Our Novelettes.

Western Star, Issue 1389, 14 September 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Novelettes.

‘IT WAS THE TIME WHEN LILIE BLOW ’ She was ‘ sole daughter of his house and heart.’ "Rlgitha Rowena A’Beckeft, A peculiar name hers was—strongly suggestive of Pinnock’s Catechism of English History. But her father, John Kestrel A’Beckett, Esq., of Beckett Court, Twickenham, and Birchin Court, City, had bestowed his daughter’s name upon her at her baptism, and novman had gainsaid him. Pew men indeed there were who would attempt to gainsay what John Kestrel A’Beckett proposed. He was accustomed to be obeyed, not argued with, he frequently informed his dependents. Ho may have selected the appellation for his heiress in order that her name, living in the history of England in ages to come, might bo a connecting link between the period of the Saxon Chronicle and the year a.d. 2000. * For,’ John Kestrel A’Beckett said grandiloquently, ‘ with inherited talent —ahem ! with highest culture, and all the advantages of wealh and station, who shall limit the possibilities of my daughter’s career P ’ ' Of course, Mr A’Beckett.’, his wife said timidly; * but I wish the child wasn’t so thin, and that she could eat her mutton-chop at luncheon.’

This disability, which weighed heavily on Mrs A'Beckett’s com nonplaeemind, increased as the years rolled on and poor little thin pale-faced Elgitha Rowena grew older. She had the highest culture that any number of highly-cultured masters and governesses could give her. She had all the advantages of being splendidly dressed and splendidly lodged and fed and waited upon, of being bowed d iwn to and flattered and caressed by toadying relatives and acquaintances. She spoke five languages, was a proficient in thorough bass, quadratic equations, had sustained cross-examina-tions in early English poetry, geology, and Hanot’s physics without flinching; had modelled in plaster and been modelled herself, and rendered in marble. She had painted in oil and water colours, and was the subject of a charming classical composition picture— 4 A Saxon Maiden at Study.’ ‘ My daughter is eighteen,’ mused Mr A’Beckett pompously. * Yes, indeed, poor dear—at seven o’clock next Thursday morning,’ said the mother. 8 What are you talking about ? ’ he demanded sternly. 4 My daughter is eighteen, I say. It is time I thought of a suitable alliance for my child—suitable alliance—yes ! And I believe I shall not have much difficulty. I have a suitable alliance decided upon, Mrs A’Beckett. My child wants nothing but a title—a —a coronet, Mrs A’Beckett—the coronet of a viscountess! ’ ‘ Oh, Mr A’Beckett!, his wife exclaimed, hushed and smiling. * And she shall have it, madam ! ’ declared Mr A’Beckett, with calm decision. * I don’t think my friend "Viscount Clydesdale will object,’ * Oh, gracious goodness,’ gasped Mrs A’Beckett, * he’s—he’s very old! Isn’t he rather elderly for her, poor child P ’ ‘ What are you talking about, madam ? ’ demanded her husband again, with pompous severity. *Do you forget that my friend Clydesdale has a son—the Honourable Robert ? I don’t think Yiseount Clydesdale will object to his son’s marrying the heiress and only child of John Kestrel A’Beckett! No one is to know of this intention of mine from you, if you please,’ he continued magisterially. And Mrs A’Beckett never dreamed of attempting to disobey him. She was a little haughtier to her maid and more patronising to her acquaintances iu consequence of this vision of a future coronet, but that was allMr A’Beckett had called Yiseount Clydesdale his friend ; and such friendship as can exist between a proud and selfish man and a man whom he considers infinitely beneath him, and to whom he is deeply indebted, undoubtedly did exist between them. The Viscount visited very frequently at Beckett Court and asked John A’Beckett very frequently to dine at bis club or his chambers He bad elegantly furnished rooms in Pall Mall. His lordship had been a gay widower for many years ;he had married so early and bis wife died so early that he would have altogether forgotten his brief matrimonial experience if he had not been reminded of it by the existence of bis son. Lord Clydesdale had frequently borrowed money from John A’Beckett—but for the help which the millionnaire of the City bank-ing-house and the Stock Exchange had afforded him, the last remnants of the Clydesdale estate and the Lodge, a ruinous mansion somewhere in Berwickshire, would hav e long since fallen into Israelitish clutches. Mr A’Beckett’s help had been timely and generous ; and he continued his generous dealing in other directions until Lord Clydesdale found himself poor certainly, but his affairs in comfortable order, his property being well rented and carefully managed, and himself, at fifty-three free from debt and better off than he had ever been in his life. He resolved to make his wealthy friend a suitable return some day—he did not quite know how ; and his wealthy friend resolved that he should, determining in his own mind what that reward should be.

And, when Lord Clydesdale learned what his friend expected from him, he was neither astonished or displeased. ‘ It was like Beckett’s impudence,’ his lordship said, smiling cynically, whilst he flicked off the white ash of the choice cigar he was smoking. ‘ The idea of his girl married to my boy ! Miss Beckett Lady Clydesdale! Good heavens! But, if Bob doesn’t object, I shall not—the girl will have ten thousand a year, I dare say. No—l shall certainly not object to bestow the family diamonds—horribly in want of resetting they are! —on Mies Beckett in return for ten thousand a year.’ Lord Clydesdale dropped the prefix to his friend’s name very often. He sneered at ‘ A’Beckett ’ very openly, feeling that the grandfather and the father of the present holder of the name had been City tradesmen, and each had been plain ‘John Beckett, wholesale tea-dealer and importer.’ ‘ For a shrewd-headed fellow such as Beckett really is, his childish vanity and selfimportance are something quite refreshing ! ’ laughed his lordship. ‘ He keeps me often in perpetual wonderment as to which side of him. fool or knave, is uppermost.’ 1 Ena ve ?’repeated the person to whom he was speaking, who was none other than his lordship’s only son and heir, the Honourable Hubert Clydesdale, then just returned from an exploring and hunting expedition in Russia —the Honourable Robert was always travelling, and stayed with his affectionate father for a brief space only once in two years or thereabouts. ‘ My dear boy,’ said his father leisurely ‘ wo all partake of the fool and the knave, only some are more largely endowed in one respect than the other.’ ‘lndeed !’the son rejoined. ‘And pray of which side of the parental character does Miss Lockett partake most? ’ I * Don’t be cynical. Bob,’ said his lordship, 'laughing heartily ; ‘ and don’t call poor Beck-1

ett’s treasure —his ‘heiress,’ as he styles her perpetually—hard names until you see her. I hare marie no promises on your behalf, not one. Still her dowry would bring back the old Cumberland property, lost to us these thirty years, Robert my boy. But my son s inclinations are to be bis guide, and by them I shall stand. So I said to Beckett. Your inclinations and your happiness above every consideration on earth, my boy ! ’ added Lord Clydesdale pathetically. ‘ Yes, father, I know,’ the young man returned, his scornful lips softening, and his bright blue eyes resting affectionately on his father’s grizzled hair and refined pale face ; c but, for my part, I cannot think how you can tolerate the idea of such an alliance,’ he went on angrily, but laughing at the same time. * Upon my word, father it is too much of a good thing ! If I had known what was waiting for me, I would have stayed on the other side of the Caucasus, or brought you home some rich Californian belle from San Francisco as your daughter-in-law ! ’ ' Beckett’s heiress will have as much as the Californian belle, is highly educated, and has been brought up with ideas of English etiquette and of the laws of society, I believe,’ Lord Clydesdale said gravely, his thinpatrician face darkening with a flush at his son’s taunting words. He was proud ; but he was growing an old man, and was a fanciful valetudinarian, though he was scarcely fifty-three, and he yearned for ease and luxuries and indulgences of all kinds—all that money could give, now, when the limits of his enjoyments were growing narrower. Beckett’s money would restore the Cumberland estates and the Scottish Lodge, and surround the Clydesdale name with the prestige it had lacked for nearly half a century—the prestige of wealth. Lord Clydesdale could not forget all this, nor suffer his son to forget it either. ‘ Where do those people live ? ’ the honourable Robert asked of his father abruptly on the afternoon succeeding the day of his return, when his father had unfolded his wishes to him. * Beckett had a splendid place near Twickenham,’ Lord Clydesdale replied, regarding his son curiously, ‘ a very fine old house fitted up in the old baronial style—tapestry, carved oak, Wardour-Street suits of armour, stags’ antlers from his Scottish friends, side-boards piled up with massive plate—something worth going to see, in fact. Why, Bob ? ’ * Because I’ll go down there to-day and get it over,’ replied the Honourable Robert coolly, flicking the ash off his cigar— 4 get it done ‘ slick' off,’ as they say in California.’ ‘ Get what done ? ’ inquired his father, a smile struggling over his features. * Why, the heiress, of course! What else am I going for ? ’ the son demanded. ‘I am going down to see Mr Beckett and his heiress, and arrange terms of exchange and barter.’ ‘ Not—not unless you feel inclined, Rob ert,’ the father protested, his smile fading and an uneasy expression making his finely-chisel-led features look old and feeble and selfish * I believe she is a very nice sort of girl.’ the words were hardly audible as Lord Clydesdale caught the quick sharp glance of his son’s steel-blue eyes. 4 lt doesn’t matter a fig whether she is nice or not,’ he said sharply ; ‘ she has been well educated, you say, andhaslearned enough of the usages of society to make her dehut decently, I dare say. She will be as nice as rich men’s daughters generally are, be sweetly civil over the prospect of being the future J Lady Clydeadale, and 1 am not going to seek her expecting anything more. She will have her own way when she is my wife, and I trust she may be happy. Good-bye, father. I’ll report progress to-morrow at breakfast or luncheon.’

‘Why, Robert, you—you’re not going now’ this minute, are you ? My dear boy, your dress,! I think, if you would ’ * Excuse me, sir,’ the son interrupted ; but I mean to give Miss Beckett a chance. She may not be fascinated with me in this rough coat and coloured shirt—if so, so much the better for her—and I may be less in keeping with that old baronial style in this suit.’ And in this mood Robert Clydesdale went a-wooing, with something very like contempt for himself, something stronger than contempt for his intended father-in-law, cold aversion in his heart for the woman whose golden dowry was to be his purchase-money. Bitter thoughts surged within him at every yard of the road he traversed. Once or twice he almost resolved to turn back ; but, having spoken of his intention, he persevered doggedly, and in the dust of a sultry June afternoon he drove up to the gates of Beckett Court, and learned from a liveried mential who regarded him, superciliously that Mr A’Beckett was not at home, 'but that Mrs and Miss A’Beckett were, At the hall door a second liveried retainer gave Mr Clydesdale the same information more doubtfully. ‘ I can wait if they are out,’ remarked Mr Clydesdale coolly handing his card to the footman, when a change came over the spirit of John Thomas immediately. ‘ Please to step ii to the library, sir,’ he said deferentially. ■‘ I will inquire if the ladies have returned from their drive. I rather think they have, sir.’ He conducted him across the wide vestibule into a splendid room lighted oy narrow casements of stained glass, the warm tints of which glimmered in gold and green and amethyst on the dark carved book-cases, the rows of richly bound volumes, the dark crimson velvety carpet, and the massive oak furniture. • How I should like to see the poor old library at Clydesdale Manor restored like this room ! ’ Robert Clydesdale thought, with an envious sigh. He thew ‘himself hack in one of the great russia-leathor chairs with gold crest and monogram on the crimson back, and, with something like cynical dismay creeping over him, eyed the portentous collection of books —English andforeign—-and the great’writingtable.

That’s where the teiress, studies, surrounded by her polite masters and governesses, I suppose,’ he muttered. * The dad said he understood she was a linguist, besides being otherwise accomplished. Good gracious! Wbut a blessei look-out for me ! She will ask me to explain some difficult passage in iEschylus perhaps,’ he thought, with a sneer ; 1 and, when I say I don’t know Greek sufficiently well, she will kindly translate it for me, or, compassionating my ignorance, come down to modern classics, and put nu through my paces in Schiller, or Corneille, or Anglo-Saxon poetry. I’ll tell her that I know nothing, to begin with, that I can’t do much more than write my own letters and read my own newspaper ; and so I may escape. Confound it all ! ’ There was anything but a winning smile on his countenance as he heard the door open. * Mrs. A’Beckett went out driving an hour since, sir, but will be back to dinner, her maid says,’ John Thomas announced ; ‘ and Miss A’Bockett is, I think, somewhere in the grounds with some friends, sir.’ The footman paused doubtfully. * Confound it! ’ muttered Robert Clydesdale savagely between his teeth. * To come down all this way to get it over quietly, and to be balked ! I shall wait to see Miss A’Beckett, if she returns in half an hour,’ he

said aloud ; and the footman withdrew. Left alone in the library, he repented of his resolution. The sombre room felt oppressive in the warmth of the summer afternoon. His footsteps fell noiselessly on the thick carpet, his very voice, when he spoke aloud in his irritation, I seemed muffled by the heavy velvet drapery of the windows. The view even through the windows extended no farther than a strip of perfectly-mown award dotted with three well-kept flower-beds, and a beautifully trim close-cut beech-hedge beyond. ‘ The people are just like this,’ he thought —‘ prim, wealthy, respectable, with no idea freer or fsesher than the air of this room, with its insufferable curtains ! ’ He walked over to the window nearest him —it had rather a better view than the others —determined to fling it wide open. A low velvet-covered chair was placed half across it, and, as he dragged back the cuatains, he saw that some one had converted the chair into a couch—some one crouching snugly on cushion behind the curtains—a girl with her head laid on her arm, which rested on the chair-seat. A volume of fairy-tales was in her other hand, ’open at the story of the Sleeping Beauty, and a big black oat was in her lap—cat and girl both fast asleep. ‘Who on earth can she be ?’ Robert Clydes" dale thought, amused. ‘ Poor child, the learned sanctum hasn’t awaed her much, with her cat and her fairy-tales— a delicate-looking sorrowful little thing—the housekeeper’s daughter, I shouldn’t wonder, judging by her dress, or some visiter perhaps—somebody who comes to partake of the heiress’s bounty —a poor young cousin, or some one like that.’

He took the book from the little unclosed hand and glanced at the story, then glanced at the pale, gentle, sleeping face upturned against the background of dark velvet drapery. She was not a pretty girl by any means —if anything, she was plain-looking, sadlooking, with thin undeveloped figure, clad in a homely brown linen dress; but there was purity and innocence in the face. Robert Clydesdale stood looking at the girl and' glancing at the of the fair one who slept until the charmed kiss awoke her. The summer breeze wafted a lock of her light-brown hair across her thin blue-veined temples, and she stirred uneasily. Robert Clydesdale stooped down and softly put back the hair. , Suddenly the door of the library opened; and Clydesdale, raising himself, drew the curtain as it was before, and moved away with a tinge of red flushing his brown cheeks.

‘ Can it be possible that I have the pleasure of meeting Mr Robert Clydesdale ? ’ a lady exclaimed, entering the apartment with a mighty rustling of silk, the splendid superabundance of which extended in glistening folds far behind her. *Mr Clydesdale—dear Lord Clydesdale’s son—this is a pleasure; ’ The lady spoke very affectedly and had a vulgar intonation ; but she was superbly attired. She was a rather good-looking woman between thirty-five and forty ‘ Good gracious,’ Robert thought, * this can’t be the daughter, surely! This woman is over thirty; she’s rouged, and—— Good gracious, this cau’t be Miss A’Beokett! ’ * I am Mrs A’Beckett,’ the lady said simperingly. ‘ I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before.’ ‘ Oh, ah—yes, to be sure ! ’ Robert responded, somewhat relieved, bub still most unfavourably impressed by Mrs A’Beckett’s manner, her overdressed appearance, her voice, and everything about her, ‘ I hope she won’t discover that poor little thing sleeping in the window,’ he thought nervously. ‘ She looks a coarse-minded sort of person who could scold well, for all her finery; ’ and, to prevent the discovery, he led MrsJA’Beckett to] the farther side of the room.

*Of course you’ll stay and dine with us, Mr Clydesdale ? ’ Mrs A’Beckett said, as she seatedjjhersalf and twiotched at her laces and arranged her braclets. Mr A’Beckett will be so delighted, and—and tny daughter. You haven’t met my daughter, Mr Clydesdale ? *

She looked at him consciously, and Robert Clydesdale frowned involuntarily. ‘ She knows, of course; she’s taking stock of me,’ he thought irately. * Well, let her ! ’ Aloud he said politely, ‘ No, I have not had that pleasure. * I shall ring for her maid, then, to tell her I want her,’ smiled Mrs A’Beckett. But, when that personage a very sharplooking well-dressed damsel, appeared, she informed her mistress that Miss A’Beckett had gone out into the grounds two hours before, and she had been looking for her in vain.

‘ Tiresome pet she is! simpered the lady—out she looked exceedingly cross. • Look for Miss A’Beckett again, please, Wilkinson, and tell her I want her.’ Then, turning to young Clydesdale, she said, * You must have some luncheon now ; we don’t dine until half-past seven.’ ‘ I cannot stay to dinner, tuank you. I brought no evening-dress,’ he responded. * Oh, evening-dress ! How can you talk of such a thing ? ’ cried Mrs. A’Beckett, scanning his dusty gray suit with very critical eyes nevertheless. ‘We have no dinner-party this evening—we shall be quite ong fvmel.’ ‘ Deal' me! ’ Robert Clydesdale thought scornfully, * I think these people are altogether too grand for a plain man like me. I had better petition to be let sit in the housekeeper’s room and talk to that child with the fairy- tales—l should like it much better ! ’ He had cast several nervous glances at the distant window whilst Mrs. A’Beckett spoke to him, and acceded to that lady’s request that he would come into the dining-room to luncheon, more for the purpose of leaving the coost clear for the sake of the poor little stowaway—-he was certain she was the nieca or daughter of the housekeeper—than from any desire to partake of the hospitality of Beckett Court Mrs A’Beckett excusad herself to him presently, and retired with an anxious brow 5 and Robert Clydesdale, having read and lounged about and yawned through two hours more, was at length relieved by the entrance of the master of Beckett Court in person. Having by way of preparation for dinner, washed his face and hands and brusned his curly goldea-brown hair, Mr. Clydesdale descended to the drawing-room, almost abashed, hardened young man as he was in matters of costume, by the display of evening-dress on the persons of his host and hostess. Even a subdued-looking elderly lady who he felt sure was the governess or duenna, was quite glittering in jet ornaments and gray silk. Robert almost closed his eyes, prepared to be blinded by the dazzling vision of the heiress, when he heard the words, ‘My daughter—Mr Clydesdale,’ but opened them very quickly, and as widely as possible, when a small slender figure dressed in pale blue curtseyed silently. It was * the housekeeper’s daughter,’ the girl with the eat and fairy tales ! The wonderful heiress whose dower was double that of many a princess, the only child of John Kestrel A’Beckott 5 was shy, plain, delicatelooking girl, apparently about seventeen, a cowed silentjcreature, with stiff manners and a habit of looking frightened when addressed. {To he continued.)