That Wild Wheel

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"That Wild Wheel.' By Frances Eleanor Trollope, Author of " Aunt Margaret's Troubles " Like Ships upon the Sea's " Among Aliens," etc. In Three Volumes. Vol. II. London : Richard Bentley & Son, Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen. 1892. (All rights reserved.) NOTE. This Story has already appeared as a serial in the pages of the " Graphic" Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. Tennyson's Idylls of the King.

Chapter I

"IS! YOUNG fellow called Gilbert Hazel," 1 ' were the words which struck on William Hughes's ear, and made him look up quickly from the book in his hand. Mrs. Armour was lounging in an easy chair, talking to Claude Copley, who sate near her. At the movement Hughes had made she glanced across the room at him, and saw that he was listening. "Gilbert Hazel!" exclaimed Claude. "Wasn't that the name of the man who was your fellow-lodger in a farmhouse in Kent, one summer, Uncle William ?" VOL. II. " Yes," answered Hughes, laying down his book and drawing nearer. " Oh, a mere chance acquaintance ? " asked Mrs. Armour. "A mere chance acquaintance," assented Hughes. " Do you know him ?" " Oh dear yes ! We knew him when he first joined his regiment — quite a youngster. Captain Armour was very kind to him, treated him like a son.

(My husband was many, many years my senior, you know.) But there was always something rather odd and inscrutable in Hazel's manner. There was an ugly story, I fancy, about his father having done something dreadful and ruined the family. But I make a point of paying no attention to gossip, and gossip in India above all. However, it is certain that the young man was very reserved, and seemed depressed. Some people persisted in attri buting that to his passion malheureuse for — for a lady of my acquaintance." Claude murmured something in a low tone, whereupon Mrs. Armour laughed affectedly and shook her head. " No, no ; that was all nonsense," said she. " Or, at any rate — well, it is all so long ago that it cannot matter. I believe the truth is that he had some high-flown, romantic, knight-errant sort of devotion to me ; and, after all, I don't know why I shouldn't say so."

" There is evidently nothing to prevent your saying so," remarked William Hughes, gravely. " I have not heard or thought of Gilbert Hazel since I left India. And it is odd that the first news I get of him should come just when I happen to be in company with some one who knows him. I often say, ' How small the world is ! ' And it really is, you know," added Mrs. Armour, persuasively, as though she expected her hearers would not very readily accept so original a view. " Do I understand that you have recent news of Mr. Hazel ? " asked Hughes. " Only yesterday I had a letter from a friend of mine in Calcutta, mentioning that Gilbert Hazel had left the army and gone into trade. My friend — who is a woman very highly connected — writes quite a Jere miad about the levelling spirit of the age, and the way in which gentlemen now-a-days will barter their birthright for lucre, and so on.

But, really, I don't know that poor Hazel had much to barter." " May I ask whether your correspondent gives any details as to what Hazel is doing, or where he is ? " "Oh, he must have sailed from India five or six months ago ; and she merely says that she hears he is going; into some house of business in England. To me the idea of his attempting anything commercial is too funny. He was looked upon among us as the most unpractical being, with the most absurd, overstrained notions of — of — " " Honour, perhaps ? " suggested Hughes, drily. " Oh, of everything ! He will hardly be a success as a tradesman." " You think soldiering more in his way ? " " Well, yes, he has as much pluck as other men, I suppose ; and Captain Armour used to consider him a steady young officer. But, my dear Mr. Hughes, since you have met him yourself, I am sure that you, with, your sagacity and practical knowledge of the world, must have observed that there is no dash about poor Hazel.

He wants brilliancy, don't you know ? " " In short, the only point that can posi tively be asserted in his favour is that, in one respect, at all events, he showed excellent taste," said William, bowing to Mrs. Armour. Then he moved away, and took up his book again. But, although he held it in his hand, he did not read, but fell into a fit of musing. This behaviour was not very encouraging as to any hopes Mrs. Armour might have entertained of charming Mr. Hughes into becoming her friend and partisan. But in truth, since she was by this time pretty well convinced that he was not likely to make mischief, or to report to the Ketterings any of the flourishes she had indulged in about them, she cared very little whether Mr. Hughes were surly or not. Some little grudge against him remained indeed at the bottom of her mind.

But if he would but hold his tongue, she could afford to defy his opinion. In spite of her hint, Claude Copley had not informed his uncle that Mrs. Armour was the daughter of Dr. Kirby. He had refrained from doing so, partly because the name of Dr. Kirby suggested no sort of distinction, social or other, to Claude's mind ; and partly because at the time, his uncle was prejudiced against Mrs. Armour by Madame Martin's report. And later, the matter passed from his mind altogether. William Hug-hes thus remained in ig-no ranee of the lady's parentage. Had he known it, he would have known also that she was a young child when the tragedy of his life began. He would have recalled the frequent mention made of her in Winifred's bright letters ; — he had them still, a bundle of letters written on thin foreio-n paper, and addressed to him at Rome, tied round with a black ribbon, and yellowing like faded leaves, in his shabby old desk ; — and he would have remembered the name of little Juliet, so much younger than her sisters, and the spoiled plaything of the family.

As for Mrs. Armour, she naturally did not think of connecting the painter, William Hughes, with her former governess, whose story she knew but vaguely. It was not one to be discussed in the presence of a child. She had an indistinct remembrance that there had been a violent quarrel between her father and her Uncle Christopher ; and of her mother's tears and anger. But the very name of Winifred Hughes had been blotted from her memory years ago. She would have been indifferent, in any case, to Winifred's fate. Nor had she ever been interested to inquire into the fate of her Uncle Christopher since she had lost sight of him. The rumour of his wealth had not yet reached her ears ; and in truth she knew not if he were alive or dead. Since her widow hood she had wandered from one second-rate Continental boarding-house to another.

Her only surviving sister, an old maid subsisting in London on very scanty means, had once written to propose that she and Juliet should join their incomes and live together. But Juliet had refused. She was discontented enough with her present way of life, but she shrank still more from the dullness of a poor household in England, and the companion ship of a pious sister who would bore her about religion. But the accidental meeting with Mrs. Kettering had considerably changed her views. She began to dream of returning to London, and getting access to agreeable society under the auspices of these rich people. If she could sufficiently ingratiate herself with the Ketterings, a future might lie before her which seemed brilliant by com parison with the sordid and dreary existence of the last few years.

Mrs. Kettering was very kind, in her placid fashion ; and the girls seemed good-natured. But the doubt ful point was Miss Stringer. Mrs. Armour did not understand Sally ; and she was haunted by a suspicion that Sally did under stand her. She was not even certain that Sally was hostile. Only — Sally was certainly odd! At all events, Mrs. Armour resolved to neglect no occasion for cultivating the Ketterings' acquaintance. And yet, when an unexpected opportunity of meeting them shortly arose, it gave her by no means unmixed satisfaction. William Hughes had, as his manner was, warmly recognised the prosperous circumstances attending his visit to Switzerland. The drawing-lessons to Ida Kettering had been a welcome windfall, putting a sum of money into his pocket above his calculations; and it never occurred to him to complain that it was below his deserts.

Not that Hughes under-valued his artistic powers — it may be doubted whether any true artist ever does — but he well knew that their money payment depended on various circumstances which have little to do with merit. And the knowledge did not embitter him. His was a temperament which brightly reflected even the faintest gleam of sunshine. He was a wonderful conductor of cheerful ness. And his first impulse when any good thing befel him was to communicate some share of it to his neighbours. The time of his departure from Vevey was drawing near; and the Ketterings were thinking; of moving; on to Montreux. Under these circumstances, William cast about in his mind to see how he could wind up his stay at the Pension Monplaisir by some festive entertainment which should include all his friends there.

He broached the subject confidentially to Miss Stringer ; who entered into the idea with great spirit. " Do you think," began William, " that something in the nature of a picnic luncheon at the farmhouse where I lodged would do ? We could get hot water to make tea and so forth from the farmer's wife. The view from there, in its late autumn colouring, is glorious. And although the way up is a little steep " " Certainly not. Too late in the year ; and altogether too fatiguing — that is to say, if you want Ida to be of the party." " I certainly should like very much to invite my pupil, and her sister, if you think Mrs. Kettering would permit " Miss Stringer nodded emphatically. " And may I venture to hope that you also ? " " Of course. / mean to make one in any case. " I suppose an excursion on the lake to — " Won't do at all !

" " But," remonstrated William, with a twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes — for Sally amused him mightily — "might it not possibly make some difference in your opinion if you allowed me to finish what I was going to say r " Couldn't make the slightest difference." "Oh!" " Not the slightest. Going anywhere by water at this season would be a shuddery business. Let us be thankful we have a roof over our heads, and a railway within reach when locomotion is indispensable." " Then I am afraid I really don't see- " Give an evening party," interrupted Miss Stringer, decisively. " An evening party ! " "To be sure. It need not be expensive." Then she added, quickly, " I hope you will excuse me for saying that. But the fact is, that being myself obliged to consider ways and means on all occasions, I have got into the habit of counting the cost of everything."

William's eyes beamed as he turned them on Miss Stringer ; for he understood this trait of delicacy very well. " Oh, as for me," he answered, smiling, " I mean to be mag nificent ! I shall not count the francs too closely." " Bravo," cried Miss Stringer, clapping her hands. " Then I vote for an evening party at the Pension Monplaisir. Cakes, coffee, and conversation. I'm sure you can do lots of things to amuse them. But if you want to make 'em really happy, let them show off! Let them sing, play, recite, or whatever it may be ; you could do nothing half so popular." " Do you think so ? ' " Positively." William was silent for a few moments. Then a gleam of irrepressible amusement broke over his face. " Well," said he, " I believe they would like that. But I'm bound to warn you that I'm afraid you wouldn't. You see, as regards the enjoy ment of these social experiments, it makes all the difference whether one is the operator or the subject !

" " Oh, never fear ! I know I shall be amused. Why, from what I hear, Miss Jenks alone must be a host in herself." " Miss Jenks's powers of entertainment I hold to be unrivalled," answered William, with great earnestness and warmth. " But not every one can appreciate them." " I fancy I shall," said Sally, smiling grimly. " I think it likely that you may. And let me tell you, Miss Stringer, that, in my opinion, a relish for Miss Jenks's society denotes a cultivated palate— like the taste for caviare or dry champagne. There are large classes of her fellow-creatures on whom Miss Jenks would be entirely thrown away." The first thing to be done was to secure Madame Martin's good will and co-operation. And William Hughes lost no time in speaking to her on the subject. The good woman was enchanted.

" Why, 'tis most amiable on your part, sir," she said. " And I am sure every one will be very sensible of it. All the society will be charmed. 'Twill make us quite lively. And we are not — entre nous, Mr. Hughes — very lively, as a rule." It must be owned that the strict gentility of most of the boarders, combined with their no less strict economy, did not promote liveliness. Gentility, with its pockets full of cash, or Economy, in shirt-sleeves and slippers down at heel, may enjoy themselves after their several fashions, but they seldom live happily together. The news that Mr. Hughes intended to give an evening party before leaving Vevey electrified the Pension Monplaisir. A thrill of expectation pervaded the whole establishment. And when Mr. Hughes, in concert with Madam Martin, fixed the date and gave his invitations— which he did by word of mouth — the general excitement grew intense.

Keen as he was to note the oddities and absurdities of his fellow-boarders, William honestly felt kindly towards them, and wished that they should enjoy themselves. " They have all been very good to me," he thought, with his accustomed simplicity of mind. And he thought, too, that there was something pathetic in the eagerness of some of them about so poor an entertainment as he was able to offer them ; for it seemed to gsive the measure of the dulness and monotony of their lives. Mrs. Armour alone affected a lofty in difference, and observed privately to Claude that it was too killing to see the fuss those ridiculous old women made about so common place a matter. But when she learned that some of the Kettering family were expected to be present, her interest was quickened considerably. The favourable planet which at this time ruled the fortunes of the Pension Monplaisir had not yet exhausted its benign influences, for the contingent of three males which that establishment could boast of was unex pectedly reinforced by the arrival of two strangers on the very day before the famous party.

Madame Martin came to Mr. Hughes with a letter in her hand, and began to thank him for recommending her house ; and when William disclaimed this merit, from lack, not of good-will, but of opportunity, she answered, " Ah, well, sir, but 'tis through your name that these messieurs have applied. You see you have brought me good chance, Mr. Hughes. It is always good to get an opening into a new connection." The purport of the letter was to ask if Madame Martin could receive two gentlemen for a few days, and the signature, written in a clear, commercial hand, but surrounded by an intricate flourish, was " N. Coney." Mr. Percival Snagge having completed the business that brought him to England, was about returning to his home near Florence for the winter ; and he had uro-ed his friend to fulfil an old promise by accompanying him.

But this Mr. Coney had declined. One evening, however, when the proposal was being talked of at Mortimer Hopkins's lodgings, the elder Hopkins had jocularly suggested that they should take a run to Vevey, and look up Mr. Hughes, and Coney had at once seized on the suggestion seriously. Ever since the evening when he had met Barbara at Mrs. Green's, and had learned that Mrs. Hughes's niece was named Copley, he had displayed a strange inquisitiveness about the painter's family history and connections ; and no sooner did he hear from Hopkins that Mr. Hughes was still at Vevey, and that a young nephew of his was there also, than he seemed bent on making Vevey the goal of his Continental trip. Mr. Snagge objected and protested ; he would rather go to Paris, and proceed thence to Italy ; it was too late for Switzer land ; and so forth.

But Coney was firm. " I've done Paris over and over," said he. " I want a peep at something new ; and Lake Leman — ' with its crystal face, the VOL. II. mirror where the stars and mountains view,' you know — will be the very ticket ! " " If you get as far as Switzerland, Nat, you might as well come on through the Mont Cenis to Italy," urged Mr. Snagge. "You can afford it well enough." (For Mr. Coney had been a prudent and a saving man, and was reputed by his intimates to have made some snug little investments.) " Can't be done this year, Percival. ' Thus far into the bowels of the land will I march on without impediment' — that is to say, I don't mind a second-class return to Geneva, and then getting a squint up the lake. I told you I'd take a short run with you on your way south. 'If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it to the last article.' But, for the present, I can't afford any article beyond Vevey."

And so Mr. Coney, having the stronger will, prevailed, and despatched his letter to Madame Martin. "Well, Mr. Hughes," said that good woman, with a beaming face, " 'tis fine times at Monplaisir, for sure ! Your soirc'e and two new gentlemen ! Our ladies will be in spirits. And as for Miss Jenks" — lowering her voice and indulging in a silent chuckle — " I'm a'most afraid to tell Miss Jenks, sir. There'll be no holding her ! "

Chapter II

|HERHAPS there could be no more ' — striking exemplification of the pre ponderance of the feminine element in Madame Martin's establishment than the circumstance that there was no smoking room in it. When any stray man did chance to ask for the finnoir, if the weather were too bad to turn him into the garden, he was ushered into the bureau — a small den, with two glazed sides to it, where Claude Copley balanced the books of the pension, and dis pensed information as to trains and boats to inquiring boarders. But Madame Martin was a woman of resources ; and in view of the promised accession of gentlemen to her inmates, she organized an impromptu smoking-room in a disused greenhouse, which was a sort of ex crescence on the drawing-room, and com municated with it by a glass door. Though somewhat rough, it answered its purpose sufficiently well, being warm, dry, and easily ventilated.

On the side opposite to the drawing-room there was a second door, of which the upper panels were glazed, leading into the shrubbery, and to the back premises. Over this outer door, Madame Martin hung up an old railway rug, which kept out the draughts as effectually as a Genoa velvet portiere. A few cane-bottomed arm-chairs, a centre table covered with shiny cloth simu lating leather, and a square of drugget on the floor, completed the furniture and deco rations. The effect of the whole was considered to be highly satisfactory by the lady boarders, who handsomely declared that they did not believe any odour of smoke would penetrate to the drawing-room, and that if it did, they rather liked it. The only person who de murred to the proximity of the smokers was a fat, taciturn old lady, chiefly remarkable for her enormous appetite ; and she based her opposition on the difficulty you had in "getting the smell out o' your hair."

But as she was known to be completely bald, and always wore a species of brown silk caul, with a great mob-cap tied on over it, her objection was held to be frivolous, and was over-ruled. But although the ladies were delighted with Madame Martin's arrangements, the persons for whom those arrangements were made displayed no extravagant satisfaction with them. It may, indeed, be observed that the cheerful quality of mind familiarly described as " making the best of a bad bargain," is chiefly exercised on other people's bad bargains. Mr. Percival Snagge, when he was intro duced into the fumoir on the first evening of his arrival, appeared profoundly discon tented. " I can't make you out, Nathaniel," he said, glancing ruefully, first at the rough wood-work and patched glass of the green house, with its drapery of worn railway rug, and then at the unmoved countenance of his friend.

" Can't you, Percival ? " " No, I can't. You give up Paris, you rush through Geneva, to come into this con founded old rat-trap full of nothing but old cats !" said Mr. Snagge, with some confusion of images, but unmistakable distinctness of meaning. " Oh, come, the dinner wasn't half bad. The old girl, Madame Martin, is a jolly old soul ; our rooms are clean and comfortable ; and the terms are very low. And — look here!" Mr. Coney pulled from his pocket a capacious travelling flask. " This Cognac fine champagne is Ai. A friend of mine who travels in wines got me a lot — a bargain. And I never take a journey without a flask full. It's a regular lick-cure, sir," said Mr. Coney, with emphatic approbation. " I inti mated to the bun, as they call 'em on this side, that hot water and sugar would be required.

And here she comes with 'em. That's right, put 'em down there. Mercy, mah belle! which is a figure of speech, for you're about as ugly as they make 'em, even in these parts ; and that's saying a good deal." These latter remarks Mr. Coney uttered sotto voce as the stout Swiss serving-maid disappeared behind the railway rug and went out. He then, with great care and dexterity, mixed two tumblers of hot brandy-and-water, and, handing one to his friend, bade him, in a solemn tone, to quaff and spare not. Having quaffed, Mr. Snagge's mood grew blander ; and as, under the soothing influence of a good cigar in addition to that of the Cognac, Mr. Coney also felt his heart ex pand with friendly sentiments, they soon slid into a confidential and familiar chat. " That fellow Hughes has been working here for more than three weeks, I under stand," said Snagge.

"Well now, I'll tell you what it is ; I hold that man to be a traitor." "Eh?" ejaculated Mr. Coney, looking up sharply. " Oh, understand me, Nat ; I'm not accusing him of dishonesty in the common parlance. But to Art — to the worship and cult of the Ideal — he is a traitor and a rene gade." " Oh ! — he is commonplace," admitted Mr. Coney, with a candid air, at the same time passing his hand thoughtfully over his big bald skull. "What," pursued Mr. Snagge, snorting ironically and tossing back his hair, "what, sir, is the object and scope, as I may say, of his being in Switzerland at this moment ? Is it to steep his soul in Nature ? I think not." Mr. Coney thought not, too ; and nodded to that effect across his tumbler. " Is it even the single-minded desire of interpreting Nature by means of the 'igher inspirations of artistic insight ?

I think not." Again Mr. Coney nodded, and observed, in an explanatory tone, " It's a job Hopkins got for him." " Aye ! It is a job Hopkins got for him ; and it would be a precious long time before Hopkins offered such a job to mes' Mr. Coney was conscious of such entire concurrence with this opinion, that he felt it would not be civil to express it ; and mur mured, " Oh, I don't know about that, Percy. I dare say he would if he had the opportunity." " No, sir ; Hopkins wouldn't offer such a job to me, because he knows I wouldn't accept of it. It's house-painting ; that's what it is." " Well — but, Percy, haven't some of the biggest big-wigs in the painting world done decorative panels and things of that sort ? I've read it in the papers." " Ah, but look at the price they get for it ! But how does this chap up'old the dignity of Art ?

Yah ! " And Mr. Snagge swallowed a gulp of brandy-and-water, and threw him self back in his chair with a face of scornful disgust. " Did you notice that young fellow sitting near the old lady at the top of the table ? " asked Mr. Coney, after a pause. Mr. Snagge had so much difficulty in with drawing his thoughts from the contemplation of William Hughes's degraded baseness of spirit, that the question had to be repeated before he answered. " Oh, a sickly-looking chap with black eyebrows ? Yes ; I saw him. He's the clerk, somebody said. Rather a peculiar start having him at table ! Not that I am exclusive. I don't object to a touch of Bo'emia ; but — hang it all ! — let it be instinct with soul, Coney ! " " He's Hughes's nephew," said Mr. Coney. " The clerk is ? Ah, I think it's a pity his uncle did not confine himself to the same line of business !

" And with that, he pushed his tumbler across the table, as a hint to have it replenished. Coney refilled it with a liberal hand, and mixed a second tumbler for himself, after which he sat silently puffing out clouds of smoke for several minutes, while Percival Snagge, with his legs stretched out on a second chair in front of him, and his eyes upturned to the ceiling, sipped his grog, and muttered a fragmentary soliloquy after a fashion habitual with him. At length Mr. Coney, drawing his chair closer up to the table, and leaning his elbow on it, so as to be nearer to his friend's ear, said — ■ " I'll tell you a rum thing, Percy." "All right," returned Mr. Snagge, with his cigar between his teeth. " You have heard me speak with Hopkins about a certain rich eccentric party I came across in the States some time ago ?"

Snagge nodded. He had, indeed, heard a great deal more than he cared to hear on the subject. He had been irritated by the frequent introduction of it at Mortimer Hop kins's parties for two reasons : firstly, it gave old Hopkins an opportunity for bragging about his late wife's family connections, and, secondly, it interfered with the discussion of Mr. Snagge's own favourite topics — himself and Titian. " I have not mentioned this to any one but John Hopkins as yet," pursued Mr. Coney. " But to an old and trusted friend of boyhood's hours like yourself, Percy, I can speak as man to man and heart to heart, partic'larly as you are off to Florence in a few days; and not very likely to come across any of the parties interested." Mr. Snagge received this touching ex pression of confidence without emotion, merely observing, in general terms, that he didn't know the parties interested from Adam, and, not being a party interested himself, didn't want to.

" Quite so," answered Coney, approvingly. "Well, sir, you may remember hearing me say that the individual in question being once laid up with a sprained foot in the same hotel where I was, out West, we were thrown a good deal together. He was curious to hear all I could tell him about the Hopkinses or any other members of his family. I was sitting beside his sofa one day when the post brought him a bundle of letters from England. One of 'em, I could see, was in a lawyer's hand ; indeed, he had told me that he kept up communication with a London firm of solicitors, though he never let out the name. Uncommonly queer and close he was in some things, while about others he'd jaw away thirteen to the dozen. Well, he read this lawyer's letter, and puckered up his eyes as he always did when he was thinking hard.