After sundown; or, The palette and the pen

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Preface

My plea for publishing the present volumes lies in the generous and kindly welcome which greeted Half- Hours of Blind MarCs Holiday two years ago.

Were it not for the pleasant remembrance of that success — which I hope I may consider as one of rather more than mere esteem — and had I not, since then, been constantly urged by numerous friends to give them some more Half-Hours, I might not have been tempted to put forth in a collected form this second series of tales and sketches.

To my many readers who remember what I said in 'My Own Story,' which prefaced Blind Man's Holiday, I say no more about the cause which first led me to write ; but to those who may take up this book without any previous knowledge of the circumstances under which the first was written, I perhaps ought to mention that I have tried in writing to give shape to some of those impressions and ideas which led me, in days gone by, to adopt the career of an artist — a career which was brought by blindness to a sudden close many years ago.

VI PREFACE.

In acknowledgiDg the kind and appreciative en- -conragement my first venture met with, both from known and unknown friends, I can never forget that, for me, not a single critic or reviewer has failed to sheathe his sting; and whilst committing After Sundoicn to the tender mercies of the press and the public, I take this opportunity of oflfering, to one and sll, my grateful and sincere thanks.

W. W. FENN.

Great Marlborongli Street, October 1880.

*^* It is to the courtesy and kindness of the proprietors of the following journals and magazines that I am indebted for permission to reprint the succeeding tales and articles, viz. Illustrated London Neivs, The Queen Newspaper, Good Words, All the Year Round, Chambers's Journal, London Society, Tinsleys' Magazine, St. James's Magazine, Belgravia, The Broadicay, Routledge's Annual, Argosy, Time, The World, &c.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

The Eiddlb of the Eing ....

In tbe Dosk at Dusseldoup

Holidays .......

The Secret op the White Chest

The Shadow op a Dream ....

Fair May op Maypair

On the Search for Subjects with a Landscape

Painter . . .

A Terrible Confession ....

Her Holiday

Eeflected Lustre

A Midnight Watch . • .

The Pleasures op the Palette .

Faithful to the Last, or the False Finger-post

eunning down to brighton

Eambles ON the Byways to Health .

Eiver and Down

PAGE-

I

82- 9&

135 147 174^

33^

376^

39^

As a few years have elapsed since many of the following articles were written, some details here and there may be a little out of date ; but it has been thought better to let them stand unaltered, as, in the main, they do not affect the subject dealt with.

AFTER SUNDOWN.

THE RIDDLE OF THE RING.

CHAPTEB I.

' Too tight across the chest — ^I never can persuade these tailors that I am a broad-shouldered man. Well, it must be altered, and at once, too ; for I've no time to spare, and I haven't a decent coat to my back. Til walk round to Tripper with it on, and show him what an ass he is; that's the shortest plan.'

Such, and many more to the same effect, were the half-muttered musings of Mr. John Farley as, surveying in a long cheval-glass his tall well-knit figure, he put himself into various attitudes, whilst trying on a brand-new fashionably-cut frock-co^t, buttoning and unbuttoning it several times, raising and extending his arms, swelling out his chesii and

VOL. !• B otherwise testing the fit and ease of the garment. We, chronicling this history, and peeping at him as he completes his toilet, can hardly confirm his assertion that he is driven hard for decent attire ; for his handsomely-furnished apartments in Jermyn-street, opening one into the other, were strewn ahout in all directions with articles of wearing apparel, intermingled with a heterogeneous mass of bachelor-like appurtenances, together with several large packingcases, portmanteaus, and leather bags. Shootingcoats, morning-coats, dress-coats, lounging-coats, top-coats, waistcoats, indeed all sorts of coats, were to be seen in every direction — lying on the sofa, thrown upon chairs, bulging out from half-closed drawers, and hanging in the wide-open wardrobe; disorganised battalions of shoes, boots on and off trees, interspersed with skirmishing slippers, of varied and marvellous fashions, were likewise arranged in irregular array in several quarters of the dressing-room. There was a walking-stick or two in every available corner ; two umbrellas on the floor, and one of wasp-like proportions lying straight across the centre table, alongside the glossiest of hats, on the edge of which rested the spotless gray-kid gloves that had just been taken out from the six-dozen pair cedar box which stood slantwise perilously near the

THE RIDDLE OF THE RING. O

inkstand, amidst books, papers, a vase of flowers, a bronze statuette, and paper-weight. Several cigarboxes, one open, with the contents scattered over the sofa amongst some choice-patterned coloured shirts, a pile of woollen socks, and cambric pocket-handkerchiefs crushed down under a dumb-bell, its fellow kicking about in dangerous proximity to a newlyframed and glazed proof engraving of Frith's * Derby Day,' standing against the wall; a French novel turned down open on an ivory-backed hair-brush; the contents of a gold-mounted dressing-case ; bundles of Bussian cigarettes; and the farther agglomeration of atoms there collected together, and distributed at random over the dressing-table, writing-table, and chimneypiece, — lent, as it were, the finishing touches to a scene of hopeless disorder, clearly indicating the reckless carelessness of the young good-looking proprietor.

Less scrupulous and more audible ejaculations followed his first remarks, as, after taking up his hat and gloves and umbrella, and going half-way down-stairs, he suddenly returned. Passing hastily from room to room, and searching eagerly amongst the chaotic elements above hinted at, he said aloud,

* What the deuce have I done with it? I could have sworn I put it down on my dressing-case !

Eyerything is in such a precious mess, and I have no time to put things straight ; and how on earth all this is to be packed by to-morrow night is beyond me !'

Then he tossed and tumbled one thing over another, making confusion worse confounded. At last, halting abruptly in a rush from one table to another, he clapped his hands upon the inner breast-pocket of his coat, saying,

* Ridiculous idiot that I am, why, I have got it in my pocket all the time, of course !' And he again strode down-stairs, and this time out into the street.

Judging from the leisurely manner in which he strolled along the shady side of Pall Mall, we, watching him, should scarcely again feel inclined to indorse the assertion that he had no time to spare. He did not look as if he had vast matters of business to get through between this and to-morrow night. He would not have given a casual observer the least idea that there was a necessity for haste in his actions. Very deliberately, too, he walked into Mr. Tripper's, the well-known tailor's in Waterloo-place, and explained the error that artist had fallen into with regard to his manly proportions. With equal deliberation he then bent his steps in the direction of Trafalgar - square, after requesting that his coat

THE RIDDLE OF THE KING. 5

might be sent for in the course of an hour, when he would have returned, he said, from executing a commission at Messrs. Mellish's, the jewellers in Cockspur-street. But, as he passed the University Club, he was seized upon by an old college chum, one Tom Boscombe, whom he had not seen for some time, and who held him in converse, and insisted on hearing all about his schemes for the future, over a glass of sherry and a biscuit at the club. Farley was not a whit less open to the charms of social intercourse now, on the eve of his departure for a fresh, but by no means first, start in life, and when his time was so precious, than he had ever been ; and by degrees, under the influence of his friend's conversation, the Amontillado sherry, and a cigar, he forgot all about his commission at the jeweller's, and was only reminded even of his appointment about the coat at his lodgings when he at last idly essayed to button the vexatious garment.

* Walk back to Jermyn-street with me, like a good fellow,' he SQ,id to Boscombe ; * I must give this coat to my tailor to be altered : he has been waiting there, poor devil, a couple of hours already, I expect ; so come along. I'll put on another ; we'll take a stroll in the Park ; then come back and have a quiet little dinner together at the Blue Posts, and talk further about those dear old days ;' and the two friends, arm-in-arm, returned to Farley's abode.

In the hall was seated the tailor's workman, who rose respectfully as they entered.

'Afraid I've kept you rather long; just come into my room, and I will give you the coat there, *^ said Farley, leading the way up-stairs.

The young man followed, and after having carefully folded the troublesome coat, and put it into his bag, departed.

As the door closed on him, Boscombe observed,

* What a remarkably good-looking lad that was I Did you notice him ?'

* No, indeed, I can't say I did ; he did not interest me. If it had been a milliner's apprentice instead of a tailor's, perhaps I might have had a keener eye for good looks.'

* Likely enough — no one doubts that ; but that young fellow, save for his short hair and man's dress^ might be a milliner's messenger.'

* What a rum fellow you are, Boscombe ! What fancies you take, and how you do observe things! Why, if you had not told me, I should not have noticed whether his face was as smooth as a DutcL cheese or bearded like the pard. There, that'll do ; I've got a coat on now in which I can breathe at

THE BIDDLE OF THE RING. 7

any rate; it is pretty nearly done for, but it will do for to-day — my last for a long while in the old country. Come away, and well see what's going on in the Drive this fine May day/

As the friends sauntered along towards Hyde Park, Boscombe, in resuming a conversation which had been interrupted by the return to Jermyn-streetj said,

' Well, I am really very glad to have come across you. Jack, and to hear such a good account of your prospects. That old aunt of yours must be, not to speak disrespectfully, a regular trump, and you are a very fortunate fellow to get such an appointment.'

* Yes, indeed, I am,' replied Farley. ' And that is not all; for she has decided to take my little sister Marion to live with her, when the child leaves school, as she will at the end of another year. In fact my aunt will make her her heiress; which means a good deal, for the old lady is very rich.'

* Sister? why, I never knew you had a sister !'

' Eh ? no ! didn't you ? 0, dear, yes ; and very pretty she promises to be too. You know when my father died, she and I were simply left paupers ; and if his kind-hearted old sister hadn't taken care of us, the Union would have been — well, I may say that " Union" would have been our only strength.

8 AFTBB SUNDOWN.

We owe eyerything to my anut Scobell. She has made several efforts to start me in life, but somehow I have always managed to disappoint her* I tried your profession the law, I tried physic, she would not hear of the army ; and now I am going out, as I told you, to Quebec, to a really fine thing, which I think will do — at any rate it must ; for she has declared that if I don't stick to this, she'll throw me off for good and all-; so I mean to turn over a new leaf, and show, if possible, that I am not ungrateful. No,' he added, after a pause, ' I am not ungrateful ; it's my carelessness and want of forethought that have got me into so many scrapes ; and you know, " Evil is wrought by want of thought, as much as want of heart." '

*This is all news to me,' said Boscombe ; 'you never entered into these details before.'

' Didn't I ? 'Pon my word, it's very likely ; I don't remember what I tell, and what I don't; in fact it's very little, I'm afraid, that I do remember. But, yes, there is one thing that I remember now. Why, what an ass I was not to think of it before ! I am as bad as ever ! Why, of course you are the very man ! My aunt is extremely crotchety ; hates doctors and lawyers; but she asked me if I knew any one to whom she could apply in the event of her wanting good legal advice; a man's opinion, yon know, and that sort of thing. I daresay she wants to make her will, and you may as well have the job as any one else. Of course,' he went on, TU write to her at once, and tell her all about you. I'm delighted, my dear fellow, at the chance of being able to do you a good turn.'

As may be gleaned, Mr. Boscombe was a solicitor. He had gone to his club to keep an appointment on business, and having transacted it to his satisfaction was quite willing (the afternoon being far advanced) to give up the rest of the day to his friend, especially as there now seemed a prospect of a good connection opening up out of the renewal of the old acquaintance.

So the friends dined together, and parted with renewed expressions of gratitude to the Fates for having brought them together so opportunely. It was not till past eleven o'clock that night that our careless young friend John Farley, for the first time, called to mind that he had not done quite all he had intended that day ; he had forgotten to take a diamond ring to Messrs. Mellish, which he had promised Mrs. Scobell to deposit with those jewellers for certain repairs, but the oversight did not spoil his night's rest. The following morning, however.

whilst at breakfast, he suddenly remembered that he had left the jewel in its case in the breast-pocket of his over-tight frock-coat ; and this discovery so completely interrupted his matutinal meal, that he sprang up, and, regardless of his personal appearance, walked straight off in his quilted loungingjacket at an unusually rapid pace to Mr. Tripper's establishment. That temple of fashion was quite startled from its propriety by the unexpected appearance of a customer at so unseasonable an hour. Foreman and cutters came from their recesses to listen to what at least must be something very important.

' Valuable ring,' ' old family relic,' * three diamonds,' ' red-leather case,' ' inner breast-pocket,' ' coat to be altered yesterday afternoon/ ' fetched by a young man' — ^what did it portend ? Simply this — that unless the ring were in the pocket still, it was lost, or had been stolen. The unsewn garment was produced, and there was certainly no ring in the pocket. Walters, the young man, was sent for ; he had not been at work since tea-time yesterday — * he was a lazy customer,' they said — but in a little while he appeared. He stoutly denied all knowledge of the ring; he had not set eyes on such a thing; and upon being pressed and threatened, he declared in-

THE BIDDLE OF THE BING. 11

dignantly that the gentleman's rooms were in such a state of confusion that most likely the ring was there now ; anybody might go and see that what he said was true. There was no denying this possibility : Farley admitted that things were a little at sixes and sevens, because he was just going abroad. Then Mr. Tripper himself, naturally jealous of the reputation of his establishment, o£fered to return with Mr. Farley to his rooms, and aid him in a search, when probably they would find the missing article. But the moment Mr. Tripper saw the confusion he remonstrated :

' Beally, sir,' he said, ' you must excuse me, but I think it is a little hard you should so hastily assume dishonesty on the part of any of my people ; it must surely.be impossible for you to say positivelyj in the face of this disorder, that the ring was in the coat-pocket.'

*Ah, well, you may think so,' rejoined Farley, * but I could have sworn it was. To be sure, things are in a bit of a mess ; but I took the greatest care to put that ring in safety. I don't know where the deuce to look for it, and I would not lose it for any money.'

And all this while he was turning things over one upon another in his usual reckless style. Again Mr. Tripper remonstrated :

* Pray, pray, sir,' he said, * excuse me ; let us be a little more methodical in our search ;' and so, by degrees, some order was restored. But after more than an hour's diligent examination of every likely and unlikely place in which the ring might have been discovered, they were fain to give up their hunt as hopeless.

' Well,' said Farley, flinging himself into a chair, ' I sail from Liverpool the day after to-morrow. I must leave this business in the hands of my friend, Mr. Boscombe : but I shall also give information of my loss at Scotland-yard ; for I may tell you, Mr. Tripper, that the safety of that ring is of vital moment to me.'

Mr. Tripper promised, of course, as far as he was concerned, that the investigation should be continued ; but it was quite evident he had formed his own conclusions, and placed very little reliance on Mr, Farley's memory, and consequently on his declaration as to where he remembered putting the ring.

* That young gentleman,' he muttered to himself, as he returned to his shop, * must often forget where his head is, I should think. I never knew such a happy-go-lucky blade.'

Now the truth was, that young Farley's rich old aunt, to whom he was indebted for the Civil appoint-

THE BIDDLB OF THE RIKG. 13

ment he was about to enter upon at Quebec, had intrusted him with this valuable heirloom to take to her jewellers' to be cleaned, on the occasion of his farewell visit to her, down at Dene Court, her place in Sussex. With many injunctions to be careful of it — ^for she well knew her nephew's character — the old lady, in bidding him ' good-bye,' impressed upon him the value she .set on this jewel. It was of very Antique date and pattern, and had descended to her through several generations of the Scobell family. The thought, therefore, of the dire disgrace he would get into with his aunt, together with the annoyance which he knew the loss of the ring would entail upon her, made him shrink from openly avowing his misfortune. His passage was taken, he could not delay his departure, and must leave town the next day; so he finally left everything in the hands of Boscombe, and by a desperate effort got ready and started for Canada at the appointed time.

In the fond hope that his friend might yet be able to restore the ring to his aunt, John Farley, in writing to her the evening before he sailed, briefly explained that he had had the stupidity to mislay it, but that Mr. Boscombe (who, by the way, he said, would be the very person she required as a clearheaded man of business) knew all particulars, and would doubtless communicate with her speedily on the subject.

As that gentleman, however, was never able to obtain any information at Scotland-yard or elsewhere, in spite of all exertions, he was fain to remain silent. He heard from Farley soon after his arrival in Canada ; the young fellow was in sore distress at the angry and indignant tone which Mrs. Scobell had adopted with regard to the ring, ai)^ most voluminous was the correspondence that followed between the two friends* Still the ring was never heard of, and Mrs. Scobell was in too great dudgeon to open any communication with Mr. Boscombe. Yet she did not carry her indignation to the extent Farley feared she might, of altering her intentions with regard to his sister ; and it was with much satisfaction that in about eighteen months after he was settled in Quebec, and getting on very well, he received a letter from his aunt, couched in the kindly tone of old times, stating that Marion Farley was now established with her, and was a great source of pleasure and comfort in the lonely life she led at Dene Court.