Next Door. A novel

Chapter I

For several weeks everything went on very agreeably with Rosamond. Her only source of concern was Ada. Ada was embittered by her sorrow; she was indignant at slight and suspicious of kindnesses ; she had at first repelled all the numerous sauntering admirers on the Esplanade, who sometimes asked Major Atherton to be introduced to her, by a h-uighty indifference; she was now becoming eager VOL. II. B for admiration, eager to carry off some ima ginary prize — to gain some implied triumph — to claim some supposed victory over some ideal enemy. That enemy seemed to be the world in general, for of Edward and of his cold mother she heard no more ; and, as they could never be conscious of her success, there seemed no change of revenge. She now caught at every prospect of pleasure, or even of publicity.

Yet she was still very fragile, and the beauty of roundness had scarcely returned to her face, though surpass ing in almost every other attraction every one except her sister Rosamond. She had ceased to be drawn in a chair ; she discarded in valid habits, and walked unsteadily, often, now, leaning on Major Atherton's arm, up and down the Esplanade. And Rosamond saw, with much anxiety, that Ada, though not encouraged by any particular attentions from Major Atherton, somewhat courted his notice. It pained her to the very heart. She had reason to know that Major Atherton had no thoughts of Ada. She had reason to know that it rested with herself, whether or not, to become his wife : not that he had, as yet, ever spoken to her, but his intentions were mani fest. Ada now sometimes spoke of Edward Clive, as if, after being stunned by an accident, she was just recovering her reason, and could think calmly of the blow.

"I should almost like to marry," she said, one day, as she was sitting by the fire with her sister, " that he might see my marriage in the paper." Rosamond looked at her with a face of terror. " Ada !" she cried, " I hope you never will b — you never may — " She checked her self. " Wait till Mr. Selby comes back," she re sumed, after a moment's thought ; " he may explain all, and bring everything right again with — with — You told me never to mention his name — so I will not." " You may name him now. I have quite recovered now from all I suffered ; I can even think I have had an escape, Rosamond, when we recollect what Mrs. Clive is, and how poor — how unequal a match it would be for — " She hesitated. Something in her nature was too lofty to run down Edward's family. Yet she added, firmly — " If ever I marry now, it will be for am bition !"

" Then I hope you will never marry, Ada." Rosamond spoke fervently, and there the subject was dropped. And Rosamond tried NEXT DOOR. to hope that it was only a reckless manner of talking in a disappointed person. But, alas ! that manner of talking, under such circumstances, often ends in a way of acting — repugnant at first, but overcome at last, and familiar, merely by force of per suading oneself into it. The two sisters had now become the fashion in the then small, aristocratic society of Brighton. It was, indeed, a charming re sort in those days for the ultra-fast votaries of the court, around which a group of celebrated men and dazzling, handsome, clever women circled. It had still, to London eyes, the novelty of being partly provincial ; the red brick, narrow pavements of the older streets, the homely houses, with their single bow windows all the way up ; those houses on the Steyne, and more especially the ancient church, still recall the days when the Pavilion, with all its traditions of hapless festivities and heartless intimacies, had been the production of a fancy at once enervated and fantastic.

One might almost imagine, once carried back to those days, that one still saw Mrs. Fitzher bert in her chariot — a monument to warn beauty of its perils — or the Regent, wTith his blinds drawn up except towards the sea, meeting, as a stranger, in his chariot and four, her for whom he had once defied the country's preju dices : or Romeo Coates — or the man with the pea-green suit — or any other of those notable persons who made Brighton their pe culiar orb, London being too large for their light to shine in constantly. Then there was a pleasant theatre, which with theluxury of being small, and a company quite good enough for those whose perceptions were blunted, and whose good opinion was propitiated by the fact of their having nothing to do, and NEXT DOOR. to whom, therefore, going to the theatre was not merely a choice, but a necessity.

As Ada grew stronger she was always wanting to go ; and Mrs. Melmoth, not having a rubber at nights, and being, like others of her class, aboriginally fond of the drama (the vulgarest and highest of our tastes), generally consented with — " Oh, dear girls ! what would papa say ? It's time he was at home, I think ! Well, if Major Atherton can get good seats — front row — I must, I expect, give in to you girls. Now don't you be crying and sobbing, and making a fool of yourself, Rosamond, as you did the other night at the Siege of Bel grade. I'll just step down and order the oysters for supper after, that we mayn't have to wait, as we did the other night." This generally happened once a week ; and the Miss Melmoths were therefore becoming well known — too well known, perhaps — at the theatre to those loungers who made it, in those days, their almost nightly resort.

Among these was one who used to watch the sisters, from a back seat in the dress circle, with no common avidity. I say avidity, for interest is too mild a word. At length Ada, less engrossed than Rosamond in the play, noticed a pair of sharp, dark eyes rivet ed on her across the pit. Something in their gaze offended her ; and after remarking that the gentleman, whoever he was, always came opposite to the place where she and ber com panions sat, she looked another way, and never gave him a second thought, nor another glance. One day Major Atherton came in to say that he had engaged two front rows in the boxes for that night. He installed himself as their guardian, and, of course, chose the pieces they were to see — good family-going stock plays, with more sentiment in them than virtue, and very broad jokes, which did no one harm.

At all events, there wasnoFrench taint in the night's bill of fare. The whole was as unso phisticated as an English dinner ; you had no need to blush when you came to think over what had been represented, or to discover that something which had amused you at the time, ought to have shocked, and became in thought worse and worse the longer you considered, and the betteryou understood it. The whole wasalso, at that day, set off by the most incomparable acting in what was, perhaps, politely styled " genteel comedy," that England had ever known. So Major Atherton came in, well satisfied that they should have good places and room enough. He hated people close behind him, he said. Rosamond looked wistfully up in his face. She had made a sort of acquaintance with all the juvenile Selby family on the beach.

At all times happy among children (kindred natures), she was happiest with those; Lady Caroline had some odd-and-end little boys that no one took much account of, except their old nurse, Molly: — some at school, — some at home, some wanting trousers now, others just getting out of jackets, all hungry and expensive, and turned over to the Fates by the Archdeacon, who was always in the read ing-room, or dining at the royal table, or going to routs, and playing cards, and doing everything but what our present sense of clerical duty teaches us to consider as valid, even if without scandal. Rosamond, even in this beginning of her acquaintance with Lady Caroline, had seen that a broken spirit was hers, but it was delicately hidden from all but one — her loved and absent eldest son. This " silent sorrow," whatever its source, interested Rosamond, and brought her near to one who seemed so far above her, — "of the quality," — to return to Mrs. Melmoth's more precise terms.

So, when she looked up into Major Ather ton's face, it was to say, " Then you have six seats ? Do you know Lady Caroline's little boys, at home from school, never go? There would be room for them, would there not — two of them, at all events ?" Her sweet face was so lovely, that none but a selfish, irritable man, with wounds, it must in candour be stated, that plagued him, and made him sometimes furious, could have an swered. " Pray let us leave the Archdeacon and Lady Caroline to take care of their own children ; what have we to do with them ? He can spend guinea after guinea every night at cards, and he ought to take a box for his family." "He ought, but that is the very thing he does not do ; and Lady Caroline, I suppose, thinks it better not." " Well, then, is she not the best judge of what is right for her own children ?"

"True; but the boys would so enjoy it. There's Mother Goose to-night. That darling Nigel, he's such a little angel, he wants so to see Mother Goose ride on a broomstick through the air. Do, Major Atherton." " Do— what ?" The Major half smiled ; he was softening. " Don't say you don't like children." " Did I say so ? I'm very fond of chil dren ; I'm only provoked with the Arch deacon, that he doesn't take them to the play and everywhere himself." Rosamond saw that he was yielding. Major Atherton had not a bad heart ; he had, how ever, what makes it seem bad, an encrusted jealousy of temper that impelled him to dislike any one whom others liked. " I can go to them directly," cried Rosa mond, joyfully, and flying for her cloak and hat. She took consent for granted. She was again in the drawing-room in five minutes.

If the out-door dresses of that day, or about that day, were to be described, I fear our mothers or aunts would not stand forth in very respectable guise. In com pliment, I presume, to the Spanish alliance, Spanish hats were then, for a very short pe riod, worn in the winter. Some were of beaver, some of fur, turned back with a gold loop, and encircled with a long, curling, ostrich feather, and with this was worn a very long, full cloak, often of some richandbright colours. That adopted by Rosamond and by her sister was maroon, with a very large hood, and under neath was seen the skirt of a dark kerseymere dress. Girls seldom wore silk gowns then, except for dress. The whole was so striking and becoming, that Major Atherton said, anxiously — " This will never do ; you cannot go alone, — and you cannot walk with me alone," he added, reluctantly.

" No, indeed I cannot. Mamma, will you like a walk ?" But Mrs. Melmoth could not go, and it was agreed, after a consultation, that Ada and Rosamond could walk together, and that they could be attended by Major Atherton without any impropriety. So they sallied forth. They had to walk almost from one end of what was then Brighton to another. The delicious climate peculiar to that place, glowing with the sunbeams, yet fresh with the breeze, was that day felt in its invigorating perfection. The two sisters looked even more than usually beautiful, and Major Atherton was envied by all the dashing loiterers on the beach. As they proceeded, Ada again caught the dark eyes that so watched her in the theatre fixed upon her; she gave a short glance of surprise, and Mr. Thorneley passed her, scarcely heeded, and soon forgotten.

Thus do we pass, unconsciously, those in whose destinies ours is linked, unknowing, happily, what we have to dread or to hope ; although there are those who pretend to the contrary, we have only 'such instincts given us as are necessary to protect us from what we comprehend to be evils — the rest is mysteri ously veiled to our view; nevertheless, a kind of sensation like shrinking came over Ada whenever she met that piercing gaze, so entirely bent upon her, and her alone ; it seemed to take no cognizance of Rosamond. They reached, at last, Lady Caroline's door ; but long before they had arrived Ada was obliged, from weakness, to take Major Atherton's arm ; and Rosamond supported her on the other side. When they had knocked at the door, Ada suddenly took it into her head not to go in, and said that since that was a quiet part of the town, she would sit down on the bench opposite the sea for an instant.

Rosamond, therefore, hurried into the house, and Ada and Major Atherton were thus left for a few minutes alone, crossing the road. Just as they did so, a hackney-coach passed them, with a trunk outside : a face in the carriage was seen for an instant. It was thoughtful, but calm. Ada recognized it in a moment. It was Edward Clive who passed thus hurriedly ; probably he was going away ; perhaps he had been at Brighton some days, without her knowing it. She turned very pale, and begged to sit down directly, and said she was tired. But that circumstance did not strike Major Atherton, for his thoughts were then en gaged in another direction ; and when Rosamond came almost dancing out, bound ing across the road, he forgot everything but that smiling face, which seemed to soothe his chronic irritations, and to help to heal his wounds.

And Rosamond had always something pleasant to tell. Lady Caroline had been so kind, and was so pleased, and had sent for the little boys. Nigel's face had become crimson when he heard about Mother Goose ; and little Lionel had asked for his new shoes directly — small incidents, indeed, but such as VOL. II. c were afterwards sadly remembered by many fond hearts. So they turned back again home, and when they had arrived there, and Major Atherton had left them, Ada disclosed to Rosamond the startling incident of the morning.

Chapter II

" Evert one is looking at our box to-night," Rosamond said, when at the play, to Ada, " I wonder why ?" " I wish the people would not stare so," Mrs. Melmoth whispered to Major Atherton, who sat uneasily, but remarked — " It is only till the curtain draws up." Ada and her mother took their places on the front row, with the two little boys be tween them ; and Major Atherton had inc2 tended to sit next to Rosamond, in the next row, but got, somehow, by the chances of the playhouse, just behind Ada. He was con siderably out of temper, therefore, and not inclined to avail himself of the opportunity of a compliment. Yet, when the curtain drew up, still every one looked a good deal at the beautiful Miss Melmoths. Ada noticed this, but Rosamond was engrossed with the two little Selbys. Nigel, with dark-blue eyes and rich chestnut hair, cut straight across his forehead — straight and thick, like a hedge, over that pure, white forehead — and hanging down behind a little way, in loose tresses, rather than curls — Nigel, intelligent and thoughtful, having just left off the prating age, would have been her darling, if Lionel had not been so like his absent brother.

Lionel was still a note of interrogation, a perpetual prattler, and most troublesome inquirer into all matters great and small. He was almost ridiculously like Selby, with a girlish complexion, flaxen hair, that, like Selby's, was always growing too long ; and he was beginning, in a faint, shrill way, to have Selby's laugh. Ada gained just a shade of colour in the excitement of the hour. Her hair, which had been cut nearly short during her illness, was confined by a bright band, with a sparkling constellation of small stones in the centre, not a ferroinere, for that was the fashion of a later day, but a modest circlet, just broad enough to show itself, and no more. Both the sisters, in compliance with custom, were in low dresses, and very short sleeves ; and, indeed, the whole dress-circle bore out its name, and was very gay, and even gaudy, the Dowagers being mostly rouged, and the young ladies all in their wonted short-waisted frocks, such as, really, it would ruin a wo man's character in the present day to wear.

Rosamond was somewhat in the shade ; but her face, in its extreme freshness and delicacy, caught the attention at once, like an early star, which we notice beyond all others ; and as she bent over the little boys to explain to the sensible Nigel, and to the cross questioning Lionel, the amazing wonder of the footlamps coming up while the orchestra was playing — she forgot that anyone else was in the theatre, and was ignorant that the light which caught her glossy locks and white brow was welcomed by many a pair of eyes on the other side of the* theatre. Presently Ada leaned across her mother to whisper — " Rosamond, — do look, — there's that ugly, staring man come close to me to-night — how odious !" Yet she afterwards rejoiced at what seemed to be a chance. The curtain at length, after sundry bell-ringings, drawing up, and Lionel's inquiry, " Why, when the curtain drew up, the music stopped ?" being suppressed, a five act comedy commenced.

I do not suppose we shall ever be slow enough to go through the like again. Every thing now is for dispatch — rapid journeys, rapid fortunes, three-act plays, one-volumed novels, short sermons, and, if human nature would but consent to it, short after-dinner speeches. The old Saxon slowness and pa tience have died out, and Time, which used to be our master, is now our slave. So whilst " Speed the Plough " was going on with ploughing pace, and the galleries were nearly coming down with vociferous ap plause, poor little Lionel, kept up out of bed at that heathenish hour, was leaning his head on Rosamond's knee behind, almost asleep. At last, when the overture to Mother Goose struck up, he was so sleepy, and began to be so fretful, that Rosamond was obliged to lift him up by her, and put her arm round him, and coax him into waiting till the Witch on the Broomstick rode through the air, to astonish all the weak minds of that past generation of 181 — .

She never rode that night ; that witch remained in her dark den. The broomstick had lost its magic virtue ; Mother Goose was shewn to be an impostor. Just as that cele brated air began, to the tune of which the Mother used to be seen making through her aerial progress, and expectation was at its height, — a murmur from a corner of the pit was heard. It was responded to by voices, not angry, not loud, but murmuring and hurried, in the recesses of the gallery. Then a cry arose which long rung in the ears of those who heard it, and the word " Fire ! Fire !" was heard. There was a smell of burning, and even a vapour of smoke in the theatre, which wras crowded to excess. The scene which followed could never be forgotten by those who witnessed its fearful, though short-lived horrors. Immediately the pit stood up, and a cloud of dust rendered the atmosphere above them dense ; and the smoke, as the audience rose, fumed out of one of the openings on the stage.

A general gust of loud confusion, and panic from below, was responded to by shrieks and oaths from the galleries above. In the boxes there was greater calmness, and consequent stillness ; yet several ladies fainted, at the most inconvenient moment ; and the wail of women's voices was heard; for many a mother had her child near her that night ; and the agonized shriek, " What shall I do with my children ?" rang through the house. That which, in its results, was to some fatal, was but the work of a moment. Rosamond caught little Lionel in her arms in an instant. " Major Atherton," she cried, " take care of my mother and Ada, and — " Her voice was lost in the general uproar. She tried to catch her mother's arm. They were separated in the crush of others getting out of, and across the box : when Major Ather ton turned round again, to insist upon her staying where she was, she was gone ; the child in her arms. « Ada found herself suddenly protected by the young man with the piercing black eyes, who had been sitting close to her, so close as once to offer her his play-bill.

She felt herself encompassed by his arm, and heard him say, whilst yet her senses were in a dream, — " Don't move ; there's no dan ger if you stay where you are. Allow me to support you, or you'll be trampled under foot by these mad, stupid people." Ada clung to his arm, affrighted, yet with more courage, because she had less strong af fections to make her tremble for others than Rosamond. She saw her mother and little Nigel close by her ; and Major Atherton, who could not walk quickly, was only a seat or two back ; and she tried to rally. " I believe it to be a false alarm, a disgrace ful hoax," said her auxiliary. " The theatre is empty, nearly," Ada replied, sinking on the seat : " yet there are no flames, no fire !" Yes, the theatre was empty, but the avenues were crowded with a dense and streaming crowd of those who were flying from it.

It was a crowd already of the mangled, the suf focating, the broken-limbed. The miserable mass moved out slowly, and life was ebbing from one, or from the other, as it passed, yet surely, and gained the outer door, and tasted the fresh night air, and was safe ; and then the roar of the sea, the grand familiar sound, came upon the ear; that never-ceasing voice of nature, speaking to them of creative power, of God's Might and God's Providence in one solemn note. But it was not heard by all. Close by the door of the theatre, just having gained that point, lay an insensible girl — like a poor bro ken flower — with a crushed child in her arms Many, in their agonies, saw her, and passed on, others stopped, as well as they could, wondered, and were then pushed on : some pitied, and tried to raise that form from the ground ; but the girl would not be moved, but held tight the child in her arms.

At last, those whom that sad sight most concerned came down ; Mrs. Melmoth, Atherton, Nigel, Ada, Thornley. They were safe ; but " Where was Rosamond ?" was their incessant exclamation. She was there ! They spoke to her ; she faintly answered them at once. The play, the threatened fire, the scuffle, the panic, the death-like panic, seemed forgotten in the con fusion of the hour. One thought alone rested : — the child was hurt. She tried to stand ; then her head fell on her mother's shoulder, and into that mother's care she gave her little treasure ; gazed wildly around her, and tried to remember the horrors that had brought her there, and fell back un conscious. She was soon carried to a coach, and taken home ; whilst Major Atherton and Mr. Thornley summoned immediate help, and conveyed poor little Lionel, no longer able to ask a single question, pale as marble, cold as death, and the Mother whom he had left, but two hours before, all joy and bounding happiness, and restless talk.

Chapter III

The morning dawned, bright and fresh, over the habitations of an indignant, suffering town. There had been no fire, nothing except a slight alarm behind the scenes, which a bucket of water and a little common sense might have stopped at once. Happily no great loss of life had occurred ; but many serious in juries had been the result of that fearful rush, that senseless panic ; and a panic, it was well observed, often brings far more mischief in its train than the most foolhardy want of caution. There was, however, one good result abundance of themes for talk for days. Every one blamed some one. The gentlemen blamed the ladies for their insisting on going out. The ladies thought the gentlemen ought to have jumped on the stage and ascertained the cause of the alarm. Every father of a family in Brighton, it is said, blamed his wife ; and no one more freely or unjustly than Arch deacon Selby.

He, of course, censured Lady Caroline extremely for giving his boys those pleasures which he never thought of for them ; whilst she gently recriminated by hoping that he would go with them himself another time. The little boy was in extreme danger. His knee had been crushed. It was feared he would be lame for life. Irritative fever came on, and the unhappy mother, and scarcely less wretched nurse, watched over him night and day, whilst the Archdeacon talked the matter out in the reading-room. Then it was reported that the young lady who had tried to escape with the child, was also dying. But this rumour was, happily unfounded. Rosamond was, indeed, extremely ill. She was bruised, affrighted, and shaken — but a week of her mother's care, and medi cal skill, precluded all fear of danger to her.

The danger that arose out of this accident was to Ada — for Mr. Thornley became a constant visitor at the house, sometimes merely calling at the door, sometimes coming in — being " so anxious" to know the precise truth. At first he rarely sat down, but stood, trans fixed at the rare beauty of the intellectual face of Ada — until he made her perfectly sensible of his admiration. Ada loved her sister — but as she was in the habit of leaving all home duties to her VOL. II. D mother, who did them so much better than she did, she was, unluckily, often obliged, in common politeness, to see Mr. Thornley, as well as Major Atherton, and to answer their inquiries during all these interviews. Thorn ley never hinted that he was in any way ac quainted with Edward Clive. Delicacy forbade him at first — cunning kept up the conceal ment.

His visits were a relief after those of Major Atherton, who was in a state of veritable anxiety that baffled all attempts to soothe it. He was quite in a passion with Destiny ; and seemed, sometimes, furious because Rosamond would not get well. So that Mr. Thornley, who, after a few very feeling remarks, talked on general subjects, and told her the news of the outer world was far more agreeable to Ada. " You may break it to your sister gently — " Major Atherton said one day — "that little Selby won't live through the night. They can't reduce the inflammation — his pulse is — I don't know what," he added, resentfully. Ada was not a lover of children, then, but the tears did come into her eyes at that moment. " Added to which, they are anxious about Charles — you have heard all about that ?" he said, looking at Thornley.

" No — no bad news, I hope ?" Thornley 's thoughts reverted to Edward Clive, to whom he was going to write that day. "General Moore has left Astorga, and is marching to Villa Franca. At this season, it is a perilous march. Thank God, I say, that they have — for the typhus fever is raging there — and Romana's troops are more like starving wild beasts than men." d2 " But Moore will make good his retreat to Villa Franca ?" " Yes, but I hear his troops are starving — both officers and men have scarcely clothes to their backs — think of the deep snow on the ground, in that wild, mountainous country, at this season of the year. I tremble for poor Selby, though his spirits are inexhaustible." " Indeed !" Thornley looked concerned, but did not, in fact, much care about it, as he rather objected to Selby, who was, he thought, over-prized by Clive.

" Thank Heaven ! My father is not there !" Ada exclaimed. Mr. Thornley then withdrew. He went home to write to Clive, who had been paying him a visit of two days. Thornley had not invited him to stay longer. Edward was, he saw, still passionately attached to Ada, and had been trying in every direction to meet her thought without the slightest hope of being able to renew his attentions. There are some people who have an habitual hardness on all subjects connected with the feelings ; and this was the case with Thornley. " He must go home, and get over it," he said to himself; and went to his lodgings, in order to write the letter proper on such occasions. It is in the first place usua if not correct, to persuade the unhappy he or she, that he or she is forgotten : an unkind, but skilful cut of this kind is deemed beneficial.