Repton," cried Mrs. Inglemere. " You don't mean to say you beheve in it. Did you ever see it ?" "I woidd rather not answer that question," said Charhe solemnly. " I am happy to add that my bed-room and the smoking-room are both this side of the gaUery, and conse quently nothing necessitates my interfering with Lord Der rington or Miss Malcolmson in any way." Charlie here became so absorbed about the widow's candle stick, that to have continued the subject would have been absurd.

Chapter II

A COUNTRY BALL AND AN APPARITION. It was a very snug room that constituted the smoking den at Dunnington, and what an essential to a country house such a snuggery is. The old obsolete house, in which one's evening tobacco was only arrived at in the kitchen or servants' had through the connivance of the butler, has almost disappeared, as also has that race of portly country gentlemen, who vaguely connected indulgence in tobacco with a tendency to immorahty, radicadsm, and ad manner of uncleanness. The soft, medow dght of a weU-trimmed lamp, the crackhng fire, the broad, lounging sofa, those squab easy chairs so alluring in their em brace, the weU-ordered tray at which you temper your soda or seltzer with dry sherry or cognac, according as you think you require stimulant or sedative — ad these, combined with a de cent Cabana, put one in a soothed state of mind, and fit one to take part in the improving conversation that characterises most smoking-rooms.

Wed, d not very improving, it is very plea sant, and though we sometimes theorise on the scandal the ladies talk in that had-hour after dinner, I fancy, when we leave the smoking-room, they have not had much the best of us. Dunnington smoking-room was hi full blast. "When is the Hunt Steeplechase to come off?" inquired Tom Lyttlereck, from the depths of one of the before-mentioned se ductive chairs. " Oh, not for two months yet," replied Charhe ; " I wish I had something to put in for it ; but I don't think I have got anything fast enough. I should think that beast Beercroft, the wool factor, would win it. He can't ride himself ; but that big brown horse of his, The Slasher, he cads it, is a clipper, and he'd easy get some one to ride." " I tell you what, if you like to give a fair price, I know of a mare just now in the market that woidcl beat The Slasher, unless he's pounds better than I take him to be."

" Where, and whose V inquired Charhe, curtly. "I don't think you know Cis Langton— one of the mysteries of the day— however, Cis is a man who breaks regularly every two or three years ; sometimes he has a largish stud, sometimes not even a hack. Now you hear of his winning steeple-chases and lots of money. Now that he has been hit hard, and it's ' all up with Langton.' He chsappears, and in a couple of years he'll turn up again with a stud of horses, and everything apparently all right. However, he has had bad times lately, and aU his horses are gone to the hammer with the exception of one mare. The reason she has not been parted with yet is, that Cis thinks ' PoUy Perkins ' uncommonly good. He has won a couple of matches with her, but the only time he ran her in public she came to grief, and was out of the race had way round.

Now, you could get that mare cheap, d you would put in the contingency that d he claimed her before the commence ment of next hunting season, he might have her back at the same money. He's so sorry to be obliged to seU ; I know he'd rather take a shorter price and sell in that way." "' Well, you write about it to-morrow ; I'll stand anything hi reason sooner than see Beercroft win the Hunt Cup. He's so cock-a-hoop about The Slasher too " " I saw Polly Perkins run in the Hunt Chase at Warwick," said Frank Forbes ; " she was as good as anything in the race when she fed — fvdl of running." " Yes, she hadn't a good man up, she's a delicate mouth, and wants rather clever handling ; got fretful and over-jumped hersed." " By the way, Repton," said Forbes, " what made you so se rious in the wind-up of your ghost story to-night 1 I should not think you were a believer in ' the night-side of nature.' " Charlie flipped the ash from his cigar, and took a long pidl at some seltzer.

" I don't know what you call believing, you've Scripture for the fact that such things were. I can't say I ever met one, and should be probably in a devil of a funk d I did. My theory ad the same being that any spirit or apparition you may see is perfectly powerless to hurt you, further than it does through your nerves and imagination. I certainly don't be lieve that we can summon spirits from the other world. But allowing for all freaks of imagination, there are several ghost stories in which it is difficult to find a flaw, Lady TyrconneU's, for instance, is as weU authenticated as most history we believe in." "Very good, Charhe," laughed Tom Lyttlereck. "Your theory about ghosts being powerless to harm us, you of course took from Byron, " c That soul and body on the whole Are odds against a disembodied soul;' however, you're perhaps right to stick up for the famdy phan tom."