Hush! A novel

Front matter

USH! gr 10VCI. By CURTIS YORKE, AUTHOR OF "DUDLEY." "In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our wealth; in the hour of death, and in the day of judgement — Good Lord, deliver us ! " — Litany. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 13ublisfjcrs in ©tuinarg to *^cr fHajrstg trjc ©urnt. 1888. (All rights reserved.) CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAPTER pAG_ I. Like Dian's Kiss ... ... 1 II. The Eeverend Archer ... 17 III. The Pale Horseman ... ... 38 IV. "And the other left!" ... 56 V. In Kinchley Wood ... ... 65 VI. The Moth and the Candle ... 86 VII. "Love — thou art Bitter!" ... 110 VIII. "The Steep of Honour!" ... 132 IX. Taken for Granted! ... ... 162 X. "In a Crowd!" ... ... 188 XI. How he won her ... ... 217 XII. "For Better, for Worse" ... HUSH!

Chapter I. Like

DIAn's KISS. " That I have loved — that I have known the love That troubles in the heart the tearful springs, Yet with a colouring halo from above Tinges and glorifies all earthly things, Whate'er its anguish or its woe may be — I thank Thee, oh, my God ! " Christmas had come and gone, and the New Year was no longer young. It was a dull, grey, sunless March afternoon. The garden in front of Dene Cottage looked soaked and dreary, not yet having recovered from the effects of the wild and 21 VOL. hush! 2 continuous celestial shower-bath to which it had been subjected over-night. The laurestinus had an injured and dejected appearance ; there were unsightly little puddles here and there upon the gravelled pathways. The cosy sitting-room where we find Delicia and her mother, however, was by contrast cheery and inviting.

A bright fire was burning in the low, old fashioned grate, already contesting success fully the dying daylight. It was a pleasant room, and a pretty one too, with a refined aspect of comfort about it which caught the eye and rested the spirit at once. A woman, I dare say, would have detected at a glance a certain aspect of " home-made-ness " about most of the deco rations, hangings, etc. At least, so I have been told. The general effect, however, was one of taste and harmony, and un deniably of home. It was their only sitting-room, for Dene Cottage was small LIKE DUN'S KISS. 3 almost to a fault. But then the rent was in proportion. Mrs. Lavender was knitting. She was almost always knitting. The number of socks and stockings of various sizes and textures which she annually launched upon the world was all but incredible.

Delicia, seated at a little table near the window, was painting diligently in water colours. She pursued this vocation with an ulterior view than mere amusement, and disposed of her work to a picture dealer — of average honesty — in London. Both mother and daughter were rather silent. For one thing, the day itself, as I have hinted, was depressing ; and for another thing the same thought was exercising the minds of both ; namely, how to cut down a little further their already very much cut down expenses. Scarce as ready money had been with Mrs. Lavender since her husband's death, it had HUSH ! of late been scarcer still. The company in whose shares part of her small capital was invested, bad lately come to grief in one of those mysterious ways in which companies do come to grief, and, in con sequence, swept away an appreciable part of the widow's income.

Therefore, a more rigid economy than ever was necessary in the little household ; and when one has been doing without any luxuries at all, it is manifestly difficult to do with less. As the daylight waned, Delicia laid down her brushes regretfully, and began to gather up her colours and various paraphernalia. She was one of the very few workers who can pursue their calling without making an uncertain radius of their implements around them. Her colours, brushes, and other materials never spread themselves bej-ond that one small table. " Impossible to do any more to-day," she said, with a vexed contraction of her straight brows. " "What an aggravatingly inexorable thing daylight — or rather want of daylight — is ! I hoped to have finished this before dark ; and that would have completed the half-dozen.

Then I could have taken them up to old Corbie in the morning. However, I can get up early to-morrow, and finish it before breakfast." " Don't work too hard, little one," said her mother, in her anxious, kind voice. (She often called Delicia " little one," though she herself was at least a head and shoulders shorter than her well-grown daughter.) " I'm afraid you do sometimes, especially lately. You get up at such unearthly hours. It makes you look quite fagged all day." " I don't work too hard," answered the girl, as she carefully cleaned and put away her brushes. " But I like to feel, mother darling, that I am not quite a useless creature. Why, I shall make quite a hush! 6 respectable income in time, and perhaps even become famous ! And yet," she went on, taking a low seat before the fire, and leaning her head against her mother's knee — for this was one of stately Delicia's contradictory habits — " and yet — I am only a woman, you see, and therefore inevitably and eternally handicapped."

" Eternally ? " questioned her mother, in gentle reproof. " I spoke in a mundane sense, darling," returned Delicia. " What a future, now, lies before a man — young-, strong, and healthy, and just beginning life, with all his career before him ! He may valiantly attack, and with his sword of freedom open by force that grand old oyster the world. Well, of course, that sentiment is hardly original, but it expresses what I mean. While we women, as a rule, must sit patiently inside the oyster, so to speak, and wait until some one opens it for us." Mrs. Lavender smiled. " It is warmer and safer inside, though," she said. " We are apt to forget that." " It is warmer and safer — yes. But it is possible to be stifled, though one be safe and warm. I like to have something to battle with — something to overcome.

I feel sometimes, mother, as though my teeth were mentally set — my whole being strung up, in a dogged determination to defy, and do, and bear anything — except to sit still, inactive." Her eyes flashed and glowed as she spoke ; her voice vibrated with passionate earnestness. Her mother looked at her with eyes almost wistfully tender ; but she did not answer immediately. It is so easy to defy the world, to bear its buffets and dis appointments and griefs, when we are young, and sanguine, and healthy. But, alas ! it is a different story when we have left our youth behind us ; when we are HUSH ! heart-weary and broken-down — exhausted in mind and body. When our hearts sicken instead of throb at the thought of fresh combat, renewed conflict ; when we wonder hopelessly and wearily if, after all, the game is worth the candle.

But Delicia did not know that heart sickness — as yet. There was a pause ; then Mrs. Lavender said softly — " ' Their strength is to sit still ' ! " Ah yes, I know ! " her daughter an swered in quick, uncertain tones. " But, mother — I — I feel just now as if — as if that were just the one thing that is im possible to me ! " And the soft red lips set themselves in a firm straight line, while the dark eyes grew misty with unshed tears. "Delicia," said the tender, motherly voice, " dear child, do you think I do not, know ? Do you think I have not guessed?" " What ? — guessed what ? " said the girl, almost sharply. " What you have not told me, darling," was the quiet answer. " Oh, mother, have I concealed it so ill — so ill ? " muttered poor Delicia, with a hysterical sob. And she hid her burning face in the folds of her mother's gown, almost as a child might have done.

" No, dear. But I am your mother — and my eyes are a mother's eyes," said the elder woman, laying her hand on her daughter's head. " Would you have believed it of me ? " went on the girl, in a muffled voice. " That /, Delicia Lavender, should have given my whole heart to a man who — who doesn't want it ! " " I am not one of those who think that love comes and goes at will, my daughter. And Marmaduke Power is a man no woman need be ashamed to have loved. But, Delicia — forgive me if I hurt you, my little one — he only cares for HUSH ! you as a friend, I think. You know that ? " " Yes, dear mother, I know," Delicia answered, wincing a little at the sound of the bare truth she knew so well. " Who am I, that he should care for me in any other way ? He — rich, talented, the last of a noble race — he who might marry almost any woman !

And I — poor, obscure, and not even pretty ; though," she added, with a half-hysterical laugh, " I think I have an average amount of brains. No," she went on steadily, after a pause, raising a pair of dark wet eyes to her mother's sweet troubled face, " I am not ashamed of loving him. But because he does not love me back again, I don't mean to let it spoil my life. I shall always be proud of being his friend — for he does care for me as a friend ; and even when--when he marries — for of course he will marry — I hope I shall be his friend still. But, oh, mother" LIKE MAN'S KISS. — and she broke down suddenly — " now that he is gone, I miss him so ! Don't quite despise me." Her mother stroked the bent head softly, but silently. " I am a fool ! " went on Delicia, pas sionately. Then, in low, quivering tones — • " And it is best as it is.

For, oh, mother, to be — to be his wife — it would be to me too great, too inconceivable a happiness — my life would be too blest ! I should for get duty, religion, Heaven, God Himself! My whole life would be one continual deliberate violation of the first command ment ! " Mrs. Lavender did not look shocked. She was one of the few mothers who not only love, but understand their children. So, I venture to hope, our Heavenly Father understands His children, even in their wildest, bitterest moods, and mis judges them — never ! HUSH ! " Oh, mother, how wicked I am ! " De licia sobbed. " You see, God knew what was best for me." " Yes, my darling," answered the soft, tender mothervoice ; ' ' God knows best — always ! " There was a long silence. The shadows deepened in the quiet room ; the fire breathed a low, caressing song to the twilight.

Then Delicia said suddenly — " Now, mother, we will not speak of it any more. I am glad you know about it. After all, my love will do him no harm ; and I shall be none the worse. I had rather go through life, loving and rever encing — even without return — a man I know to be good and true, than marry, in the oyster-like way some girls marry, a man I might love after a fashion, but could never honour, and only obey with a reser vation. And so endeth the first lesson ! " she concluded, with a tearful smile, as she rose and kissed her mother tenderly. " I don't know when I indulged in a 'cry' before. And now — we will have our tea." At this point the little maid entered with a basket of flowers and fruit from Powerslynn. Similar baskets were wont to appear at intervals of three or four days, Power having left strict orders to that effect.

On every fine afternoon, too, the carriage from Powerslynn stopped at the gate of Dene Cottage, just as it had done when its owner was at home; and this almost daily drive was a great pleasure and luxury to both mother and daughter. Mrs. Lavender, as well as Delicia, missed Power a good deal. She would have given her daughter to him willingly, and only felt that she had gained a son, even had his income been represented by three figures instead of five. And who could tell, she pondered, as she stirred her tea — his friendship might not always remain hush! 14 only friendship. For Delicia was very bonnie and lovable in her mother's eyes — much too bonnie and lovable to devote her whole life to a dream of what " might have been." There was no talk of the travellers' cominohome in the meantime.

Edith wrote most enthusiastically of the pleasures of living abroad. She said she seemed to live in a fairy dream. And Duke was so good to her, so patient, so indulgent ; but far, far quieter than he used to be. Mar maduke himself never wrote ; but from time to time nrysterious-looking boxes, addressed by him to Mrs. Lavender, arrived at Dene Cottage, containing de lightful surprises in the way of cameos, mosaics, curious pieces of china, etc., which delighted the old lady's heart. In Edith's last letter to Delicia she had enclosed photographs of herself and her brother. Edith's had been immediately appointed to an honourable position in a frame on the mantelpiece ; but Power's was invisible for some days. Then, in a fit of stern self discipline and disapprobation, Delicia had brought it downstairs, and it too faced the public gaze in a crimson plush frame.

Delicia was glad Edith had sent it. She could study the pictured face as she had never dared to study the original. And she studied it very often, until she knew every feature, every line by heart. The firm, well-cut mouth and chin, the heavy sweeping moustache, the proudly held head, and the one and only positive beauty the face possessed — the kind, true eyes, — eyes in which, even in the portrait, there was an expression to Delicia quite inex plicable — the haunting, agonized shadow of some horror held at bay — of hopeless, ex hausted struggle against some terrible, in tangible foe which had mastered him. It is Nathaniel Hawthorne, is it not, who HUSH ! says, " There is a wonderful insight in Heaven's broad and simple sunshine. While we give it credit only for depicting the merest surface, it actually brings out the secret character with a truth that no painter would ever venture upon, even could he detect it " ? This is so, my readers. Ye who have dark secrets to keep — shun the photographer's studio.

Chapter II. The Reverend Archer

" If I say then, that he was always thinking about her when he was not thinking about some thing he had to think about — have I not said nearly enough on the matter?" — George Macdonald. The household at The Hermitage were preparing for church, for it was Sunday morning. The bright May sunshine was streaming in upon the grey-haired twin daughters of the house of Doran in their best black silks and velvet mantles. On Cora, in a bewitching costume of some dark blue stuff, with a wicked little bonnet to match. On Johnnie, in his best suit, and the — to him — senseless agony and discomfort of gloves. And lastly, on the vol. ii. HUSH ! iudolent figure, and plain but clever looking face of Rupert Adair, who, the day before had, as he expressed it, " run down for a breath of country air," or, in plain English, for a glimpse of his cousin Cora.

At the last moment, Johnnie was dis covered to be invisible ; and as the bells had already begun, the twins hastened on. They had never been late for church since they left school, and they were not going to begin now. Cora went in search of the truant ; and Adair, of coarse, waited for Cora. Some little time elapsed before that young lady, flushed and breathless, reappeared with the recreant Johnnie in tow, and the latter having been with difficulty persuaded to abandon a choice family of snails, which he had carefully tied up in his tiny clean pocket-handkerchief, the trio set off at a brisk pace hurchwards. Barbara, in a costume after the pre vailing style of the last century, stood watching them from the open window of the breakfast-room, where she was presently joined by old Dawson, who, arrayed in his Sunday best, had been prowling regretfully round the flower-beds, inwardly lamenting that his " preenciples" did not permit him to remove on the " Sawbath " a few straggling weeds which he had overlooked on the previous evening.

" They'd mak' a fine pair," he observed to his companion, with a jerk of his head in the direction of the retreating figures. " They are a well-matched couple, Mr. Dawson," returned Barbara, in her prim, precise tones. (If there was one thing upon which Barbara prided herself, it was upon the scrupulous correctness of her language.) " And will's be a match, think ye ? " inquired the old gardener, with interest. hush! 20 " I could not say as to that, Mr. Dawson," was the sedate reply, "though I think it would be a very suitable arrangement. I have been in the family longer than you have, Mr. Dawson, and I have seen them play when children together in this very garden, both of them orphans, poor things. Mr. Rupert was a headstrong young gentleman in those days — quite as bad as Master Johnnie."

" Ay — ay ! Was he, though ? " returned Mr. Dawson, scratching his head reflec tively. " He maun ha' been a thrawn wee deevil ! Master Johnnie heeds nae body's biddin' but Miss Cora's," he went on after a pause. " She's a braw young leddy, Miss Cora. She aye puts me in mind o' a new-blawn carnation. Mr. Rupert's no sae weel-faured, to be sure ; but he has a way wi' him, too." " The female sex are not invariably partial to beauty in a man, Mr. Dawson. It would be a poor look-out for some of them if we were," observed Barbara, with a disdainful sniff. Poor Dawson coloured, for he was un deniably not " weel-faured." " Ye're unco smairt, Mistress Barbara," he said indignantly. " Ye're no that braw yersel." (Which was certainly true.) " Nevertheless, I have been admired in my day, Mr. Dawson," answered his companion in justly incensed tones, " by many who might have looked higher.

It is entirely my own fault that I am as yet a spinster." " Ou, it's easy admirin'," growled Dawson ; " but folks dinna aye want tae buy a' they admire in the shop-windies." " I fail to grasp your meaning, Mr. Dawson," returned Barbara, with much dignity. " Aweel, aweel," was the answer, " least said, soonest mended. We'd a' raither be hush ! melons than cabbages, nae doot. Folks dinna mak' themsels, or maybe their faces as weel's their tempers and tongues "ud be different. Some of us is for use an' some for ornament ; and as neither you nor me is muckle tae look at, Mistress Barbara, it's tae be hoped we dae our duty in the state o' life in wheech it's pleased our Maker tae ca' us." With which enigmatical saying, the old man hobbled away, leaving Barbara quivering with indignation. However, as she and Dawson had had, on an average, a similar passage-at-arms at least once a day for I am afraid to say how many years, her wrath was but transient ; and as for Dawson, he would as soon have thought of bearingmalice as of sowing green peas in December.

Meanwhile, Adair and Cora, each firmly grasping a hand of their small cousin, were journeying in uncomfortable haste down the lane which led to the old fashioned, picturesque church of Carlford. " Oh, Ru, I can't keep this up any longer ! " cried Cora, almost out of breath. " We must just be late ! " Then suddenly, " Ah ! there is Mr. Digby. He is late too. Joy and jubilation ! Mr. Digby ! Mr. Dig — by ! " she called softly and clearly. The vicar, who was some distance on ahead, turned, and slowly retraced his steps. Cora held out her hand to him with a seductive smile. " I am so glad to see you, Mr. Digby," she said. " We are so late for church ; and I am quite out of breath. Please walk quite slowly. If we get there the same time as you do, we are all right. They can't begin without you !

" Mr. Digby looked surprised, and even a little shocked at this levity ; but he accommodated his pace to the young lady's, and greeted Mr. Adair with frigid courtesy. HUSH ! 24 It annoyed him that the latter gentleman should visit The Hermitage thus frequently, for he had heard various bits of gossip lately which had seriously disturbed his peace of mind — bits of gossip which all related to the probability of Miss Linton becoming Mrs. Adair. And why, then, should any friendly gossip connected with this frivolous young woman and her cousin have power to affect the well-balanced mind of the Reverend Archer? Because he did not approve of cousins marrying ? Not at all. Why, then ? Because, alas ! this immaculate and really well-meaning, if priggish young man had discovered that he was only human after all, and as liable to follies and weaknesses as the most unregenerate of his flock.

Mr. Digby, in fact, to his intense surprise and annoyance, had discovered some time ago that he was violently in love with Cora Linton. It was most unaccountable ; for she was not at all the kind of young woman he approved of — quite the reverse. Possibly her dis tracting prettiness might have had some thing to do with it. However, the fact remained that her presence, her voice, the touch of her hand, had power to thrill and agitate him as no woman's hitherto had ever done. And the more he tried to conquer and subdue this outrageous piece of folly, the more persistently it remained with him, and made his life a burden to him. For a young man who had hitherto controlled his emotions with a strong and relentless hand, who laid down for himself (and kept them, too) rules just as hard and fast as for others, it was really a harassing state of matters.

Had it been Miss Lavender whose image filled his mind, he would not have been surprised. He had thous-ht when he first met her that she would make a most suitable wife for a clergy man— for he was no advocate HUSH ! 26 for the celibacy of his profession. But that it should be Cora — who was at times positively rude to him, who disagreed with him upon almost every subject, who tor mented him, contradicted him, nay, who at times actually shocked him — why, it was unheard of! Nevertheless, she had bewitched him heart and soul — if such an unorthodox process could take place in the heart and soul of such an orthodox young man as Mr. Digby. And on this sunny Sabbath morning, as he walked beside her, obediently suiting bis step to hers, his heart was beating as wildly and as unclerically as though he had been a very ordinarily constituted young man indeed.

But outwardly he looked, if anything, more haughty, and as, Cora thought, more priggish than ever. Mean-while, Johnnie the wily, released during the past few minutes from his cousins' hands, was improving the shininohour by surreptitiously attaching to the long tails of his pastor's coat sprays of that straggling and adhesive plant known in some districts as " Robin-round-the-hedge." Adair and Cora were already profusely decorated in a similar manner — I need hardly add, without their knowledge. Now, as a general rule, Mr. Digby was punctuality itself, and never kept his congregation waiting for a fraction of a second. But he knew he should be late to-day ; for Cora was now walking as slowly as was possible, indeed was trailing along as though they had hours before them, and the vicar began to look uneasy and annoyed.

At last Adair, taking pity on him, suggested that they had better walk a little faster ; and they reached the churchyard gate just as the bells stopped. " Thank you so much, Mr. Digby," said naughty Cora at the church door. Then in a very low voice, " I don't know when HUSH ! I enjoyed walking to church as I have done to-day." And this with an upward look from her lovely eyes which made the young man addressed not quite sure whether he stood on his head or bis heels. The congregation had sat in growing wonder for nearly ten minutes when their pastor — his handsome face slightly flushed from the rapidity with which he had got into his surplice — sailed up the aisle, and sank into bis usual attitude of picturesque devotion. At the same moment Cora and Rupert, marshalling Johnnie before them, entered and took their seats, blandly ignoring the respective severe and re proving glances of Aunt Joan and Aunt Phœbe.

The vicar's sermon that morning was not characterized by either self-possession or lucidity, and finally came to a lame and abrupt conclusion. The Misses Dorans' pew was immediately in front of the pulpit ; and towards the end of the sermon Johnnie, who had been wriggling about wearily for some time, suddenly seized his cousin Cora round the neck, and exclaimed in loud and distinct tones — " Oh, Cora, I want to kiss you ! " W^hereupon Mr. Adair, who was seated at her other hand, and who certainly ought to have known better, whispered — " Oh, Cora, so do I ! " Miss Linton darted a withering look at the last speaker, and, with a murmured admonition, granted Johnnie's request. It might be that Mr. Digby 's sentiments were identical with those of plain-spoken Johnnie — that he too would have liked to make known his wishes with equal frank ness, though perhaps less publicity.

At all events he became rather red, and lost his place in his manuscript. But he was destined to become redder still ; for the irreverent and unquenchable Johnnie, HUSH ! 30 turning his wandering eyes to the pulpit, suddenly called out — " I say, Mr. Digby — you don't know what you've got on your back ! " At this awful remark several of the congregation gave way to ill-suppressed mirth ; while the scandalized Misses Doran rose simultaneously, seized the abandoned Johnnie, and conveyed him out bodily. As for the unhappy Mr. Digby, he, after a paralysed pause, brought his discourse to an abrupt and precipitate termination, hurriedly pronounced the benediction, and hastened down the pulpit stairs with not a vestige of his usual di<rnitv. For such O Ot/ a self-possessed young man, he looked thoroughly and hopelessly upset and dis concerted.

As the party from The Hermitage left the church, they were joined by Delicia Lavender and her mother. The two girls dropped a little way behind the others. Johnnie — unsubdued and unrepentant — pranced on before, in full view of the indignant twins. As Cora and Delicia sauntered along the hedge-bound lane, Mr. Digby passed them without speaking, and with a verv stiff bow. 1/ " I wish that man would let me write his sermons for him," observed Cora, when they had laughed a little at Johnnie's recent bad behaviour, and the vicar's dis comfiture thereby. " My dear," replied Delicia, with a mischievous smile, " I have no doubt he would allow you to do that or anything else, if you asked him." Cora made a little grimace, and con tinued — " Did you hear how ' down ' he was to day on all amusements, all enjoyments, and everything one's heart delights in ?

What a dreary picture of a religious life he always presents us with ! " HUSH ! " I noticed that he made some very severe remarks upon dancing-parties, amongst other things," said Delicia. " I suppose he doesn't dance, himself." " Mr. Digby dance ! " exclaimed Cora, reprovingly. " My dear Delicia, what can you be thinking of ? Can you imagine our superciliously dignified vicar degrading himself so far as to execute meaningless twirls and chassees — con descending to ' set to partners,' to embrace a woman in a waltz, or indulge in the mad, fantastic antics of the heel-and-toe polka ? Good gracious ! I could as easily picture Aunt Joan and Aunt Phœbe playing leap frog ! " Delicia laughed. There was a pause ; then Cora said abruptly — "Do you know that the Powers are coming home ?" " No, I didn't know," answered the other, feeling her heart throb wildly.