Lady Rosalind. A psychological romance

Front matter

NOTICE The New and Revised Edition contains Prefatory Remarks by the Right Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P. THE STANDARD WORK ON AUTHORSHIP. Crown 8vo., Cloth Gilt, Price 5s. ; Postage, 4§d. (Fifth Edition. New and Revised.) THE AUTHOR'S MANUAL, Being a complete, practical Guide to all Branches of Journalism, Literary Work generally, and Book-producing, with special advice in reference to Imaginative Literature, by Percy Russell. Brief Extracts from some of the Eevieivs : — The Spectator says : — " The aspirant to Literature may cer tainly read Mr. Russell's book with profit." The Graphic says: — "Mr. Russell has got up his subject with mnch care, and supplies a great deal cf useful information. His advice and suggestions are sound and to the point." St. Stephen's Review says : — " The Author's Manual is clever to a fault.

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Chapter I. The Eev

DE. HOLMES AND FAMILY. WILHELM HOLZAPFEL. " 0 world ! so few the years we live, Would that the life which thou dost give Were life indeed ! Alas ! thy sorrows fall so fast. Our happiest hour is when at last The soul is freed." Remember ! What a world of woe, what depths of sorrow are concealed in that one word " Remember ! " What pangs of compunction visit the souls of those who have heard and not heeded the earnest prayer, the last utterance of a dying parent ; the tender words of advice which fell from the lips of a friend struggling with the ever-victorious King of Terrors ; or the warning of a dear companion about to cross the Stygian ferry, as they called upon them to "remember." It is a word to conjure with ; a word with which to reach the heart's core of the most obdurate of man kind ; a word which sinks, indeed, below the surface.

This was the one word with which Mrs. Holmes sought to impress her dying requests upon the minds of her two daughters — Marguerite and Edith. It was the twilight of a glorious summer's day, just a week after the death of Mrs. Holmes, when these two young ladies were sitting in the drawing-room of their uncle's house — the Rectory attached to the small Methodist Church of a meagre, impoverished village, some few miles from the sea, in the west of England. They were silent as they sat at the open window, Marguerite gazing listlessly down into the valley which the Rectory overhung, and her sister busy mending or patching up an old dress of hers — an occupation which was by no means her favourite one. These two girls, although sisters, were as opposite, physically and mentally, as any two girls could be.

Marguerite was tall and very dark, almost, one would say, a brunette. She was likewise deep, dark, and gloomy in heart and mind. Edith was small, and as fair as her sister was dark — a blonde — yet she was not handsome. She was ever thoughtless and gay ; apparently meeting sorrow and joy alike with a light heart. The dark girl, whose probable age might be twenty- THE KEV. DE. H0L3IES AND FAMILY. 3 three was ever even-tempered, collected, and calm; calm as the placid bosom of the lake ; suffering little motion even from the passing gusts of wind, which cause but a gentle ripple on its surface, while they threateningly sway the neighbouring oaks and pines; so, the spirit of Marguerite Holmes was ever passive, passionless, and tranquil, even when those around her soared high on the wings of pleasure and mirth.

It was, however, quite different with her sister Edith, a girl of 19. She was ever buoyant and light-hearted; nothing seemed to trouble her. In most persons of this nature, beneath the ripple of their almost perpetual merriment, one finds a strong under-current of sensitiveness, which makes its presence known on the proper occasions. But in Edith Holmes there was no such relief; she was jolly, and even immoderately boisterous, in the most inoppor tune moments — even when others were sad, and ready to sink beneath the troubles that she supported — troubles which seemed not to affect her. The sisters had received a very good education ut the hands of their uncle, the effect of which was widely different in each. Marguerite, possessed of an inquiring, restless spirit, was ever studying psycho logical and religiously controversial works, whilst Edith never read anything deeper than a domestic novel.

Mr. Holmes died when Edith was but two years old and Marguerite six, and their mother having died a week previous to the evening on which they are introduced to the reader, they were now entirely under the guardianship of their uncle, the Rev. Dr. George Holmes. Notwithstanding the short time which had elapsed since the demise of Mrs. Holmes, Edith seemed as if nothing extraordinary had happened, for she was as gay and chatty as ever. In justice to her, however, it must be said that she seemed very much grieved, downcast, and despondent for three days after her mother's death. During that time her sadness was something to be lamented. She went about " like Niobe, all tears." But now all signs of sorrow had vanished. Not so her sister ; she was always more or less sorrowful, but her mother's quick and unexpected demise had intensified her sorrow — at least, so it seemed.

At all events, her grief was genuine, from whatever cause it had sprung. As she sat, habited in black, at that window, wrapt in deep thought, she looked the picture of true melancholy. But it was not her appearance alone that denoted her truly — " not alone her inky cloak, nor customary suits of solemn black, nor the dejected haviour of the visage, nor the fruitful river of the eye." These were but mere appearances. But she had '" that within which passes show ; these being merely the suits of woe." "What are you always dreaming about, Gretta ? " inquired Edith, breaking the momentary silence which existed. " Come now, cheer up ! We must do some thing to pass the time until uncle returns with his new charge. Shall I sing something for you ? " she asked, as, putting her needlework aside, she went over to her sister and threw her arms lovingly around her neck.

" This is no time for music," said Marguerite. " We can't always be sad," returned Edith ; " and, besides, a little music would rouse you up. I don't like to see you so gloomy. I'll sing something — melancholy if you will," laughed Edith. " Even that would prevent you from thinking." " Very well, very well," said Marguerite, "anything that pleases you." " I'm only trying to please you," replied Edith, as she rushed over to a corner of the room and drew forth a mandoline. Having swept the chords two or three times with her delicate fingers, she tripped lightly back to her seat at the window, and then she sang, to siren' plaintive strains, the following lines, composed, pro bably, by some poet who had made Melancholy his muse :— Life's brighter part has passed away ; The dark remains behind : The autumn brown restB on the earth ; Loud howls the wintry wind.

But steadfast hope and faith sincere Shall still afford their light ; While these remain, this mortal gloom Cannot be wholly night. The summer flowers that once were here Have faded from tho eye ; The merle has ceased to cheer the shade, The lark to wake the sky. Green leaves have fallen from the trees. Dark clouds are overhead ; And withered things beneath my feet Rustle where'er I tread. But yet I know there isa land Where all that's lost on earth Revives to blossom and to bloom With undecaying birth. Thus steadfast hope and faith sincere Shall still afford me light. Till other suns shall dissipate The gloom of mortal night. Her deep contralto notes, mingling in gracious har mony with the sweet strains from the mandoline, which she skilfully manipulated, reverberated again and again, for several minutes, in the mild summer air, until they died away in the distance ; and then all was hushed and silent again, save for the solitary note of the cuckoo, which was wafted on the ambrosial air from some neighbouring grove.

Almost immediately after the music ceased two voices were heard at some little distance earnestly conversing. The window in which Marguerite and Edith sat commanded a good view of the long sloping avenue which led up to the Rectory. Looking down the slope in the direction from which the voices proceeded, they saw their uncle walking arm-in-arm with a young man of low stature, whom they had not before seen, but of whose coming they had received due notice. They withdrew from the window ; but Edith laughed a merry laugh as, with characteristic curiosity, she got behind one of the window draperies, and from this " coign of vantage " scrutinized with curious, searching eye the form and features of the new-comer. Ah ! Edith, iu the spring-time of thy life — a life till now unsullied by a single cloud of sorrow — thou mayest make merry ; break forth in lively flashes of hilarity, and view things en coleur de rose ; but the time is fast approaching when thou shalt feel, with piercing acute ness, the terrible pangs of the remorse and sadness of a reproachful, troublous, embittered existence — an existence blasted even as the vine is sometimes when in its first flower !

The two figures disappeared from view as they turned an angle of the building, and walked towards the front entrance of the house, and Edith kept her eyes on the stranger until she could see no more. But before this unknown individual crosses the threshold of that home (for his coming wrought a wonderful change) let us see who he was, whence he came, and why he came. Wilhelm Holzapfel (for that was his name) was of German descent. He was about twenty-seven years of age ; small, and good-looking, with dark curly hair, and sallow features. Although not handsome, there was something irresistibly fascinating and prepossessing in his manner — a something inexplicable, which attracted everyone towards him, both men and women, but more especially the latter. He was but poorly clad, wearing a much-discoloured and badly-fitting light suit.

Yet, were he in rags it could not be denied that he had the manners and bearing of a gentleman. Such, in brief, was the man ; and now as to the object of his visit. Dr. Holmes, in order to swell his exchequer, made the Rectory a sort of cease-to-do-evil for young men, who, having money to spend, were leading a reckless, devil-may-care existence. The doctor, who was very penurious, always took care that he was well paid for his trouble ; whilst he contended that at the Rectory, away from the unhealthy and tempting atmosphere of London — away from the haunts of vice which per vaded the town, and under his own personal observa tion, rash, spendthrift, and hot-headed young men could not but mend ; and this, indeed, was a " consum mation devoutly to be wished," although, if truth must be told, the doctor little troubled himself as to this point, so long as the parsonage coffers were kept full.

One of the above described class of young men was Wilhelm Holzapfel, a careless and gay, happy-go-lucky individual, who, from the time he was thirteen years of age (when he ran away from a boarding school in Germany, and walked thirty miles home), led as reckless a life as he very well could. After returning from school, his first exploit was to elope with his sister's governess to England, and, having got rid of her, he travelled out to Africa, where he joined a volunteer corps. The tropical heat and heavy marching, however, were more than he cared for, and soon he was on his way back to London, but not before he had borrowed £1,000 from a Jewish money-lender in Cape Town, and got off with it scot free. Gambling quickly relieved him of the thousand pounds, and now, through family interest, he procured a commission in the Army.

Here again he came to grief ; he commenced to drink, went out on parade with his men, the back of his helmet to the front, his belt over the wrong shoulder, whilst he called out his commands altogether wrong, eliciting the hearty laughter of the soldiers. This sort of thing would not be tolerated, and Holzapfel was obliged to leave the regiment. During this period of military service he became engaged to two young ladies in the town of L , where his regiment was quartered, without the slightest intention of marrying either, and were it not that he left the town so suddenly, leaving his subsequent whereabouts a mystery, he would in all probability have been in for a couple of breach of promise actions. For two years and a half after this he lived a princely life in London and Dublin ; all at the expense of sundry hotel proprietors, tailors, and traders of all sorts and descriptions.

This kind of proceeding, as might naturally be expected, did not last long, and eventually Holzapfel was dogged in all directions by process-servers and bailiffs. Meanwhile, Holzapfel mortgaged his property (a very valuable English estate, left him by his father) for a mere song, thus leaving his net annual income somewhere about £50. £50 ! A mere nothing for Wilhelm Holzapfel, he who, not so long since, could give that paltry sum away without as much as missing it! This was the state of Holzapfel when he came under the notice of a certain London clergyman, who took him up and placed him under the care of Dr. Holmes at the Rectory, and such was the man who, for the trifling consideration of at most £50 per annum, was brought to be the daily companion of Marguerite and Edith Holmes. Such was the man who was about to cross the threshold of that secluded and quiet home. a man whose like had never entered the Rectory before. for it may be mentioned that his predecessors were all but perfection when compared to him.

Holzapfel, on his arrival, was too weary to appear at supper that night, and retired to rest almost imme diately. Consequently, Edith's curiosity to see him remained unsatisfied until the following morning. Why she was thus eager to see and know this stranger was a question that she herself might not be able to answer, but could she only see into the near future she might rue the day that brought Holzapfel to the Rectory. The next morning they had breakfast at nine o'clock. according to custom. The Doctor, a medium-sized, sharp-featured, grey haired man of about 60, had a constitutional walk beforehand, and when he returned he found his nieces and Holzapfel in lively conversation, sitting around the breakfast-table, awaiting his return. Having exchanged salutations, the Doctor seated himself at the head of the table, and during the entire meal he and Holzapfel seemed to vie with each other in point of loquacity.

" Again I bid you welcome to the Rectory, Mr. Holzapfel," said Dr. Holmes, as they finished a hearty meal. " And my nieces will have much pleasure in showing you around the neighbourhood, and pointing out everything of note." Edith nodded assent, and the Doctor continued : " We have plenty of tackle if you care for fishing ; you can have a gun, too, if you like shooting, and as for boating, there are plenty of boats to be had at the shore." " Thank you very much. Doctor," replied Holzapfel. "I am sure that with such company I shall be perfectly happy during my stay with you."

Chapter II

A STRANGE DREAM. "The limits of science are like the horizon, the more we approach them the more they recede." — Mme. Necker. It was about a week after Holzapfel's arrival at the Rectory, and Marguerite and Edith were sitting by themselves over the usual nine o'clock breakfast. Their uncle was seldom down latterly for half-an-hour after that time, and Holzapfel, as a general rule, made his appearance at ten or later. So the two young ladies were alone, conversing confidentially on this occasion. " I had a strange dream last night, Edith," remarked Marguerite. " Oh ! You're always dreaming," retorted Edith. " I don't wish to hear any more of your dreams ; I believe that the half of them are mere flights ot' imagination — day dreams." "Well, may be so — maybe so," returned Marguerite. " And as you don't wish to hear any more of my dreams, perhaps I had better keep this one to myself."

" Oh ! let me hear it, by all means," asked Edith, unable to restrain her curiosity. " What was it about ? " "It was all about you; a most curious dream," answered Marguerite. " Tell it to me then ; I'd like very much to hear it when it was about me," said Edith, in an eager tone. " Ah ! well, I will tell you then. I thought I was transported to the beach of a large island, where I stood so close to the water's edge that my feet were washed by the rolling waves. You were by my side ; and you seemed eager to break away from me and plunge into the sea, whilst I was trying by all the force of persuasion, and even by physical force, to stop you. " The island on which we stood, I thought, represented Security, and turning round I saw behind me, at some considerable distance, several noble, benign looking female figures, on whose bright and sparkling helmets were graven different symbolic words.

One bore the word Peace, another Friendship, another Prosperity, another Happiness, another Content, and other kindred terms. " Looking out upon the broad expanse of the sombre surging sea (which I knew was the ocean of Fate), s saw thousands of human beings tossing and heaving on the merciless billows. Some were by themselves und others clung to one another ; now rising high on the roaring waves and now precipitated in the ridges and farrows of the restless waters. All was dark as Erebus, save for the occasional beams of the sickly moon, which now and then lighted the scene as the murky leaden clouds floated over its face. " Rising high out of the waters I beheld, in the fitful moonlight, numerous peaky rocks — some large, some small — on each of which there stood a being, whose outward appearance resembled, to some extent, the human female form.

Each of these figures held in its right hand a twisted rope — some were gold, some silver, some silk — the ends of which dangled in the waves of the ocean of Fate. The innumerable human beings who were heaving to and fro on the relentless waves grappled with nervous energy at those apparent means of succour, only to be immediately dashed back into the dark, dreary waste. " The female forms were also emblematic. Far out to my right I saw one of these majestic figures up holding a standard, on which was emblazoned the word Atheism, whilst standing around her were three impish dwarfs, on whose breasts were engraved the words Discord, Chaos, and Ate. At a greater distance in the same direction I discerned another sylph-like creature. She, I thought, represented Pride, and following in her train were more demoniacal elves, representative of Envy, Calumny, Malice, and Slander.

Another prominent figure — beautiful, attractive, majestic — symbolized Love. Following in her wake were Deceit, Jealousy, and Despair. In short, all the vain glory, all the false pleasures, and likewise all the miseries and sufferings which visit humanity in this work-a-day world, were shown forth, but to my mind the most pleasing of these figures was but a glaring deception — a gilded dissimulation. " Further away than any of the other forms, and more vapoury and transient still, I discerned a radiant, shining representative of Hope. She was alone ; not a single attendant or satellite was near her. Many were the anxious looks which were cast upwards from the surging waters towards her beauteous form as she stood far, far away in almost inaccessible remoteness. " Looking out on the wide expanse to the left of where I stood, I saw a long, leviathan, loathsome looking, pitch-black vessel, on the prow of which I saw the word Death.

Smoothly it sailed in its slow, inevitable course, picking up hundreds of living beings as it passed. " Presently I beheld, quite close to the shore, a small and fragile skiff, in which I thought Mr. Holzapfel was standing, struggling with all his might to steer it safely to the land. After moments of imminent peril he succeeded in doing so, and, having made our acquaintance, he seemed restless, and anxious to be off again. He would not, however, go without you ; and, after some little persuasion, yon consented to accompany him, whilst I protested and even implored you not to do so. " The scene now wavered before me ; but soon my vision grew clear again, when, to my dismay and horror, I saw you both in the light craft, sailing, or rather tossing and heaving about, at the mercy of the winds and waves of Fate, where one dare not say that his soul was his own.

I could not bear the sight, and yet my eyes seemed rivetted upon you. At every moment the boat threatened to capsize, which it ultimately did ; and for several minutes I lost sight of you altogether. When you came to the surface you were separated — Mr. Holzapfel was struggling against Fate in one direction, you in another ; and the boat had disappeared. Almost at that instant the Death ship sailed close to Mr. Holzapfel. It took him up with many others, and continued its onward course ! " Short as was the time which it took me to bring my eyes back to where I had seen you in the waters, I had scarcely done so when the strange phantasm was suddenly terminated ! " I woke, and the weird awfulness and realism of that dream lingered, and will ever linger, in my mind." Edith, who up to this had listened attentively, but C incredulously, to her sister's words, now broke forth into a merry peal of laughter. ' I don't believe in dreams !

" she exclaimed. " Oh ! you may laugh ; you're always laughing," con tinued Marguerite, " but my dreams, whether you be lieve in them or not, always come true. Do you remember the dream I had shortly before our poor mother's death ? " " I do remember your telling me of a dream you had, but I forget what it was," replied Edith, in an oblivious way. " Oh ! you are forgetful ! " said Marguerite ; " but I will tell it to you again. About a week before our dear mother died, before she got ill at all, I dreamt that I came into this room and that I saw her lying in a swoon in the centre of the floor ; looking about, I be held a tall, black figure — Death — standing behind the door, grinning hideously. A little after I entered, it came over and jumped on the figure on the floor, until life left the body.

You stood in the corner of the room, wailing and wringing your hands piteously, your hair hanging dishevelled over your shoulders. Do you remember now ? " " Oh, yes, I do, of course. You told me about that, answered Edith. " Well, and didn't that dream come true — cruelly true ? " asked Marguerite. " Oh, it did," said her sister ; " but, at the same time, I don't believe that your dream was any indica tion or omen of what would happen. I don't give credence to dreams." " But I do," said Marguerite, " for my dreams were always forewarners of some particular events. I would therefore ask you to think of my dream, and above all to remember our poor mother's last words, more particularly what she said regarding young men whom uncle might think fit to bring to the Rectory, for she did not warn you without reason."

"I do ; I will remember her words," said Edith, pensively; " but why should she warn me like that's' " " Well, you know," returned Marguerite, in a sooth ing voice, " it was her anxiety for your welfare and not a wish to chide that prompted her to speak to yon as she did ; and I am sure you will admit that she had legitimate ground to warn when you consider the class of young men whom uncle brought here lately — young men, too, with whom you have been, to my mind, unduly familiar. Why don't you do as I do and keep away from them? I regard such fellows — fellows who come here to be reclaimed — no matter what their social position may be, as altogether unfit company for us." " I know, dear Gretta, that you are right, and— " At this juncture the Doctor entered the room, and, as he did, Edith exclaimed — " Here comes uncle ; we'll ask him what is his opinion about dreams.

Good-morning, uncle ; we have just been talking about dreams. Do you believe in them ? " said Edith, with her accustomed impetuosity. " I do believe in dreams, that is when they are defined as I will explain," said Dr. Holmes, in a some what hesitating manner, as he seated himself at the breakfast table. " How ? I would like very much to know," said Marguerite, quickly. " I sometimes have most remark able dreams, and true ones too. What's your theory ? " Marguerite did not wish the Doctor to know the subject of their conversation before he had entered — thus her precipitation. " My opinion or theory regardingdreams, which I will endeavour to make as clear to you as possible," said her uncle, deliberately, " is this, that in every man there are faculties and powers of an altogether transcendental order to those ordinarily brought into play and exercised through the senses.

Under certain con ditions and circumstances, to wit, those of dream life and somnambulism, conclusive proof is given of the existence of a side of our being which is not included or embraced in our ordinary consciousness — of the existence in man of a higher and superior order of things than those of sense. When persons are dreaming, the barrier which, in a state of wakefulness. exists between these hidden faculties and powers, and the faculties of sense, is more or less removed, or rather shifted, and persons, under such influence, are capable of actions and of foresight into the events of the future, which in wakeful moments would be absolutely impossible." " And how," inquired Marguerite, "do you account, uncle, for the remembrance of dreams ? " " The reason why we remember a dream," replied the Doctor, " is because these latent faculties, to which I have referred, are connected to a certain extent with the faculty of sense ; but the prison of flesh hinders the development of these higher powers, and only allows the scenes of dreamland to make a very slight and vague impression on the mind."

Marguerite nodded apprehension, and inquired the cause of nightmare. " Persons never get nightmare except when they sleep on their backs," answered the Doctor. " The two faculties — superior and inferior — are always at war with one another, if I may so speak, for predominance ; in sleep the conflict is keener, and when a person sleeps on his back the conflict is still more intensified by reason of the warring faculties coming into closer contact with each other. There are many reasons which I could give for holding these opinions ; but, mainly owing to the facts which I have narrated, I believe that a dream — no matter how vague it may be — is au insight into events which yet lie undelivered in the womb of time. Future scientists may be able to throw more light upon these transcendental powers, and may find a means by which they can be developed ; but, notwithstanding this, I implicitly believe that not until after death (until death deprives us of sense consciousness and leaves free those higher powers, of which in dreams and sleep-walking we only obtain flashes) will those latent faculties reach their full development.