Mr. Clifton of Barrington, a popular novel

Front matter

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Table Of Contents

1. Eve of Departure— 2. I Must also See Rome — 3 A Mediterranean Voyage — 4. Paul’s Mission in Athens — 5. Life and Death of Dorcas — 6. The Glory of Solomon's Reign — 7. Peace, Be Still — 8 The Marriage Feast— 9. Christmas Eve in the Holy Land— 10. The Joyful Surprise— 11. How a King’s Life was Saved— 12. The Philippian Earthquake— 13. What is in a Name? — 4 The Half was not Told Me. — 15. I Went Up to Jerusalem. — l(i. On the Housetop in Jerusalem — 17. The Journey to Jericho — is. He Toucheth the Hills and They Smoke — 19. Solomon in all His Gk ry — 20. The Journey to Bethel — 21. Incidents in Palestine— 22. Among the Holy Hills.— 23. Our Sail on Lake Galilee— 24. On to Damascus— 25. Across Mount Lebanon.

It contains 320 pages in paper cover, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of 25 cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.50; Half Russia, $2.00. Agents wanted. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE, Publisher,

Chapter I

In an easy-chair of the handsome library of his townhouse sat William Barrington. His hair was gray, the smoothness of his expansile brow was defaced by premature wrinkles, and his once attractive face bore the*pale, unmistakable look of dissipation. One of his feet was cased in folds of linen as it rested on the soft velvet ottoman, speaking of gout as plainly as any foot ever spoke yet. It would seem, to look at the man as he sat there, that he had grown old before his time. And so he had. His years were barely forty-nine, yet in all save years he was an aged man.

A noted character had been William Barrington. Not that he had been a renowned politician, or a great general, or an eminent statesman, or even an active member of Congress; not for any of these had his name been in the mouths of men. But for the most reckless among the reckless, for the spendthrift among spendthrifts, for the gamester above all gamesters, and for a gay man outstripping the gay — by these characteristics did the world know William Barrington. It was said his faults were those of his head, that a better heart or a more generous spirit never beat in human form; and there was much truth in this. It had been well for him had he lived and died a poor law student. Up to his twenty-fifth year he had been industrious, and steady, and very ambitious, and he knew that on his own talents and exertions must depend his rising in the world.

He was of excellent family, but poor. It never dawned upon his mind that there was a possibility of his having a fortune left to him, when one morning he awoke to find himself the lawful possessor of sixty thousand a year. His first idea was that he should never be able to spend the

MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON’.

money — that such a sum, year by year, could not be spent. It was a wonder his head was not turned by adulation at the onset, for he was courted, flattered, and caressed by all classes.

He became the attractive man of the day, the lion in society; for, independent of his newly Required wealth, he was of distinguished appearance and fascinating manners. But unfortunately the prudence which had sustained William Barrington, the poor law student, entirely forsook the wealthy William, and he commenced his career on a scale of speed so great that all staid people said he was going to ruin and the deuce headlong.

But one who has sixty thousand a year does not go to ruin in a day. There sat William in his library now, in his forty-ninth year, and ruin had not come yet — that is, it had not overwhelmed him. But the embarrassments which had clung to him and been the destruction of his tranquillity, the bane of his existence — who shall describe them? The public knew them pretty well, his private friends knew better, his creditors best; but none save himself knew, or could ever know, the worrying torment that was his portion, well-nigh driving him to distraction. Years ago, by dint of looking things steadily in the face and by economizing, he might have retrieved his position; but he had done what most people do in such cases — put off the evil day and gone on increasing his enormous list of debts. The hour of exposure and ruin was now advancing fast.

Perhaps William Barrington was thinking so, as he sat there before an enormous mass of papers which strewed the library-table. His thoughts were of the past. That was a foolish match of his — that match for love — foolish so far as prejudice went; but she had been an affectionate wife to him, and had borne with his follies and his neglect, had been an admirable mother to their only child — one child alone had been theirs — and in her thirteenth year the mother had died, and —

“ If you please, sir,” said a servant, entering the room and interrupting his thoughts, “ a gentleman is asking to see you. ”

“ Who?” cried Mr. Barrington, sharply, not perceiving the card the man was bringing.

No unknown person, although wearing the externals of a foreign embassador, was ever admitted unceremoniously to the presence of Mr. Barrington. Years of duns had taught the servants caution.

“ His card is here. It is Mr. Clifton, of Clifton Manor. ”

“Mr. Clifton/ of Clifton Manor !” groaned Mr. Barrington, whose foot just then had an awful twinge. “ What does he want? Show him up.”

The servant did as he was bid, and introduced Mr. Clifton.

Look at the visitor well, reader, for he will play his part in this history. He was a tall man of remarkably noble presence for a man of twenty-seven; he was somewhat given to stooping his head when he spoke to any one shorter than himself. It was a peculiar habit, almost to be called a bowing habit, and his father had possessed it before him. ' When told of it he would laugh and say he was unconscious of doing it. His features were good, his complexion was pale and clear, his hair dark, and his full eyelids drooped over his deep gray eyes. Altogether it was a countenance that both men and women liked to look upon — the index of an honorable, sincere nature — not that it would have been called a handsome face, so much as a pleasing and distinguished one. Though but the son of a country lawyer, and destined to be a lawyer himself, he had received the training of a gentleman. He advanced at once to Mr. Barrington in the straightforward way of a man of business — of a man who has come on business.

“ Mr. Barrington,” said the latter, holding out his hand — he was always deemed the most affable gentleman of the age.

“ 1 am happy to see you. You perceive I can not rise, at least without great pain and inconvenience. My enemy, the gout, has possession of me again. Take a seat. Are you staying in town?”

“ 1 have just arrived from Clifton Manor. The chief object of iny* journey was to see you, Mr. Barrington.”

“ What can I do for you?” asked Mr. Barrington, uneasily; for a suspicion now crossed his mind that Mr. Clifton might be acting for some one of his many troublesome creditors.

Mr. Clifton drew his chair nearer to Mr. Barrington, and spoke in a low tone.

MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON.

44 A rumor came to my ears, sir, that the Barrington estate was in the market.”

44 A moment, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Barrington, with reserve, not to say hauteur , in his tone, for his suspicions were gaining ground. 44 Are we to converse confidentially together, as men of honor, or is there something concealed behind?”

44 1 do not understand you,” said Mr. Clifton.

44 In a word— excuse my speaking plainly, but I must feel my ground — are you here on the part of some of my rascally creditors to pump information out of me that otherwise they would not get?”

44 Mr. Barrington,” uttered the visitor, 44 1 should be incapable of so dishonorable an action. I know that a lawyer gets credit for possessing but lax notions on the score of honor, but you can scarcely suspect that I should be guilty of underhand work toward you. 1 never was guilty of a mean trick in my life, to my recollection, and 1 do not think now, at the age of twenty-seven, I will undertake to do one. ”

44 Pardon me, Mr. Clifton. If you knew half the tricks and ruses played upon me, you would not wonder at me suspecting all the world. Proceed with your business.”

44 1 heard that the Barrington estate was for private sale; your agent dropped half a word in confidence. If so, I should wish to be th§ purchaser. ’ 9

44 For whom?” inquired Mr. Barrington.

44 Myself.”

44 You!” laughed Mr. Barrington. 44 Egad, lawyering can’t be such bad work, Clifton.”

44 Nor is it,” rejoined Mr. Clifton, 44 with an extensive first-class connection such as ours. But you must remember that a good fortune was left me by my uncle, and a large one by my father.”

44 1 know, the proceeds of lawyering also.”

44 Not altogether. My mother brought a fortune on her marriage, and it enabled my father to speculate successfully; I have been looking about for an eligible property to invest my money upon, and the Barrington estate will suit me well, provided I can have the refusal of it and we can agree about terms.”

Mr. Barrington mused a few moments before he spoke.

44 Mr. Clifton,” he began, 44 my affairs are very bad, and

MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON.

ready money 1 must find somewhere. Now, the Barrington estate is not entailed, neither is it mortgaged to anything like its value, though the latter fact, as you may imagine, is not patent to the world. When I bought it at a bargain eighteen years ago you were the lawyer on the other side, I remember. ”

“ My father,” smiled Mr. Clifton; “ 1 was a child at the time. ”

“ Of course, 1 ought to have said your father. By selling the Barrington estate a few thousands will come into my hands, after claims on it are settled; I have no other means of raising funds, and that is why 1 have resolved to part with it. But, now understand, if it were known that the Barrington estate is going from me I should have a hornet’s nest about my ears; so that it must be disposed of privately. Do you comprehend?”

“ Perfectly,” replied Mr. Clifton.

“ 1 would as soon you bought it as any one else, if, as you say, we can agree about terms.”

“ What do you expect for it at a rough estimate?”

“ For particulars 1 must refer you to my men of business, Messrs. Stevenson & Taylor. Not less than three hundred and fifty thousand.”

“ Too much, Mr. Barrington!” cried Mr. Clifton, decisively.

“And that’s not its value,” returned Mr. Barrington. “ These forced sales never do fetch their value,” answered the plain-speaking lawyer.

“ Until this hint was given me by Woodbridge, 1 had thought the Barrington estate was settled on your daughter.”

“ There’s nothing settled on her,” rejoined Mr. Barrington, the contraction of his brow standing out more plainly. “ That comes of thoughtless runaway marriages. I fell in love with General Milton’s daughter, and she went away with me, like a fool; that is, we were both fools together for our pains. The general objected to me, and said I must sow my wild oats before he would give me Helena; so we ran away, and she became my wife without a settlement. It was an unfortunate affair, taking one thing with another. When her elopement was made known to the general it killed him — ”

“ Killed him?” interrupted Mr. Clifton,

MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON.

“ It did. He had disease of the heart, and the excitement brought on the crisis. My poor wife was never happy from that hour; she blamed herself for her father's death, and I believe it led to her own. She was ill for years; the doctors called it consumption, but it was more like wasting away, and a consumption never had been in her family. No luck ever attends runaway marriages; I have noticed it since, in many— many instances; something bad is sure to turn up from it."

“ There might have been a settlement executed after the marriage," observed Mr. Clifton, for the old gentleman stopped and seemed lost in thought.

I know there might; but there was not. My wife had possessed no fortune; 1 was already deep in my career of extravagance, and neither of us thought of making provision for our future children; and if we thought of it, we did not do it. There is an old saying, Mr. Clifton, that what may be done at any time is never done."

Mr. Clifton bowed.

“ So my child is portionless," resumed Mr. Barrington, with a suppressed sigh. “ The thought that it may be an embarrasing thing for her, were I to die before she is settled in life, crosses my mind when I am in a serious mood. That she will marry well there is little doubt, for she possesses beauty in a rare degree, and has been reared as a good girl should be, not to frivolity and foppery; she was trained by her mother (who, save for the mad act she was persuaded to do by me, was all goodness and refinement) for twelve years of her life, and since then by an admirable governess. No fear that she will decamp on a runaway marriage."

“ She was a very lovely child," observed the lawyer; “ I remember that."

“ Ay, you have seen her at Barrington in her mother’s life-time. But to return to business. If you become the purchaser of the Barrington estate, Mr. Clifton, it must be under the rose. The money that it brings, after paying off the mortgage, I must have, as 1 tell you, for private use; and you know that I should not be able to touch a penny of it if the confounded public got an inkling of the transfer. The world must know that I am the proprietor of Barrington, at least for some little time afterward. Per* haps you will not object to that."

MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON.

Mr. Clifton considered before replying, and then the conversation was resumed, when it was decided that he should see Stevenson & Taylor the first thing in the morning and confer with them. It was growing late when he arose to leave.

4 4 Stay and dine with me/’ said Mr. Barrington.

Mr. Clifton hesitated, and looked down at his dress— a plain, gentlemanly morning attire, but certainly not a dinner costume.

“ Oh, that’s nothing; we shall be quite alone except my daughter. Mrs. Melborne, of The Pines, is staying with us; she came up to present my child at the last Drawing-room, but I think 1 heard something about her dining out to-day. If not, we will have it by ourselves here. Oblige me by touching the bell, Mr. Clifton.”

The servant entered.

44 Inquire whether Mrs. Melborne dines at home,” said Mr. Barrington.”

“ Mrs. Melborne dines out, sir,” was the man’s immediate reply. 44 The carriage is at the door now.”

44 Very well, Mr. Clifton remains. ”

At seven o’clock the dinner was announced, and Mr. Barrington wheeled into the adjoining room. As he and Mr. Clifton entered it at one door, some one else came in by the opposite door. Who — what was it? Mr. Clifton looked, not quite sure whether it was a human being; he almost thought it more like an angel. A light, graceful, girlish form, a face of surpassing beautv---beauty that is rarely seen, save from the imagination of a painter — dark shining waves of hair falling over the delicate brow, her arms decorated with pearls, and a costly dress of white lace; altogether the vision did indeed look to the lawyer as one from a fairer world than this.

44 My daughter, Mr. Clifton, Hazel Barrington.”'

They took their seats at the table, Mr. Barrington at its head, in spite of his gout and foot-stool, and the young lady and Mr. Clifton opposite each other. Mr. Clifton had not deemed himself an admirer of woman’s beauty, but the extraordinary loveliness of the young girl before him nearly took away his senses and his self-possession. Yet it was not so much the perfect contour of the exquisite features that struck him, the rich damask of the delicate cheek, or the luxuriant hair; no, it was the sweet

10 mi. CLIFTON OF BARllINGTON.

expression of the soft dark eyes. Never in his life had he seen eyes so pleasing. He could not keep his gaze from her, and he became conscious as he became more familiar with her face that there was in its character a sad, sorrowful look; only at times was it to be noticed— when the features were in repose— and it lay chiefly in the very eyes he was admiring. Never does this unconsciously mournful expression exist but it is a sure index to sorrow and suffering; but Mr. Clifton understood it not. And who could connect sorrow with the anticipated brilliant future of Hazel Barrington?

“ Hazel, 1 see you are dressed for the evening.”

“Yes, papa, not to keep Mrs. Melborne waiting; she went to dine with some friends, and I am to call for her on my way to the ball. ? ’

“ I hope you will not be late to-night. Hazel . 99

“ It depends upon Mrs. Melborne.”

“ Then 1 am sure you will be. When the young ladies in this fashionable world of ours turn night into day, it’s a bad thing for their roses. What say you, Mr. Clifton?”

Mr. Clifton glanced at the roses on the cheeks opposite to him; they looked too fresh and bright to fade lightly.

At the conclusion of the meal a maid entered the room with a white down mantle, placing it over the shoulders of her young lady, as she said the carriage was waiting.

“ Good-bye, papa.”

“ Good-night, my darling,? he answered, drawing her sweet face toward him and kissing it. “ Tell Mrs. Melborne 1 will not have you kept out till morning hours. You are but a child yet. Mr. Clifton, will you ring? 1 am debarred from seeing my daughter to the carriage . 99

“ If you will allow me — if Miss Barrington will pardon the attendance of one little used to wait upon young ladies, I shall be proud to see her to her carriage,” was the somewhat confused answer of Mr. Clifton, as he touched the bell.

Mr. Barrington thanked him and the young lady smiled, and Mr. Clifton conducted her down the broad, lighted staircase, and stood bareheaded by the door of the luxurious carriage and handed her in. She put out her hand in her frank, pleasant manner, as she wished him good-night. The carriage rolled on its way, and Mr. Clifton returned t o the library.

“ Well, is she not a handsome girl?” demanded the old gentleman.

“ Handsome is not the word for beauty such as hers,” was Mr. Clifton's reply, in a low, warm tone. “ I never saw a face half so beautiful!”

“ She caused quite a sensation at the last grand reception last week, as J hear. This everlasting gout kept me in-doors all day. And she is as good as she is beautiful.”

The father of this beautiful girl was not partial. Hazel Barrington was wondrously gifted by nature, not only in mind and person, but in heart. She was as little like a fashionable young lady as was well possible to be, partly because she had hitherto been secluded from the great world, partly from the care bestowed upon her training. During the life-time of her mother she had lived mostly on the Barrington estate; since her mother's death she had remained under the charge of a j udicious governess. Generous and benevolent, she was timid and. sensitive to a degree, gentle and considerate to all. Could the fate that was to overtake this child have been foreseen by her father he would have struck her down to death, in his love, as she stood before him, rather than suffer her to enter upon it.

Chapter II

W hen Hazel drew up to the house of Mrs. Melborne's friend she found that lady was not quite ready, and as she entered the spacious parlors of the St. Clare mansion the dinner guests were just entering also. Hazel was quick to perceive at the moment a young and elegant man among the guests. He was deemed handsome, with his clearly cut features, his dark eyes, his raven-black hair, and his white teeth; but to a keen observer those features had not an attractive expression, and the dark eyes had a great knack of looking away while he spoke to you. It was Captain Redmond St. Clare. Few men were so fascinating in manners (at times and seasons), in face and form; few men won so completely upon their hearers' ears, and few were so heartless in their heart of hearts. The world courted him, and society honored him because he was rich.

Mrs. St. Clare comes forward to greet the young lady, and at the same time introduces the captain to Hazel. They

MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON.

both acknowledge the introduction; Hazel, yet a child in ways of the world, blushed crimson at the admiring looks cast upon her by the young captain. Strange — strange that she should make the acquaintance of those two men in one day, almost in the same hour; the two of all the human race who were to exercise so powerful an influence over her future life.

“ That’s a pretty cross. Hazel,” said Mrs. St. Clare, as Hazel stood by her when she and Mrs. Melborne were about to depart for the ball.

She alluded to a golden cross, set with seven emeralds, which Hazel wore on her neck. It was of light, delicate texture, and was suspended from a thin, short gold chain.

“Is it not pretty?” answered Hazel. “ It was given me by my dear mamma just before she died. 1 will take it off for you; I only wear it upon great occasions.”

This, her first appearance at a grand ball, seemed a very great occasion to this inexperienced girl. She unclasped the chain, and placed it with the cross in the hands of Mrs. St. Clare.

“ Why, I declare! you have nothing on but that cross and some rubbishing pearl bracelets,” uttered Mrs. Melborne to Hazel. “ I did not look at you before. ”

“ Mamma gave me both; the bracelets are those she used frequently to wear. ”

“ You old-fashioned child! Because your mamma wore those bracelets year ago, is that a reason for your doing so?” retorted Mrs. Melborne. “ Why did you not put on your diamonds?”

“ I — did — put on my diamonds; but — I — took them off again,” stammered Hazel.

“ What on earth for?”

“ I did not like to look too fine,” answered Hazel, with a laugh and ablush. “ They glittered so I feared it might be thought I had put them on to look fine.”

“Ah! 1 see you mean to set up in that class of people who pretend to despise ornaments,” scornfully remarked Mrs. Melborne. “ It is the refinement of affectation, Miss Barrington.”

The sneer fell harmlessly on Hazel’s ear. She only believed something had put Mrs. Melborne out of temper. It certainly had; and that something, though Hazel little suspected it, was the evident admiration Captain St. Clare

MR. CLlRTOtt OR BARRitfGTOtf. 13

evinced for her fresh young beauty; it quite absorbed him, and rendered him neglectful even of Mrs. Melborne.

“Here, Hazel, take 3 r our cross,” said Mrs. St. Clare. “It is very pretty; prettier on your neck than diamonds would be. You don’t want embellishing; never mind what Mrs. Melborne says.”

Captain St. Clare took the cross and chain from her hand to pass it to Hazel. Whether he was awkward, or whether her hands were full, for she held her gloves, her handkerchief, and had just taken up her mantle, certain it is that it fell, and the gentleman in his too quick efforts to regain it managed to set his foot upon it, and the cross -was broken in two.

“ There! Now whose fault was that?” cried Mrs. St. Clare.

Hazel did not answer; her heart was full. She took the broken cross, and the tears dropped from her eyes; she could not help it.

“ Why! you are not crying over a stupid bauble of a cross!” uttered Mrs. Melborne, interrupting Captain St. Clare’s expression of regret at his awkwardness.

“ You can have it mended, dear,” interposed Mrs. St. Clare.

Hazel chased away the tears, and turned to Captain St. Clare with a cheerful look.

“ Pray do not blame yourself,” she good-naturedly said; “ the fault was as much mine as it was yours; and, as your aunt says, I can get it mended.”

She disengaged the upper part of the cross from the chain as she spoke, and clasped the latter around her throat.

“You will not go with that thin string of gold on, and nothing else?” uttered Mrs. Melborne.

“ Why not?” ventured Hazel. “ If people say anything, I can tell them that an accident happened to the cross. ’ ’

Mrs. Melborne burst into a laugh of mocking ridicule.

“ If people say anything!” she repeated, in a tone according with the laugh. # They are not likely to say anything, but they will deem Mr. William Barrington’s daughter unfortunately short of jewelry.”

Hazel smiled, and shook her bead.

“ They saw my diamonds at the grand reception.”

‘ ‘ If you had done such an awkward thing for me, Redmond St. Clare/' burst forth his aunt, “ my doors should have been closed against you for a month. There, if you young people are to go it is time to start. Dancing to begin an evening at ten o'clock at night! In my time we used to go at seven; but its the custom now to turn night into day."

“ When George the Third dined at one o'clock upon boiled mutton and turnips!" put in the graceless captain, who certainly held his aunt in no great reverence.

He turned to Hazel as he spoke, to hand her down-stairs. Thus she was conducted to her carriage a second time that night by a stranger. Mrs. Melborne got down by herself, as she best could, and her temper was not improved by the process.

“ Good-night," she said to the captain.

“ 1 shall not say good-night; you will find me there almost as soon as you."

“You told me you were not coming. Some bachelors' party in the way."

“ Yes, but I have changed my mind. Farewell for the present. Miss Barrington. "

“ What an object you will look with nothing on your neck but a school-girl's chain!" began Mrs. Melborne, returning to the grievance as the carriage drove on.

“ Oh! Mrs. Melborne, what does it signify? I can only think of my broken cross. I am sure it must be an evil omen."

“ An evil what?"

“ An evil omen. Mamma gave me that cross when she was dying; she told me to let it be to me as a talisman; always to keep it safely, and when I was in any distress, or in need of counsel, to look at it and strive to recall what her advice would be, and to act accordingly. And now it is broken — broken!"

A glaring electric light flashed into the carriage, right into the face of Hazel.

“ I declare," uttered Mrs! Melborne, “ you are crying again! I tell you what it is, Hazel, I am not going to chaperon red eyes to the ball; so, if you can't put a stop to this, I shall order the carriage home and go on alone."

Hazel meekly dried her eyes, sighing deeply as she did so.

Uk. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 15

“ I can have the pieces joined, 1 dare say; but it will never be the same cross to me again.”

“ What have you done with the pieces?” irascibly asked Mrs. Melborne.

“ I folded them in a thin paper Mrs. St. Clare gave me, and put it inside my dress. Here it is,” touching the body. “ 1 haven't a pocket.”

Mrs. Melborne gave vent to a groan. She never had been a girl herself — she had been a woman at ten, and she complimented Hazel upon being little better than an imbecile.

“ Put it inside your dress,” she uttered, in a torrent of scorn. 4 ‘ And you eighteen years of age! You are a baby idiot,” was the inward comment of Mrs. Melborne.