The Unholy Wish, and other stories. New edition

Chapter I

Verner Raby ... ... ... ■■ 49 II. Dreams of Fame ... ... ... ... 55 III. Maria Saxonbury ... ... ... ... 60 IV. The Blow telling Home ... ... ... 69 V. Rivals at Saxonbury ... ... ... 76 VI. The Voyage op the "Rushing Water" ... ... 81 VII. A Lost Boy ... ... ... 95 VIII. The Return of the "Rushing AVater" .. ... 98 IX. Alnwick Cottage .„ ... ... ... 104 X. Jealous Doubts ... ... .... .... ... 113 XI. Lost in a Fog ... ... ... ... 121 XII. A Premature Disclosure ... ... ... 127 XIII. The Gardener's Word against the Gentleman's 134 XIV. Awful Dread ... ... ... ... ... 139 XV. The Double Inquest ... ... ... 150 XVI. Fever ... ... ... ... ... ■ 15-r> XVII. Conclusion ... ... ... ' ... ... CONTENTS. VI PAGE THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTERS:

CHAPTER I.

Love ... ... ... ... ... ... 169 II. The Prediction ... ... ... ... 191 THE BRILLIANT REEPER 219 TWO MARRIAGES 237 THE MAIL-CART ROBBERY 285 MILLICENT'S FOLLY 331 THE PARSON'S OATH 375 A MESMERIST OF THE YEARS GONE BY 401 A SOLDIER'S CAREER PART THE FIRST. i. It had been a lovely day for the season— October : and the slanting beams of the evening sun fell on one of our fair English scenes. The pretty village of Ebury, with its long straggling street, lay in a hollow ; its church and graveyard flanking it at one end, a large white villa standing at the other. Beyond and around extended a goodly landscape ; woods and dales, smiling green plains and rippling streams, fields from which the grain had been carried ; farmhouses clotted about, with a goodly mansion here and there ; while almost at hand, a mile off, say, rose the chimneys and walls of Ebury Hall, the residence of Squire Hardwick.

Leaning over the small iron gate that gave admittance to the lawn and flower-beds in front of the white villa, was a girl in the sweet springtime of early womanhood — Miss Emily Bell. The setting sun shone upon her, lighting up her face and tho becoming simplicity of the dress she were, a summer muslin sprigged with pink — for the days of monstrosities in the shape of attire had not come in by many a year. About twelve months before, this house, empty then and to be let on lease, had been taken by a stranger from London, The Unholy Wish. a Mr. Bell. Of course Ebury, being one of our aristocratic country places, at once began to question who ancl what Mr. Bell was, or had been. It was soon known that he had been a member of the Stock Exchange, and had made his fortune. Ebury idlers flocked to call upon the family at the white villa.

They found Mr. Bell a companionable, intelligent man, Mrs. Boll a quiet, delicate woman, and Miss Emily, the eldest of six children, a very charming girl. Mr. Bell went up to London for two days every week, to attend the meetings of a bank of which he had become director, which left Miss Emily more at liberty to follow her own devices, as regarded flirtations with ber various admirers. Lingering at the gate this evening, her eyes went roving down the short avenue to the high-road that crossed it, as though looking for anything that might pass along. She had not long to wait. There loomed slowly into view the large, high phaeton of Squire Hardwick, the squire driving, a gentle, pleasing girl beside him, his only daughter, ancl a groom in the handsome Hardwick livery attending them. The squire had drawn up his horses to a walking pace, the better to talk to a young man whom he had over taken in the road.

This was James Ailsa, a slender, gentlemanly, honest-hearted young doctor of four-and-twenty years, who had come to Ebury some months before temporarily to assist Mr. Winnington. Emily Bell, watching them go by, did not seem to like the sight. " What a shame ! " she cried. " She's always talking to him ! " " Emily," called out a voice at this moment, that of her sister Margaret, from one of the windows, " do you not know we arc at tea ? Mamma says you are to come in at once." And, when the very last lingering sound of the phaeton wheels had died away, Emily Bell turned from the gate and crossed the lawn to obey. She was certainly a wondrously pretty girl — ancl she knew it — with her brown glossy hair, the damask colour of her cheeks, and her laughing eyes, dark as an April violet. As to her figure it was for ever being compared to all things that were light and beautiful, a sylph and the Venus de' Medici ; but to those who had really seen Medici's goddess, the former comparison appeared by far the more suitable.

But what a flirt was she ! — ancl how greedy of admiration ! How many lovers had she drawn into her net only since she had come to Ebury ? First, there was Mr. Grey, a hand some young fellow who came down for the shooting season ; next followed young Campbell, an out-and-out flirt himself ; then came tbe sentimental walks with that tall college man, who was reading with the Reverend Mr. Tuck's curate — much reading he did ! no wonder he got plucked in bis Little Go ; and now for some time past it had been James Ailsa. And all these without reckoning Tom Hardwick, who had been her admirer, in an off-hand manner, all along. It was a great pity James Ailsa fell so madly in love with her. He was told to beware of her blandishments, ancl how she would probably serve him ; how many she had already loved, or professed to love ; ancl then thrown them coolly off.

But the warning came too late. Besides, he did not believe it : to him she seemed an angel upon earth, and he could not credit aught against her. In face aud manner and speech she was one of those sweetly innocent girls who take men's hearts by storm. There are such girls, as their victims know to their cost. No, he would believe nothing. So the young doctor was left to his fate, and to the seduc tions of Miss Bell. It could have been only for amusement that Emily began the flirtation : he was a quiet, retiring man, attractive in person and manners ; but as to anything serious, his position, with her high notions, would forbid that — a surgeon's assistant, and without prospects. It was understood that he had no money, and was quite friendless ; so many of those who had money, and influential friends also, rather slighted him, Tom Hardwick for one.

Mr. Tom Hardwick — the name was pronounced Hardick, and some people wrote it so — was the second son of the squire, and had a fortune in his own right. He was tho fashion at Ebury ; the village beholding with indescribable admiration his daring feats and scrapes, his lavish expenditure of money, his blood horses, his scarlet hunting-coats. His time was passed in fox-hunting, stecplechasing, horse racing, dog-fighting, boating, shooting, and so on: and, although Miss Emily Bell chose to favour him, she was not in love with him. But, wanting good birth herself, she looked up to the house of Hardwick, which traced its pedigree back to royalty and was connected with some of the best county families, with undue reverence. Hence chiefly arose her patronage of Mr. Tom ; ancl never better pleased was she than when strolling through the village with that gentleman talking nonsense at her side, the village rustics bowing and curtseying to him at every step : marks of respect which Mr. Tom would carelessly acknowledge or wholly neglect, according to the leisure his gallant speeches to Emily allowed him.

The morning following the evening above spoken of, Emily Bell left the breakfast-table and retired to her own chamber, fastening the door after her. She then unlocked a small cabinet, which formed tbe middle of a low, old-fashioned walnut-tree set of drawers, and drew forth a bundle of letters. They were from James Ailsa. Other packets were there, tied up with blue, pink, or yellow ribbon, ancl were the epistles of former lovers, but those Emily did not disturb. She opened three or four of James Ailsa's, glancing at their contents here ancl there : and we may do so with her. She was fond of reading over his letters, they spoke of passion so true ancl deep. Probably she cared for the writer more than she admitted to herself. " Oh, thank, thank you ! to the last hour of my life will I thank you : whatever may be the fate of my love, and whether it shall hereafter be accepted or rejected, still will I thank and bless you.

Your little note has relieved me from suspense almost intolerable. A thousand fears were in my heart ; a dread, almost as of death, was on my soul, that you might indignantly spurn me, and fling back my letter with scorn. " Do you remember, Emily, that morning a few weeks ago, when we were walking together on the Brenton Road, and our conversation turned on the subject of love ? Do you recollect how confused 1 became, breaking off in the middle of a sentence, and that after an interval of silence I dropped the topic for another? Can you guess the cause of that embarrassment ? — did you guess it then ? That my passion for you was so great I could not speak on the subject of love to you without the most painful agitation — without betraying more than I then dared." This is an extract from another : — " Oh, Emily, dearest Emily, how can I support the rapture which has throbbed within me since last night?

You confessed I was not indifferent to you — your head for a few moments was pillowed on my bosom — those kisses which I snatched still seem to linger on my lips. I did not attempt to go to rest ; it would have been useless ; I sat in my room and watched the stars till morning. I lived over and over again our interview. I dared to conjure up visions of the future, our future. I pressed my hands to my temples, and asked if this taste of paradise were not a dream. I ask it still. I repeat to myself, ' She loves, she loves me ! ' Ought not our lives to be one continued breath of thanks giving to Heaven for having given us the power to taste on earth such all-perfect bliss ? " Here follows another : — ■ " Why, my love, do you mention forebodings so gloomy ? - — Why should we separate ? It is true my position now is not such as would warrant my demanding you of your father ; but, Emily, knoio you not what such love as mine can dare to plan and effect ?

Rely upon it, though we see not the means yet, my fate in life shall not be an obscure one — it shall be such as to justify my asking you to share it." Then this:— " Emily, Emily, I am tortured nearly to madness. Yon tell me you do not like Hardwick : then why show him these marks of favour ? Last night, when we left, I was close to you ; my arm was ready ; yet you passed me and took his. It cannot be that you did not see me : or if you did not see me, you do not love. I look for you : I see but you ; at a distance, before another's eyes could possibly distinguish your form, my heart tells me it is you. Oh, Emily, if your love were but a tithe of what mine is, you could not so act." And this extract is from the last letter she had received from him : — " Forgive, forgive me, my only love. I did not mean to reproach you : I will believe, Emily, I am too exacting.

I will believe, no one knows how willingly, that your heart is wholly mine. But if you knew how I love, what I suffer for you, you would not wonder that I cannot bear even the semblance of an attachment to another." Emily sat contemplating the characters of this last letter, ancl a smile ancl a blush stole over her face. Were they the tokens of love, or only of triumphant vanity ? Presently she reached her writing materials, and began a note to Ailsa, " My clearest James." Whilst thus occupied, some one tried the door of the room, and, finding it fastened, knocked loudly against it. Emily scuffled all signs of her employment away. " What do you want now ? " she pettishly asked, admitting her sister, vexed at being interrupted. " What do I want ! " repeated Margaret, resenting the question.

" The room is as much mine as it is yours ; I may come into it when I release. Look here, Emily ; Tom Hardwick is downstairs. He has brought an invitation from Mary for us to join them in a picnic to-day ; they have visitors at the Hall, and are at a loss for amusement." " That is not Hardwick's voice ! " exclaimed Emily, listening. " That is James Ailsa's. Tom Hardwick is in the draw ing-room with mamma," answered Margaret. " Ailsa has come up to see baby. Mind you don't tell him about tho picnic, Emily, or we shall have him pushing himself into it." " You are more likely to tell him than I am," cried Emily, as she ran downstairs. Mr. Ailsa was in the hall. His pale, sweet-tempered countenance lighted up as he advanced to greet Emily. " James," she whispered, as he threw his arm round her for a momentary embrace, while they were yet alone, " do you know anything of the party they are planning for to-day ?

" " What party, my love ? " THE UNHOLY AVISH. 7 " Some picnic of Mary Hardwick's. Will you come to it ? " " I have no invitation." " Nonsense about an invitation. It is in the o]ien air, you know, and you can join us as if by accident. James, you must come." " I will brave all for you, Emily," was his answer. " They have called me an intruder — a thruster forward of myself. No matter; the comments and ill-natured remarks of the world fall on my heart as the idle wind whilst I have the consciousness of your love to make its sunshine." II. " I do believe that is James Ailsa coming along ! " exclaimed Miss Margaret Bell, as the merry party were gathered a-la gipsy on the outskirts of Beech Wood. " Who can have told him we were here ? " " Oh, he ferrets out our plans himself," retorted Tom Hardwick ; " he has the deuce's luck ancl his own too at that underhand fun.

Treat him with the contempt he deserves, all of you, ancl don't speak to him ; do you hear, Mary ? " Mary Hardwick heard, but she possessed too much good feeling and sense to heed her brother's counsels. James Ailsa was a thorough gentleman, except perhaps in pocket, and that he was not so regarded by every one was only owing to Mr. Tom Hardwick's incessant ridicule and abuse of him. Tom Hardwick was as inferior to Ailsa as one man can well be to another ; but people are ever ready to take part with the great and powerful, and Mr. Tom Hardwick held sway at Ebury. Ailsa came up, ancl, after greeting the circle, was invited by Miss Hardwick, somewhat timidly, to sit down and join them. " Enjoying a stroll in the woods this fine day, ancl so popped upon us unawares ? " broke in Tom Hardwick, in a sarcastic tone.

" I am on my way to pay a visit to Mrs. Hudson," answered Ailsa. And he spoke truth. " Then you have come a precious deal out of your way," retorted Hardwick, coarsely. "It is nearer to go by the road." " I was going by the road," returned Ailsa, " but crossed the field on seeing you here." He looked at Emily, seeking for a glance to recompense him for the painful position to which, for her sake, he had subjected himself, sensitive ancl unobtrusive as he was by nature ; but he looked in vain. The ban was on him — he was a despised man ; aud Emily — proud, vain, ancl little minded — followed the example around her, ancl noticed him not. Miss Hardwick felt deeply for his situation, and she talked to him pleasantly and offered him cake and wine — which he declined. Presently he rose from his seat to pursue his way.

Mary Hardwick asked him if he would come to the Hall in the evening ; they should probably be having a little dance. He thanked her, ancl accepted. The others were leaving their places to dispierse about the wood. " Emily must have told him we should be here," exclaimed Margaret Bell to Tom Hardwick, who was standing with his back against a tree, " for as to his seeing us from the road, it's all stuff." "A lie," uttered Mr. Tom, politely. "If he had ten telescopes, ancl set 'em all up in a line, he could not see over to Beech Wood." "Emily pretends to dislike and despise him, but I saw " " As to my sister Mary, she's turning daft, I think— encouraging the fellow as sho does." " I saw him kiss Emily the other clay, ancl slip a letter into her hand," continued Margaret, unheeding the interruption.

" You had better take care what you say," exclaimed Tom Hardwick, growing very red in the face. " It is truth," answered tho young lady. " I was peepin<* at them through the greenhouse window." " Does he often write to her ? Does she write to him ? " asked Tom, quite purple with rage. " I can't tell whether she writes to him," said Margaret, " but she is always locking herself in our bedroom, and two or three times I have looked through the keyhole, and seen her scuffling the ink away. Don't you tell her I said this." " Oh, bother ! " answered the gallant gentleman, " I'll have it all out at once, one way or the other. Where is sho now ? " When James Ailsa left, he struck through the wood path, his nearest way then, to Mrs. Hudson's house. But scarcely had he gone many steps when Emily stole after him, and called him, softly, by name.

He turned ancl met her. " James," she whispered, " are you going to stay with us ? " " Am I going to stay ! " he replied, laying a painful stress upon every word. " Emily, if your heart can truly say that it wishes me to do so, I will ; and bear in silence." " Dear, dear James," she said, tears rising to her eyes, "why do you speak to me in so cold a tone— why do you look so reproachfully at me ? " " Have I not cause ? " he rejoined, painfully excited ; but even then he gave way to his enduring love, and clasped her hands tenderly in his. " Why do you permit Hardwick to appear on these most familiar terms with you ? " he remonstrated. " To all but me he must be looked upon as your lover." " James," she said earnestly, raising her head from his shoulder, where it had been lying, " indeed you need not be jealous of him.

I have no love for Tom Hardwick ; I have scarcely any liking for him. Believe me, dear, dear James." He did not answer ; but he pressed his burning forehead upon hers. She felt its throbbing. At this moment the voice of Mr. Tom Hardwick was heard. Emily started from her lover; and, pressing his hand in token of farewell, stole silently away amongst the trees. " Who is that in the wood, Emily ? " exclaimed Tom Hardwick, as she emerged from it. " I heard voices." " The wind, perhaps," returned Emily, carelessly. " Or — I was humming a tune to myself ; you may have heard that." "Dont trouble yourself with any more falsehoods," rejoined Hardwick, clashing into the subject without ceremony ; " you were talking with that presuming fool, Ailsa. Ancl as I don't mean to stand this nonsense about him any longer, I shall acquaint Mr. Bell with the fact that you ancl he have been writing love-letters to each other."

" Oh, for Heaven's sake, say nothing to my father ! " cried Emily, well-nigh startled out of her senses. "I am glad you have the grace not to deny it," inter rupted Hardwick sullenly. " Yes, yes, yes," exclaimed the agitated girl, striving to repair the unlucky admission she had made : " I do deny it." " Emily, I will not be trifled with, so you may spare your self the attempt. You shall either promise to be mine, ancl keep to it, or I will give you up at once." This was the nearest ajiproach to an offer Emily had ever received from Mr. Tom Hardwick, and she felt somewhat overpiowered with bewildering sensations. On the one hand was James Ailsa, with his steadfast love, which she knew would shield her from every harm in life ; on the other was the tempting prospect of becoming a daughter-in-law of the lofty old squire ; ancl this last was irresistible to her aspiring heart.

" It shall be one of us, not both," resumed Hardwick, who was in an ill-humour, and a very resolute one : and little did Emily guess that he had no intention whatever of marrying her or any one else ; for he could not afford it. " And here I swear," continued he, " that if you ever again attempt to speak to that beggar, Ailsa, I will take no further notice of you whatever : if we meet in the streets, I'll pass you ; should you call at my father's house, I will go out of it whilst you are there." " Oh, Tom, why do you put yourself into this dreadful passion ? I declare to you that I hate James Ailsa." " Then you will deliver up his letters to Mr. Bell." " For the love of goodness, don't mention the subject to papa," she implored ; " he is so strict with us. He has written me one or two nonsensical letters, I won't deny it.

I will give them up to you, Tom, if you will not tell papa. But you won't read them ? " " Not I. I'll make them into a packet, and dash it into Ailsa's face." " Don't talk so wildly, Tom : you know Ailsa is no coward. If you want to get up a quarrel, I will have nothing more to say to you, any more than to him ; and I will keep the letters." " Well, well, Emily, I'll promise you to let tho beggar alone ; and he shall know nothing about the letters. I shall come for them to-morrow morning, mind." " Very well," said Emily, deep in thought. " There's my darling girl," he added, stooping to salute her cheek ; " ancl when I can afford to marry, you shall be my wife." Emily made no reply to this exceedingly gracious promise. She was thinking what excuse she could make about tho letters, for as to giving them up to him, that she was deter mined never to do.

" Who in the world can have told him that we correspond ? " she soliloquized. " If it should come to be known in Ebury, I think I shall go mad — every one so despises Ailsa. If Tom Hardwick had sent me love letters now, I should not care who knew it : they might take and publish them in the newspapers if they liked." The carpet-dance took place that evening at the Hall ; but James Ailsa did not appear at it. He was some miles away, attending upon one of Mr. Winnington's patients. With the morning, Mr. Tom Hardwick arrived at the white villa, according to his promise. Emily met him on the lawn. " Oh, is it you ? " she exclaimed, as if surprised. " I said I should be here early," he answered. " I have come for the letters." " The letters ! — oh, I have destroyed them." " You have done what ?

" he asked. " I feared you might send them to Ailsa, as you threatened," she said, " so I thought it safer to burn them." " It is a lie ! " exclaimed Hardwick, angered out of his good manners. " Emily, I am not to be done in this way. Give me the letters, or, by my honour, I will go straight to your father." "1 have destroyed them," she replied tremblingly. "I thought it the wisest ancl safest plan. It is of no use being angry, the thing is clone. But for the future, Tom, you may trust me, for may I never stir from here if I don't hate James Ailsa ; and I'll never speak to him again." What further romancing might have been indulged in by Emily was cut short by her mother's calling to her ; so she ran in, leaving Mr. Tom Hardwick standing where he was. " Will you walk in ? " called out Mrs. Bell to him.

" No, I thank you," he answered sullenly. And, turning away, he had not left the gates many minutes when he encountered Mr. Bell. " Good-morning, Mr. Tom. All well at home, I hope." "I was coming in search of you, sir," said Hardwick, speaking in a very excited manner, and taking no notice of Mr. Bell's salutation. " An unpleasant matter has come to my knowledge, which I think you ought to be made acquainted with. That upstart, penniless fellow, Ailsa, has taken upon himself to make love to your daughter, and, unless a check is administered to him, he may be drawing her into a mess ; a promise to marry him, or some such madness. Girls are such simpletons." " My daughter ? — Emily ? " cried the astonished man. " Emily, of course. He has been sending her love-letters. She has a whole heap of them, I dare say."

" Take care what you do say, sir," advised Mr. Bell. " Oh, it is quite correct, I assure you, sir. I thought I would give you a hint of what was going on," continued the friendly Tom, " and do as I would be done by. If it were my sister, for instance, I should hold myself under eternal obligations to the man who had enlightened me. There's no harm in love-letters, of course, when they come from the right man. But Ailsa is just " " Thanks, thanks, my dear Mr. Hardwick," exclaimed Mr. Bell, wringing his hand, ancl tearing indoors at a great rate, too much excited to listen further. Emily was in her bedroom, having taken refuse there until Tom Hardwick should be safely gone. When she saw her father enter, instinct told her that something was wronw. Shutting the door, he, in a voice that spoke of suppressed passion, asked for the letters which she had received from James Ailsa.

The startled girl stood transfixed before him : every vestige of colour forsook her countenance ; the sickness of terror flew to her heart. " Do you hear me, disgraceful girl ? " resumed Mr. Bell, who was very strict with his daughters, and had believed them to be models of good behaviour. " Give me the letters without trouble, or I will open your places and search for them myself." It was too stern a moment for equivocation. Emily faltered out that they were there, and pointed with ber hand to the cabinet in the chest of drawers. It was safely locked. " Produce them." She stood still as a post. " Produce them," repeated her father. She shivered and trembled, holding the back of a chair for support ; but she opened the cabinet, and took out tho letters. Above them lay the epistle she had begun to Ailsa the previous morning, and had thrust away in her haste when interrupted by her sister.

It of course came forth with the others, but Emily, hoping she was not observed, pushed it back. " What paper is that ? " cried Mr. Bell. " What are you trying to put back ? " She faltered out something about " some poetry." " Give it to me with the rest, Emily ; how dare you attempt to trifle with me ? You may have your poetry again when I have looked at it — if it is poetry." He took it, with the letters, from her hand, and the first words that caught his gaze were, " My dearest James." Two or three lines of little import followed — the cream of Emily's letters was seldom at tho beginning. Mr. Bell tore tho paper into the smallest particles, and with a glance of un utterable rage at Emily, advanced to the window and scattered them to the winds. " Are these all ? " he demanded, pointing to the packet of letters which he held in his hand.