Wondrous strange : a novel

Front matter

■ I ■ ■ ■ I I ■ I I I I In 1 vol. Price 12_. ON CHANGE OF CLIMATE, A GUIDE FOR TRAVELLERS I_ PURSUIT OF HEALTH. By THOMAS MORE MADDEN, M.D., M.R.C.S. E.\g. Illustrative of the Advantages of the various localities resorted to by- Invalids, for the cure or alleviation of chronic diseas es, especially consumption. With Observations on Climate, and its Influence on Health and Disease, the result of extensive personal experience of many Southern Climes. SPAIN, PORTUGAL, ALGERIA, MOROCCO, FRANCE, ITALY, THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c. " Dr. Madden's book deserves confidence— a most accurate and excel lent work." — Dublin Medical Review. " It cannot but be of much service to such persons as propose leaving home in search of recreation, or a more benign atmosphere. The Doctor's observations relate to the favourite haunts of English invalids.

He criticises each place seriatim in every point of view." — Reader. "We strongly advise all those who are going abroad for health's sake to provide themselves with this book. They will find the author in these pages an agreeable gossiping companion as well as a professional adviser, who anticipates most of their difficulties." — Dublin Evening Mail. " To the medical profession this book will be invaluable, and to those in ill-health it will be even more desirable, for it will be found uot merely a guide for change of climate, but a most interesting volume cf travel." — Globe. "Dr. Madden is better qualified to give an opinion as to the salubrity of the places most frequented by invalids than the majority of Writers on the subject. — Liverpool Albion. " There is something, and a great deal too, for almost every reader in this volume, for the physician, for the invalid, for the historian, for the antiquarian, and for the man of letters.

Dr. Madden has rendered a necessary service to the profession and to the public upon the subject under notice." — DubhnEvening Post. " Dr. Madden's work is fraught with instruction that must prove useful both to practitioners and patients who study it." — Sounders' xVews Letter. " Dr. Madden deserves the thanks of all those persons afflicted with that dire disease, consumption — as well as of those who suffer from chronic bronchitis, asthma, _c. It is the best work on change of climate that has ever been presented to the public." — Daily Post. NEW NOVEL, by the Cousin of the late W. M. THACKERAY. Two Vols., Post 8vo. A HEART T .VICE WON, By H. L. STEVENSON, Dedicated (by permission of his daughters) to the Memory of her Cousin, the late W. M. Thackeray. " The characters are limned with a steady pencil, and the colouring dashed in with broad lights." — Worcester Herald.

Chapter I

Beatrice with her pretty white dress — so simple and girlish — with a flush upon her cheek — a flush of conscious, inherent, inborn power, which some possess as a gift — sat waiting, when Mr. Erie entered, with that affectation of ease and selfcontent which had simulated his old independent bearing. "Up still!" he exclaimed, angrily, " and yet disdainful of my message, which I sent to my own child, before a room full of com pany, and in presence of her future mother, whose love it pleases her to scorn." ' Your wife, papa ; but my mother, never," VOL. III. B said Beatrice, a fire gathering in her eye, and her nostrils slightly distended ; " I have pro mised an enforced submission, on the condition that that wrord is left unmentioned between us." " Be it so," was the haughty reply. "Lat tice's love need not go begging — I can give her enough for both of us ; but tell me why you refused my request.

Lord Annerly seemed greatly distressed at your absence, and surely if your own home is likely to have so hated a mistress, you need not be so chary of making one for yourself." Tears rushed to her eyes. " Surely, papa, your marriage does not make my remaining at home disagreeable to you." Mr. Erie softened. " I do not like to be contradicted," he said; " how shall I rule my new wife if my own child sets the example of rebellion." "You never will rule her," thought Beatrice, but the words died on her lips. " Oh, papa, surely I have suffered enough to-day to earn your pity, not your anger ; we shall both live to repent this day's work. I could not do more even for you, and except by your positive order I cannot make one in these festivities. You have sent me back to my studies, leave me time to attend to them — it will be wiser so — you know I have more of your haughty temper than my lost mother's yielding sweetness.

Lady Letitia might as well seek to chain a Boadicea to her triumphant chariot, as to drag me in her train." " She is not a woman to be offended lightly." " I know it, but I have passed through so much trouble that I have grown brave by experience." "You speak like a spoiled child — you know she all but worships you." " I know it and I wonder at it, for never have I given her a loving word, or more than a look of compassion or of pity." "You should repay her with gratitude now.'' B " Papa, why question me on this sub ject — why tempt me to disrespect ? you know my opinion of her — you knew it before you paid your addresses to her — I do not willingly offend you by bringing it forward, but if you question me I must deal honestly — I am no hypocrite — I do not parade my feelings — I treat her with no incivility, beyond avoidance of her, which is excused by the studies which you, papa, reoommended, when you wished me to be both absent, deaf, and blind to your actions ; since I may not influence them, let me be so still.

Cheerfully would I cut off my right arm if I could save you from this mar riage, but since I must submit, let me submit in absence and in silence." " Beatrice," he said, putting his arm round the excited girl, " I am afraid that I have made a hornet's nest for myself, I almost wish I had never stirred in this matter." The light of the early morning was mingling with the moonlight now — surely if there be any time of day which convicts us of our shortcomings) it is the cold passionless light of the dawn. " Then why not go back ? " cried Beatrice. " Impossible ! " said Mr. Erie , " I all but broke her heart the other day by leaving her — I could not attempt it again ; no man living shall ever say I treated a woman dishonour ably." " Would it be dishonourable ? oh, surely a way might be found."

"There may be many byeways. I walk always straight on, Beatrice ; it would kill her ; she loves me better than your mother did." " More, but not better ! my mother loved you after her Maker ; but Lady Letitia loves you before Him, and for you would not only break her heart, but peril her soul." " I know it," said Mr. Erie, in a strange moody tone. " And yet you will trust her with your honour, your happiness ?" " I cannot kill her, I will not break my word, or prove myself that which all men may point a finger at. Perhaps, it is better my child, to say no more on the subject, for we cannot shake or change each other's opinion, but I wish you had come to-night. " I had another reason for remaining," said Beatrice ; alas ! she knew that the coming of the beloved friend was feared and dreaded.

" What other reason ?" "Mr. Lincoln came to-night." Mr. Erie turned deadly pale, and with drawing a few paces, stood looking at her. " To-night, to-night of all nights ; would that it had been to-morrow night." "Why to-morrow?" " I am going away for a little time, and I would rather have met him after my return, when he would have had time to cool upon this business. How did he take it ?" " He was terribly grieved, you know how grieved when he is gone to the inn to-night; but papa, where are you going ? may I not go with you ?" "No, Mrs. Castleton will remain with you. I am only running up to Edinburgh for a week or two." " Mr. Lincoln said he would come up and see you about eleven to-morrow morning," said Beatrice, a chill terror creeping to her heart, " I shall be so dull without Agnes, do let me go."

" No, silly child, you will not be dull, but you fancy I cannot get on without you. I promised to breakfast at the Castle, but I shall come back to meet Lincoln, or perhaps call on him at the ' Babbits' after breakfast. Does he look well ?" " A little sunburnt, but he scarcely looked well when he left me." "You are all prejudiced, all against me. " Surely not Mr. Lincoln ?" " Yes, all prejudiced, and one-sided, as if I had not a right to make a devoted woman happy, without everyone's being so disturbed. about it. I wish he had come to-morrow night." WONDROUS STRANGE. Beatrice was deeply hurt, never before had she seen the full strength of the charm which Lady Letitia had worked round him. " Oh, papa ! you fear that men should point their fingers at you, and yet you treat your friend so." " My friend only wants to lecture me as you have been doing," said Mr. Erie, with that quick irresistible smile which no senate house had ever been able to resist.

" If you have bound him over to keep the peace, I will go and seek him to-night;" then more seriously, " Lincoln and I must not quarrel, that mis fortune must not befal me. I am bent on my course, as the river to the sea — that sea, you will say, will be wild and boisterous, treacherous, dark and uncertain; no matter, the river is bent, and he who attempts to dam up or turn its course, would be like to be over whelmed in the angry flood. I will not so treat Lincoln ; grant that I am a mad man, I would not tear him" (a curious light, so like the light of madness, stole up to his eye ; WONDROUS STRANGE. Beatrice had seen it before, and feared it — she feared it now), "grant that I am a fool, no man shall say I acted with his advice when I dealt in folly ; grant that I am doing a so nl wrong to the memory so dear to me — his hands shall be clear of stain — slight my friend, Beatrice, you cannot measure my love for that man.

Tell him so, tell him I who never feared anything fear him, because I love him." "Tell him," questioned Beatrice, timidly, " why not tell him yourself?" " Ah yes, I forgot," he said dreamily. " Good night, dear child, do not cry any more for Agnes, she has the husband of her choice, who could give her more ? Be satisfied that in that matter, at least, I have acted for the best ; and, if this strongly recommended Lord Annerly displease you, frown on him with my permission. Go, good night." He embraced her tenderly — so tenderly that she trembled, for every change of his humour lately had been but the forerunner of b disaster, but though she would have gladly renewed her petition to go with him to Edin burgh, she obeyed him and left the room. Then Mr. Erie seated himself, as if faint with sudden exhaustion, and the big drops of anguish stood out upon his forehead, his forehead which the chaste lips of his wife had so often pressed with a holy kiss.

" Oh ! " he cried to himself, " that I should have lived to see a day in which I am ashamed to meet him. I must be mad, for though I despise myself, I hurry on to my own con tempt " How many men excuse their folly by arraigning their sanity. Are we not all mad wnen our passions are allowed to overmaster us?

Chapter II

The next morning rose bright and gladsome as a child's awakening. Every scent and sound about Linderside spoke of love and peace, and the watchful mercy which has left our ruined world, a ruin of beauty and glory, sufficient to attest the full perfection of its first state. The waterfall, whose rush in winter time had formed so magnificent a part of the little domain, was hushed now to a pleasant murmuring fall, which came refresh ingly on the senses, and the wild rose which garnished its rocky side sparkled half in spray and half in sunshine. The window of the small dining room was open where Beatrice sat at her breakfast alone, for Mr. Erie had gone early to the castle, and Mrs. Castleton had slept there and had not returned. Beatrice liked her less for her intimacy with Lady Letitia, but she passed that by and never spoke of it if possible.

She was thinking now as she sat surrounded by the pleasant summer scene, of what she might have been if life had been all summer with her ; and devoutly acknow ledging the force and strength which wintry storms had given to her character. She could suffer now, suffer, and yet be strong ; be patient until the storm went, and even amidst its wildest howlings, hear the still small voice of comfort, speaking to her songs in the night, songs of comfort which made her glad, when seemingly alone in sorrow. " Shakespeare was right," she said, lookino out at the sunlit garden ; " ' sweet are the uses of adversity,' sweeter far than prosperity, and it is the path of sorrow which leads to that bright world which we can never enjoy, unless our souls have been refined according to the wisdom of its Heavenly King."

With these thoughts she turned to meet the anxieties of the day, and they were many. A carriage stopped at the gate, and over shadowed its windows, from which Mrs. Castleton alighted. She waited carefully to dismiss it, lingered until the carriage had driven off, and then, without knocking, came in by the open door. She was a plump little woman, with smooth fair skin, mild blue eyes, soft brown hair and dimpled white hands. She was never angry, never ' obtrusive, but always watchful. She had a light good humoured voice, and a childish laugh. She never seemed to meddle, and yet was everywhere. She came in now with a pleasant good morning, and an apology for having left her so long. " Thank you," said Beatrice, " I have not been lonely, Mr. Lincoln was here last night, and I was glad to meet him without company."

She distanced Mrs. Castleton by always treating her as a guest. " Mr. Lincoln is honoured," replied Mrs. Castleton, with her childish laugh. " He deserves all honour that I can pay him," said Beatrice, decidedly. " What would not my Lord Annerly give for even an hour alone with Miss Erie ?" Beatrice's colour rose, but she liked not sharp retorts, and carefully abstained from playing with dangerous weapons with this lady, whom she had already learned to look upon as a spy. " Is papa coming?" she said after a silence, " he promised to be here by eleven, and it is now only a quarter to the hour." " Lovers are proverbially forgetful of time," smiled Mrs, Castleton; "he is with Lady Letitia." " Do not let me detain you from taking off your bonnet," said Beatrice stiffly ; " the day is unusually warm, or I fancy so."

Mrs. Castleton went, still smiling, but returned in a few minutes, and seated herself with some pretty fancy work. " I wish I could induce you to like needle work," she said placidly; "you would find in it such a nice diversion to your thoughts." " I thought," returned Beatrice, who sat by the window, looking out with beating heart, and anxious mind, " that work was only wo man's pretty excuse for thinking." "It is woman's natural occupation," smiled her companion. " Mamma made us learn all kinds of work, she often spoke of poor Marie Antoinette and Madame Elizabeth mending their clothes in prison, and let us make all sorts of things for the poor." " Perhaps the less you say about your poor mamma the better now." " I will not speak of her to you, if you do not wish it ; but surely the lady who submits to keep me company, should have patience _> with the subject in which I am most deeply interested ; now as at all other times."

"I did but speak in caution ; your mamma's name being so often on your lips, may not please the Lady Letitia." " I am not so forgetful of good taste," said Beatrice ; " but this is not her presence. In it I will be respectful, on the condition that we are as much apart as ladies under one roof possibly can be." " That will hardly content a lady who loves you so much." " Will papa never come?" cried Beatrice, aloud, in her intense anxiety, lest the already open breach between the friends should be widened by this seeming coldness and disrespect. She left the room and walked to the garden gate, commanding the back entrance by which any one coming from the fields would enter. Having reached it, she saw Mr. Lincoln coming along the open plain, and fearless of the sun she advanced rapidly to meet him.

They met so, not in the shadow, but in the bright sunlight. He grasped her hand and looked down at her anxious face, whilst hurriedly and pathetically she went over the scene of last night, and delivered in broken words the message her father had given. " So if he does not come back directly, you will not misun derstand him," she pleaded earnestly. "Who am I, that I should judge or misjudge him ? " said Lincoln ; the agitation of the night being, if not subdued, at least con cealed by his usual calm and collected bearing. " Come into the house, or at least under the shadow of those elms — or you will have a sunstroke." She turned with him, for they had been standing side by side, both unconsciously watching the castle walls — from whose gates they expected to see Mr. Erie coming, and as they turned they perceived Mrs. Castleton walking towards them with a smile, carrying one blue sunshade over her head and another in her fat dimpled white hand.

Beatrice introduced her a little haughtily. " I trembled to see you standing in the sun, my dear. How can you be so regardless of your complexion ? " Mr. Lincoln thanked her courteously, and taking the parasol opened it and gave it to Beatrice, and they returned together to the house. When they reached the garden gate, Beatrice turned and looked back wistfully. " No papa yet," she murmured. Mr. Lincoln thought he saw a nervous change in their companion's face, as she followed Beatrice's eyes. Did she know anything ? he thought. " Well, we will wait for him here under these trees," whispered Lincoln to Beatrice. " We can see him by whichever road he comes; and I would rather meet him first alone." "Oh, yes, you shall, but you will remember his message," she entreated. " Do not fear me," he returned in the same low tone.

" I have no thought but that of saving him if possible." Mrs. Castleton here attempted enter into conversation ; if Mr. Lincoln's absent re plies could be worthy of such a term. His words were given in answer to her mellow toned sentences ; but his eyes alternately watched the two roads leading to the cottage, or were occupied in scanning his younger companion. Perhaps, he perceived for the first time that she had gone out of mourning. She wore a muslin of a delicate shade of lilac, the nearest approach to black which she dared preserve, fastened at the waist with a steel buckle; a steel brooch also fastened the little lace collar at the throat — she had not even a black ribbon about her, but neither had she anything which had any colour beyond the soft shade of lilac in her dress. He looked down sadly at it.

"Is not the black permitted?" he asked. " No," sighed Beatrice. " I had no choice but to change it. Mamma never liked obstinacy in little things." She was right, it was but a little point after all, and yet it was hard. " It would not have done to have preserved the black after Mrs. Holmes's marriage," interposed Mrs. Castleton, smiling up to them. lie looked round at her with a glance which seemed as if suddenly awakened to her presence, and yet withal as keen as if she were a witness in defence of the cause he opposed. Although her fair skin would have shown the slightest change of colour — hers did not vary, and Mr. Lincoln turned away, as if he had already forgotten her observation, at all events he did not answer it. But Mrs Castleton renewed the charge. " A lovely bride we had yesterday, Mr. Lincoln, all smiles and tears — it did one's heart good to see her."

Mr. Lincoln again turned upon her the searching look which in itself was so difficult to read — because so intent on reading her. " Poor Agnes !" sighed Beatrice. " I wonder if I shall hear from her to-morrow ? Mr. Lincoln, did papa tell you that he had made you her trustee? I hope you will accept the office." " Perhaps I might have declined had I been asked, but since the appointment is forced upon me I shall probably let it be. Was it Agnes' wish? " "Yes; against the opinion of Lady Letitia; but on that point papa was quite firm — he had, he said, long ago made you her guardian, and therefore he concluded you would not refuse the trusteeship." " How were the settlements?" asked Mr. Lincoln. " I know nothing about them," replied Beatrice ; " beyond the fact that Agnes said she was quite satisfied."

" I heard from the Lady Letitia that they were extremely liberal," smiled Mrs. Castle ton. Mr. Lincoln took out his watch, and Beatrice noticed how soon he seemed to weary of the painful subject of Agnes' marriage. It was a new phase of feeling to her ; that way by which so many men shrink from showing the pain they feel, for so far as he spoke of her, Agnes might have been a mere stranger, save that he avoided the very mention of her name. It was twelve o'clock — an hour and more they had walked beneath the elm trees. Beatrice's steps flagged ; but Mrs. Castleton looked as cheerful and easy as ever. " Oh ! that he would come. Oh ! to treat his friend so ; to leave him when he has returned from long absence and from mortal danger — oh ! my father, this is cruel. Can he have gone without seeing him ?" were Beatrice's thoughts.

The church clock, which they could scarcely see amidst the trees, struck out the hour very slowly. They all stood and listened to the strokes as they fell upon the still hot air. Mr. Lincoln's face grew pale, and turning to Beatrice he whispered rapidly : " We cannot be responsible for that which we do not possess — my influence is gone. May I be forgiven if I ever ill-used the gift while I did possess it." " Oh ! no, no ; not gone," cried Beatrice, aloud, and forgetful of Mrs. Castleton. " I hear the front gate — he must have passed the road while we were walking the other way," and leaving them she seemed to fly, rather than walk, to the house, vanishing through the glass door which communicated with the garden, leaving Mr. Lincoln alone with his fat and smiling companion.

Chapter III

Mr. Lincoln paused in his walk and looked at Mrs. Castleton. " You will pardon me," he said gravely, " if I say that I am anxious to go to the house alone." " And Mr. Lincoln will pardon me," said the lady, smiling, and thereby showing the dimples on her fat cheeks, " if I say that, in spite of the courtesy due to a stranger, I am bound to act according to my orders ; indeed, I am here only under orders as it were, that I should chaperone this orphan lady at all times and seasons." Mr. Lincoln bowed. " I have no intention to interfere with the duty you so properly exercise with regard to Miss Erie. My words referred only to Mr. Erie, whom I should be glad to meet first alone." " I do not think you will find him in the house," she replied, still smiling, " but if he is there, of course I have no wish to meet him, my duty lying only with Miss Erie.

I will go and see.'' Mr. Lincoln followed her little short, quick, steps with a dignified but sorrowful bearing, until they entered the house together. There was no sound of voices, and no well known face came to meet him. Beatrice alone was seated at a table in the dining-room, poring over a letter which she held in her hand, or rather which was spread out on the table before her. Her cheeks were colourless, as if they had been carved in white marble, and her eye-balls were distended with the wildest anguish. Was there no pity in that smiling face, vol. in. c that instead of leaving her for a moment's comfort Mrs. Castleton should hurry forward with a soft caress and a rapid flow of com passion? Beatrice rose, grasping the letter in her hand, her very lips white and colourless, and nothing but her flashing eye to speak the life which was all agony.

But as her eye fell on Mr. Lincoln she checked the request she was about to make that she would leave the room. A faint colour stole up to the white cheek, and seating herself, she motioned him to a chair, and spread out the letter be tween them. Thus ran the familiar writing, so well known to both — " My dear Beatrice, my own dear child, why is it, I wonder, that my thoughts to-day are less with you, less of you than of Lincoln ? Well might I shrink from seeing him last night, when I stood pledged to make this my wedding day. When you receive this, I and my wife will be on our way to Edinburgh, after a private marriage, at which the Rev. Pearl Hulbert will officiate. My feelings were un equal to any public demonstration, and Agnes' marriage gave excuse for as much festivity as Letitia's popularity amongst her dependents demanded.

Tell Lincoln, life had become such a blank to me that I was forced to fill it up in some way ; nay, if he judges me harshly, better that we part so, with the remembrance of the past only as a link between us, and yet even on my marriage-day, my first and last thought is of him, and of the days when — but I cannot write — forgive any seeming un kindness, and if possible prepare yourself to do your duty by the lady I make my wife. I leave you for a few weeks only, for perhaps we shall go at once to London, to resume my old life, and where Lettice looks forward to nothing more anxiously than to the pleasure of introducing you into society. 11 I am, " Your loving father, " Cuthbert Erle. c " If I could have done any good by telling you, my dear, " said Mrs. Castleton. Beatrice took no notice of her words, but Lincoln raised his head, and looked at her searchingly.

"You know what is in this letter?" he asked. " I do ; but I was under orders to conceal the fact until Mr. Erie himself divulged it." " From whom do you take your orders ? '' "From Lady Letitia Erie." " Beatrice, dearest," whispered Lincoln, not choosing words in his agitation and his fear for her, " we must hope the best now — the matter is taken out of our hands." A sensibility so exquisite as hers seldom takes refuge in fainting, and Beatrice's aching heart knew not a moment's rest in this bitter hour of trouble, and still Mrs. Castleton sat on drinking in every look and word of these two sufferers. "We must try and forget the past," Beatrice shuddered, " there is no hope but in death." " Yes, for his sake we will blind our judg ments," but as he spoke he wrote with his pencil on the letter she still held between them, " One dreadful link in the broken chain — a motive."