A VALET OF TWO CENTURIES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVIII, Issue XVIII, 1 May 1897, Page 552

A VALET OF TWO CENTURIES.

(BY VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD.) HAD another pointed him out as my future man servant I should have resented the reflection upon my taste and discrimination. But on a certain morning an old man, made grotesque by a snutf colonred coat and a very high stock, presented himself at my lodgings and inquired if I were in need of a valet. From my desk I surveyed him in surprise To no one had I confided my intention of securing a valet. I felt, too, that the ruddy, round-calved individual whose prototype was employed by my more fortunate legal associates held nothing in common with the figure confronting me. He was a peculiarly wiry old man, with dark, twinkling eyes, and with scanty gray hair brushed straight back, giving, except when he turned his head, the impression of a queue. He held a flat crowned bat, and when he bowed it lay upon his heart. * How do yon know I want a valet ?’ I inquired, when 1 had ascertained his name. Doubles answered, with a deprecating shrug, * Young gentlemen who come into property usually need additional servants.' • Ah '. then you saw it there !’ I tapped the morning paper, which had an item about a streak of luck that had recently befallen me. The old man bowed with lowered eyelids. I asked his reference. Doublex shrugged again. He could have given superb reference long ago, he assured me. He had not entered service for many years. What need ? An old man has few wants and no wishes. Still I hesitated, trying to place the old fellow's ace at a convenient date. Fifty? Sixty? His old world manner ! Seventy? Eighty ? His agility and alertness ! I played with my pen and casually surveyed him. I met two dark eyes fixed upon me with a penetrating mournfulnes«. indescribable. I was about to go down into Cheswick and investigate a certain property which I had leased. I knew nothing about the neighbourhood, nor the requirements of my position as country squire. I intended taking a man down with me —a florid Joe or John, who would turn his hand to anything, and, when not on duty, smoke his pipe at the country tavern. ‘ You have had experience T I asked. Again the old man bowed. His experience. he could assure me, had been long and varied. His age ? This time the shrug was mani fest, but his manner perfectly respectful. He begged to suggest that he was at his employer s service, ace and al). He would take pains to adapt his age to the require ments of bis position. And I engaged Donblex on the spot. The es ate in Cheswick, known as Gray Hollows, was. like some ancient belles, the remains of beauty and elegance. Old

storybooks would have described it aa a lordly pile. The lordly pile, however, was now reduced to a front and one wing, with walls thick enough to have sheltered Mora vian nuns, and which still showed dusty tracing suggestive of the abode of old tapestry. I have always felt strangely in touch with the past. Its glamour and tradition run in my very veins, and in an idle moment I set to work to investigate annals, records and letters, so as to familiarise myself with the history of my forefathers. The original owner of Gray Hollows was a wealthy bachelor, who adopted his two nephews, Henry Eastman and Beverly Lane. These two boys were first cousins, and Henry Eastman was his uncle’s favourite, and was afterward my greatgrandfather. When the cousins attained their majority their uncle died, leaving a will which, to the surprise of the community, bequeathed his entire property to Beverly Lane, thereby rendering Henry Eastman penniless. Furthermore, this incident was handed down from father to son ; that when Beverly Lane entered upon his inheritance and took possession of Gray Hollows, be gave a ball, regardless of his uncle’s recent death, and after the ball fought a duel with bis cousin. Henry Eastman, in the grounds of Gray Hollows. Tradition attributed this to the mutual love of the two cousins for the daughter of a neighbouring squire. It appeared that the girl favoured Henry Eastman, but was afterwards forced into an engagement with Beverly Lane, and died before the wedding. On the night of the duel Henry Eastman disappeared from Gray Hollows, to reappear in history as an officer in the war. After this, he lived a quiet life, and died honoured and beloved. But at the last my

great-grandfather broke through the reserve which characterised him and confided to his only son that be had always suspected his cousin, Beverly Lane, to have been guilty of treachery respecting their uncle’s will. But, being without absolute proof, he had silently resigned that which he believed to be bis right rather than bring so terrible an accusation against one of his family. His last words were these, spoken to my grandfather. •Never forget that I believe Gray Hollows to be yours by inheritance, for I was in my uncle’s confidence. Time may yet right you.’ Meanwhile, Beverley Lane had become a lawless, dissipated man, who squandered his inheritance and was notoriously brutal to his slaves. He had one son, who followed closely in his father’s footsteps, and who in his old age parted with Gray Hollows to a man to whom he owed a great deal of money. This much I learned of the old estate in Cheswick, and it whetted my interest concerning it. But I was an orphan, and my exertions had only proved sufficient to enable me to keep a small office, and put a shingle out, when, all unexpectedly, at this pericd, I inherited a comfortable income from an aunt of my mother. After the delighted freedom of drawing independent breath and not feeling any anxiety respecting my breakfast on the morrow, I bethought me of the home of my ancestors. Property agents informed me that the old place had been closed for a generation, and that the owner, who had received it from the son of Beverly Lane, was an old man, ending a disreputable career at Monte Carlo. His efforts to sell Gray Hollows had been in vain, and the estate was about to pass under the hammer. Then I stepped in at the nick of time and leased it for a year, with the refusal of it at the end of that period. Il came about, therefore, that early in the fall I sat smoking in the library of Gray Hollows, recalling these events of a fortnight back, and feeling not nnlike the hero of a novel. I, Henry Eastman, formerly impecunious lawyer, was sole possessor of the home of my forefathers. What mattered it that the left wing was a fragmentary pile of rock and blackberry vines and the plaster crumbling from the hall, and that at nights rats ran riot behind my library shelves ? Time could remedy that. Meanwhile, the old books were there, unmolested saving by dust, and the tarnished sconces now held candles and the mammoth fireplace a burning log. I had engaged a woman to work by the day, and one of the many silent chambers above stairs was made habitable for my use. In my first excited enthusiasm I believed that I could live forever within the silent walls of Gray Hollows. Then, too, I possessed an additional luxury. Circumstances adapted themselves to my band in a surprising manner; my tastes were catered to as if by one who had known them since my childhood, and in the midst of my novel experience, had I paused to analyze the situation and the supreme cause of success, I should undoubtedly have said—Donblex. 1 do not claim that so pet feet a servant never lived, but that two such could never have fallen to my share. How the old fellow divined my most intimate tastes I did not question. I took the gifts of the gods and was duly thankful. My valet was noiseless, uncommunicative ; never in evidence, and unfailing, to the nicest point, in the discharge of his duties. Nor yet did he smoke a pipe at the tavern. Hie sole recreation was apparently to wander around the old place, threading his way here and there among the briers and debris, or to stand aimlessly in the shadow of the ruined left wing of the house, gazing at the landscape, and making a figure strangely in accordance with its autumnal decay. At first I remonstrated. Did he never rest ? Nor wish to stroll to the village ? The cook complained that he was forever wandering about. Doublex bowed low and thanked me ; that was all. It was then that I recognized an impassable bar of reserve between my old man servant and me. If there was clear consciousness, it lay with Doublex. I could not explain it, but he baffled me. One evening, after sunset, I strolled to and fro on the terrace, when I beheld the snuff coloured figure of my valet hastening down the path of Gray Hollows and disappearing rapidly between the trees below. The leaves lay in neutral hued piles beneath them, and he went so rapidly that impulsively I followed him. Down the winding path sped old Doublex, and I after, keeping him in view through the paling light. There was an abrupt incline at the foot of the lawn—one of the misty, gray hollows which bad no doubt given the place its name—and near by was a little gate, which I surmised was the side entrance to my neighbour’s place Brought to an abrupt standstill at the hedge, I looked round for Doublex. He waa not in tight. Instead, I faced a young

woman who leaned upon the gate, and who moved aside at my unexpected appearance. I made some lame apology, and explained that I bad hurried down the hill after my old man ; that I was not aware that there was a gate in the hedge : but she smiled and opened the gate. * Mr Eastman is it not ? I am Rose Latane,' she said. * Gray Hollows has been closed for so long a time that we are in the habit of using this gate as the shorter way to the road.’ I interrupted by beseeching her to continue the use of the wicket gate, and in reply she said: * Will you not go with me, then, to meet my mother? We are so near neighbours that I would not have you think so nnneighbourly.' She opened the gate and I passed through. I recall to this day the sound of the latch clicking and the odour of late honeysuckle I was conscious of an impression that I had dreamed of Rose Latane; that I bad walked that boxgrown path before, and had heard the ‘ One bird singing alone to its nest ’ and had seen the • One star over the tower.’ It was the next morning when I sat before my fire ; for the mornings were cool. I summoned Doublex, and before his name had been repeated he stood beside me. * You don’t make noise enough, Donblex,’ I said ; * I dislike to be startled. You disappeared very suddenly yesterday evening. What takes you down to the hollow so often ?’ Only his habit of walking, he assured me. He hoped he had not affended me. •No—no!’ I replied, repentantly, remarking bis sad countenance ; * you are a good old fellow, Doublex. Walk all you

wish You have lived in Cheswick, I believe* Yea-, Doublet had been there long before. * With whom did you live !* I inquired. He replied that hie master was dead. Ah, yes, they were all sone long ago 1 The old man sighed, and his eyes were strangely mournful. Why was it they always seemed to look beyond and through me! I arose impatiently. I was notional. ‘You have heard of Mrs Latane'a family, then !* I said, while striking a match. Yes—oh, yee ! For the first time Doubles teemed to awaken. There had been a Min Rose Latane onee, he had heard. She was a famous belle, who died unmarried. Ab. well many belles have remained unmarried. Doubles paused, and I smoked. Then he remarked that there was a young lady at the nest place whose name was also Rose. Yes—yes, Rose ! She, too, was very beautiful. No doubt a descendant of the older Miss Latane’a family. I was surprised at the interest and observation shown by Doubles on this point, and smoked in silence, waiting for him to continue. Hesitatingly he did so, eyeing me all the while. Only an hour before he had seen the young lady go through the wicket gate. She was doubtless even then returning in the lane. It was a beautiful morningbeautiful. Again Doubles eyed me. I flung my cigar into the fire without a word and caught up my cap and rushed out into the frosty sunlight, with my heart throbbing one refrain, * Rose ! Rose ! Rose !' I plunged through dry leaves, and, sure enough, met her passing through the little gate. As we went up the garden path together I saw old Doubles standing by the wall of the ruined wing, evidently watching us. But I did not care. I would not deny to a soul that which was patent to myself. I was desperately in love, and at first eight. For from the moment when I saw Rose Latane first at the wicket gate I realized without hesitancy that she was the one woman whom I wished to marry—nay, whom I intended to marry !

From that time on I was conscious that my infatuation was wholly perceived by old Doubles, and that in some unaccount-

able manner he bad Mt himself to help me on with my suit. But no sign of what he divined did the old man give. I did not pause even to question myself, for in a fortnight after my arrival at Gray Hollows my fate lay straight before me, and Roee Latane alone bad the solving of it. On the night of November 30th I sat in the library drawing plane for the future renovation of Gray Hollows, and although I bad not yet broached a word of my feeling to Rose, I found myself arranging rooms according to what I thought would be the taste of her whom I hoped to bring as the future mistress. I felt unaccountably restless. The day had been cold and cheerless—an abrupt change from days preceding. The wind swept around the old place, and rattled the windows and screamed up the chimneys, and made me unsettled and nervous. I had found no exeuM to call upon my neighbour, which fact was no doubt the key-note of my mood. I strove vainly to divert myself by investigating the contents of an old diary which had been kept by my great-grandfather, and which was afterwards left me among my father’s personal possessions. But I could settle to nothing, and was dissatisfied and brooding, like the weather. I had to own, too, that I was growing tired of the ancient figure of Doublex. An unusual spirit seemed to have entered into the old man that day. He was uncomfortably in evidence whenever I desired solitude, and he appeared in the library hour after hour without excuse, and was almost officious in his effort to remain near me or to be of service. I appreciated the unaccountable devotion with which I bad apparently inspired my old servant, but it palled upon me, and he persisted in fixing his eyes upon me with an eager sort of wistfnlness which made me feel antieipative. By night I had pretty well determined to get another and a youthfully robust valet, more in accordance with my own age and less harmonious with that of Gray Hollows. I found myself inexcusably vexed with old Doublex. Perhaps we are all more or less vexed with that which we cannot understand. I looked for some fault for which I might upbraid him ; but Doublex was provokingly correct—too correct. During the evening I read for a while in

my great-grandfather's diary, picking out a date here and there, and deciphering with difficulty the fine, old-fashioned handwriting ; but at last, when the clock struck eleven, I put the book away and threw myself upon the lounge in a corner, with my hand shading my eyes, and fell to dreaming about Rose. Suddenly I was aware that Doublex stood before me. I had not heard him enter, and was about to make on Irritated remark about his unnecessary quietness, when, to my surprise, ho beckoned to me. Bewildered, I sprang up to see the figure of the old man disappearing out of the door. I hurriedly followed him through the ball and out of the house. It was now a windless night, and moonlight, white and mysterious, lay over Gray Hollows. Straight ahead went old Doublex to his usual haunt—the ruined left wing—and I after him. Then I stopped short, utterly bewildered and smazed. I had been brought to a standstill, not by a scattered pile of stonework, but by the left wing of Gray Hollows, looming dark and undestroyed above me. Near by, with his mournful gaze upon me, was the figure of old Doublex. I could not speak nor make a sound. Some dumbness oi brain as well as of tongue was upon me. Mechanically I waited. The lights shone through the windows,and within I could see a ballroom, with figures moving to and fro in a stately dance. Jewels flashed and red lips smiled. Plumed heads bowed and brilliantbrocades in groups of colour met and parted in the dance. Suddenly I started, and my brain throbbed. She was there before me! Roee ! My Rose ! Did I not know hereyes—her smile! Beneath the powdered coiffure and waving feathers Roee Latane passed before me in the dance. Surely I was dreaming ! Surely I would awaken presently ! I strove to rush forward to satisfy myself that I slept, to break the mystery or the dream ; but, like an iron grasp, the inscrutable gaze of old Doublex was upon me. I could not move. Two figures approached the Rose of the dance, and one of them resembled myself. Yes, in spite of the powdered hair and courtly dress, it was my own face. Where or when bad I done the same! Where and when had I seen or heard of the other! Aha ! The old story of the ball, on the night when Beverly Lane came into his

inheritance 1 The two cousins ! With the rapidity of a dream, all which then transpired flashed upon my bewildered vision. Roee turned and laid her hand upon the arm of the young man who resembled myself, and the other, with a malignant look of hatred, turned on his heel and left them; In the shadow of night, with the figure of old Doublex beside me, I marked what then passed. It was with the lightninglike transition of thought. The guests left with no sound of hoof or wheel. One by one the lights were extinguished in Gray Hollows. Presently two figures descended the steps to the terrace, and thence down the path toward the hollows, and silently we followed them, old Doublex and I. In a moonlit space below, the young men paused. There was a gleam of steel, and then one of them spoke Was it the voice of my inner spirit! Surely I had heard it all before. * Wait, Beverly Lane ’. This is of your own seeking. Were you worthy of her I should speak no word ; but I shall strive to protect her. Once more I ask you by what means you gained possession of my inheritance—for I had our uncle’s assurance that so it would be !' * Dog ! Liar ! She is mine '. Gray Hollows is mine !’ The words cut the air simultaneously with two swords. There was a flashing of steel ; the first speaker made a swift lunge, and the second sprang back with the blood flowing from his band. Then the other put up his sword. * There! I do not wish to kill you, Beverly ! I go, but Time shall yet testify—’ He plunged into the gray underbrush of the hollows and disappeared. There was the faint sound of horses’ hoofs, and the other stood in the moonlight with his bleeding hand held high. * Aba ! You leave the field, my brave soldier ! She is mine now, and you shall pay dear for this blood ! Who shall Time employ! Who shall testify against me!' * I !—I shall !’ The figure of old Doublex was no longer beside me. He stood in the space, with the moonlight on his gray hair. The younger man started back with an oath. * I shall, Master Beverly ! 1 shall testify

yet for Master Harry ! I saw yon burn master’s will on the night of his death ! I saw yon make another ! Ay, old Donblex shall testify—’ With a wild expression of rage the younger man turned upon the older. His blade Hew through the air, and Donblex fell with a cry to the ground. He threw his hands upward. • I shall not rest till I have testified— ’ Again the blade fell. In a frenzy of effort I strove to tear myself from the lethargy wrapping me, and to throw myself upon the fiend who stood langhing in the moonlight. With supehnman effort I cried alond and dashed forward. I fell. My bead struck a stone, and there was darkness. •Of course it was a dream, and yon walked in yonr sleep !’ said my wife, conclusively, some time afterwards, when the mistress of Gray Hollows was esconced by her own hearthstone; ‘ for when we fonnd yon yon were lying in the path near the hollow, quite unconscious. Had I not been sitting up nnnsnally late, and heard you cry out, you would have lain there all night.’ I shivered in spite of myself. •Of course it was a dream !’ said Rose, briskly, while she eyed me. ■ And the Rose of the ball ?’ I said. • And Doublex ’ Was Donblex a dream, tool Yon have seen the old fellow often !’ Rose was silent. We had trod this gronnd often in the preceding weeks of my convalescence. She tapped her foot impatiently upon the hearth. • Such things are ridiculous ! Of course it is a coincidence that I happened to have a great-grandaunt who was engaged to one Beverly Lane, and who died before the wedding, and of course it is a coincidence that your old valet disappeared on the night of —of yonr accident. I’m snre lam glad he is gone ! The old mummy !’ In reply, I took from my desk the diary kept by my great grandfather, Henry Eastman. •I discovered two things yesterday,’ I said. * This is the first,’ and I opened at a certain page and read alond : •February 20th, 1776.—1 am sorely troubled to have news of the sndden death of Doublex. I have felt that the old place still held a link with the past whilst Doublex remained. He has been a most faithful friend to my nncle and me, and my attendant since childhood. I have some untoward foreboding and fear about the cause of his death, which, it is said, was caused by an accident in the grounds of Gray Hollows on the night of November 30oh, at which date I left my old home. Perhaps Time may help me to unravel still another unpleasant mystery ’’ I closed the old book, and Rose looked at me with startled eyes. ‘ Come, and I will show you the other discovery,’ I said. She pnt on her wraps and followed me down the path of Gray Hollows, which, even in the wintry sunlight, held so vivid a recollection for me that I shrank from treading it. I led near the wicket gate, and across the hollow to a sequestered spot, overgrown by brambles. There, amid a mass of dead nndergrowth, was a monnd. The stone, a small one, had long before fallen face downward, and lay half embedded in the earth. But the day before I had nnearthed it and turned it over and scraped the moss and mould from its face. The inscription was -. — JULES DOUBLEX. AGED SEVBNTV-TWO YEARS. : November 30th, 1776. I turned away, and Rose followed me up the path without a word. When we gained the terrace and stood in the sunlight she laid her hand npon my arm with a sigh of relief. • Admitting that such things could ever happen,’ she said, *it is satisfactory to know that we were intended for each other. And your man-servant may have been the great-grandson of that one, you know.' She nodded toward the hollow. • Perhaps,' I said, to satisfy her. Then I looked from the rained wing of Gray Hollows through the bare trees to where I had stood in some suspended moment of my existence, and I shook my head. • But we shall never see old Doublex again.’ And it is needless to say that we never did.