The Peacemakers: a novel

Front matter

THE PEACEMAKEKS. THE PEACEMAKERS H Hovel. u? JOHN STRANGE WINTER, AUTHOR OF " BOOTLES' BABY," " HOUP-LA ! " "IN QUARTERS," " ON MARCH," "ARMY SOCIETY," "GARRISON GOSSIP," "HARVEST," "BEAUTIFUL JIM," "GOOD-BYE," "ONLY HUMAN," " GRIP ! " " THE THUTH-TELLEBS," "EVERYBODY'S FAVOURITE," ETC. IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON : F. V. WHITE & CO., 14, BEDFOKD STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1898. PRINTED BY KKLLY'S DIRECTORIES, LIMITED, 182, 183 AND 184, HIGH HOLBORS, W.C. AND KIXGSTON-ON-THAMF.S. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAOK I. — Something Happens . . . . 1 II. — The Stoet of a New Religion . 9 III. — A Plunge into a Strange World . 16 IV. — John Strode 26 V. — The Story of the Diamonds . . 33 VI. — The Sanctuary of the Peacemakers 45 VII. — Mrs. Matthew ..... 51 VIII. — All Sorts and Conditions of Men ! 60 IX. — Under the Veneer . . 70 X. — The Difference in a Choice . . 85 XI. — A Thunderbolt 92 XII. — No Alternative . . . . 112 XIII. — A Way Out of the Difficulty . . 126 XIV.— On a Lonely Path . . . . 136 XV — A Ray of Light 148 XVI.— The Little Bird . . . . 158 XVII. — Plain Speaxing 171 XVILL— Thoughts CONTENTS.

VI CHAP. PAGE XIX. — A Great Social Event . . .193 XX. — A Wall of Adamant . . . 201 XXI. — Breaking Bounds . . . .212 XXII. — A Momentous Interview . . 224 XXIII.— The Worm Will Turn . . .236 XXIV.— On a New Road .... 248 XXV.— Hurrah! 260 XXVI.— Lost! 272 XXVII.— Thirty Years of Waiting . .

Chapter I. Something Happens

It is wonderful to note as we go through life how in a single moment the whole current of our existence may be irrevocably changed. A sudden thrill shot through Florence Milvane's heart. It was not, as a general rule, a heart that was troubled with thrills or qualms of any kind; for Florence Milvane was a staid little woman, who went to business in the City every morning at ten o'clock and did her full share of work during a stated number of hours, and sometimes, if there happened to be a press of business on, for a longer time than the regulation slice of the day which constituted her working-time. She was pretty, yes, very pretty, of a fair and ethereal type both of face and person ; she had a sweet refined voice, was worth just fifty shillings a week to her employers, shared rooms with a girl friend, went for bicycle rides on Saturday afternoons and generally on Sundays too, belonged to a choral society, and was just turned four and twenty.

As I have said she was a staid little person, and in truth she had had enough experience of the sad side of life to make her so, for Flo, as her own people called her, was the eldest of a large and fatherless family. Her father had been in business in rather a large way, but he had died suddenly when comparatively young and had left his widow with about two hundred a year, on which she had to do the best she could for the young brood who had been accustomed to a large house run on generous lines. Mercifully the very young adapt themselves to change of circumstance with wonderful rapidity, and by the time Flo Milvane was turned seventeen, she as naturally found herself looking out for something to do, as she would have naturally looked out for a situation as a domestic servant, had her father hap pened to be a blacksmith.

She was not without influence, for Thomas Milvane had been a straight man possessed of many friends, and at least half a dozen business houses were ready with an offer of a place for his daughter. Her career in the City has little or nothing to do with this story, it is sufficient to say that after she entered upon it she never cost her mother a penny for her personal needs, and after twelve months had gone by, she began to pay for her own board and lodging. Two years after this Mrs. Milvane fell in for a small inheritance including a pleasant cottage a few miles from London, and left her small abode at Brixton to go and dwell under her own vine and fig-tree in the country. It was at this period that SOMETHING HAPPENS. 3 Flo Milvane went into rooms together with a girl friend. And as I said before, when she had just turned four and twenty, a sudden thrill shot through her heart.

The cause of the thrill was a young man, of course — it almost goes without saying ! There was, if the truth be told at once, a corresponding disturbance in the heart which beat beneath his smart frock-coat, there was a light in his blue eyes which found an answering shine in her grey ones — in short, these two, who had met and become acquainted in a dry-as-dust office over the details of most unsentimental bargains, had fallen in love with each other. " Do you cycle, Miss Milvane ? " he asked, some what diffidently one day, when he had concluded the business part of his conversation. She brightened up as a girl does when she is unexpectedly asked about a favourite pursuit. " Oh, yes," she replied, " I cycle a lot, whenever I get the chance, in fact. I have a Swift — a beauty." " I ride a Beeston - Humber," he said, very seriously.

" But I must say I've heard great things of Swifts. Are you — that is, would — I mean are you ever open to a ride ? " " I don't often go out in the evening excepting in summer," she replied. "But I go somewhere every Saturday afternoon and most Sundays." " Would you go for a ride with me one day ? " he asked still more diffidently. 1* " I'd love to," she returned promptly. "Say Saturday?" he suggested. It was then Thursday, be it known. " I'd like it immensely. " Where shall I come for you ? " " I live at Brixton," she replied. " I always go home to lunch and start about half an hour after." " Then I'll come down for you. If I am there by two-sharp, will that suit you ? " She replied that it would suit her exactly, and then he took down her address in his pocket book, and they parted, he going out of the dingy office looking as pleased as possible, she remaining behind with her brain in a whirl and her heart all aglow.

During that Saturday's ride she learned a good deal about him and his belongings. His name of course she had known for a long time, ever since one bright May morning when he had walked into the office saying that he had an appointment with Mr. Weaver, the head of the firm. She learned his Christian name for the first time during that first outing — it was Matthew — Matthew Gorman. " My sisters call me Matt," he said looking at her as if to see whether she approved of the name or not. Flo was discreetly silent and kept all her atten tion fixed upon her machine. They were spinning away down a pleasant and well kept suburban road. "Jolly houses these," said Matt Gorman, indicating the trim detached villas on either hand by a gesture of his arm. SOMETHING HAPPENS. 5 "Delightful!" said Flo. "But they mean money, Mr. Gorman."

"To a certain extent," he rejoined carelessly. Flo Milvane laughed. "You may put it that way," she said gaily, " but to me such a house as one of these implies an income of so much and no less." " It would be easy enough for you to acquire such au income, Miss Milvane," he said earnestly. " I'd like to know how," she exclaimed, turning her dark-set grey eyes upon him. "It's simple enough — by marrying a man who can give it to you. Nothing could be easier," he said quietly and yet with meaning. She started and smiled. "Yes, that might be an easy way — and on the other hand it might not." " Easy enough for you." " Do you think so ? " She felt what was coming and her fencing was of a kind not intended to ward off his next words. " Let's rest here awhile," he suggested. " There is actually a seat."

He caught her bicycle from her as she dropped lightly to the ground, and set it carefully against the paling which skirted the road. " Do you know why I asked you to come out with me to-day?" he asked. "No? Then I'll tell you. I want you to marry me. I know that you don't know me so very well, but — but do you think it's necessary to know one another so very long beforehand ? One glance was enough for me." "Was it?" Her tone invited him to go on, and he took advantage of it. " Wasn't it for you ? Don't you think we were made for each other, you and I ? I do. I'm a good sort of fellow — we have a splendid business in Mullingham — I'm partner with my father. You should have as good a house as any of these " — with a jerk of his head towards the road down which they had just come. She flashed a look at him.

" And what should I, without a penny to my nams, bring to you ? " "Yourself — your sweet charming dainty dear little self. Say yes — only say yes, and make me the happiest fellow in all England to-day." " I — I might say yes — but your people, your father and mother ? " she began. "My father and mother — they won't interfere with me," he said confidently. " If I say yes — it must be conditionally on their consenting," she said at last. " Good, then it's the same thing as settled. What day will you go down to see them ? " " How far is it to Mullingham ? " " About four hours and a half." " Because I — how am I to leave ? I don't expect any holiday before Christmas — I get three days then." " Christmas ! " he echoed with scorn — " and this the beginning of November ! Pooh ! I want to be married before that."

" Before Christmas ! " SOMETHING HAPPENS. 7 " Yes, of course ; what's the good of wasting time waiting ? I want my wife." She looked at him from under her long eye lashes with a glance of admiration. " You have soon made up your mind," she said. He drew her a trifle nearer to him. " A man who can't make up his mind on any subject — sharp, is an ass," he replied. " Yes, but — " " Tell me, haven't you already made up yours ? I had you there, Sweetheart, don't you think ? Well, this is Saturday — I go home on Tuesday, for I cannot get through my business before then — I shall write home at once, to-night. If my mother writes to you by return, could you manage to go down on Saturday by the train from Euston at one o'clock, which will land you at home just in time for dinner." " And when could I get back — late on Sunday ?

" " My people won't like your travelling on Sunday," he said promptly. " But there's a train that leaves Mullingham at six in the morning which gets you at Euston at half-past ten. I'm afraid, my poor darling, you will land at your office more dead than alive but — " "Not at all — I've done the same thing before many a time." " And you can relieve your feelings by giving notice," he said laughing. "Not before you have seen my mother," she rejoined quickly and with a sudden accession of dignity in her tones. He could not help smiling. " I thought you would take me down to see her to-morrow," he said very meekly. " Before your people have given their consent ? " doubtfully. "My people's consent is a foregone conclusion," he declared. " I believe there is a telegraph-office about a mile further on.

Let us send a wire to your mother telling her to expect us to-morrow. Come." " I see — " said Flo — " that from this time forward Florence Milvane will not know what it is to have any sort of a soul of her own." " On the contrary," he said quickly, " you will have two souls — yours and mine. Come, let us push on. It is chilly here for you."

Chapter II. The Story Of

A NEW RELIGION. A religion which was born and grew out of the unsatisfied longings of one bleeding human heart. As soon as it was possible to do so, Florence Milvane received a letter from Matthew Gorman's mother. It was written on the thickest of paper, had a crest or device in the corner, and the address printed very clearly in dark blue letters. " The Abode of Peace, Mullingham. " November 16, 18 . " My Dear Miss Milvane, " My son has written to me of the new relation which has arisen between you and him, and I hasten to assure you that if your engagement to each other prove to be conducive to peace iu our family circle, I shall very gladly and cordially welcome you to our midst. My son says there is a possibility of your being able to come down to pay us a short visit next Saturday. Any arrangement you make with him will be pleasant and convenient to me.

I will reserve all further remarks until we meet excepting just to say that the fact of my son's having chosen you for his wife prepossesses me in your favour, as he has not hitherto been a general admirer of our sex ; and also the fact that you have made your consent consequent upon ours adds greatly to the feeling that he has chosen one who will only add to and not in any way take from our circle. " Cordially yours, " Margaret Gorman." The handwriting was clear and strong, the cali graphy of a woman of education and of natural refinement. Something in the general tone of the letter struck the girl as forced, and as unusual. And what a name for a house — " The Abode of Peace." In her journeyings to and fro, she daily passed " The Hut," " The Dove Cot," " The Cedars " and " The Tower House," while " Windermere " — " Huonferne "— " Ben Nevis" and "Merryfield" greeted her from time to time when she extended her walks or rides further afield.

But " The Abode of Peace " ! It was on a level with " The Ark of Noah." Of a certainty Florence Milvane was not a little mystified. Then the phrasing of the letter itself, " If your engagement to each other prove to be conducive to peace in our family circle," and so on. What a very curious way of welcoming her son's fiancee ! Of course it was true that some young wives did make things " hum " in their husband's family in a very unpleasant way. She had known several instances of girl-friends who had never seemed able to rest until they had alienated their husbands from all their own people, but she made no doubt that such desire had come upon them after the ceremony of marriage had been performed and not before it. On the Wednesday morning Matthew Gorman came in to tell her that he had been detained in London by fresh business connected with the firm and to ask her to dine with him and go to a theatre afterwards.

" I shall go down to-morrow by the one o'clock train," he said. She was, naturally enough, quite willing to share in the proposed programme, and when they had decided on both the place of dining and the theatre that they would go to, she told him that she had had a letter from his mother. " I thought you would have. It was all right, of course ; at least mine was." "I'll show it to you to-night," she said smiling up at him. " And now do go, for I'm fearfully busy." He went off then but was waiting in the street for her when she left the office. He had already dressed for the evening so that he was able to go down to Brixton with her. As soon as they were settled in the railway carriage, she showed him the letter which she had received from his mother. He read it quickly through, put it in the envelope again, and gave it back to her.

" You see I was right," he said smiling. She hesitated a little. " Matt," she said at last, " would you mind — I mean may I say, at least ask plainly — er — i3 there something — something un usual about your family ? " " Unusual — no, of course not," in accents of profound astonishment. " You're thinking that my mother's letter is a bit cold in tone ? She's not a gushing woman it's true, but a splendid character, and her friendship is worth having. And she has gone through a lot in her time, poor dear." " I didn't mean that exactly," said Flo. " I've no love for gush, I can assure you. What I meant was — well, it's such a queer name for a house, The Abode of Peace ! " Matt Gorman burst out laughing. " By Jove," he exclaimed, " I forgot to tell you about that, you poor little puzzled mystified thing.

Upon my word, I'm so happy it has pretty well driven everything else out of my head. The truth is, my darling, that my father and mother, especially my father, are not Church people " " Methodists ! " she exclaimed. " No, by Jove, it would be better if they were. The fact is that many years ago, my father got a great shock — and he invented, or practically invented, a new religion." " Good gracious ! And what do they call themselves ? " " The Peacemakers ! " he answered. "The Peacemakers," she echoed. "And how does it work ? " " Well, they have a little chapel. I think the entire congregation is under fifty souls. My father pays the piper and generally sets the tune. There's a minister, a nice old chap who has seen a good deal of the storm and stress of life and is thankful to have found a haven of refuge for the end of his days.

His daughter plays the organ — yes, they've got an organ, rather a nice one, the governor gave a hundred and fifty pounds for it — and she runs the Sunday School." " And your sisters ? " " They ? Well, they used to do a bit in the Sunday School, but there are only seven or eight children now, as it happens, and, somehow, they don't feel active over it." " But what do they believe — the Peacemakers, I mean ? " "Upon my word I hardly know. In peace, of course — that first and foremost. You see, it came about in this way. My father was the son of a widower, who married three times after my grand mother died. Each fresh wife was worse and more interfering and quarrelsome than the last one, and when, at last, wife No. 4 succeeded in breaking off my father's engagement to the girl of his heart, he came to a way of thinking that if only a poor soul could have peace, everything in life would be easy.

The girl married somebody else and died early, and after that my father came in for his father's business and the bulk of his property and he founded the sect of the Peacemakers." " Does it work ? " asked Flo. " In a way, yes. The old man is happy enough and my mother, who joined the sect years ago, before she was married, lives up to all his principles both in letter and spirit. For myself I'm so used to the— the— everyday habit of it all that I think no more about it than Church people think of themselves as miserable sinners, unless, that is, something calls it especially to mind." " Then you are a Peacemaker by birth and habit, not by conviction," she suggested. "Exactly so, and therefore I don't think very much about it one way or another. Of course, you know, there's nothing so red-hot as a 'vert to any faith."

They reached Brixton Station then so did not pursue the subject further. Flo, her curiosity being satisfied, was not very keenly interested. She was young, she was very much in love and she was on the eve of making what for her cir cumstances was a brilliant marriage. She was very soon going to forget that she had ever lived on fifty shillings a week, she was going to be well-off, to have a seal-skin jacket and several servants. All the old pinching days of work and comparative poverty would soon be at an end, and in the happy prospect of an affluent career with Matt Gorman, she was not minded to search very closely for the pea of discord which might be found under eleven mattresses, as was found by the Princess in the old fairy-tale. If Matt's father and mother liked to indulge themselves in a religion all of their own, particularly such a very mild and harmless one as theirs seemed to be, why, it did not hurt anyone else, and would hurt her least of all.

Indeed although a very good little Churchwoman who scarcely ever missed a Sunday morning service, she made up her mind that if it would please them for her to become a Peacemaker, she would join the new sect from the day of her marriage, yes, that she would. And as she dressed in haste, a mist of tears came before her eyes at the thought of the broken hearts upon which the religion of the Peacemakers had been founded, the wonderful faith which had been built upon a foundation of pain.

Chapter III

A PLUNGE INTO A STRANGE WORLD. One of the most curious sensations in life is that which a young woman experiences when she first goes to be inspected by her future husband's near relations. It was with strangely mingled feelings that Florence Milvane left Euston the following Satur day at one o'clock that she might go down to Mullingham to make the acquaintance of her future husband's family. It was, in the first place, a dreadful ordeal for a girl to undergo, to make a visit for the purpose of being inspected. In the second place she was hardly, as yet, well enough used to Matt to feel really at ease. And to be with him among a wholly strange family who all knew him extremely well rendered the situation still more appalling. However, Matt himself appeared at the last stopping-place, some twenty-five miles on the London side of Mullingham, and Matt looked so smart and nice in his country clothes, and was moreover so unfeignedly delighted to see her, that she straightway forgot her fears and gave her self up to the pleasure of seeing him again.

Some of the qualms came back again as they ran into Mullingham station and when Matt looking out of the window said, "Hollo, there's Polly on the platform — and Matty. I do call that decent of them," she looked eagerly out to see two tall stylish looking girls eagerly scanning the windows of the carriages. " There he is," she heard one say to the other amid shouts of " Mull'gham — Mull'gham," and the next minute they had rushed to the door and were trying to open it. " Here you are," called out one in a loud hearty voice — " We were so afraid you would miss the train or something," cried the other. "Welcome to Mullingham," cried the two, as Flo reached the platform. She was small and slight and they were tall and well-grown and she seemed to disappear under the overpowering warmth of their welcome.

" You are a dear little thing," exclaimed Matty. " And we are so glad to see you. You look after her luggage and we'll go straight to the carriage. Yes," as they led her off — " you don't know how glad we are that Matt isn't going to marry a Mullingham girl. We don't know one that we should really like." " One," corrected Polly. " Amy ? Well, yes, we shouldn't have minded Amy, but she is engaged to some one else, and, besides that, Matt never could bear her. There are plenty of nice girls in Mullingham — oh, yes, heaps of them, but not to be sisters-in-law somehow." " I always think it's better to marry away from one's own place and then families don't get to quarrelling over the young couple's affairs," Polly chimed in. "This way— yes, that's the carriage. John, this is Miss Milvane — he's been with us twenty years, so speak to him," she added in a loud whisper to Flo.

Flo at once put out her hand to the old coachman. " How do you do ? " she said, in her sweet voice. "You're right welcome, Miss," said John touching his hat and then taking the proffered hand. "The Lord shed His blessings on you, Miss, and give you peace in all your life. Mr. Matthew's a rare fine fellow, Miss; I've known him twenty years." Flo felt inclined to choke and hardly knew what to say. Matty, however, being better used to the ways of the Peacemakers — for John was a con firmed Peacemaker — relieved the situation easily enough. " Ah, you always spoil Mr. Matthew, John, but it's a shame to show your partiality as you do. You wouldn't say as much for any of your young ladies. Now, Flo dear, get in — and we'll get in with you till Matt comes." "Till Matt comes? " Flo exclaimed. "Yes, of course.

Why, you don't suppose we are such idiots as to drive home with you ? Good gracious, what do you take us for?" " Of course you will. Is it far — your house ? " " A mile or so — we shall be there almost as soon as you will. Besides, we have something to do in the town." " The carriage can wait," said Flo eagerly ; she felt instinctively that her entrance into the domestic circle would be easier if these two fine out-spoken girls were with her. " And earn Matt's hatred for ever — oh, here he is." " Matt," said Flo eagerly. " Your sisters want to walk — just because I'm here." " Oh, they needn't do that," he replied. " My dear," said Matty, " I assure you we never get into the old tub if we can help it. Go along with Matt, you dear unselfish little thing, and don't waste a thought upon us. What you mustn't waste is time, for Mother is very anxious to see you."

Flo caught hold of her future sister-in-law's hand. " Matty," she said earnestly, " do you think she'll like me ? " " Yes — and you will like her. She's sweet, sweet — oh," in an almost fierce whisper — " that's no word for Mother. She's a saint, if ever one trod the earth." The significance of her tone struck the girl, who was a stranger, as with a flash of pain, but before she could speak, Matt touched her arm saying, " Now if you are quite ready, dearest " and the next moment she found herself in the carriage, which immediately rolled away from the blazing station lights into the comparative darkness of the gas-lit road. 2* She realized long before she got to the " Abode of Peace " that it was a good deal more than a mile from the station. It seemed a very long time before Matt said " Ah, here we are," and the carriage was stopped that the entrance gates might be opened.

And then a curious little ceremony was gone through. A bright faced woman came to the door of the carriage saying, in a solemn voice, " Peace be on you," to which Matt replied in a cheery tone — " And on you also." Then the carriage rolled on into the darkness of a longish avenue. Arrived at the house itself Flo was cheered by the streams of light which flooded out upon them. A grey-haired butler came down the wide steps as they drew up, and opened the door with the same solemn yet comforting greeting, " Peace be on you." " And on you also," Matt replied ; then added, " This is the future Mrs. Matthew, William." " Welcome to the Abode, Miss," said William. " The mistress has been rare and anxious — there she is, Mr. Matthew." To her dying day Flo knew that she would never forget her first sight of Matthew Gorman's mother.