Dudley. A novel

Front matter

DUDLEY DUDLEY. $ Houcl. BY CURTIS YORKE, Author of "That Little Girl," &-c, ore. " Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west, And I said in underbreath . All our life is mixed with death And who knoweth which is best ! " E. B. Browning. LONDON : JARROLD AND SONS, 3, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS. 188S. (All rights reseii'ed.) DUDLEY. 12 "We must all lie in some dreary churchyard one day,'' says Nan, soberly ; " for all churchyards are dreary, however many flowers and trees they may have — and it won't matter to us whether it is fine or stormy weather." " It is going to be an awful storm to-night," rejoins Hilary, as a blast more furious than any of its predecessors shakes the old house almost to its foundations. " How the wind screams ! I do wish Charlotte's sister had taken ill either a day sooner or a day later.

It seems so eerie to be left alone in this desolate place." " I wonder," observes Nannie, who is carefully mending a hole in the finger of her glove (for she is a thrifty young person), " why it is that people nearly always take ill just at the very time when it is most inconvenient all round ! Per haps it's heartless to say so — but they always do. Now, if cousin Bertie hadn't been so ill last week, uncle Herbert could have been here at the funeral, and would be here now. Its just the contrariness of things, as old Charlotte herself would say." " Fancy uncle's horror if he knew we were here all alone ! " laughs Hilary. "I've no doubt he is happy in the belief that we are protected, not only by Charlotte, but by uncle Lawrence as well." " If uncle Lawrence had only waited until to-morrow," says her sister ; " but of course we did'nt know till this morning that Charlotte would be away to-night.

I half wish we hadn't let her go." "Oh, we couldn't have kept her, poor thing," remonstrates tender-hearted Hilary. " Her sister may be dying. Fancy if you were ill, and if I couldn't come to you ! " "True," asserts Nan. "And after all," she continues, cheerfully, as she puts away her work-basket, " we shall only be this one night alone. She is certain to come back in the morning, and uncle will be here to-morrow afternoon." " I hope so ; " sighs Hilary ; " but I'm not so sure." But Nannie does not hear this despondent remark ; for she is busily setting out upon the table a modest repast of bread and butter, and strawberry jam. Presently she leaves the AN ANGEL UNAWARES. 13 room, returning in a few minutes with a crystal jug full of creamy tempting-looking milk. "There's such a splendid fire in the kitchen," she says, placing the jug on the table.

Chapter II. Hilary's Dream

" Locks, bolts, and bars, now fly asunder I Then — to rifle, rob, and plunder !" The Wolf As they enter the long low-roofed kitchen, Nannie says demurely, "We were just frying potatoes for our supper; so, if you don't mind, we will go on with our cookery. Happily, we had lifted the pan off the fire before you knocked, or I shudder to think what would have been the result by this time, for I had forgotten all about it. Do you like fried potatoes ? " Their guest bows, and is understood to imply, that if he has a predilection for any article of diet, it is for fried potatoes. " Do you know it is good of you to take pity on me to-night," he says, after watching with interest for some time the appetizing and frizzling morsels in the pan. " I ought to tell you all about myself; produce cards, and credentials, and all that.

How do you know that I am not a burglar in disguise, a wolf in sheep's clothing?" Hilary looks up suddenly. Nannie laughs. " How do you know that we are not two cruel witches, who may exercise all kinds of wicked spells over you ! " the latter answers gaily. He smiles slightly. " I do not think you could be very cruel. Shall I introduce myself in proper form, then?" he continues, gravely. My name is Dudley " Here Hilary, (who has not uttered a word since she entered the kitchen) manages, awkwardly enough, to upset the frying-pan ; and the fat running gaily into the fire, creates a diversion which, for the time, causes the stranger's name and calling to be forgotten. HLLARY'S DREAM. 21 The potatoes — marvellously rescued by Nan — having assumed a tempting golden-brown colour ; and Mr. Dudley's clothes being, so he declares, perfectly dry, Nan produces three hot plates from the oven ; and, having dished the potatoes in a workmanlike manner, prepares to lead the way to the dining-room.

" Pray allow me to carry those things for you," says the young man, hastily. "Thank you," assents Nan. " You see our servants have — er — retired; so we have to wait upon ourselves," she goes on gravely, but with an almost imperceptible smile curving her lips. Upon which the visitor lifts the tray (rather awkwardly, it must be confessed), and after a successful pilgrimage along the passage and across the hall, sets it down, with a sensation of relief, upon the sideboard in the dining-room. As Mr. Dudley takes his seat at the table, with the strong lamplight shining full upon his face, Nannie views him with secret and decided approval. He is certainly good-looking, (though not, perhaps, strictly handsome) and his countenance has, besides, a singularly trust-inspiring, and loveable ex pression.

Nannie feels a sense of protection in his presence (which presence seems, somehow, a much less unorthodox thing in the little household than it really is). He looks a man of three or four and thirty. The first noticeable features in his face are a pair of kind, earnest, grey eyes, set well back under straight dark eyebrows ; and a well-cut, rather haughty mouth, shaded by a sweeping brown moustache, a shade or two darker than his close-cropped hair. The firm, clean shaved, determined looking chin ; the slightly square jaw ; and something wholly indefinable in the curve of the lips ; together with the set of the well-shaped head, and at times a certain light in the eyes, more than hint at the possession of an indomitable will, and a not altogether angelic temper. However, he looks good-tempered enough just now, as he proceeds to do ample justice to the simple fare before him, which Nannie has augmented for his benefit by a small cold shoulder of mutton, which has been peacefully reposing in the pantry, in view of to-morrow's dinner.

DUDLEY. 22 Hilary remains strangely and almost rudely silent, and answers any remarks addressed to her nervously, and at random. As for Nan, she is chatting away in the most easy manner with the stranger. " It is so curious," she says, having vainly pressed him to make a further attack upon the cold mutton, "that Bruno did not bark at you. He is generally so hostile to anyone who approaches the house — strangers, I mean." "Have you a dog?" he inquires. "I certainly did not hear him bark. But dogs generally, indeed, almost invariably, look upon me as a friend." Hilary looks up suddenly. "Yes, we have a large dog," she says, speaking rapidly, and with flushed cheeks. " He is very fierce. He — he can easily break his chain ; and would tear anyone to pieces ! " I fear Hilary oversteps in some degree the bounds of veracity in making this somewhat incoherent statement, and Nan gazes at her in amazement.

Mr. Dudley, too, looks a little surprised at her manner; but only says, politely,— " Ah, I should imagine a good watch-dog would be almost indispensable in an out-of-the-way place like this, especially if you — " He stops. He is consumed with a desire to ask if they have a father, mother, or any other relative ; if they habitually reside alone in this desolate spot, or only temporarily. But, being presumably a gentleman, he restrains his curiosity, which latter element, indeed, is noticeably not among his failings. Supper over, Nannie leaves the room to make the necessary preparations for their unexpected guest, leaving Hilary to enact the part of hostess until her return. But surely Hilary's ready tongue has deserted her to-night; for, though Mr. Dudley does his best — and it is not inconsider able — to make himself agreeable, he cannot but feel that all his efforts in that line are — in the present case — signal and distinct failures.

Half-piqued, half-amused, he exerts himself still further, but in vain ; Hilary's frosty replies, and decidedly hostile demeanour, effectually repel all attempts at conver sation ; and Nannie's return, is to the stranger at least, a positive relief. HILARY'S DREAM. 23 Now, when a man (even in robust health, which, as we know, Mr. Dudley is not), has been tramping over moor and dale from " morn till dewy eve," the chances are, that, having rested, and refreshed his inner man, he will begin to feel deplorably sleepy ; unless revived by the never-failing charms of a cigar, or pipe, as his tastes may incline. Yes, reader — even in the society of the prettiest girl in the world. And this— cigars and pipes being out of the question — is precisely what happens to Mr. Dudley. Not even his keen interest in his very pretty companions ; not even the absurd unconven tionally of his being their guest at all ; not his most strenuous efforts to be politely conversational, can keep him awake much longer, as he discovers to his intense annoyance.

Nannie's keen eyes presently detect him in the act of strangling the second of two distinct yawns ; and she says, laughing, as he hastily apologizes, and bites his lip with a slight frown, — " You look so sleepy ! I am sure you would like to go to bed now. You will find a candle on the hall-table ; and your room on the right hand side, at the top of the stairs." Hilary only bows slightly, as the young man bids them a courteous "good-night;" but Nannie holds out her hand frankly, with a few friendly words ; and, as he takes it warmly in his, he looks down at her with deep feeling in his grey eyes, and says, in a very low voice, — " I feel quite unable to express my sense of your extreme kindness to me to-night. You have, indeed, been a good Samaritan." Then he takes his candle, and proceeds upstairs, thinking what a sweet, kind little girl she is, and how utterly free from affectation and nonsense.

Thinking too, with an amused smile, what a little vixen the other one seems to be. But — oh, perversity of man ! — it is Hilary's forbidding little face which seems to float provokingly before him, as he lays his head drowsily upon his pillow. Hilary's eyes, and Hilary's voice, which haunt and pursue him far into dreamland. Scarcely has the dining-room door closed behind him, than Nannie turns in an indignant manner to her sister. DUDLEY. 24 " Hilary ! I never felt so ashamed of anyone as I did of you to-night. What possessed you to behave so rudely to Mr. Dudley ? Why— what is the matter, child," she goes on hastily ; " you look as white as a sheet? " Hilary lays a cold trembling hand on Nannie's arm, and says, with a voice and air absolutely tragic, — " Nannie ! how could you invite that strange man to stay here to-night, when we are all alone?

How do you know who or what he may be ! He may have accomplices waiting outside to come in when we are asleep, and rob the house, and murder us both. Even now he may be making signals to them. Oh, Nannie, Nannie, what will become of us?" concludes this highly imaginative young person, almost hysterically. Nannie surveys her with calm contempt. "I suppose you have got those fine ideas from that rubbishy yellow-backed book you were reading to-night," she says, scornfully. " I flatter myself I know a gentleman when I see one ; and I am convinced that Mr. Dudley is a gentleman. Surely you would not have turned the poor fellow out again on a night like this. You, who are generally so tender-hearted ! You heard him say he had been ill, too ; he could hardly stand when he came in ; and his very lips were white.

He would certainly never have reached Etherstone alive. 1 repeat — I am surprised at you, Hilary ; I thought you had more sense. Come to bed, and don't be so un utterably silly." And with a face of judicial severity Miss Desborough lights her candle, and having extinguished the lamp, marches up to her room. Hilary follows more slowly ; and, having arrived at the top of the staircase, stops at the door on the right-hand side, and listens breathlessly in the throbbing darkness. All is silent. With trembling fingers she takes hold of the key — which is on the outside— and, with one rapid, stealthy turn, imprisons the unconscious stranger in his room most effectually, by locking him in. Having accomplished this much to-be admired stroke of diplomacy, she swiftly gains her room ; and both girls are soon wrapt in slumber.

HLLARY'S DREAM. 25 But Hilary's dreams are wild and troubled ; and at last culminate in a frightful vision of Mr. Dudley, armed with the carving-knife, creeping up the narrow wooden staircase, with murder plainly written in his eyes. Struggling to awake, she becomes aware, to her inconceiv able horror, that, though she is no longer dreaming, the steps upon the stairs are no dream, but a horrible reality ! Creak— creak, — slowly and cautiously they ascend. " Nannie, Nannie ! " she exclaims, in an agonized whisper, " Oh, Nannie," giving her a little shake, " wake up quickly, some one is coming upstairs 1 " " Nonsense ! " mutters her sister, in cross, sleepy tones. At this moment there is a sudden thud, as if the intruder had missed his footing, and stumbled up two steps instead of one. Nan is wide awake instantly, and springs out of bed.

" I told you so — oh, I told you so ! " Hilary gasps, with chattering teeth. "He has let them in, and we shall be murdered ! " " Hush ! " whispers Nannie, imperatively, and lighting the candle, she begins hastily to throw on her clothes ; while Hilary tremblingly feels about for her slippers. Meanwhile, the footsteps creak stealthily about the landing; and finally stop at the door, behind which the terrified girls are listening breathlessly. The handle is softly turned ; but the door is locked. There is a muttered curse; then the application of a heavy shoulder to the frail piece of carpentry, which is little fitted to sustain such assaults. Hilary, hitherto almost paralyzed with fright, now utters shriek after shriek, which are piercing enough, in all con science, to curdle the blood of any but a very professional burglar.

The door is yielding — another minute, and it will collapse altogether, when, suddenly, there is a loud splitting crash from across the landing ; and the blows cease abruptly. There is a rapid exclamation in Mr. Dudley's deep voice, which Nannie, with keen dismay, recognises instantly : a few loud, furious objurgations in unmistakably Hibernian accents ; a scuffle — a heavy fall — and silence ! DUDLEY.

Chapter III. Mr

DUDLEY. " What is it to be a gentleman? It is to be honest, to be gentle, to be generous, to be brave, to be wise ; and, possessing all these qualities, to exercise them in the most graceful outward manner." In spite of Hilary's imploring entreaties, Nannie resolutely unlocks the door, and throws it open. The door of Mr. Dudley's room is open also ; and the light from both candles streams out upon the landing, revealing to Nannie's horrified eyes, Mr. Dudley in his shirt and knickerbockers, kneeling beside a villainous-looking man who lies prostrate upon the ground. Hilary utters a little cry; for, at a glance, she recognizes the tramp of the preceding morning. He is unconscious, having evidently struck his head pretty smartly against the stair-railings in his fall. At a little dis tance from him lies a murderous-looking knife, and a small lantern.

Mr. Dudley looks up hastily at the sound of the opening of the door, and, addressing Nannie, says, rapidly and unceremoniously, — " Bring me a piece of rope, if you have any — quick ! " Nannie seizes the candle, and hastens downstairs, re appearing almost immediately with a fair-sized coil of hempen rope (the washing-rope, in fact). " Ah — that is scarcely strong enough," he says, as he takes it from her. " However, it must do. Just in time; he is beginning to come to." In a few minutes the would-be burglar's arms are securely fastened behind his back, and not a moment too soon ; for, hardly has the last knot been tied than he regains consciousness with a frightful amount of struggling and bad language ; and glares at his captor with an expression truly fiendish. " Now, my fine fellow, you can't do much more harm, I think," observes Mr. Dudley, quietly.

As he speaks he rises to his feet, and faces his hostesses with a little laugh. Then Hilary sees that his left sleeve is stained a deep crimson. " You are hurt ! " she says, faintly ; indicating his arm with a shuddering little gesture. " Oh, that is nothing," he replies carelessly, stooping to pick up the knife, " merely a scratch from this very business like-looking weapon. Now my friend," he continues, addressing his recumbent foe, " we shall put you in com fortable quarters for the rest of the night." " Where shall I take him ? " turning to Nannie. " Which room has the strongest door? for I am not by any means sure of this rope." Nannie reflects for a minute or two. " The washing-house, I think," she says, presently. " The lock is very strong ; and the window has bars outside." And taking up the candle, she prepares to lead the way, closely followed by Hilary.

" Come along," says Mr. Dudley, peremptorily ; giving his fallen foe — who has raised himself to a sitting position — a slight touch with his foot, and pulling him up by his coat collar. The fellow struggles to his feet ; he is evidently still dazed and giddy from the effects of the blow upon his head, and staggers against the wall. Mr. Dudley, still holding him by the collar, pilots him — at arm's length — downstairs; and having deposited him in the washing-house, locks him in securely, and leaves him to his meditations. " Now you must have your arm attended to," says Nannie, quickly, as they re-enter the kitchen. In vain Mr. Dudley protests that it is nothing — a mere scratch— that he can easily tie it up himself, etc. Nannie takes no notice ; and he is obliged to sit down, and roll up his sleeve, while she DUDLEY. deftly dresses the wound, which is really not a very deep one, though it has bled considerably.

It is a work cf some time, however, to which the patient does not seem to object There is something not at all unpleasant to most men, in being " doctored " anxiously and solicitously by an attractive young girl ; whilst another— younger, and equally attractive — stands close by, looking if possible more anxious still. At last, by the aid of a long strip of linen, and a few laughing hints from the sufferer himself, the arm is bound up in a tolerably decent manner. This satisfactorily accomp lished, Mr. Dudley rises, and says, — " Now had we not better see what damage that fellow has done? I fancy he must have got in by the dining-room window ; for I was awakened by what sounded like falling glass. I listened for some little time ; but all was so quiet, I thought I had been dreaming. However, I could not get to sleep again ; and, hearing sounds in the room below, I looked out of the window, and saw the unmistakable rays of a lantern shining upon the shrubs in front of the house.

Then I knew there must be something wrong ; and I might have been in time to prevent your alarm altogether ; but the lock of my room door had caught, or gone wrong in some way, and, try as I would, I could not open it." (Here Hilary turns crimson.) " Then I heard your screams, Miss Hilary," he continues, "and finding the door still impracticable, I burst it open. Fortunately, the lock was weak, or I might have been too late." " How can we thank you ! " murmurs Nannie, with a little choke in her voice. " What can we say to you ! " " You have nothing to thank me for," he answers quickly. " What would have become of me to-night, if you had not taken pity on me?" he goes on, with a sudden softening of his voice. " We are only quits, you know ; though scarcely that— for my obligation is the greater !

" He lifts the candle as he speaks, and they all proceed towards the dining-room where a scene of desolation indeed, awaits them. As they enter, a cold wind meets them, almost extinguishing the candle Mr. Dudley carries; and the cause is soon evident. The shutters have been forced back; and the two upper window-panes lie shivered on the carpet. The sideboard doors have been wrenched open; and forks, spoons, etc., strew the floor in admired confusion. On the table lies a securely-tied-up bundle, which, on being opened, is found to contain Mrs. Fairfax's cherished silver tea-service, ready for removal. It is in itself plunder worth taking, being singularly heavy and solid, and of exquisite workmanship. At this stage, it had evidently struck the depredator that he might find equally desirable booty upstairs ; after which, as we have seen, his proceedings were abruptly terminated.

The girls stand silent — stupefied ; and Hilary, as she thinks of that terrible knife, utters a little low cry. Mr. Dudley closes the shutters. " I should advise you to lock this door," he says, " and to put this " — touching the bundle on the table, " into a place of safety. You are cold," he continues, seeing Hilary shiver. " Yes, Hilary," says Nannie, " you look quite blue ; and it is bitterly cold. I am going to break up the kitchen fire, and make some coffee. It isn't worth while going to bed again ; it's nearly six o'clock." They all return to the kitchen, where the fire, having been kept smouldering all night by means of a " gathering coal," is soon blazing up good-naturedly. Nannie disappears into the pantry; and Hilary, who has been struggling with feelings of the keenest remorse and shame, and who is nervous and excited besides — considerably dismays and distresses her companion by laying her head down on the white deal table and bursting into tears.

" Poor little thing ! " says Mr. Dudley, in a tone of deep concern. "You are quite unstrung; and no wonder. You must have been horribly frightened ! " " It is not that ! " she sobs excitedly. " It is because I am so deadly ashamed ! You have saved both our lives, and been half-killed yourself — " (Mr. Dudley smiles involuntarily) " and I thought — last night — that you were — were a burglar — and — and actually locked you in your room ! " An expression of unqualified amazement rests upon Mr. Dudley's good-looking face. DUDLEY. 30 " Locked me in my room ! " he repeats. " Ah ! no wonder then, I could not open the door." Then, after a pause— "Did I look such a very questionable character, then?" (This last remark rather stiffly. ) "Oh, do forgive me! " she cries, "it was more than silly of me, it was mad!

If you knew how ashamed I feel." " Do not distress yourself so much," he replies, very coldly. " After all, it was a natural enough precaution. My intrusion must have seemed a most unwarrantable one, I daresay." Here Nannie appears, laden with cups and saucers ; and Hilary moves hastily towards the window, and opens the shutters a little way. It is six o'clock ; and the grey dawn is beginning to streak the eastern horizon; the storm is past ; and the wind moans fitfully round the house in short sobbing gasps. Mr. Dudley turns to Nannie. " If you will allow me, I will go and make myself a little more presentable ; " he says, with a glance at his slightly un conventional, though rather becoming, costume, " then I should like to see if your dog is all right. It is singular that he should have kept so quiet all this time.

I fear — it is quite likely — the fellow may have poisoned the poor animal to ensure his own safety." When Mr. Dudley has left the room, Nannie surveys Hilary's red eyes critically. "Have you been crying, Hilary?" she inquires. But Hilary does not answer. In a few minutes they hear their visitor come downstairs again. " Be careful with Bruno," Nannie says anxiously, as she stands upon the doorstep, peering out into the semi-darkness. "He doesn't like strangers." " Oh, I'll take care," he replies, laughing, " where is his kennel?" " Just there ; to the left. But it is still so dark ; can you see?" " Not very well ; but I have got the lantern our friend left upstairs. I shan't be a moment." In a few minutes he returns, looking rather grave. " It is as I feared," he says, placing the lantern upon the table, " the poor dog must have been poisoned.

He is quite dead ! " There is a brief silence; and both girls shudder involuntarily. Nannie lays her hand on Mr. Dudley's arm, and half-opens her lips — which are trembling painfully — to speak ; then she turns abruptly away. " Our prisoner is very quiet," says the young man, hastily. " I think I shall look in and see if he is all right." And, taking up the candle, he descends the few steps leading to the washing-house, and unlocks the door. A moment afterwards he utters a short, sharp exclamation, which brings his companions, with beating hearts, to the place where he stands with the candle held aloft in dismay. For the washing-house is empty — the bird has flown ! " By Jove ! " Mr. Dudley exclaims once more, as he gazes round him with an expression of disgust and rage. " The fellow has bolted !

" To this self-evident fact the bewildered girls make no reply. " Ah ! I feared this was hardly strong enough," their guest continues, picking up the piece of tangled rope which lies upon the floor. " He has broken it, you see. I'll engage he couldn't undo the knots I made. No," exami ning the rope carefully, " I thought not." "But how did he get away?" gasps Nannie. "The window is still fastened ; and, besides, it has bars outside ! " For answer, Mr. Dudley points to a small trap-door near the roof, which rattles noisily in the wind. " He surely could never get up there ! " exclaims Hilary, who has not spoken before. "A man can do very impossible things when he is in fear of the law," observes Mr. Dudley, drily. His manner has been markedly cool to Hilary since her confession, and the girl notices it, and feels that she deserves it.

In the kitchen the kettle is boiling cheerily. The daylight steals in through the half-opened shutters ; and Nannie, throwing them back, opens the window a little way. DUDLEY. 32 The rain has ceased, and the wind has gone down con siderably ; but the moor looks bleaker than ever in the cold morning light ; and the kitchen looks proportionately cosy and inviting, as the fire shines fitfully on the heavy rafters, and on the three very grave faces gathered round the old fashioned fireplace. A sudden silence has fallen upon the little group ; the fire breathes and flickers softly ; the tall old clock in the corner ticks loudly and agressively ; and the grateful fragrance of the newly-made coffee fills the air. Presently Nannie flits away to a dark mysterious cupboard at the opposite side of the room, between which and the table she vibrates for some time.

Mr. Dudley remains standing upon the hearth, looking down absently at the dancing flames ; he is evidently thinking deeply, and to judge from his expression, not over-pleasantly. Hilary is seated on the fender, apparently absorbed in making toast. Her eyes still bear the traces of her recent tears ; her hair is ruffled over her forehead, and hangs down her back in a long, thick, glittering plait. After some time she becomes aware that Mr. Dudley is regarding her steadfastly. She looks up for a second ; then carefully examines the piece of toast she is making, and turns its reverse side to the fire. " Do you still retain your very flattering opinion of me, Miss Hilary?" he says, in a low voice, in which there is a faint tinge of amusement. " Or do you think I may possibly turn out to be a respectable member of society after all ?