Platonic Affections

Front matter

Copyrighted in the United States All rights reserved BY JOHN SMITH K AUTHOR OF ' OLD BROWN'S COTTAGES ' LONDON : JOHN LANE, VIGO ST BOSTON: ROBERTS BROS., Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. LIFPORT, I II. THE TEMPTATION OF THE HERMIT, . . . 19 III. THE BROWN BREAD TRAY, • • • • 53 IV. A PROPOSAL, 80 V. THE COW-DOCTOR'S VISION, .... 108 VI. VENN'S FOLLY, 123 VII. BRENT FORELAND, 162 VIII. REPENTANCE, 182 IX. EYE ISLAND, Ixt

Chapter I Lifport For

a hard-worked city man in want of a holiday, or for a world-weary man of fashion, you would imagine that few summer resorts could be more delightful than the tiny watering place of Lifport, in North Devon. It is so very far removed from scenes of busy life, and from what, in common parlance, we call ' haunts of pleasure.' It is so clean and smoke less. In the height of its season, Lifport has a population of possibly no less than five hundred souls. In winter-time you would be not at all below the mark if you divided that number by five. Though by common consent termed a watering-place, it is not quite on the sea, but on the broad estuary of a river. At low tide delightful sands are uncovered, where a few children play and build sand forts, where A a few ladies ride on donkeys, where a few young men lie and smoke, where a few high kirtled fishwives delve for bait, where, even, here and there, a few white tents are pitched — for bathing, or merely to read and lounge in.

Just above high-water mark a low wall runs parallel with the course of the river ; and inside this runs the main road, the one and only road of Lifport. On the other side of this road goes a line of semi-detached houses, two in a block, each house the exact counter part of all the others, each beautifully whitewashed, and each with the same number of outside shutters painted the same cheerful green. At one end of the row is a small shop, where the visitors buy ginger-beer and sand-shoes ; at the other end of the row is a similar small shop, where the visitors buy similar articles at similar prices. And this is Lifport. One building there is, and one only, on the seaward side of the road, and that is the 'Royal Hotel,' from the gardens of which a small stone jetty runs out on to the sands, where a trawling fishing-smack lies restfully LIFPORT 3 on her side in idle enjoyment.

Twice a day in the season a brightly painted omnibus rolls up to the door of the Royal Hotel, and then rolls back to the station, usually untenanted. And, after all, it is not the harassed man of business or votary of fashion that comes to Lifport. Such, town-weary though they be, still seek some elements of these very scenes whence they would fly away and be at rest. They prefer the band-playing, promenading, sixpenny pool-playing watering-places. And for such as these Lifport has no charms. But, all the same, it has a very nice little society of its own. Everybody knows every body. It seems so absurd to put on airs of reserve with people who just look in from their little garden into your little house, and see all you are having for dinner, and all sorts of other little domestic secrets.

It is just like society at a small station in India, only that the climate is not so hot, so that people's livers do not get out of order, and they do not say such spiteful things of each other. Of course they gossip good-naturedly, but they say nothing, as a rule, that could merit the name of scandal. Lifport society is not large enough for that— not large enough to form itself into cliques; without which, scandal-mongering however desirable, becomes too dangerous. At the Royal Hotel, Lifport, then (why ' Royal,' it would probably have puzzled even its proprietor to explain), the gaudily painted omnibus, on a certain evening in early summer, deposited a young man, a good deal of luggage, and a large and handsome collie dog. The following morning the young man took lodgings in one of the white-washed, green-shuttered houses, and proceeded to make himself at home.

He knew nobody in Lifport, he informed his landlady ; nevertheless he pro posed to stay there for some weeks at least. In answer to her assurance that he would not be long in forming acquaintances, he said that he was well accustomed to his own company, or that, at need, he could find companionship in his dog. Lifport society was not a little curious about this new arrival in its midst — the more so that the majority of Lifport society young men were not advanced in young manhood beyond, at farthest, the undergraduate stage. The new young man, however, showed no LIFPORT 5 disposition to put himself in the way of any advances which Lifport society might be inclined to make to him. It was in vain that the Honorary Secretary of the Lawn Tennis Club sent him his suave and seductive circular. In vain that a very bold under graduate asked him on the sands, very nervously, for a light for his pipe : that boon, indeed, was granted, but the acquaintance which the bold undergraduate had hoped to base on this commencement did not prosper.

In vain was it that the large and handsome collie was patted and petted by all sorts and conditions of men, women, and children. For while that section of Lifport society which courtesy expects us to call ' fair ' was, perhaps naturally, disposed to find fault with the exclusiveness of the master, all Lifport was unanimous in praise of the exceeding soci ability and amiability of the dog. Large breakfast-parties are not generally in fashion in these days, but they are still in vogue among the undergraduates of our universities, and among the sea-gulls at Lifport. Every morning the sea-gulls gather themselves together in their hundreds and sit down at the edge of the tide. Then, as the children begin to come out and play on the sands, the gulls move up, by short flights at a time, in a manner highly suggestive of the Mad Hatter's tea-party, along the estuary towards the sea.

But, now, these matutinal gatherings were being rudely broken up by what, if the gulls were at all human, they must have called ' a great brute of a dog.' Lifport had by this time discovered that the new young man's name was Heaton, that he breakfasted at half-past nine, besides other matters of interest with which we need not concern ourselves. And at half-past nine every morning, when Mr. Heaton came down to breakfast, Perro, the dog, used to jump through the open window, utter three or four joyous barks, and gallop off at best speed for the gulls' breakfast-party, scattering the guests far up the sea-shore, far from their unfinished repast. And when that entertainment was ever, Perro would come trotting up, wagging his tail, to all the children and nurse-maids, having a little chat with each of them, and then on to the ladies and undergraduates further up the beach — meeting all alike with a perfect LIFPORT 7 ease and self-possession of manner sufficiently indicative of high breeding and aristocratic surroundings.

Then, suddenly, in the midst of the most friendly overtures, just, perhaps, when he was being most fascinating, he would start away at full gallop, heedless of all blandishments in the shape of caresses or mixed biscuits, for the spot whence his master's whistle had reached his ear alone. And so, amusingly enough, it came to pass that, after the lapse of five or six days, during which female curiosity became piqued to an almost intolerable degree by Mr. Heaton's evident disinclination to satisfy it, and, on the principle of omne ignotum pro magnifico, interest in him reached fever heat, such rivalry set in, saute de mieux, for the affections of Perro, as threatened with disrupture the very founda tions of Lifport society. Such little dialogues — with just a dash of acrimony in them — as the following became frequent : — ' That dear dog 's taken such a fancy to my children !

Quite devoted to them ! ' ' Oh ! and so he is to mine. Goes quite long walks with them sometimes.' ' Ah ! But I saw him leave them most cavalierly when his master whistled' — and so forth ! Mr. Heaton was, of course, not altogether unconscious of all this solicitude of which he was the object. Nor was he particularly edi fied by it. On the whole, he regarded it with a little amusement and a little contempt. He had rather people did not turn round and look at him, as he knew they did. He had rather the two ladies who lived in the next house to him were not so often at their window, trying to look as if they saw some object of interest on the distant horizon, when he went in and out. But, after all, what harm did it do him ? One person there was, though, whom he noticed in his walks on the sands, who did not seem to care to look at him as the others did.

He noticed him, too, not only for this, but also because he had certain personal peculiarities of his own. His legs were very thin, and looked very weak, and his body shrunken, but his head, though lean, disproportionately large. Moreover, he very often walked with his hat in his hand, which discovered that he was rather bald, and that his head was of a curious shape, and ran LIFPORT 9 up almost to a peak at the top. He was always smoking a heavy meerschaum pipe, the bowl of which he carried in his hand. His nose was queerly shaped — Roman, rather than aquiline — and his pale, hairless face looked years younger than his bald head. He lived, Heaton knew, next door to himself. Probably the husband of one or other of the ladies, he thought. One day, when Heaton was walking on the sands with Perro, the dog dashed off in pursuit of some thrifty sea-gulls who were lunching off the remnants of their disturbed breakfast.

The man whose appearance we have been criti cising watched Perro's movements thought fully. When Heaton came up, the queer man stopped him. 'May I take the liberty of asking you, sir, if your dog has ever caught a sea-gull ? ' ' No, never, that I know of,' Heaton an swered, with a laugh. 'Ah! He will, some day. Good -day,' said the stranger gravely, and walked on. And the next day they again said 'Good day,' and the day after that they had a chat, and then a walk, and then a longer walk. By degrees Heaton found his mental attitude towards the stranger changing. He discovered that he was not a fool — which epithet, in its more charitable popular interpretation, he had at first incontinently applied to him. Mr. Whitstable was the stranger's name. He was, as Heaton had surmised, the husband of one of the ladies next door — the elder one.

The younger, Mrs. Elton, was Mrs. Whitstable's half-sister, and, young though she was, was a widow of some years' standing. Mr. Whitstable was, indeed, no fool, for all that innocent-looking face of his. He was a member of the Pentland Club, and many knew him, painfully and expensively well, as an adversary at whist or picquet. Not that Mr. Whitstable had ever been, or been charged with being, other than fair and just, as honest gentlemen go, in all his dealings ; though surely he must have asked Providence, each morning, as he shaved before the glass, Why was that guileless face of happy innocence given to him! Or why was he not able to dispose of it to some one of those hard-eyed gentlemanly rogues to whom it would have been worth a handsome fortune ? LIFPORT 11 A great deal of Mr. Whitstable's apparent lack of natural curiosity with regard to the antecedents of George Heaton may be reason ably attributed to the fact that a brief effort of memory, stimulated by a something vaguely familiar in Heaton's name and face, had sufficed to enable him to give himself a pretty accurate account of the leading episodes of Heaton's life up to within some two years of the latter's sudden apparition at Lifport.

Mr. Whitstable's soliloquies found expression somewhat on this wise : — ' Ah ! George Heaton ! Now this is a study — this is something interesting. Bless me, what a godsend ! — something interesting at Lifport — it is hardly credible ! I used to see him often enough, once. My ! what a thing this would be for the Society papers ! Shall I send it to them ? — " Re-discovery of George Heaton ! " What a sensation it would make ! Or have people forgotten him too much, I wonder ? That world forgets so soon. It used to be pretty busy about him once, I remember — that duel of his, or rather, that challenge that did not come to anything — disappointing, that ! Let me see, what was the name of the man ? Ah, yes, Etheredge— that was it— Captain Etheredge, Queen's Messenger— I remember. He married a Swede — sounds funny, that ; suggests "Loves of the Mangold-wurzels," or something of that sort.

Poor Swede! It would have been better for her if she'd married some respectable turnip-top in her own country. And Heaton made love to her, and challenged the husband. Nice sort of thing, that ! One would have thought the challenge would have come from the other side. But Etheredge declined the challenge — laughed at him — put his note in the fire, and told Heaton's messenger (who, by the way, was a parson, I remember, of all things in the world — an old tutor of Heaton's — a hunting, drink ing old rascal from somewhere down in these parts) — Etheredge told him to go — where he was in the habit of telling his flock that they would go. Quite right too — duel, in these days ! — ridiculous ! But I believe it was not Heaton's fault either, though he was the challenger. Braggart fellow, that Etheredge — cruel bad husband, too — worse than me, I believe — and he went saying, in whatever pothouse of a club he belonged to, that Heaton was making up to LIFPORT 13 his wife, and that, by Jove, he wouldn't stand it ; and that, by Jove, Heaton wouldn't have dared to do it fifty years ago, when they used to go out and settle these little matters with pistols and coffee, as a regular thing.

Most injudicious way to talk in a public room ! So, of course, some blamed well-meaning friend went and repeated it all to Heaton ; and so Heaton just sent him this challenge, or offer to accommodate him if he liked to challenge — to be settled on the Continent, I suppose. Most injudicious again. Couldn't make matters much better for the poor Mrs. Swede, I should think. And then Heaton found the situation getting a little strained, and at last he did what he ought to have done long ago — he offed it — never was heard of again for goodness knows how many years ; and now, bless me ! here he is turning up at Lifport, of all forgotten places in the world ! There 's no sign of the Swede with him, though. She did bolt, I remember, not so very long after Heaton disappeared. Agneta Etheredge, that was her name.

Bolted with her child — girl, I think. Of course, every one said she had bolted after Heaton ; but no one that I ever heard of has ever set eyes on her, or Heaton either, for the matter of that, ever since. And, lo and behold, here he is, dropped down upon us in Lifport. Dear, dear ! this is promising. One could hardly have hoped so much of Lifport.' Mr. Whitstable's checking-off of the chief points of George Heaton's previous history was not so very inaccurate. Interpreted out of his somewhat spasmodic style of running comment into something rather more approximate to English, the story was as follows : — Once a conspicuous figure in London society, Heaton had suddenly withdrawn himself from it, and gone abroad, no one knew whither. Society — setting, perhaps, an unduly high esti mate on its own charms — said he had behaved very well in having renounced them just because he happened to find his friendship with a certain married lady — Mrs. Etheredge, by name — ' likely to develop dangerous energy ' — to be come tempestuous.

It was not every one, Society reflected, that would have renounced so much because they detected storm-warnings in their hearts in presence of even a friend's wife. And, assuredly, Captain Etheredge had been no especial friend of Heaton's — there were LIFPORT 15 few who had been zealous of the honour of Captain Etheredge's friendship. Much zeal had, indeed, been manifested in procuring him a Queen's Messengership, but mainly because it was sure to take him so much away from London. Etheredge had bullied his wife, so the story went, who was a little foreign woman of a weak, impulsive nature — seeking, like a passion-flower, to attach itself to some strengthening support — until she had at last run away from him, taking with her their only child ; and no one had ever heard of either child or mother since.

This had happened, however, some while after Heaton's disappearance from the London world. At that time there had been some rumour of a duel — or some such absurdity — which, of course, never took place, between Heaton and Etheredge. Curiously enough, as Mr. Whitstable had duly noted, it had been reported that the former had been the actual challenger, though Etheredge was said to have virtually provoked the chal lenge by the reference he had made to Heaton's friendship with his wife. Altogether it had been a disagreeable story, and Mr. Whitstable — most reprehensibly, as those ladies would have said, had they known of it — made up his mind not to mention it before his wife or sister-in-law. At Lifport it was, then, of all places in the world, that George Heaton took up his abode after a sojourn of two and a half years in foreign lands.

Outwardly, at least, he had changed but little. Bone and sinew are not very malle able metals on Time's anvil ; and though, now and again, the appearance of a new thread of white startled him as he brushed his fair hair, the fact did not obtrude itself on general notice. Heaton had no tie to bring him to Lifport, but he had seen the place of old, when he was a boy under the tutorship of Parson Passmore, a parson of the old rough sort, now fast becoming extinct, and still the closest friend that Heaton had. For Parson Passmore's cure of souls lay in the parish of Brentleigh — but little known to fame — upon the Exmoor borders, and at no great distance from Lifport ; and, thence, tutor and pupil had often made excursions, and had stayed for a few days at a time at Lifport ; and Heaton now felt himself attracted by the remembrance of the quiet and cleanly look of the place.

LIFPORT 17 Yes, to all appearance he was the same George Heaton as the young Society man of some two or three years back ; but he felt that he was changed, nevertheless. He had become indifferent. In the old days he had been so much the reverse ; had entertained so healthy a contempt for those who were so — for the men and women who thought things ' a bore.' And this admira tion of what he called ' keenness ' in others he still kept, but yet had a humiliating conscious ness that for his own part he was no longer ' keen,' as he had used to be. He knew himself to be no longer capable of enthusiasm at the prospect of cricket or sport : though, once entered on such pursuits, he could have thrown his soul into them, with set teeth, and bent brows, and keen-glancing eyes, just as of old. His keenness, too, which possessed an element of stability which enthusiasm often lacks, had extended itself, in the olden days, to quite other interests, to schemes of philanthropy and self-renunciation even — interests which had marked him off a little from the run of Society young men, and had given rise to the observation of one of them that he had not ' developed B into quite the ordinary British ruffian, like the rest of us.' And on his clean-cut and naturally eager face the indifference which had lately come upon him had set just this stamp, that the eyes, which were as eager as the other features when the play of expression was in them, wore a tired look when you caught them in repose.

But, withal, it was a striking and thoroughly well-bred-looking young man, with that suggestion of alertness under a composed manner which is so great a charm, that had descended from the gaudy omnibus at the door of the Royal Hotel. Heaton and Mr. Whitstable had many acquaintances in common, and soon found themselves on the best of terms ; but, when they reached home, Mr. Whitstable's invitation to 'tea, or something stronger,' met with a polite ' No, thank you,' and Heaton went to his solitary lodging.

Chapter II The Temptation Of The Hermit

' Now, James,' exclaimed Mr. Whitstable's sister-in-law, as he entered the room after his walk with Heaton, ' you really are too bad ! You knew how we 've been dying with curiosity to know something about this Mr. Heaton, and here 's Mrs. Jones has just been telling us that you know him intimately; and you've never opened your mouth to us about him. Oh ! I think men are too provoking ! ' 'Yes?' replied Mr. Whitstable, with an amused interrogative accent, fixing an eyeglass into one of his little, short-sighted eyes, and critically observing his sister-in-law through it. 'Yes, and, James,' proceeded his wife, taking up the running, ' you might have asked him in to tea. It was not very hospitable sending the poor young man away from your very doorstep.' ' I did ask him, my dear, but he declined.' 'Oh!' said both ladies together, with an intonation which Mr. Whitstable rightly under stood to imply that that did not make matters at all more satisfactory.

There was a momentary check, from which Mrs. Elton was the first to rally. ' But do you know him intimately ? Go on ; tell us, do. What do you know about him ? ' she cried impatiently. 1 Intimately, my dear Nelly ! Why, I never spoke to the man in my life, to my knowledge, till he came here. I asked him something about his dog the other day, and that led to a chat, and we found we had some acquaintances in common ; that 's all.' 'What sort of people does he know, James?' Mrs. Whitstable asked. 'Oh, all sorts — from the Queen down to countesses.' In this there was a certain measure of truth. Heaton now stood almost entirely alone in the world, for he and an only sister, who had died in the prime of her youth, were the sole repre sentatives of a family allied, by morganatic marriage, with persons of whom it is more usual to speak as ' personages.' Heaton's position had thus been somewhat anomalous, and, his parents being dead, he was practically without family ties or connections.

Perhaps, of all methods of deceiving, the best is to tell the truth as if it were not meant. Moreover, of all possible means of checking his wife's catechisings, Mr. Whitstable had found banter the most effectual and attended with least friction. So, informing ' James ' that he was ' too exasperating,' his wife turned the conversation to other and smoother topics. The next day the walk was repeated. Mr. Whitstable, instead of the usual meerschaum, was smoking a new clay. 'You see,' he said, noticing that Heaton observed the alteration ; ' you see, I last night made up my mind that I would give up smoking ; so I burned my ships — I mean, my pipes — so that I could not retract ; but this morning I went to the shop and bought a lot of new ones — clays — four for a penny,' holding forth, with some pride, the purchase as he spoke. ' I ought to have burned the shop too,' he went on ; ' but I have bought the nastiest tobacco I could procure, so I think I shall smoke less.' It was chiefly the naive, amusing confessions of his own small follies and weaknesses, added to the delicacy which withheld him from any reference to Heaton's past, which, the latter felt, must be known to him, that attracted Heaton to the strange little man.

It seemed as if his external peculiarities were the outward and visible signs of a mind even more crooked and peculiar. After a walk which appeared to have given each of them every satisfaction, and to Heaton, at least, had afforded considerable entertain ment, Mr. Whitstable pulled up short, as soon as they came within sight of the houses, saying — ' Now, Mr. Heaton, I think we had better part here.' ' Here ! why ? Are you not going home ? ' ' Well — ah — yes, I am. Well, I will tell you, Mr. Heaton. The female mind, as you doubtless know, is wonderfully receptive. Its recep tivity is never satiated. It is, in fact, given wholly over to curiosity. Now, in this little place, every one has hitherto known everything about everybody ; and Lifport has consequently deemed itself defrauded of its just rights because it does not know everything — in fact, because it knows nothing — about you.

There fore, yesterday, when I came in from our walk, I was immediately beset with such a heap of questions that, to tell you the truth, I do not care again to face it. If you want to do me a kindness, and to make me go up top in my wife's estimation, you'll come in with me to tea ; but if not,' said the little man, striking a dramatic attitude — 'if not, fy suis, fy reste, until you are safely housed in your domicile.' ' Oh, I '11 come to tea, then, if I may,' Heaton answered laughingly. 'Yes, do, there's a good fellow,' Mr. Whit stable responded with fervent gratitude. ' I must just go and take Perro home first' ' Oh, no ! on no account. You must bring him too. They'll be delighted to see him ; and there 's no other dog.' After Heaton's introduction to the two ladies, conversation turned on Perro.

Mrs. Whitstable asked if he had won any prizes. ' Oh, no ; I would not send him to a show. And, besides, I have been out of the way of dog-shows lately. I got Perro in Mexico.' ' In Mexico ! ' ' Yes ; Perro is a born Mexican, though he comes of a good old English, or, rather, Scotch stock.' ' And were you long in Mexico, Mr. Heaton ? ' 'Two years or so. I have only just come back. Have you not got a dog, Mrs. Elton? I am sure you are fond of them,' he went on, turning to where she was petting Perro on the sofa. ' No ; I had one, but my brother-in-law and he did not get on well together.' ' I don't know about not getting on well. I know at Harrogate your dear dog ate most of a postman — by degrees ; and we always had to go and get our own letters, because he struck, and wouldn't come near the house.' ' Yes ; horrid man !

I am sure there was something not nice about that man. My dog did bite him in the leg one day, I must con fess, Mr. Heaton.' ' Not nice ! The dog seemed to think him particularly nice,' Mr. Whitstable said. ' He bit a piece out of one leg of him one day, and a sample out of his other leg the next, and carved a regular joint off him the third. He used to regard all strangers from a gastronomic point of view, that dog. He didn't care so much for laymen, but he liked curates very much, and telegraph boys, but, above all, post men. Naturally, what was left of the one at Harrogate declined to bring us our letters any more ; so I had a mile walk every morning for them. He thought it no use throwing good meat after bad.' ' James ! How disgusting you are ! ' Mrs. Whitstable expostulated. ' Well, one does get attached to a dog, if he is a faithful creature, though one does know his faults ; don't you think so, Mr. Heaton ? ' said Mrs. Elton. 'Certainly one does.