Adam Grainger, and other stories ... New edition

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■ ■ ■ ■ I I I I ■ I I I ■ I ■ I ■ ■ I ■ ■ ■ ■ M ■ ADAM GRAINGER, AND OTHER STORIES. ADAM GRAINGEE, AND OTHER STORIES. r.Y MRS. HENRY WOOD, a union of *' EAST 1/VNNE," " THK CIIANXIXGS," " JOHNNY I.UDLOW," ETC, Xcln i^fiition. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, PublisIjCTS in ©rtinarg to $cr £53ajcstD tfjt ©u«n. 1890. (AU rights reserved.) CONTENTS. ADAM GRAINGER: PART THE FIRST. CHAPTER PAGB I. Margapæt .. ... ... ... ... ... i II. Lost ... ... ... ... ... ... 13 III. Regrets ... ... ... ... ... ... 25 IV. Found ... ... ... ... ... 33 PART THE SECOND. I. Sickness ... ... ... ... ... ... 39- II. The Golden Era ... ... ... ... 40 III. Five Thousand a-Year ... ... ... ... GG IV. An Interlude ... ... ... ... ... 79 X. With the Directors ... ... ... ... 105 VI. Results ... ... ... ... ... 117 PART THE THIRD.

I. Drinking it to the Dregs ... ... ... 120 II. Hopeless Misery ... ... ... ... 138 III. A Dream from Heaven ... ... ... ... 153 IV. The Rat op Brightness ... ... ... 1G5 V. Sunshine ... ... ... ... ... ... 178- VI CONTENTS. TASE GINA MONTANI 183 A TOMB IN A FOREIGN LAND 219 KATARINA ORSINI 291 THE SELF-CONVICTED 323 A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 361 RUPERT HALL 395 ALL SOULS' EVE PART THE FIRST.

Chapter I. Margaret

The congregation came pouring out of a fashionable episcopal chapel at the West End of London ; many of them ; for it was the height of the season, and the chapel was popular. Nearly all the carriages drove rapidly off with their freights ; about half-a-dozen only remained, waiting for those who stayed to tho after-service. It had become a recent custom with the preacher, Dr. Channing, to hold it every Sunday. A regal-looking, stately girl appeared nearly last, and entered one of the carriages. The footman closed tho door after her, but he did not ascend to his place, nor did the carriage drive off. It was Miss Channing, and she took her seat there to wait for her father. 1 Adam Grainger. Following her out almost immediately, came a tall, gentlemanly, but young man, whose bright hazel eyes were pleasant to look upon.

He advanced to the carriage-door, and shook hands with her. "You are not staying to-day, Margaret ! Are you ill ? I saw you hasten out." " I felt too ill to stay," was Miss Channing's answer ; whilst a rosy blush, which had stolen to her face at sound of his voice, began rapidly to fade. " I suppose it is the heat." "You are turning deadly pale now, Margaret. I hope you will not faint. Three or four ladies were carried out this morning, I saw." " I never fainted in my life," she replied : " I am made of sterner stuff. I shall soon be better, now I am in the air." " Margaret — He looked round, as he spoke the word, to make sure that the servants were not within hearing : and that conspicuous crimson came mixing with the paleness of her face again. He resumed, in a low tone. " Margaret, don't you think we are going on in a very unsatisfactory way ?

I do." " I think," she said, as if evasively, " that you ought to remember the place we have just quitted, and choose serious subjects to converse upon." An amused expression shone in his handsome eyes. MARGARET. 3 "If this is not a serious subject, Margaret, I should like to know what is." " Oh, but, I mean — another sort of seriousness. You know what I mean. Adam, I shall never make you religious." "Yes, you shall, Margaret: when you have the right to make me what you please." " How did you like papa's sermon to-day ? " she inquired hastily. " Very much, of course." " That portion of it about David and Saul ? " " I did not notice that," he was obliged to confess. " I do believe, Margaret, I was thinking more of you than of the sermon." " Oh, Adam ! that is so bad a habit — letting the thoughts wander in church !

But it may be over come." " Yes, yes : I mean to overcome it, and everything else that you disapprove. Margaret, I have made up my mind to risk our chance. I shall speak to Dr. Channing." She looked startled. "If you do, I will never speak to you again. We must wait." "Wait — wait ! That has been the burden of your song for months, Margaret. But I am growing tired of waiting. I assure you I have been in a desperate humour all this last week. Other men who are established can marry when they please, and I must not even ask for you ! You know Ecldison ? " "A little." " Well, he met a young lady down at his brother's place only last Easter, and arrangements are already made for their marriage." " Papa will not part with me." " That fixed idea of yours, Margaret, is nothing more than an illusion.

Your father, of all men, is not one to fly in the face of scriptural commands. It would be — what's the word that clergymen so dread ? Simony ? " " How very ridiculous you are this morning ! interrupted Miss Channing. " Simony ! " " Sacrilege, then. He knows it is written that a man and wife are to leave father and mother, and cleave to each other. Does he want you to stay with him until you are forty ? " "And besides " Besides what ? " he inquired, when Miss Channing stopped. " I cannot talk about it now. You had better say farewell, Adam. They will soon be out of church." He shook hands, as a preliminary to departure ; but, lover-like, lingered on. Lingered until Dr. Channing appeared. A short, fair, portly, clerical looking divine : in face very unlike his daughter. MARGARET. 5 " Ah, Mr. Grainger, how d'ye do ?

I saw you in your place as usual. Hope Mrs. Grainger's quite well. It is too far for her to come ? And a long way for you, every Sunday morning. I am truly happy to find a young man so earnest and regular in his attendance at a church where his mind can receive the benefit of sound doctrine." An ingenuous flush dyed Mr. Grainger's countenance. But he was unable to reject the compliment. He could not tell the self-satisfied doctor that the attraction lay neither in the church nor the orthodox sermons, but in the pretty face of the preacher's daughter. It was only within a year that Dr. Channing had preached in London, drawing fashion to his fashion able chapel. Previously to that, his ministry had lain in the country, as Rector of Ashton-cum-Creep ham. A fairly profitable living, that, but nothing to the income he was gaining now.

His only child, Margaret, had formed a school friendship with Isabel Grainger, more deep and lasting than school friend ships generally are. Highly respectable people were the Graingers ; Mr. Grainger, the father, holding a valuable appointment in a wealthy metropolitan insurance-office. They lived in the neighbourhood of London, in rather more style than the Channings lived — than the Channings did live, then, at Ash ton Rectory— and the families, through the young ladies, became intimate. It was thus that Miss Channing met with Isabel's only brother, Adam. He was in the office with his father, sufficiently high-spirited and handsome for any girl to fall in love with — though, as Isabel used to say, he was remarkably fond of having his own way. Some two years after leaving school, a lingering illness attacked Isabel Grainger.

The symptoms, trifling at first, grew serious ; from serious they became hopeless. During the progress of this illness, the Channings removed to London, Dr. Channing having given up his Rectory for a West End chapel. Margaret, who had recently lost her mother, was allowed to spend a good portion of time with her friend; and it was round Isabel's death-bed that the liking, which had arisen between Margaret and Adam, grew into love. Since then, other changes had taken place. Mr. Grainger had died ; Adam had succeeded to his post in the insurance -office, and to a salary of eight hundred a-year. Mr. Grainger had received con siderably more; as Adam no doubt would receive in time. But he thought he could marry very well upon this. But Dr. and Miss Channing had not become denizens of town, and of Eaton-place, for nothing.

They were grand people now, living amongst the grand; and MARGARET. 7 they had, perhaps insensibly, acquired exalted ideas. Margaret's ambition and Margaret's heart were at variance. Love prompted her to accept Adam Grainger ; ambition said, Tush ! he is nobody ; I may aspire to a higher sphere. And it is possible these ideas may, in a degree, have tended to deaden her love, if not to weaken it. On the Monday morning, following the Sunday just noticed, Miss Channing went out, and did not return until luncheon time. It was waiting in the dining-room. She laid aside her bonnet, sat down before the tray, and began. Her father was frequently not in at that meal ; at any rate, it was his desire that he should never be waited for. Something that she wanted was not on the table, and she rang for it.

" Papa is out, I suppose ? " she carelessly observed to the man. " No, miss, the doctor is in his study. Mr. Grainger is with him." Mr. Grainger ! All Margaret's appetite left her on the instant. She laid down her knife and fork, and rose in agitation. " To bring matters to an issue so very soon ! " was her resentful thought. A few minutes, and Margaret heard him leave the house. Her father came into the dining-room. Dr. Channing was a passionless man, rarely giving way to emotion of any kind, saving in the pulpit. He was apt to grow excited then; but in ordinary life his exterior was becomingly calm. He sat down, took some fowl on his plate, and requested his daughter to cut him a slice of ham. She proceeded to do so, her heart beating violently, and scarcely conscious of what she was about.

" Margaret ! " exclaimed the doctor, after an interval. She looked up. " Are you expecting visitors ? " "No, papa. Why?" "You are cutting enough ham for half-a-dozen people. Do you wish me to eat all that ? " She blushed violently at the mistake she had made, and pushed the superfluous slices out of sight under neath the joint. She then rose and stood at the window, looking out, but seeing nothing. Dr. Chan ning ate on placidly until he had finished. The suspense was choking her. If Adam Grainger had been asking for her, she must either refuse or accept him : if the latter, why, all her glowing dreams of ambition would fly away ; if the former, life would become a blank she scarcely dared contemplate. Ap parently her father was not going to speak. The tray was gone down now, and he had taken up a book.

Margaret was a straightforward girl ; she liked to know the worst of things ; it was better to MARGARET. 9 bear than uncertainty. If her father did not speak presently, she would. " Papa — was not that Mr. Grainger who went out ? " "It was. Mr. Grainger is not the only visitor I have had this morning," added Dr. Channing, looking at Margaret's back, for her face was turned away. " Colonel Hoare has been here." More perplexity for Margaret. Colonel the Honour able Gregory Hoare was the father of Captain Hoare ; and Captain Hoare was the most inveterate admirer she had, next to Mr. Grainger. A suspicion had more than once crossed Margaret's mind that he was the man for whom she should sometime discard Adam Grainger. " Come, Margaret, it is of no use beating about the bush," said Dr. Channing.

"Did you know of these visits ? Let us begin with Mr. Grainger's. Were you aware of the purport of his ? " " Not exactly." " That is no answer. Did you send Adam Grainger to me with a demand that I should allow you to become his wife." " No," said Margaret, rather faintly. " I thought not. I informed him that he must be labouring under a mistake. He said there was an attachment between you, and that it had existed for some time." " Oh, papa ! " stammered the confused girl. " Gentle men do assert strange things ! " " The very remark I made to him — that it was the strangest piece of rigmarole I ever heard. He per sisted in it." " How did it end ? what was the result ? " she inquired, still gazing from the window and seeing nothing. " I suppose you refused him, papa ? " "There was nothing else I would do.

You don't want to marry a tradesman, I conclude ? And really those insurance-office people are little better than tradesmen," added the reverend divine. " Commercial men, at any rate." Margaret's cheek burnt, and Margaret's heart re belled ; and she winced, for his sake, at those slighting words, as she would have winced at an insult to herself. " Mr. Grainger is a gentleman, papa." Dr. Channing turned over a leaf of his book. " Did you quarrel ? " she added, drawing a deep breath. " What did you say ? Quarrel ? I never quarrel with any one. I was especially civil to the youno man. He harped upon the former intimacy of the families — just as if that gave him the right to ask for you ! I cut that argument short by reminding him that the intimacy, as he persisted in terming it, arose MARGARET. 11 from nothing but a schoolgirl acquaintanceship.

I also took pains to point out to him that Miss Channing, as the daughter of a country Rector, and Miss Channing in her present sphere, were two young ladies entirely distinct and different. And I suggested to him that his visits here had better cease, as they would not be pleasant to you or to me, after so singular a mis apprehension." A spasm of pain crossed Margaret's features. Dr. Channing saw it. " Margaret ! " he hastily said, in a sharper accent than was usual with the equable Dr. Channing, " are not these your own sentiments ? Do you regret my dismissal of this young man ? " " No, no, papa," she replied, rousing herself. " It is best as it is. I would not have married him." " Captain Hoare would be more agreeable to you perhaps ? " " Captain Hoare ? " " I observed to you that Colonel Hoare had called.

The first time he has done me the honour, although they attend my chapel. If ever there was a proud family, it is that of the Hoares. However — I have nothing to say against becoming pride. Colonel Hoare believes that his son and Miss Channing look on each other with a favourable eye. Is it so, Margaret ? " " Did he— for Captain Hoare— make me an offer of marriage ? " rejoined Margaret, in a low tone, evading the question and asking another. " It was coming to it, as I believe, when that young Grainger interrupted us. Spilson must needs usher him into the same room ! Marplot ! The next time Spilson does anything so stupid he may take his wages. Up jumped the colonel, and said he would call later.' ' A pause. " I should like Captain Hoare to be my son-in-law, Margaret. There's not a better family in England than that of the Hoares; and the mother, Lady Sophia, looks a charming woman.

That will be a desirable connection, if you like ! " So Margaret thought. Vain ambition rose in her heart, over-shadowing, for the moment, all unpleasant regrets. " We appointed half-past three this afternoon, there fore Colonel Hoare will be here then. The conference is to relate to money and settlements. It would be proper, he observed, for some agreement to be come to upon that score before matters went on farther." " Papa," asked Margaret, " had Mr. Grainger been in the position of Captain Hoare, possessing wealth and family, would you have objected to him ? " " No. I like the young man exceedingly. But your LOST, 13 interests must be considered. Where was the use of your asking that ? " Indeed where ! It was only a sudden thought. " And I may accept Captain Hoare for you ? " " Yes," concluded Margaret, with a sigh.

Friends called to take Miss Channing for a drive. It was late when she returned ; and then her father, as she expected, had gone out to dine with a brother clei'gyman. She was anxious to know what arrange ments had been concluded with Colonel Hoare. She pictured herself the future bride of his distinguished son, she held her head an inch higher as she dwelt upon it, and she kept repeating to herself that she woidd like him, she would forget Adam Grainger. Easier said than done, Miss Channing.

Chapter II. Lost

Margaret Channing dined alone, and then went up to dress, for she was engaged to an evening party, where she would be, later, joined by her father. Captain Hoare was to be there too, so it behoved her to look her best. And she did so. Entering the dining-room, as she descended, Mr. Grainger confronted her in her white silk and pearls. She started back, half confounded at his appearance. Though her heart, true to itself, beat with pleasure, her conscience dreaded the interview ; and could he or she have vanished into air, after the fashion of an apparition, it had been welcome to Miss Channing. " Margaret," he exclaimed, seizing her hand, " I have waited here a whole half-hour. It has seemed to me like a day." " I did not expect you," she faltered. "You must have expected me," was his impatient rejoinder.

" Margaret ! the answer your father gave me this morning was not your answer ! " " How can I go against my father ? " " The question was not mooted of whether I should call you wife," he continued, more and more im petuously : " we did not get so far. That — if you will — must come later. But Dr. Channing said there was no attachment between us — said it, as I understood, from you. What does that mean ? " " Not from me," she replied, in a timid tone ; " I had not then spoken with him. But, Adam, my father says that what has been between us must be so no longer." " Do you dare to tell me to my face that our lono love is wasted ? A thing to be forgotten from hence forth ? — thrown away as worthless ? " LOST. 15 " You terrify me," she said, bursting into tears of confusion and perplexity. "Margaret, my love," he whispered, changing his angry tone for one of sweet tenderness, " ' terrify ' is a strange word for you to use to me.

Perhaps we are mistaking each other. Will you give me leave to ask for you of your father ? " She hesitated. Her deep love shone out prominently before her ; her heart told her that her life's happiness was bound up in him : should she wilfully throw this love, this happiness, away for ever ? It was a heavy responsibility to be decided in that hurried moment. A conviction lay within her, that if she wished to marry Adam Grainger, her father would not hold out against it : for she was. very dear to him. But, in their turn, arose other visions : of the pomp and pride of the world, of the lust and luxury of high life : all very attractive vanities, and in which she would revel to the full, should she become the envied daughter-in law of the Honourable Colonel and Lady Sophia Hoare. Her resolve was taken : and she steeled her heart to him who stood there.

"Margaret," he panted, reading her countenance, " what is it that has come between us ? To you I will not repeat what Dr. Channing said — and I have thought, since, that I may have mistaken him when he seemed to insinuate that I was not your equal. Surely you cannot doubt my ability to afford you a suitable home ? " "Adam — I fear — there is no help for it." " No help for what ? " " That we must part." He folded his arms and looked at her, breathing heavily. " It appears that I must be also mistaking you. Say that again." " I am very sorry, Adam. I shall always think of you with regret. I hope " " Stay, Margaret ! Do not let us bandy compli ments in a moment like this. Give me an unvarnished answer. Is it your wish that we should part, and become as strangers ? " "The wish is urged by necessity," she murmured, " Not by choice."

" What necessity ? " " My father's will and pleasure. He says — he does say, Adam — that I must marry in a higher sphere of •life." " We will not speak now of your father's will and pleasure. Is it your Avill and pleasure that I should ask for you ? " " No," she was obliged to reply ; " it is too late. It must not be." He snapped at the words " too late," chafing with passion. " Too late ! In what way is it too late ? Are you promised to another ? " LOST. 17 A desperate resolution came over her — that she would tell him the truth. It would serve to put an end to this scene, now becoming more and more painful. "I believe I am," she answered, scarcely above a whisper. A sudden paleness overspread his heated face, and he drew his hand across his brow. Heavy drops of emotion had gathered there.

" God forgive you ! " he breathed. " As truly as that you are a false woman, Margaret Channing, }ou will live to repent this." " I hope that — after awhile — you will forgive me. I hope when our feelings — yes, ours — have softened down, that we shall renew our friendship. Why should we not ? It would be valuable to have you for a friend through life." " Who is it ? " he rejoined, with unnatural calmness. " Captain Hoare. But, oh, Adam ! " she added, with a burst of irrepressible feeling that ought to have been kept in, and she laid her hand upon his arm, as in the days of their affection, " do not think I love him ! In one sense I am not false to you ; for I can never love him, or any one else, as I have loved you. The marriage is suitable, and I have acceded to it from worldly motives. It will take me years — it will Adam Grainger. — even of my married life — to forget you.

Give me your forgiveness now, before we part." For answer, Mr. Grainger cast upon her a look of contempt, shook her hand from his arm, and passed out at the door. She sank down on a chair and gave vent <o a passionate burst of tears : loud, heavy cries, such as one hears from a child. Now that it was done, she would have given the whole world to recall him ; she thought her heart was breaking. She took no heed of the minutes as they passed ; those sobs only grew more hysterical. When she became calmer, she dragged herself upstairs, shut herself into her room, and proceeded to bathe her eyes and obliterate the signs of her emotion. Then she descended to the carriage, which had long waited for her and was conveyed to her destination. With the lighted candles, the music, and the gay crowd she was soon mixing in, Margaret's spirits revived.

" I ivill strive — I will thrust regret and care from me," she murmured ; " the anguish will not be so great if I make a resolute effort against it. How late Captain Hoare is ! " If Margaret had but known what was detaining him ! , Captain Hoare dined that day with some young men at his club, and only went home afterwards to LOST, 19 dress. His father and mother were sitting alone ; the colonel over his wine. " What's the news ? " cried the captain, as he sat down. "No, thank you: it is too hot for port. I don't mind a glass of claret." He had asked the question in a listless sort of manner, as if not very much caring whether he received an answer or not. Consequently he was scarcely prepared for the sharp way in which his mother, arousing herself from her after-dinner drowsi ness, took him up.

" The news is this, sir : that you ought to have inquired further, before despatching your father on a fool's errand. Twice he went ! " " A fool's errand ! " echoed the gallant captain. " A fruitless one," interposed the colonel. " We were much against the match in every way, Edward, as you know; for the Channings are not people of sufficient family to mate with us ; but — " " It was derogatory even to think of it," interrupted Lady Sophia. " I strove to impress that upon you, colonel, before you went." " My dear — Edward was so bent upon it : and I thought there might be mitigating circumstances. If the girl had had twenty or thirty thousand pounds down with her, as was reported, one might have put up with it. However, all's well that ends well. Channing refuses to give her any money until his death, so the matter is at an end."

" Why does he refuse ? " asked the captain, with a very blank look. "He told me he should give her none before he died," replied the colonel ; " and that what there would be for her afterwards, the precise amount, he really could not state. And he proceeded to ask me, in a tone of resentment, if I had come there to make a barter for his daughter." " I hope this will cure you of looking for a wife in an inferior family, son Edward," observed Lady Sophia. " Your brothers have both married women of title- — and I am sick and tired of advising you to do the same. It would not have been convenient to them to receive Miss Channing as a sister-in-law. Who are these Channings ? Nobody. He was nothing but an obscure country parson. It is only since he got this chapel that even their name has been heard of."

" But Miss Channing will surely have money, sir," remonstrated Captain Hoare, passing over his mother's remarks without comment. " I don't know whether she will or not," was Colonel Hoare's reply. " The doctor's words sounded to me anything but satisfactory; shuffling, in fact. You cannot marry her upon the uncertainty, Edward. I LOST. 21 should never give my consent. My only inducement to do so lay in the understanding that she might bring you a large fortune. You must give her up." " Well — if there's no help for it. I don't feel inclined to marry the best girl that ever stepped, unless she can bring grist to the mill." " There is plenty of time for you to think of marry ing," cried Lady Sophia. " I cannot imagine what put such a thing into your head. Pray forget this nonsensical episode of romance, Edward."

" I suppose I must," thought the young officer. " But she was a deuced nice girl ; and I took it for granted the old parson could and would give her a pile of gold." So, little wonder Captain Hoare was late. When he entered the ball-room, the evening was far advanced. Miss Channing was waltzing in exuberant spirits — so far as anything appeared to the contrary. He came up to her when she was free. She was standing in the recess of the bow window, which opened upon a small terrace filled with exotics — a London apology for a garden. At the moment, no one was there but herself, so they were comparatively alone. Captain Hoare took her hand in silence. " I thought you told me you should be here early ? " she remarked. " I did mean to be. But — as things have turned out — I doubted whether I ought to appear at all, and lost time deliberating.

Then an irresistible impulse seized on me to come and bid you a last farewell. And why not ? Nobody here knows what has passed, or will be the wiser." Had he spoken in Hebrew, his words could not have been much more unintelligible to Miss Channing. " Bid me farewell ! " she repeated. " I do not under stand. Is your regiment ordered abroad ? " Neither did Captain Hoare understand just then. " Perhaps you have not seen Dr. Channing ? " he exclaimed, after a pause, as a sudden idea occurred to him. " I have not seen papa since the middle of the day." "You are not ignorant, dear Miss Channing, that I had set my heart and hopes upon you," he rejoined, gently retaining her hand, and lowering his voice to a whisper. " I do not think you could have mistaken my sentiments, although they were only implied."