A Life's Secret

Front matter

NOVELS BY MRS. HENRY WOOD, Uniform with " A Life's Sbcbbt," each in One Volume, Peicb Six Shillii.gs. GEORGE CANTERBURY'S WILL. MILDRED ASEELL. ELSTER'S FOLLY. TREVLYN HOLD. ST. MARTIN'S EVE. ANNE HEREFORD. RED COURT FARM. PUBLISHED BY TINSLEY BROTHERS. % lotal. BY MRS. HENRY WOOD, AUTHOB OP "EAST LYNNE," "TEEVLYN HOLD," " ST. MAETIN'S EVE," "MILDBED ABKELL," ETO. LONDON : TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 1871. [All rights of Translation and Reproduction are reserved.] LONDON : SAVTLL, ED WARDS AND CO., PRINTEES, CHANDOS STREET COVENT GARDEN.

Preface

. Dcking the last twelve months I have received many different applications, requesting me to publish 'A Life's Secret/ in book form. It was written sis years ago, and appeared in ' The Leisure Hour,' in IM.:,. These applications have been made to me — not on account of any merit in the story calling particularly for republication, but because some of the chief incidents depicted in it turn upon a strike : and strikes, as we all know, have been latterly growing into notoriety. At first I would not listen to the requests ; for reasons that I gave, and also that the story did not appear to me to be so eligible for republication, as some works that I have written. But the step has been so pressed upon me, and from quarters bearing weight, that I have at length yielded. It is thought that the pictures of the social misery induced by the strike (or lock-out), as described in the story, and which it feU to my lot to see something of, may possibly be felt as a warning, and act for good now. The scenes, however, are touched upon, VI

PREFACE.

. rather than elaborated : the work having been made of necessity short, to suit the periodical for which it was destined. The appearance of the story in 156:2 did not please everybody, and angry remonstrances came down on the managers of 'The Leisure Hour.' The tenor of its sentiments was not liked: and one gentleman, who filled a somewhat conspicuous part in its pages, was particularly repudiated — Mr. Samuel Shuck. This gave rise to a short, spontaneous note from the editor — reinserted here at the end of Chapter I. of the Second Part : and, subsequently, to the foUowing note from myself: — ' In writing this story the author's object has not been to deal with the vexing questions between masters and men, between capital and labour, about which there must alwavs be con flicting opinions, so much as to depict the injurious social results that these quarrels produce, and the misery they leave behind them.

It was written in the kindest, heartiest spirit towards the men, and in the truest sympathy with their suf fering families. — Mag, 1S6__.? Every word of this last note I would repeat now : and also the opinions expressed in the work, as to strikes and the social iU they bring. They can but be productive of mischief, both to masters and men. In 1S62, the dis affection by, comparatively speaking, in a nut-sheU ; in IS 6 7, it has become a stupendous evil; and none, I

PREFACE.

. VII think, can foresee where the evil wiU end. I presume not to touch upon the political bearings of the question, leaving them to wiser heads than mine : but if the book shall cause even one workman to stand bravely to his daily labour, in the teeth of adverse counsels and offered hindrances, and so avert seasons of bitter suffering from his family, I shall be thankful to have sent it forth. It is republished by the kind permission of the pro prietors of ' The Leisure Hour/ E. W. October, 1867. CONTENTS. PART THE FIRST. CHAP. piei I. WAS THE LADY MAD ? 11 II. CHANGES 32 in. AWAY TO LONDOM 39 IV. DAFFODIL'S DELIGHT 52 v. miss gwinn's visit 67 VI. TRACKED HOME 83 VII. MR. SHUCK AT HOME 103 VIII. FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS ! 116 IX. THE SEPARATION OF HUNTER AND HUNTER . . . .127 PART THE SECOND.

I. A MEETING OF THE WORKMEN 13C n. CALLED TO KETTERFORD 153 IU. TWO THOUSAND POUNDS 1 68 IV. AGITATION CONTESTS. X PAUT THE THIRD. BUI ?'?- I. A FEEJtATCEE AVOWAL '- ■ - MI " i: ;:_ 233 m. 'I THIXK I HAVE B-EEX A FOOt' - rr. >; Mi. _, _ z y *?..■" j^jl . 3.. - ■- '-1 V. A GLOOMT C3APTEE 2M VI. THE LITTLE TOT AT EEST 2S& VU. JE. DCXX's PIGS BEOCSHT TO SIAEKET '- M Tin. A DESCENT FOE ME. SHOOK 309 _____ CX THE EVE OF BAXXErPTCT 326 x. rsz yza__s :::_ :v ;- __.:. r_zi:z? 3o9 xm coxcixsiox SCO PAET THE FIRST.

Chapter I. Was The Lady Mad

? On the outskirts of Ketterford, a town of some note in the heart of England, stood, a few years ago, a white house, its green lawn, surrounded by shrubs and flowers, sloping down to the high road. It probably stands there still, looking as if not a day had passed over its head since, for houses can be renovated and made, so to say, new again, unlike men and women. A cheerful, bright, handsome house, of moderate size, the residence of Mr. Thornimett. At the distance of a short stone's-throw, towards the open country, were sundry workshops and sheds — a large yard intervening between them and the house. They belonged to Mr. Thornimett ; and the timber and other characteristic materials lying about the yard would have proclaimed their owner's trade without the aid of the lofty sign-board — ' Richard Thornimett, Builder and Contractor/ His business was extensive for a country town.

Entering the house by the pillared portico, and crossing the black-and-white floor-cloth of the hall to the left, you came to a room whose windows looked towards the timber-yard. It was fitted up as a sort of study, or counting-house, though the real business counting-house was at the works. Matting was on its floor; desks and stools stood about; maps and drawings, plain and coloured, were on its walls ; not finished and beautiful landscapes, such as issue from the hands of modern artists, or have descended to us from the great masters, but skeleton designs of various buildings — churches, bridges, terraces — plans to be worked out in actuality, not to be admired on paper. This room was chiefly given over to Mr. Thornimett's pupil : and you may see him in it now. A tall, gentlemanly young fellow, active and upright; his name, Austin Clay.

It is Easter Monday in those long-past years — and yet not so very long past, either — and the works and yard are silent to-day. Strictly speaking, Austin Clay can uo longer be called a pupil, for he is twenty-one, and his articles are out. The house is his home ; Mr. and Mrs. Thornimett, who have no children of their own, are almost as his father and mother. They have said nothing to him about leaving, and he has said nothing to them. The town, in its busy interference, gratuitously opined that ' Old Thornimett would be taking him into partnership/ Old Thornimett had given no indication of what he might intend to do, one way or the other. Austin Clay was of good parentage, of gentle birth. Lest an orphan at the age os fourteen, with very small means, not sufficient to complete his education, Ket terford wondered what was to become of him, and whether he had not better get rid of himself by running away to sea.

Mr. Thornimett stepped in and solved the difficulty. The late Mrs. Clay — Austin's mother — and Mrs. Thornimett were distantly related, and perhaps a certain sense of duty in the matter made itself heard ; that, at least, combined with the great fact that the Thornimett household was childless. The first thing they did was to take the boy home for the Christmas holidays ; the next, was to tell him he should stay there for good. Not to be adopted as their son, not to leave him a fortune hereafter, Mr. Thornimett took pains to explain to him, but to make him into a man, and teach him to earn his own living. ' Will you be apprenticed to me, Austin ?' subsequently asked Mr. Thornimett. ' Can't I be articled, sir ?' returned Austin, quickly. 'Articled?' repeated Mr. Thornimett, with a laugh. He saw what was running in the boy's mind.

He was a plain man himself; had built up his own fortunes just as he had built the new house he lived in ; had risen, in fact, as many a working man does rise : but Austin's father was a gentleman. ' Well, yes, you can be articled, if you like it better/ he said; 'but I shall never call it anything but apprenticed; neither will the trade. You'll have to work, young sir/ ' I don't care how hard I work, or what I do,' cried Austin, earnestly. ' There's no degradation in work/ Thus it was settled ; and Austin Clay became bound pupil to Richard Thornimett. 'Old Thornimett and his wife have done it out of charity,' quoth Ketterford. No doubt they had. But as the time passed on they grew very fond of him. He was an open-hearted, sweet tempered, generous boy, and one of them at least, Mr. Thornimett, detected in him the qualities that make a superior man.

Privileges were accorded him from the first : the going on with certain of his school duties, for which masters came to him out of business hours — drawing, mathematics, and modern languages chiefly — and Austin went on himself with Latin and Greek. With the two latter Mrs. Thornimett waged perpetual war. What would be the use of them to him, she was always asking, and Austin, in his pleasant, laughing way, would rejoin that they might help to make him a gentleman. He was that already : Austin Clay, though he might not know it, was a true gentleman born. Had they repented their bargain ? He was twenty one now, and out of his articles, or his time, as it was commonly called. No, not for an instant. Never a better servant had Richard Thornimett ; never, he would have told you, one so good. With all his propensity to be a ' gentleman,' Austin Clay did not shrink from his work ; but did it thoroughly.

His master in his wisdom had caused him to learn his business practically; but, that accomplished, he kept him to overlooking, and to other light duties, just as he might have done by a son of his own. It had told well. Easter Monday, and a universal holiday Mr. Thorni mett had gone out on horseback, and Austin was in the pupil's room. He sat at a desk, his stool on the tilt, one hand unconsciously balancing a ruler, the other sup porting his head, which was bent over a book. 'Austin!' The call, rather a gentle one, came from outside the door. Austin, buried in his book, did not hear it. 'Austin Clay!' He heard that, and started up. The door opened in the same moment, and an old lady, dressed in delicate lavender print, came briskly in. Her cap of a round, old-fashioned shape, was white as snow, and a bunch of keys hung from her girdle.

It was Mrs. Thornimett. ' So you are here !' she exclaimed, advancing to him with short, quick steps, a sort of trot. ' Sarah said she was sure Mr. Austin had not gone out. And now, what do you mean by this ?' she added, bending her spectacles, which she always wore, on his open book. 'Confining yourself indoors this lovely day over that good-for nothing Hebrew stuff !' Austin turned his eyes upon her with a pleasant smile. Deep-set grey eyes they were, earnest and truthful, with a great amount of thought in them for a young man. His face was a pleasing, good-lookiDg face, without being a handsome one, its complexion pale, clear, and healthy, and the hair rather dark. There was not much of beauty in the countenance, but there was plenty of firmness and good sense. ' It is not Hebrew, Mrs. Thornimett.

Hebrew and I are strangers to each other. I am only indulging my self with a bit of old Homer/ 'All useless, Austin. I don't care whether it is Greek or Hebrew, or Latin or French. To pore over those rub bishing dry books whenever you get the chance, does you no good. If you did not possess a constitution of iron, you would have been laid upon a sick-bed long ago/ Austin laughed outright. Mrs. Thornimett's pre judices against wThat she called ' learning/ had grown into a proverb. Never having been troubled with much herself, she, like the Dutch professor told of by George Primrose, ' saw no good in it/ She lifted her hand and closed the book. ' May I not spend my time as I like upon a holiday?' remonstrated Austin, half vexed, half in good humour. ' No,' said she, authoritatively ; ' not when the day is warm and bright as this.

We do not often get so fair an Easter. Don't you see that I have put off my winter clothing ?' ' I saw that at breakfast/ ' Oh, you did notice that, did you ? I thought yon and Mr. Thornimett were both buried in that news paper. Well, Austin, I never make the change till I think warm weather is really coming in : and so it ought to be, for Easter is late this year. Come, put that book up/ Austin obeyed, a comical look of grievance on his face. ' I declare you order me about just as you did when I came here first, a miserable little muff of fourteen. You'll never get another like me, Mrs. Thorni mett. As if I had not enough outdoor work every day in the week ! And I don't know where on earth to go to. It's like turning a fellow out of house and home !' ' You are going out for me, Austin. The master left a message for the Lowland farm, and you shall take it over, and stay the day with them.

They will make as much of you as they would of a king. When Mrs. Milton was here the other day, she complained that you never went over now ; she said she supposed you were growing above them/ ' What nonsense !' said Austin, laughing. ' Well, I'll go there for you at once, without grumbling. I like the Miltons/ ' You can walk, or you can take the pony gig : which ever you like.' ' I will walk,' replied Austin, with alacrity, putting his book inside the large desk. 'What is the message, Mrs. Thornimett ?' ' The message ' Mrs. Thornimett came to a sudden pause, very much as if she had fallen into a dream. Her eyes were gazing from the window into the far distance, and Austin looked in the same direction : but there was not any thing to be seen. 'There's nothing there, lad. It is but my own thoughts.

Something is troubling me, Austin. Don't you think the master has seemed very poorly of late V ' N — 0.J replied Austin, slowly, and with some hesita- ■Z tion, sor he was half doubting whether something of the sort had not struck him. Certainly the master — as Mr. Thornimett was styled indiscriminately on the premises both by servants and workpeople, so that Mrs. Thornimett often fell into the same habit — was not the brisk man he used to be. ' I have not noticed it particularly/ 'That is like the young; they never see anything/ she murmured, as if speaking to herself. ' Well, Austin, I have ; and I can tell you that I do not like the master's looks, or the signs I detect in him. Especially did I not like them when he rode forth this morning/ 'All that I have observed is that of late he seems to be disinclined for business.

He seems heavy, sleepy, as though it were a trouble to him to rouse himself; and he complains sometimes of headache. But, of course ' ' Of course, what ?' asked Mrs. Thornimett. ' Why do you hesitate ?' ' I was going to say that Mr. Thornimett is not as young as he was/ continued Austin, with some depre cation. 'He is sixty-six, and I am sixty-three. But, you must be going. Talking of it, will not mend it. And the best part of the day is passing/ 'You have not given me the message/ he said, taking up his hat which lay beside him. ' The message is this/ said Mrs. Thornimett, lowering her voice to a confidential tone, as she glanced round to see that the door was shut. 'Tell Mr. Milton that Mr. Thornimett cannot answer for that timber merchant about whom he asked. The master fears he might prove a slippery customer ; he is a man whom he himsejf would trust as far as he could see, but no farther.

Just say it into Mr. Milton's private ear, you know/ ' Certainly. I understand/ replied the young man, turning to depart. 'You see now why it might not be convenient to despatch any one but yourself. And, Austin/ added the old lady, following him across the hall, ' take care not to make yourself ill with their Easter cheesecakes. The Lowland farm is famous for them.' ' I will try not/ returned Austin. He looked back at her, nodding and laughing as he traversed the lawn, and from thence struck into the open road. His way led him past the workshops, closed then, even to the gates, for Easter Monday in that part of the country is a universal holiday. A few minutes, and he turned into the fields ; a welcome change from the dusty road. The field way might be a little longer, but it was altogether pleasanter.

Easter was late that year, as Mrs. Thornimett observed, and the season was early. The sky was blue and clear, the day warm and lovely ; the hedges were budding into leaf, the grass was grow ing, the clover, the buttercups, the daisies were springing; and an early butterfly fluttered past Austin. ' You have taken wing betimes/ he said, addressing the unconscious insect. ' I think summer must be at hand/ Halting for a moment to watch the flight, he strode 2—2 on the quicker afterwards. Supple, active, slender, his steps— the elastic, joyous, tread of youth— scarcely seemed to touch the earth. He always walked fast when busy with thought, and his mind was buried in the hint Mrs. Thornimett had spoken, touching her fears for her husband's health. ' If he is breaking, it's through his close attention to business/ decided Austin, as he struck into the common and was nearing the end of his journey. ' I wish he would take a jolly good holiday this summer.

It would set him up; and I know I could manas, e things without him/ A large common ; a broad piece of waste land, owned by the lord of the manor, but appropriated by anybody and everybody; where gipsies encamped and donkeys grazed, and geese and children were turned out to roam. A wide path ran across it, worn by the passage of farmer's carts and other vehicles. To the left it was bordered in the distance by a row of cottages ; to the right, its extent was limited, and terminated in some dangerous gravel pits — dangerous, because they were not protected. Austin Clay had reached the middle of the path and of the common, when he overtook a lady whom he slightly knew. A lady of very strange manners, popu larly supposed to be mad, and of whom he once stood in considerable awe, not to say terror, at which he laughed now.

She was a Miss Gwinn, a tall bony woman of remarkable strength, the sister of Gwinn, a lawyer of Ketterford. Gwinn the lawyer did not bear the best of characters, and Ketterford reviled him when they could do it secretly. ' A low, crafty, dishonest practitioner, whose hands couldn't have come clean had he spent his days and nights in washing them/ was amidst the com plimentary terms applied to him. Miss Gwinn, how ever, seemed honest enough, and but for her rancorous manners Ketterford might have grown to feel a sort of respect for her as a woman of sorvow. She had come suddenly to the place many years before and taken up her abode with her brother. She looked and moved and spoke as one half-crazed with grief: what its cause was, nobody knew ; but it was accepted by all, and myste riously alluded to by herself on occasion. ' You have taken a long walk this morning, Miss Gwinn/ said Austin, courteously raising his hat as he came up with her.

She threw back her grey cloak with a quick, sharp movement, and turned upon him. ' Oh, is it you, Austin Clay? You startled me. My thoughts were far away : deep upon another. He could wear a fair outside, and accost me in a pleasant voice, like you/ ' That is rather a doubtful compliment, Miss Gwinn/ he returned, in his good-humoured way. ' I hope I am no darker inside than out. At any rate, I don't try to appear different from what I am/ ' Did I accuse you of it ? Boy ! you had better go aud throw yourself into one of those gravel pits and die, than grow up to be deceitful/ she vehemently cried. ' Deceit has been the curse of my days. It has made me what I am; one whom the boys hoot after, and call ' 'No, no; not so bad as that/ interrupted Austin, soothingly. ' You have been cross with them sometimes, and they are insolent, mischievous little ragamuffins.

I am sure every thoughtful person respects you, feeling for your sorrow/ ' Sorrow !' she wailed. ' Ay. Sorrow, beyond what falls to the ordinary lot of man. The blow fell upon me, though I was not an actor in it. When those connected with us do wrong, we suffer ; we, more than they. I may be revenged yet,' she added, her expression changing to anger. ' If I can only come across him.' 'Across whom?' naturally asked Austin. ' Who are you, that you should seek to pry into my secrets?' she passionately resumed. 'I am five-and fifty to-day — old enough to be your mother, and you presume to put the question to me ! Boys are coming to something/ ' I beg your pardon ; I but spoke heedlessly, Miss Gwinn, in answer to your remark. Indeed I have no wish to pry into anybody's business. And as to " secrets," I have eschewed them, since, a little chap in petticoats, I crept to my mother's room door to listen to one, and got soundly whipped for my pains/ ' It is a secret that you will never know, or anybody else; so put its thoughts from you.

Austin Clay/ she added, laying her hand upon his arm, and bending forward to speak in a whisper, ' it is fifteen years, this very day, since its horrors came out to me ! And I have had to carry it about since, as I best could, in silence and in pain/ She turned round abruptly as she spoke, and con tinued her way along the broad path ; while Austin Clay struck short off towards the gravel pits, which was his nearest road to the Lowland farm. Silent and abandoned were the pits that day ; everybody connected with them was enjoying holiday with the rest of the world. ' What a strange woman she is !' he thought. It has been said that the gravel pits were not far from the path. Austin was close upon them, when the sound of a horse's footsteps caused him to turn. A gentleman was riding fast down the common path, from the opposite side to the one he and Miss Gwinn had come, and Austin shaded his eyes with his hand to see if it was any one he knew.

No ; it was a stranger. A slender man, of some seven-and-thirty years, tall, so far as could be judged, with thin, prominent aquiline features, and dark eyes. A fine face ; one of those that impress the beholder at first sight, as it did Austin, and, once seen, remain permanently on the memory. ' I wonder who he is ?' cried Austin Clay to himself. ' He rides well/ Possibly Miss Gwinn might be wondering the same. At any rate, she had fixed her eyes on the stranger, and they seemed to be starting from her head with the gaze. It would appear that she recognised him, and with no pleasurable emotion. She grew strangely excited. Her face turned of a ghastly whiteness, her hands closed involuntarily, and, after standing for a moment in perfect stillness, as if petrified, she darted forward in his pathway, and seized the bridle of his horse. ' So ! you have turned up at last !

I knew — I knew you were not dead !' she shrieked, in a voice of wild raving. ' I knew you would some time be brought face to face with me, to answer for your wickedness/ Utterly surprised and perplexed, or seeming to be, at this summary attack, the gentleman could only stare at his assailant, and endeavour to get his bridle from her hand. But she held it with a firm grasp. ' Let go my horse/ he said. ' Are you mad ?' ' You were mad/ she retorted, passionately. ' Mad in those old days; and you turned another to madness. Not three minutes ago, I said to myself that the time would come when I should find you. Man ! do you remember that it is fifteen years ago this very day that the — the — crisis of the sickness came on ? Do you know that never afterwards ' 'Do not betray your private affairs to me/ interrupted the gentleman. ' They are no concern of mine.

I never saw you in my life. Take care ! the horse will do you an injury/ ' No ! you never saw me, and you never saw some body else !' she panted, in a tone that would have been mockingly sarcastic, but for its wild passion. ' You did not change the current of my whole life ! you did not turn another to madness ! These equivocations are worthy of you.' ' If you are not insane, you must be mistaking me for some other person/ he replied, his tone none of the mildest, though perfectly calm. ' I repeat that, to my knowledge, I never set eyes upon you in my life. Woman ! have you no regard for your own safety ? The horse will kill you ! Don't you see that I cannot con trol him ?' ' So much the better if he kills us both/ she shrieked, swaying up and down, to and fro, with the fierce motions ofthe angry horse. 'You will only meet your deserts : and, for myself, I am tired of life/ ' Let go !' cried the rider. ' Not until you have told me where you live, and where you may be found.

I have searched for you in vain. I will have my revenge ; I will force you to do justice. You ' In her sad temper, her dogged obstinacy, she still held the bridle. The horse, a spirited animal, was passionate as she was, and far stronger. He reared bolt upright, he kicked, he plunged; and, finally, he shook off the obnoxious control, to dash furiously in the direction of the gravel pits. Miss Gwinn fell to the ground. To fall into the pit would be certain destruction to both man and horse. Austin Clay had watched the encounter in amazement, though he could not hear the words of the quarrel. In the humane impulse of the moment, disregarding the danger to himself, he darted in front of the horse, arrested him on the very brink of the pit, and threw him back on his haunches. Snorting, panting, the white foam breaking from him, the animal, as if conscious of the doom he had escaped, now stood in trembling quiet, obedient to the control of his master.

That master threw himself from his back, and turned to Austin. ' Young gentleman, you have saved my life/ There was little doubt of that. Austin accepted the fact without any fuss, feeling as thankful as the speaker, and quite unconscious at the moment of the wrench he had given his own shoulder. ' It would have been an awkward fall, sir. I am glad I happened to be here/ ' It would have been a killing fall/ replied the stranger, stepping to the brink, and looking down. ' And your bein"- here must be owing to God's wonderful Provi dence/ He lifted his hat as he spoke, and remained a minute or two silent and uncovered, his eyes closed. Austin, in the same impulse of reverence, lifted his. ' Did you see the strange manner in which that woman attacked me?' questioned the stranger. ' Yes/ ' She must be insane/ ' She is very strange at times/ said Austin. ' She flies into desperate passions/ ' Passions !