Philip Lyndon's troubles

CHAPTER I. Il

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

CONTENTS OF

PHILIP’S DISCOVERY - = THE FIRST MEETING - THE LYNDONS = S ANOTHER MEETING =

DISAPPOINTMENT - a

- RELENTING - o >

GEORGE’S DISCOVERY AN ACCIDENT - - WAITING - - -

VOL.

lv Contents CHAPTER

XVII. AT CHURCH - = = XVIII. A VISITOR - -

XIX. MRS. MANSFIELD’S PARTY

XX. CONSEQUENCES - 2 XXI. ADVICE > - XXII. CARRINGTON HALL - - XXIII. THE CONFESSION 2 a) XXIV. THE BROKEN ROSE-TREE

XXV. THE CONVERSAZIONE

XXVI. CONSULTATIONS - -

PAGE

PHILIP LYNDON’S TROUBLES.

095,00 ——

CHAPTER I.

PHILIPS DISCOVERY.

‘ Back, as a hand that pushes thro’ the leaf To find a nest and feels a snake, he drew.’ TENNYSON.

‘Tue gentleman who has succeeded Mr. Howard isa Mr. Lyndon, observed George Mansfield to his mother one evening, as the family were sitting in the drawing-room.

‘Indeed! Do you know anything of him, George ?

‘T knew Philip Lyndon when he was at college.’

‘He is a young man, then?

‘Yes, but his father is associated with him

VOL, I. 1 in the business, Scott tells me. Lyndon was ° a jolly sort of fellow.’

Mrs. Mansfield was an elegant-looking woman. The expression of her countenance was remarkably prepossessing. Her face wore the pallid hue of feeble health, and her hair was of a silvery whiteness. Her son, whom she had addressed as George, was a good-looking young man of about eight-and-twenty. He bore a considerable resemblance to his mother, but more in feature than in expression, though that gave evidence of habitual good-humour, and of no deficiency of firmness. His brother Stanton, who was sitting near the window reading, was a few years younger, and not so good-looking.

‘I am not very fond of a jolly fellow, especially for a surgeon, observed Mrs. Mansfield.

‘Well, you know, medical students are rather apt to be—— i

‘Something like you, I suppose, thought Stanton, as his brother paused for a word.

‘Lyndon may have sown his wild oats by this time,’ continued George, with a slight though rather peculiar smile.

‘Lyndon! exclaimed Harry, a delicate-looking boy of about fifteen, who was stretched upon the sofa. ‘That was the name of one of my

Plulip’s Discovery. 3 schoolfellows—Tom Lyndon. What is this man’s name ?

‘Did you not hear me say that it was Philip?

‘Then he must be Tom’s brother, for he used to talk about Phil. That will be jolly; you'll have to have him, mother, for old Wood is such a muff’

‘IT should not like to have him, certainly,’ observed Mrs. Mansfield.

‘I think that you had better, notwithstand ing,’ said George.

‘T’ll go round and see if I can see anything of Tom,’ said Harry, jumping up from the sofa with more alacrity than he usually displayed.

‘It will be a good thing for Harry to have a companion whom he takes to, that is if he is suitable, observed Mrs. Mansfield, as the boy left the room.

‘That remains to be seen,’ replied George. ‘From what I knew of Philip Lyndon, when he was a student, he continued, ‘I should object strongly to have him attending here. I happened to come to the knowledge of some facts which would have ruined him for hfe had they become known,’

‘In that case it will be better, decidedly, to have Mr. Wood,’ replied his mother ; and so it was settled. i

Harry took his way along the Walks until he came to the familiar gates. They stood wide open, and inside was a waggon, which some men were engaged in packing. Mr. Howard having died away from home, his widow had sent orders for the furniture to be taken away directly, to make room for her husband’s successor.

Philip Lyndon was sitting at his desk, looking through the books belonging to the business. His figure was strong and finely formed. The rich brown of his complexion, his dark hair and beard, and his handsome features, gave him a decidedly striking appearance, while every lne of his countenance showed energy and power of character, and a nature which betokened a great capability, both of affection and of passion. He had gone over several pages when his eye fell upon the name of Mansfield. He started, and a dark frown gathered on his brow. He looked at the book no more, but sat quite still, with his head leaning on his hand.

In the meantime Master Tom, a dark-eyed brown-cheeked boy of about fourteen, after letting off the effervescence of his spirits by a scamper round the Walks, had ensconced himself on a packing-case in the yard, where he

Philip’s Discovery. 5 sat whistling and kicking the sides of the case, watching with very great interest the operations of the men. On seeing Harry Mansfield, he jumped down, thinking that he was some one inquiring for his brother; but, on recognising his school friend, he hastened to him with a hearty greeting.

They had just mounted on the packing-case, when the first large drops of a shower of rain began to fall, of which Tom took little heed. Harry, however, not being so robust as his companion, suggested that a shelter would be desirable.

‘We had better go into the surgery,’ Tom said ; ‘I think Phil is not there.’

Phil was there, however; and as the two boys entered, he looked round with such a scowl in his dark eyes, that Tom and Harry beat a hasty retreat. By turning up the packing-case, however, and creeping inside, they found a shelter from the rain.

‘So that is Phil, is it? said Harry, when they were comfortably settled. ‘What makes him look so savage ?

‘Oh, I don’t know. Something has put him out, I suppose.’

‘ Does he often look lke that ?”

‘Oh yes, when he is vexed. But I have not seen much of him, you know, for a long time, with his having been away in India. He had to come home when father was ill, to see after the business.’

‘I thought you were to stay at school longer, said Harry.

‘Well, so I was, but you see I didnt; and Tom concluded his lucid explanation by whistling.

‘ Nobody is ever cross at our house, not even George, observed Harry, upon whom the frown on Philip Lyndon’s face had produced a strong impression.

‘What a blessing!’ cried Tom, energetically. ‘Shouldn’t I like to live there !’

‘How jolly it is that you are here!’ said Harry. ‘You must come and see me, Tom.’

‘All right, I'll come some day. But you had better come here oftenest, because you can see me without ringing and all that fuss.’

‘I shan’t come here much if your brother looks so cross,’ replied Harry.

‘Oh, you need not mind him; he'll take no notice of you.’

At this moment Philip’s clear sharp tones were heard ringing out his brother’s name, and Tom scrainbled out of his hiding-place precipitately, and went into the surgery; while Harry,

Philip’s Discovery. 7 thankful that his friend had to go instead of himself, came to the conclusion that, under the circumstances, it would be advisable to make himself scarce with all convenient speed, which he accordingly did.

CHAPTER II: THE FIRST MEETING. ‘A countenance in which did meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet ;

A creature not too bright or good

For human nature’s daily food,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. * * * * * *

And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.’ ‘W oRDSWORTH.

Puiuip, having set his brother some writing to do, with strict injunctions to be quick about it, took his way down the Walks towards the bottom of the town; his face was not so dark as it had been, though his brow was contracted still. The rain, which had for a time abated, suddenly increased into a shower. Philip had just turned a corner of the avenue when he met Harry and a lady; he did not recognise -

The First Meeting. 9 the youth who had lately retired so hastily from his presence, for he had scarcely seen him on that occasion; his attention now was directed exclusively towards the lady, who, in her thin summer dress, was quite unprotected from the wet, the trees at this point not affording much shelter, as the rain came slanting between their trunks. The lady was scarcely of the middle height, and of a graceful figure ; her features were of a pure and delicate beauty ; her complexion of an almost marble paleness, with just a faint tinge of colour on the cheek ; and her hair of a soft light brown. But the loveliness of the expression of her face was what most struck Philip; there was in it the ‘might of gentleness, and a kind of softened radiance, as of some holy light within. She looked as if passion and sin could not approach her pure whiteness.

Philip instantly begged her acceptance of his umbrella, which she at first refused, saying that they should soon be at home ; but on his urging it, she consented, thanking him, and turning round, as he was passing on, to inquire where she should send it. Philip walked on like one inadream. It seemed as if he had been waiting through long years of darkness for that sweet face to dispel the gloom around him. He thought that with such an angel at his side, life must be blessed. She would shed peace and hope over the stormy clouds which shrouded his path, and made it lie so blank and desolate before him ; and yet—what could she have to do with such as he ?

“You need not have asked him where to send it, Cousin Blanche,’ said Harry, as they waiked on, ‘for I knew that he was the new doctor, Mr. Lyndon ; and he proceeded to tell what had happened at the surgery, concluding with the remark that ‘he has soon got over his illhumour, however, for he looked uncommonly pleasant when he gave us the umbrella.’

When they reached Mrs. Mansfield’s, Harry had to relate over again the history of his reception by Mr. Lyndon, and also to teil of their subsequent meeting with that gentleman, on account of which Blanche had to run the gauntlet of a little bantering.

‘Lyndon seems to be very much like what he used to be,’ observed George. ‘He could be very amiable when he liked, and when he did not, he was intensely disagreeable.’

Several days passed, and Philip saw nothing of the unknown lady; and as, when the umbrella was returned, the servant had not caught the name of the sender, he was obliged

The First Meeting. Hl to wait for an opportunity of obtaining further information. It was possible, indeed, that she might be some visitor in the town whom he would never see again. With regard to the other subject which occupied his thoughts, there was no need of exercising the same reticence; and he heard the Mansfields spoken of as a wealthy family of high standing and great estimation in the town, and George was considered to be the principal lawyer of the neighbourhood. Philip determined to keep out of his way as much as he possibly could.

Although the Mansfields had been patients of Mr. Howard, it was very unlikely that he would be summoned to attend them. Philip comforted himself with the reflection that such would be the case. To be in the same town with Mansfield would be bad enough, but to visit at the house, even only in a professional capacity, would, he felt, be little less than intolerable.

Philip was considerably annoyed, when Tom, in the exuberance of his joy, dilated on the delights which Harry Mansfield’s companionship would bring. He had often heard his brother speak of Harry as his schoolfellow, but had never inquired where he came from, concluding that it was from H——, where the Mansfields

12 Plulip Lyndon’s Troubles.

had been living when he was acquainted with George.

Tom, since his first interview with Harry, had not obtained even a glimpse of that young gentleman, who had been kept at home by a cold. ‘Tom had discovered that the Mansfields lived in the prettiest house in the Walks, with innumerable angles and gables and ornamental chimney-stacks. He had walked past the house several times. but he had not ventured inside the gate, though he had climbed on to it, and had taken stock of the garden, as far as the masses of flowering shrubs and trellised arches of tangled creepers and climbing roses would allow; but he had not been ‘able to discover the object of his search. He had not had much time to give to his investigations, for Philip kept him pretty constantly employed ; everything having been left in great disorder, owing to Mr. Howard’s failing health; and when not wanted in the surgery, Tom had been in great request in the house, helping his sister to put up curtains, and to nail down carpets, and doing the thousand and one little things in which a boy’s active hands are useful. His sister was generally kind and patient with him ; but Philip had been cross and uncertain in his manner, and very exacting in his requirements.

Ns eA MN oh an i THE LYNDONS.

‘ All feared the father’s rule ; beneath his frown | Mirth died, and fiery passions sprung to life.’ ANON.

‘ Be off into the surgery, Tom, and do what I told you, said Philip, authoritatively, one morning, as he pushed back his chair from the breakfast-table.

Tom finished his breakfast hastily and departed.

‘Don’t be hard upon him, Philip,’ said Fanny Lynden, a pretty brunette, her countenance sparkling with animation and good-temper.

‘T shall not be hard upon him, if he works well and is not obstinate.’

‘He is not idle, I am sure,’ replied his sister ; ‘and he will not be obstinate if you are gentle with him, but he is high-spirited.’

‘Oh, a little taming will do him good!’

‘It would do you no harm.’

Philip did not deign to notice his sister’s observation, and she continued :

‘Now that we are in a fresh place, Philip, I think we ought to try to make a new beginning, and have things on rather a different footing.’

‘You had better preach to my father, was his somewhat ungracious answer.

‘It is of no use talking to him,’ replied Fanny ; ‘and not much to you, I am afraid,’ she thought. ‘If you will turn over a new leaf, Philip, it will be something,’ she said aloud.

‘ How can I turn over a new leaf, with Mansfield here ? he thought.

‘If we both pull one way.we may do something, she continued; ‘but if you spend a sovereign while I save a shilling, what good shall I do?

‘You are a fine one to save,’ he replied, a little scornfully.

‘Well, I have had no encouragement. If you will stand by me, I will try; but if you won't, we must each go on our own way, or rather, I will go mine, and you will go my father’s.’

‘T shall not go lus way,’ he replied almost fiercely.

‘You seem to me to have made a beginning when you were at college,’ said Fanny. ‘I don’t want to preach, as you call it, Philip; but I do wish you would be different.’

She glanced anxiously at him, but the expression of his face was not very promising.

‘When is my father coming? he asked.

‘He said that he would come when we were straight.’

‘He may stay away as long as he lhkes, as far as I am concerned, he muttered.

Fanny mused for a few minutes with a thoughtful face.

‘Philip, she said, at length, ‘I hope that you will never be such that those in your home will dread to see you.’

His face grew dark as night; he started up from his chair and left the room.

‘ How altered he is, thought Fanny, with a sigh. ‘When he was a boy, he used to be more like Tom, though he was always very passionate ; but now there is no speaking to him. Iam afraid Tom will have but a poor chance between him and my father.’

Mrs. Lyndon had married, when little more than a schoolgirl, the dashing young surgeon who, on her father’s health failing, had become his partner, and into whose character her friends had taken no trouble to inquire. She had soon discovered that her husband’s good looks and his abilities were his only recommendations, and that his temper was both tyrannical and violent. Worn out by ill-usage and neglect, the effects of which had been aggravated by domestic difficulties, and the requirements of the position which her husband insisted on maintaining at all hazards, she at length had sunk broken-hearted into an early grave. Many were the tears which were shed by the dying mother, and fervent were her prayers for the three children whom she left behind her. The two younger ones, a merry maiden of five, and little Tom, a toddling rogue of little more than a year, were confided to the care of a faithful servant, the daughter of an old dependent of her father’s, who had promised her dying mistress that she would never leave the children. Faithfully had that promise been fulfilled, through many a difficulty and discouragement. Her eldest son, a daring resolute boy of twelve, Mrs. Lyndon was obliged to leave, with many a melancholy foreboding of his future fate, in the hands of his selfish and unprincipled father. The constantly recurring struggles between these two had embittered the last years of her life, for Mr. Lyndon was determined to break the spirit of his son, while the boy resisted his father’s tyranny with a determined obstinacy which seemed almost beyond his years.

All the children had inherited the affectionate nature of their mother, and though high-spirited, might, by judicious management, have been trained into tolerable obedience to law and order. Philip’s affection for his mother had attained almost the absorbing devotion of a passion, and it seemed to be the only restraining influence which the wilful and headstrong boy could be brought to obey.

Over the two little ones Jane held undisputed sway, and she brought them up witha conscientious devotion which, as far as it went, left little to be desired. There were many things, however, which were quite out of the range of Jane’s sphere; but which, nevertheless, constituted a very necessary part of the home education of the children, and which, as they gradually came more under their father’s influence, showed where lay the deficiency. Fanny’s mind became centred in the gay company which frequented her father’s house. Dressing, visiting, and flirting were the pursuits which absorbed her thoughts and occupied her time ; while the end and aim of Master Tom’s existence seemed to be mischief. Fortunately for him, he was early sent to a good

VOL. I. 2 boarding-school, which he left, with great regret, not long before the removal of the family to D-——. It was true that though, at school, the various scrapes which he got into brought their inevitable punishment—that might be calculated upon, and was proportioned to the offence ; while at home he often incurred the severest chastisement for the most trifling misdeeds, the chastisement being determined by the temper and the mood at the moment of the chastiser.

At school, the restless activity with which Master Tom was endued found its legitimate scope in the games, and in the intercourse with the other boys; while his good mental powers, and a moderate thirst for knowledge, caused his hours of study to be a source of pleasure to him, rather than a weariness. Tom’s good temper and frankness, to say nothing of the skill and activity which he displayed in all kinds of games, made him a general favourite in the school ; but the companion between whom and himself there existed the greatest degree of intimacy was Harry Mansfield, who was a little older than himself, and of a much more gentle and quiet disposition, It was with great delight, therefore, that Tom, who was away from home, on a visit to one of his schoolfellows, when the arrangement was made, received a letter from his sister, saying that he must repair to D—— in a few days to join his brother, who was going there to take charge of the new business.

Philip, after his conversation with his sister, went into the surgery to superintend Tom’s work. He was in no humour to make allowances for carelessness or inattention, and Tom soon came to disgrace, was scolded, and marched out of the surgery ina temper. He came back again, however, in a little while, looking rather obstinate. Philip, being busy with some patients, took no notice of him, except to tell him to make up some medicine, which he was engaged in doing, when there was a tap at the door, and who should be there but Harry Mansfield. He had brought a request for Mr. Lyndon to come directly to see his mother. Harry rushed off the moment he had delivered his message, being possessed by a wholesome fear of Mr. Lyndon’s frowns.

Philip dismissed his patients, and walked out of the surgery like one ina dream. It was very strange that he should be sent for to go there. George Mansfield must know who he was. Perhaps he was not at home, in which case it was according to the natural order of

2—2 things that Mr. Howard’s successor should be summoned.

The expression on Philip’s face, as he walked up to Mrs. Mansfield’s door, was not exactly an amiable one. While the servant conducted him upstairs, however, he had time to assume a suitable demeanour. As he entered Mrs. Mansfield’s room, he beheld the invalid, apparently in a state of great exhaustion ; and beside the bed stood the young lady whom he had met in the Walks. He wasa little puzzled by the expression of her face. It was not that exactly of surprise, neither did she look as if she expected to see him. He had no time, however, at that moment, to attempt. to analyse it. A curious feeling of calmness and of contentment seemed to come over him, even though the thought that she might be George Mansfield’s sister was by no means a pleasant one.

‘Blanche, my dear, you will tell how I am,’ said Mrs. Mansfield, who had been roused by Philip’s entrance.

Blanche proceeded to give him an account of the sudden illness of the invalid, whom she spoke of as her aunt. The young lady was not then George Mansfield’s sister, a discovery which was a great relief to Philip, though it was unfortunate enough that she should be his cousin. It was pleasant to see how her countenance brightened when Philip told her, that though her aunt’s attack was a sharp one, he hoped that it would soon pass off. He then proceeded to inquire whether Miss Blanche had sustained any injury from her wetting, ascertaining with great satisfaction that she had not. After giving some directions, he departed, with her image still before his eyes.

When Mrs. Mansfield was taken ill, the servants in their alarm had despatched Harry for the doctor, and he naturally had gone where he had been in the habit of going on similar occasions. He had met Blanche as he ran out ; she, having found her aunt not very well on the previous evening, was coming to inquire after her. Harry had gone on to the office to tell his brother of his mother’s sudden illness. Blanche had inquired at once of the servants as to what surgeon had been sent for; and she was still in uncertainty, when Philip, by his appearance, gave the answer to the query. The next question which presented itself to her mind was, what would George say to their proceedings? Her reflections were interrupted by a tap at the door, and on opening it, there stood Harry. She came out to him.

‘How was it that you went for Mr. Lyndon

Harry? she asked; ‘George had decided to have Mr. Wood.’

‘Well, nobody told me, and I never thought about it. I’m sure J don’t want him—he looks so cross. Suppose I tell Tom that it was a mistake, and Tom would tell him, and then he need not come again ?

‘No. That will not do,’ replied Blanche, smiling.

‘Well, I dare say Tom would not lke to tell him. I am sure J should not,’ observed Harry.

When George and Stanton came in to dinner, Blanche told them of the mistake. George looked more vexed than she ever remembered to have seen him, while Stanton laughed.

‘What a stupid trick of Harry ! said George. ‘ You may all have himif you like, for anything I care ; but J don’t mean to be doctored by him, I can tell you.’

‘It was not my doing, George,’ replied Blanche, surprised at his manner; ‘and the responsibility, whatever it may be, does not rest with me.’

When Harry met Tom later in the evening, he informed his friend of the mistake that he had made in not going for Mr. Wood.

‘Why weren't you to go for Phil? asked Tom.

‘T don’t know, exactly; because of something that George said, I believe.’

Tom mused. He knew that his father did many things that were wrong; perhaps Phil did too, and they had heard of it, and that was how it was. He considered that it was not at all to the credit of the family to lose a patient that Mr. Howard had had.

‘Will they keep on with Phil, do you think?’ he asked,

‘Yes, I suppose so. My cousin Blanche said that it would not do to tell him not to come.’

Tom thought that was very sensible of Cousin Blanche. When he reached home he imparted the news of Harry’s mistake to Fanny, who felt somewhat troubled about it. She thought that it augured ill for her brother’s success that he had so nearly lost one of Mr. Howard's best families. She considered herself in duty bound to tell Philip, that he might be on his guard, or, that at any rate, he might not be taken unawares by any adverse turn of fortune. She was surprised at the cloud which gathered on his face at her intelligence. He asked no questions, but marched off into the surgery.

Chapter IV. Another Meeting

‘Long years had passed: we met again, But time his hatred had not soothed.’ ANON.

On Philip’s second visit to Mrs. Mansfield, he was shown into the drawing-room, where sat George, reading the newspaper. George rose as he entered.

‘So you are here,’ said he.

‘Yes, I am here,’ replied Philip.

The manner of the one was insolent and overbearing ; that of the other expressed a kind of resolute endurance. They stood for a few minutes gazing at each other. Each took the measure of the other, and each realised where the other’s power Jay, and in what consisted his own weakness, though neither knew exactly how much this weakness would put him in

Another Meeting. * | 825 his enemy’s power. Mansfield’s eyes had a . cold hard glitter in them; they were at once wily and audacious. The expression of Lyndon’s face was that of a determined and fierce defiance. His eyes shone like glowing coals, and he gave the impression of a man whom it would be dangerous to drive to bay. The lawyer’s eyes were the first to seek the floor. There was an awkward pause, which was broken by the servant who came to conduct Lyndon upstairs,

‘He won't bear much goading, thought Mansfield, as the door closed behind the young surgeon. ‘I shall have to be cautious how I deal with him.’

The passage from the door of the drawing-room to that of Mrs. Mansfield’s room was sadly too short for Philip, after the state of excitement in which he had been, to have time to bring his manner to that calm self-possession so necessary in the presence of the sick. Could he have paused a few moments before entering the room it would have given him a chance ; but the servant opened the door and announced his name, and he must walk forward. What a contrast was presented by that quiet room, with its shaded lamp and the gentle presence of her who watched there, to the tumult in his soul! The invalid seemed to be dozing, and Blanche spoke to Philip in low, soft tones, which fell soothingly upon his ear. He drank in the sweetness of the sounds, but missed their meaning until Blanche roused him by saying :

‘You are not attending to what I am telling you, Mr. Lyndon.’

This brought Philip to his senses.

‘LI beg your pardon,’ he said.

He then bent his mind to the business in hand, and was able to pronounce Mrs. Mansfield, who was now awake, to be a little better. Outside the door he encountered Stanton. He started, thinking at first that it was George, but one glance at the face showed him that he was mistaken.

What a contrast the two faces presented in their expression, although the colour of the hair and that of the eyes, and also the general contour of the features, were so similar! Stanton’s face had a straightforward kindly look, and his manner a manly simplicity, which won Philip’s confidence at once; and he was glad to give him a better account of his mother.