i^i 'Ui4 \ ^S iZyM 3P<^ LI B RARY OF THL U N IVLR5ITY or ILLINOIS v.l THE GOLDEN PEIME. VOL. r. THE GOLDEN PRIiME BY FREDERICK BOYLE, AUTHOR OF CAMP NOTES," "legends OF MY BUNGALOW," ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : CHAPMAN & HALL, Limited, 11, HENRIETTA ST., W.C. 1882. . \_All rights reservtd.'\ CLAY AKD TAYLOR, PRINTERS, BfNGAY, SUFFOLK. 6 6^4^ CONTENTS OF VOL. L K CHAPTER I. PA«JK RAWDOX OF RAWDOXSHAUGH, GROCER ... ... 1 5£ CHAPTER II. CD FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE CHAPTER III. ^ FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD •^ CHAPTER IV. 2? RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY ... ... ... 11'.) cP :i a: CO _, CHAPTER V. *^ CAST ADRIFT ... ... ... ... ••. 1-^1 c 0) CONTENTS. CHAPTEE VI. PAGE JEHANNE DE PEROUAG ... ... ... ... 173 CHAPTER VII. SWEYN GARROW IN LOVE ... ... ... 207 CHAPTER VIII. NOTRE ROY 250 THE GOLDEN PEIME. CHAPTER I. EAWDON OF EAWDONSHAUGH, GROCEPv. In the north of England, some hundred years ago, dwelt a notable family called Kawdon, of antiquity unquestioned, of large estate, and of the High-Tory prin- ciples befitting their position. Many gen- erations had found their way from the Haugh to the churchyard, and each suc- ceeding heir had found his paternal lands not diminished, but rather increased. The Rawdons were free-handed in two senses. Whilst their door stood hospitably wide, VOL. I. B ^A THE GOLDEN PEIME. their neighbours landmark was pushed steadily backwards, until every rood of fell and copse overlooked by that stately mansion was their own. But Fate avenged itself at last. The destined spendthrift came, and he was succeeded by a worthy heir. In two generations of madmen, all was spent, and the last Eawdon of Raw- donshaugh left his son, at seven years old, penniless and alone. The mother had been dead for years, her relatives did not come forward, and his own connections, all dis- tant, ignored the existence of a child they had never seen. All that the Jews and lawyers gave him from that great estate was £500. An old servant took charge of the boy, protected his small interests, and. passed him on to another county, where, in fine, he was apprenticed to a grocer. When this startling news spread abroad, the sexton of the village church where so many Rawdons lay surely expected that such disgrace would wake the whole RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 3 proud clan to direful life again. But neither the living nor the dead protested. The boy served his time, and proved himself both thrifty and enterprising. His £500 gave him a start. In course of years he moved southward, and presently ob- tained a partnership in a great London firm. Money poured in, and Eawdon had scarcely yet reached middle age when he bought the estate of Weybridge, the seat of an old family whose tale was very like his own. But the pleasures of the country did not tempt him from the shop. It is probable that the grocer might have died there, a bachelor, but the one romantic episode of a prosaic existence shortly befell. A pale and delicate old man replied to his advertisement for a foreign clerk, and he begged so eagerly for the place that Rawdou overlooked the weakness of his testimonials. For years the Frenchman did his work, growing feebler month by month, but complaining not at all. Rawdon was B 2 4 THE GOLDEN PRIME. kind in his grave way, and at length he offered the old man a pension for his few- remaining days. AVeakened by illness and anxiety, the clerk burst into tears, and begged his employer's protection for the daughter he was leaving friendless in the world. Mr. Eawdon was not a man to promise lightly. He visited the poor lodg- ing to see the girl for whom his aid was asked. One glance of her hazel eyes found the grocer's heart, and within a very few weeks Marie's father had no more occasion for anxiety on. her account. He suffered a little, however. His parents, like so many more, had fled from the days of Terror, but they had not the luck to dip in that Pactolus which flowed at the Restoration. Representing a family of no small account, whose younger branch had recovered much of its . possessions, the Marquis de Perouac came very near starvation. At his death, the trifling sum allowed by the Count de Perouac was discontinued, and the son RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 5 found employment in Rawdon's shop, whilst the grand-daughter Marie earned a few poor shillings by needlework. The old man lived to see a quiet wed- ding, and to touch French soil once more. Upon his deathbed, he spoke hesitatingly to Rawdon about leavinor trade. The old o shop had been a home to him, but, said he, " a woman's position is different." Mr. Rawdon understood very well, though most persons would see the distinction in an opposite light. It was hard to surrender his own interest, but he did it. The wed- ding tour was prolonged until the heir of the Rawdons of Rawdonshaugh could again take his place before the world as a country gentleman. At Weybridge, two years after, was born to him a son christened Pier Marie, and his wife died in childbed. These events roused a stir in the neigh- bourhood. Rawdon the grocer, a married man, though claiming thirty-two quarterings of nobility, and never a stain or doubt on 6 THE GOLDEN PRIME. his escutcheon — though reputed to possess ten thousand a year — was necessarily and properly cut by the county. Its opinion, deliberate and unalterable, was finely syllo- gised by Mr. Latham, heir to the grand property of that ilk, and member, of course. " If a man's a grocer," said he, w^hen it was announced that the purchaser of Wey- bridge was coming to reside there, ''he can't be a gentleman ; if he's a gentleman, he couldn't be a grocer.^' The delicacy of the unconditional mood was vastly admired. " It's his great facility in grammar which gives James his standing in the House," said little Mrs. Latham ; and, as usual, no one could be sure whether she was laughing at her lord or no. This verdict of the shire was not to be altered by the husband's quiet virtues, or the wife's fascination. But when Marie died, Eawdon the grocer became Mr. Rawdon of Weybridge, the widower. It was then recollected that no one could dispute his pedigree, that his RAWDOJs^ OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 7 wealth lay beyond question, visible to the whole country-side, on hill and meadow, night and day, frank winds blowing over and the candid sun shining on it. A power- ful squadron came into the field, who had not hitherto taken an active part in the discussion. The mothers of the county began to move, and the daughters thereof. Once more council was held in the house of Latham, and Lady Blenchley then and there took up her parable. " Mr. Eawdon was very fond of her, they say, and there must be a depth of good feeling in a man who suffers so acutely. I think he sets an excellent example. He is comparatively young — not much over forty I understand. Blenchley says that the Weybridge rental has even increased. Do you know whether that property is entailed ? The poor child is said to be sickly, and there are so many risks, even with a mother's care. Blenchley says he would not feel easy if he had only one son." 8 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " I think," said Mrs. Lambert, the rector s wife, *' that your ladyship would not regret any attention paid to Mr. Kawdon. We have known him from the first, of course, and I can assure your ladyship that he is a thoroughly good and Christian person. His wife, poor thing " (here Mrs. Lambert touched her eyes), " was angelic. You are aware that she was Protestant ? " "Mr. Kawdon gives £200 a year to the Hunt, I believe. And he is really very nice-looking for his age," observed Lady George Fieldfare, with the boldness of a widow. ''And he was born at Kawdonshaugh," interposed Miss Crugers, the genealogist. "Darcy happened to speak to him a year ago, and it was only yesterday he declared that a man more thoroughly presentable he had never met," mur- mured Mrs. Ashton, who owned a hive of children, all queens and drones. "Mr. Ashton must be right, if he has EAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 9 taken twelve months to mature his opinion," said sarcastic Mrs. Latham. " But what steps can we take now ? " " Oh, the men must call, and do as well as they can," replied Lady George decisively. The young ladies also held their council. One, of course, quoted the antique custom of Brittany, which permitted a damoiseau to hang his sword in the parish church, until, by hook or by crook, the fisheries or the wool trade, he had earned enough to mount it decently. '' A pretty display of learning, my dear," objected Miss Eivers; " but this worthy man didn't hang up his sword — indeed, I am sure the bishop would not allow any such tomfoolery. A grocer's weapons of offence are sand-bags and mixing-sticks." " How dreadful you are, Grace ; of course, nobody has a sword now-a-days." " Oh, Milly," cried a little sister, " Cousin Alfred has, and I saw you kissing it yester- 10 THE GOLDEN PEIME. day ! " Conversation was interrupted until the uninitiated one had been removed. "Of course Milly is right," sighed Miss Ashton. " Men don't wear swords and things, and so there's no beautiful romance in life." "The Heraldry book says, you know, Bojig sang ne se pert pas ! " " Oh doesn't it ? " cried practical Miss Eivers. " The Morleys are good blood, if any of us are, but when poor Harriet ran away with the tutor, she lost herself so completely that I have never been able to find her since ! " " You may be as sarcastic as you please, Grace, but I heard papa say that it is part of woman's mission to refine these rich parvenus who are springing up all round us." " And who would not like to refine Weybridge ! " exclaimed Miss Rivers, clasp- ing her hands enthusiastically. So the county made overtures to Mr. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 11 Rawdon, which he courteously passed by. The county was offended and astonished, as each new assailant of the recluse made his charge and withdrew, baffled. But Mr. Rawdon's position changed. His manner of declining intimacy gave no excuse, had such been wished, for is^norino; him a.o^ain. And in this amphibious condition the master of Weybridge remained, acknowledged by society, though mixing not therein. Comfort was long in finding Mr. Rawdon, but as years passed, bringing strength and beauty to his child, the bereaved man turned with passionate love towards this link which bound him to his dead wife. The boy was eminently lovable. Though quick to anger under a sense of wrong, and slow to forgive an injury until it was acknowledged and atoned, he had a dis- position so frank and unsuspecting that his fits of passion were rare. The servants were his slaves, especially the pretty ones, and the feeling of servants towards a child 12 THE GOLDEN PRIME. is no bad test of his character. It was Pier's grave misfortune to have no com- panion of his own age. One acquaintance he had indeed, little Sweyn Garrow, who lived at the Rectory with Mr. Lambert; but the boys fought with such determina- tion that they seldom, were allowed to be together. Till his eighth birthday, Pier ruled a little kingdom all alone. Mr. Rawdon was utterly unfitted to train such a nature. A gentleman in every in- stinct, narrowed by circumstances into the form of an honest, god-fearing worshipper of routine, he could not even understand this boy. Sitting on his father's knee, listenino: to the moralities which have served so many generations. Pier sometimes de- livered himself in a manner that confounded the paternal wisdom. He would gravely revolve in his young intelligence the moral stone which should stand to him in lieu of bread, and propound some monstrous question. Mr. Rawdon was not quick of RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 13 thought, and eight years passed before he thoroughly comprehended that this was no common child he had begotten. An incident of the class just referred to brought him rather suddenly to a conclusion. With- out more loss of time, a note was de- spatched, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Lambert to dine and consult. "Bring little Sweyn with you," added Mr. Kawdon in a post- script. " He can stay the night with Pier, if you approve." In the mean while, the boy dismissed deeply balanced in his mind the respective pleasures of fishing and bathing on this summer afternoon. The low green hills which bounded Weybridge were quivering in heat, and he remembered with ecstasy how cool and black the water lay beneath the beech trees at the upper pool. But along the valley on which he looked, the stream was sparkling through gaps of alder and willow like a rosary of diamonds. Undecided he strolled on, through the ancient shrubbery 1 4 THE GOLDEN PRIME. of holly and Irish yew, beneath the nursery windows, to the stable-yard. A lovely child was this little Pier. When he rode forth with Ben, his private groom, every woman turned to smile at the slender figure^ sitting so upright and assured, looking straight in front with keen amber eyes. His expression was firm, and his features moulded, at an age when most children are a mere congeries of roundnesses. The county people he recognized with a stately little bow. When they stopped to kiss him, a temptation irresistible at times, he endured the ceremony like a monarch courteous but bored. Young ladies called him Prince Camaralzaman. When he appeared in the stable-yard, the big dogs shook their chains and barked with joy, the little terriers and pups came bounding from the shadow. But the men were engaged. Under the stable wall they sat, grooms, coachman, and under-gardeners, listening open-mouthed to a stalwart com- RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 15 rade, whose gaiters and velveteens betrayed the gamekeeper. Little Pier advanced as eagerly as dignity permits, hoping to hear of a monstrous fish seen that morning amongst the reeds and water-lilies of the big pond on the hill, or of an abnormal bird, a weasel, or perhaps a badger. But he found the keeper eloquent upon another theme. " Her didn't break out dang'rous, not at first, ye know," he was saying, whilst a rough ash stick added force to his periods ; "the wench only seemed a bit queer-like, and moithered a good bit in her head. But this morning her begun a screaming and a tearing, as 'twas terrible to hear her in my house. They'd all as they could do to keep her ofi" of the old man, old Smithers, as she was so fond on. Her come at him wdth a knife, her did that ! " " Aye, they mostly set on the folks they was fondest on," said one of the listeners. "Well, they got her off of him, though 16 THE GOLDEN PRIME. Smithers he was badly cut about the hands, and they tied her neck and heels, and locked her i' the back room, that as looks on the garden. And there the wench is now, a roaring like a mad bull. Eh, it's dreadful to go off your head a-that ns." They all shook their polls, gazing solemnly into space. '' Herd just kill a man like winkin', and all for fun." "Mad folks is that strong when the fit's on 'em." " Smithers," resumed the keeper, " he come and axed me to give 'em a hand, but I telt him out as I'd see him deed. I ain't afeard of living man, nor yet of beast, but I doan't like to handle folks as isna right. They're like to ghosts, somehow." All shook their heads again. " You're a big coward, Watson ! " cried little Pier, shrilly scornful. '*Aye, Master Pier ain't afeard of a woman, sane nor simple," said one of the RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 17 grooms, with a big laugh. " Are ye, Master Pier ? " " Who are you talking about ? " asked the child, superbly. " Betsy Smithers, as was your wet-nurse, Master Pier," said the gamekeeper ; " she's gone off her head, and they've locked her up." " Poor Betsy ! Will they hurt her ? " '' Like enough, poor thing ! She's going to the asylum to-morrow, and they be mortal cruel to poor folks there, I've heerd tell." So said the coachman, and ghastly stories were recited on this text. Pier list- ened in growing wrath. '*My nurse Betsy — they'll treat her like that ? They shan't ! I say they shan't ! Where is she ? " " Locked in the back place at Smithers' farm, close by the dairy. They'll not let you see her, Master Pier ; and more'n so, it would frighten you out o' your seven senses. She's the strangest sight ever you VOL. I. 18 THE GOLDEN PKIME. seed, from what I hear tell ; her hair's full of flowers, like a play actress, and she swells out her throat at you like a tooad for all the world." " Hold your deed tongues ! " muttered Ben, who but just arrived. " Can't yer see how mad young master's growing ? He's fond o' Betsy Smithers above all, and this is enough to gie a lad fits of a night. Damn all waggiog tongues. Will you come with me. Master Pier, to catch trout i' the brook ? " Eeadily enough, of course ; and all after- noon through he wandered on the banks of pretty Weybridge stream, breathlessly excited. It was not wide enough for fly- fishing, and he who would make closer acquaintance with the speckled trout, and wriggling ''nine-holes," and silvery dace, and mottled bull-heads dwelling there must betake himself to the antique art of " tickr ling." A noble sport is that whilst one is young, and rheumatism still a bogey. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 19 Marked with the whitest stone were those childish days of mine, when I dabbled all the summer's afternoon, seeking: trout under flowery banks, and encircling them with restless fingers. Never has the sun shone so genially on me, though I have followed him from land to land where he glows warmest. Meadows have never since ap- peared so green, nor water so bright, nor weeds so fragrant. I remember now each sparkling shallow of the brooklet which flowed beneath my home, and each shadowy hole where the big fish lay. Milk-white in spring, glowing red in autumn, the haw- thorns lined its banks, alternate with black alders, and willows shivering. The faint odour of the night-shade fills my nostrils. Many a time, by lovely waters far away, I have longed with a sick pain to tread once more those sweet English meadows, and rest there for ever. Weybridge brook held many strange creatures besides fish, and Ben's instructions C 2 20 THE GOLDEN PRIME. were to bring them all to light. Under the pebbles and in holes of mossy roots were cray-fish, which swam backwards, and per- formed many curious feats. Then there were semi-fish, like animated horsehairs, which Pier verily believed them ; — had not Watson's brother kept a grey horsehair in a bottle till it took life ? Caddis-worms dwelt in a cavern of sticks and stones, and there were shrimps, and boat-flies, and water-beetles, and spiders with a red-velvet cross upon their backs, and innumerable small monsters, most of which bit. "Aren't they brave," said Pier, sucking his slender finger, "these little tiny boat- flies ? They bite me when I touch them, and yet I'm ten million times bigger than them. Don't you think men are the most cowardly things alive, Ben?" This was a view that honest groom had not been trained to contemplate. He an- swered vaguely, "There's a many puzzling circumstances in Nature, Master Pier." RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 21 All the afternoon they wandered by the stream — Ben in the water, and Pier on the bank. " In kep' him out of mischief so far," thought the former to himself, as he led the way home ; " but he'll be rare an mad about Betsy Smith ers when he recol- lects. rU give nurse a wink to mind him." But when they got in, Ben was ordered instantly to mount, and fetch the doctor to a sick housemaid ; so the hint was forgotten. Pier, rejoicing in his load of sheeny trout, carried them to the kitchen for Mr. Lambert's entertainment. The rector and his wife duly arrived, bringing their little charge, Sweyn Garrow. He was a child about seven years old, fair- haired, very high-spirited, always ready to kiss or fight. Pier submitted to a great deal of bullying from his junior, but dis- putes would arise sometimes, and there was not so much difference in strength as to make a combat unfair. Little Sweyn would hold his breath so resolutely, if Pier 22 THE GOLDEN PEIME. refused to fight, that the boy consented in alarm. But they were very fond of each other, and rapturously pleased to meet when permitted. One of their keenest joys was to sit peacefully side by side, and imagine the atrocities they would commit upon each other when "grown up." Mr. Eawdon was a stickler for early hours, and he sent the children to bed at dinner-time. So soon as the nurse's foot- steps had died away, Pier sat up and called — " Little Sweyn, are you afraid of any- thing ? " " I'm not a bit afraid of you," lisped he, always ready for battle. " I don't want to fight you, darling little Sweyn. Are you afraid of people who have gone off" their heads ? " " No ! " very indignantly. *'What do people do who have gone ofi" their heads ? " " I don't know/' answered the little EAWDON OF EAWDONSHAUGH, GROCEE. 23 hero, his fair face flushed red ; " but Fm not afraid of them." Pier was vague himself, but he replied, ''They come out all over feathers, little Sweyn, and they swell out their throats like a toad, and they bite your fingers." This terrific description produced instant results. Sweyn jumped out of bed, and ran to the attack, little milk-teeth clenched, and blue eyes shining like lamps. Pier hurried out on the other side, and de- manded a parley. " How dare you think me a coward, you great elepham ? " Sweyn stammered, trying to reach his foe. " Fll kill you, and pinch the inside of your arms ! " Forgiveness was granted on a proper apology. Then they sat in their night- gowns on the edge of the bed, and held council. *' My nurse Betsy has gone off her head, and they've tied her hands and feet, and locked her up ; and to-morrow they'll take 24 THE GOLDEN PRIME. her to be beaten, unless some one lets her out. I'm going to let her out." '*Yes, of course," said little Sweyn, look- ing in his friend's face, and taking his hand. " We'll get through the window of the day nursery, and slip over the roof of the tool-house, and climb down through the hollies ; I know the way. You get your hands pricked, but it doesn't hurt much." They dressed in prodigious haste, but quiet as mice. Then Pier opened the creaking window, which was of that ancient model called a casement. Over the tops of the hollies and the yews the lawn could be seen, glowing red in the level sun-rays. Long blue shadow^s fell across it from the bordering limes. No sound arose save the evening call of the corncrake in the meadows ; not even the small scullery- maid, who nightly met her faithful stable- man in this secluded corner, was about. "All's well, little Sweyn!" Pier whis- pered. "Watch how I go down the tiles. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 25 This yellow moss will bear your feet, but if you slip there's no danger — the holly branches will catch you." "Danger!'' repeated the superb little fellow. With some scratches the descent was accomplished ; then, hand in hand, they hurried, breathless with excitement, through the damp, green arcade of the ancient shrubbery. "I see a nest," whispered Sweyn, "in the yew." This discovery delayed them, for, mag- nanimous as Pier might feel towards his poor nurse, it was beyond human resolution to pass a new nest uninvestigated. Just as he softly introduced his hand, a warning "hush" froze him. Sweyn crept into the shadow, and they remained stock-still, one beneath, one on a bough. Presently foot- steps and low voices, which Sweyn's ears had caught, sounded closer and closer. In the arch of dark foliage two forms ap- 26 THE GOLDEN PEIME. peared — that of the grave and serious coach- man, that of the discreet nurse. The serious coachman had his arm about the discreet nurse, and was whispering such sweetness in her ear, under cover of the yew's black shadow, that she was con- strained to murmur, " Get out with your nonsense, do, Mr. Jones." To which gentle rebuke Mr. Jones made reply fitting, no doubt, and the jDair walked slowly on. " How many ? It's a blackbird's, isn't it ? " whispered little Sweyn. " Yes ; four young ones, nearly fledged," Pier answered joyfully. " If nurse catches us she daren't tell, for I know she's engaged to Simpson." " You won't tell of them. Pier ? " " If you were bigger, little Sweyn, I'd put your head in that rain -tub until you turned blue." " You wouldn't — you wouldn't ! I'd stick onions in your eyes, and cook you in the green-house fire." RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 27 Tliey came near a quarrel, but Pier apolo- gized humbly, and they proceeded, hand in hand, to the ancient yew, which stood, all black and weirdly and solemn, at the end of the kitchen garden. Behind it w^as a hole, hidden with furze and pea-rices, whereby Pier often escaped. They crept throuo;h and reached the fields. The dappled cows were lounging from the gate, after their evening visit to the farm. Green and still and holy the meadow looked, as the boys crouched waiting till the cowherd withdrew. Then at top speed they galloped across the open, climbed the opposite fence, and reached the water- meadow, through which ran the brook. An irresistible temptation of king-cups and meadow-sweet, and pale, pink milkmaids, delayed them here awhile. Muddy and wet, but bearing each a nosegay of marsh-flowers, they regained the path and crossed the stream, where golden tassels and flowery catkins were 28 THE GOLDEN PEIME. added to their treasure. Upon the culvert they were once more detained by the appari- tion of a crowd of minnows, fleeing before some unseen monster. But at length the shadow of a barn was gained, on the other side of which lay the small village street. Sweyn advised a dash across ; Pier recom- mended a detour by the keeper's cottage. " I won't hide/' whispered Sweyn, vehe- mently. " We shall be like Red Indians on the war-path," suggested Pier, and the argu- ment was irresistible. Creeping under the hawthorns and maples, they stole forward, described a half-circle by the stile, crossed the road, and at length, all breathless, their hearts beating loud and eyes brightened, they stood under cover of the garden fence. The boys peered awhile through gaps in the quick-set. All was still. They forced their small bodies through, with many a RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 29 scratch and rent. Pier knew the farm- house well, having explored it many times before the increasing eccentricity of his nurse obliged Mr. Eawdon to part with her. Easily, therefore, he singled out the low window of the room where Betsy was confined. He called " Nurse Betsy " under the casement, but there was no answer. Then he stood agjainst the wall, and little Sweyn climbed on his shoulders to recon- noitre. " There's a woman lying all huddled up," he whispered. " Is the window fastened ? " Pier asked eagerly. It was not. Close by stood an empty barrel. They rolled it underneath, set it on end, and with difficulty he climbed upon it. Betsy made no sign in answer to bis cautious whispers. He slipped through the casement, and Sweyn followed. They stood still for a time, oppressed by the silence and the awful heap before them. No sound 30 THE GOLDEN PRIME. was in the house, save a low murmur as of some one reading in a distant room. The floor was littered with crushed blos- soms — pansies, sweet-williams, and red daises. In poor Betsy's yellow hair they were twined, a withering garland. She did not seem even to breathe, and her face was hidden. " Is she dead ? " muttered Sweyn, white with awe. *' Nurse, nurse ! " whispered Pier, draw- ing closer. He put his hand upon her shoulder, still calling. Then slowly the woman lifted her head, and shook back her pretty hair. The face she raised was deathly pale, streaked with smears of blood. Her eyes were unnaturally wide, with no speculation in their glare, but her mouth twisted rapidly. Pier drew back with a scream, and Sweyn cried out, " Oh, she is dead, and I am afraid of her ! " But he kept his place, and raised no alarm. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 31 *' Nurse Betsy, don't you know us ? I'm your little Master Pier, come to set you free." Then the madness broke out. Low and soft at first she repeated, " Master Pier — Master Pier ! " but gradually her cry grew faster and faster, higher and shriller, till it was a frantic yell — '* Master Pier ! Master Pier ! " The children fell back in terror at this demon they had raised. She moved no muscle of her body, nor turned her horrid eyes, but lying there, cramped up, she shrieked the name without intermission, so fast as to dizzy their brains. Little Garrow burst into tears of fright, but he pulled his knife out, and handed it, sobbing, " Be quick, dear Pier ! Some one is at the door." The other did not tremble less, but he ran to cut his nurse's bonds, and they cauo^ht him searchinoj for them amonojst o o o torn garments and silky hair. Of course 32 THE GOLDEN PRIME. the ehildren were arrested and sent liome in the midst of a crowd of villagers uncer- tain whether to cheer or scold. Mr. Rawdon was equally perplexed when they came to interrupt him over his wine. The boys were sent to bed again, and the council of three resumed the discussion of their future. Mr. Rawdon had been telling the in- cident which caused him to summon his friends. It was that excellent gentle- man's habit to dilate every day upon some moral question, and the morning's theme had been story-telling. Pier had never even shirked the truth in all his life, so there was no personal application. But Mr. Rawdon explained the sin of lying carefully, and his son listened. Afterwards came one of those terrible questions which disturbed the paternal moralist. " Yes," said Pier, '' but why is it wrong ? " *' Because those who tell stories never go to heaven." RAWDOX OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 33 Pier thought awhile, and replied, " But that isn't a reason, papa. I think it's very mean and selfish, too, always counting what you're going to get by being good. Why is it wrong ? " Pier was dismissed as a bad boy. The rector said, upon hearing this story, " There's no harm at all in that speech. It's easy enough for any one used to children to know what Pier meant, and I respect him for the idea. The fact is, Mr. Kawdon, that it needs a rather painful operation to understand a child's mind, if Mrs. Lambert will allow me to say so. Pier is a noble little fellow, but he ouQ;ht to q-q to school." Then came the discovery of the boys' escapade, which confirmed Mr. Lambert in his opinion. " But a child can't go to school at eight years old," said the father. " He must, if he can't stay at home." " I will make a proposition," Mrs. Lam- VOL. I. D 34 THE GOLDEN PRIME. bert broke in. " We have been keeping these children apart, and they are both growing up very troublesome. Trust Pier to me for a few days. Arabella says that if they saw each other oftener they would not fight, and I have a great confidence in Arabella's judgment. It would solve all the difficulty if they could be brought up together." Mr. Rawdon was not so guileless as to overlook that this course would also put a very round sum in the rector s pocket yearly, but that was no consideration. Pier went back with Sweyn next day, and stayed a week. The experiment was quite successful, but Mrs. Lambert disclaimed any but the smallest share therein. " It's all due to Arabella's cleverness," she said. " The dear girl knows by in- stinct when they feel mischievous, and interests them until they get good again." " Mrs. Lambert does not exaggerate," observed her husband. " Arabella is a RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 35 domestic Talleyrand, and she finds all the pleasure of high diplomacy in counter- acting the evil inclinations of these chil- dren. It's as good as a play to watch, I assure you." Arabella Carey was Mrs. Lambert's daughter by a first husband, a soft, plump, smiling girl of sixteen. She had sleepy black eyes, with very thick white lids, a face rather pretty than not, and a cha- racter of unquestioned amiability. Her mother had always persisted that Ara- bella's judgment was miraculous, but no- body believed her, though the rector did not contradict. The servants hinted that their young mistress was even too clever. Mr. Rawdon, delighted to see his child in good hands which could manage him, intrusted Pier to Arabella's special charge. She smiled, blushed, and accepted. In the course of a very few months such striking progress was visible in the education of D 2 36 THE GOLDEN PRIME. both boys, that Mr. Rawclon doubled the handsome allowance he already made. For the care of Sweyn Garrow the rector was granted a large sum, and he began to lay by money fast. Pier's father never missed a day in visiting his son, and he had many opportunities of seeing with what skill Arabella curbed his headstrong nature. Gratitude took a substantial form with him and her jewel-box began to be talked of. In this household Pier spent four years. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 37 CHAPTER II. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. When Pier was twelve years old, and Sweyn eleven, Mr. Lambert suddenly died. This misfortune caused them to be sent to a public school, where several lads from their county were being educated. In a very few hours young Latham, son of Sir James Latham already mentioned, made insinuations which demanded notice. Pier challenged him, and they fought until Latham fell upon a stone, and was hors de combat. The rector's teaching did him credit, for both boys were placed in a class above their years. Whilst Latham wore a bandage round 38 THE GOLDEN PRIME. his head the friends treated him with grave politeness, but in a fortnight the last trace of his mishap had disappeared. Then Garrow carried a challenge, which was ac- cepted, and for an hour the boys fought again. Latham succumbed. Most people remembe rthe formal words which termin- ate a school-fray. The victor asks, ''Do you give in ? " An answer " Yes " puts an end to the business. But when Latham failed to come up to time. Pier omitted this formality. Leaning on Sweyn's arm, he withdrew, to wash his cut face and hands. Again there was peace until the last bruise had worn away ; then Garrow made his third appearance, with solemnity, and delivered the message. Latham protested against this vendetta, of a sort unusual amongst English boys. " You can stop it when you like," returned Garrow, But the other wished neither to fight nor apologize. Upon this report the challenger came on the scene. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 39 "Do you refuse to meet me, Mr. Latham ? " he asked, with scrupulous politeness. " I have fought you twice," muttered the victim, sulkily. " Then, my good fellow, you are a coward, and this is how cowards are treated." He twisted his foe suddenly round, and admin- istered the deadly kick. For the third time they joined, but Latham had no heart in it. In the midst of the struggle appeared that Neptune of the school, the prefect. Mr. Morley was a most unhandsome dignitary. He had a face scarred and discoloured with small pox, his whiskers, though precocious, were scanty, and his figure was squat. A soft- ness in the large vacant eyes, and lines of good nature about the mouth, alone saved the prefect from downright ugliness. Pier had not hitherto been brought into contact with him, having his orbit as yet far beneath the personal notice of a being 40 THE GOLDEN PEIME. SO high-placed; but Morley had remarked the two new boys, whose look was so bright and spirits so high. He viewed the troubled scene with sublime composure. Pier gave no atten- tion, for it was not unusual for the prefects to countenance a mill particularly interest- ing. But Latham's friends, glad of the excuse, withdrew their man. When Eawdon objected, the prefect said, "Come with me, youngster; I want to have a talk." There was no appeal from this command. Pier put on his coat, and followed indig- nantly ; Sweyn took his arm. "I said I wanted to speak to you^' said Morley, glancing at their uninvited com- panion. "My friend wants to speak to me also it seems," returned Pier, with a clash of his teeth. " Will you be good enough to grant me a few moments' private conversation, Mr. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 41 Rawdon?" asked tlie prefect, ceremoni- osuly. " I shall not be long," said Pier to Hs friend, who fell back. ''You have fought Latham twice before this they tell me," Morley began. "He has not apologized." '' Have you asked him ? " "No." "Perhaps you are not anxious to give him a chance ? " " No, I'm not ! " "You would rather go on knocking him about 1 " " He may knock me about, he's older and bigger. He called my father the Weybridge grocer ! " " He was a grocer, wasn't he ? " " Yes. I'm not ashamed of that. Rawdon of Eawdonshaugh can do what he likes." "Then why so deadly hard on young Latham ? " "If a man wants to insult another, it 42 THE GOLDEN PRIME. doesn't matter much what his words are. There may be as much offence meant in 'good morning' as in an oath. That's why I don't care for an apology." "You think that honour is only to be absolved by the human sacrifice ? " " I think that any one who insults me shall be sorry for it. What's an apology to Latham ? Why, he hasn't even the gentlemanly instinct to see that I should be shut up ! But I expect he begins to be sorry. '^ " There's something to be said for your notion. A man must be a very bold and ingenious cad now-a-days to push insult beyond the limits covered by an apology. Better not ask for it, perhaps, but smite him. However, Latham has been punished enough. Let the eumity drop, and embrace a new friendship." " Latham and I could never be friends ! " " I did not mean Latham, but myself." "You, Mr. Morley?" FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 43 *' If you think me worthy." " Why, sir, I am only in the third class." " That is a difficulty, of course. We must get you into the first as soon as possible." " So the boys became friends, and Morley so urged and pushed his ^protege, that when he himself left school for Oxford Pier had actually climbed "into the first." Sweyn was very far behind in the school. He had talent enough and energy enough, but the student's laurels did not tempt him. A favourite with all whose regards he would have accepted, Pier Eawdon had five hundred well-wishers, and fifty timorous foes ; but I need mention only one amongst the whole number. Jonas Davis, a small, red-haired boy, had some influence upon Eawdon's career. Upon entering the school he was placed in Garrow's class, and that aristocrat gave him the contemptuous name of "Fao:in." Jonas went to the master, 44 THE GOLDEX PETME. who dismissed his complaint, and Garrow promised him a " licking." In dreadful fright he consulted his form-fellow, who, for a sovereign and a new knife, undertook to get him off. This business-like youth was one of Eawdon's zealous worshippers, and rather a favourite. He scribbled a note and passed it from hand to hand through the *' Long Kooni Classical," wherein the mediation of Pier was entreated, for reasons of state. The moment school broke up Jonas was led to his protector, who scorn- fully promised to save him. And he did so, earning Oriental volubility of gratitude. Mrs. Lambert and Arabella, meanwhile, led a roving existence, of which they tired at length. The latter, a well-grown young lady of twenty-four, decided to return to Weybridge, and Mr. Kawdon gave them, on easy terms, a cottage just outside the park. The ladies gradually acquired a certain in- fluence, not abused, and perceptible only to the son of the house. He had never FKOM NURSERY* TO COLLEGE. 45 liked Arabella, though she seemed to feel for him one of those motherly alSfections which became a well-bred young lady of twenty-four towards a handsome boy of sixteen. The silent and watchful intelli- gence by which his childhood had been ruled was not lost in disuse. Pier wished to go abroad with Morley, now a grave aspirant for honours. Mr. Rawdon did not approve, but he gave way suddenly. At the end of the long vacation. Pier was not a bit tired of foreign ways, and he begged to remain abroad until his matricu- lation. This was refused, and then granted. The boy had no doubt to whose intercession he owed these favours, and he wrote to Arabella, thanking her. She did not reply. The tour was prolonged accordingly, but it came to an end very near the tragic. Whilst staying at Florence, Morley awoke one morning in his calm and peaceful bed to learn that his charge had fought a duel, and had received a bullet in his arm. They 46 THE GOLDEN PEIME. returned to England as soon as he could travel. Mr. Eawdon knew nothing of this incident, but Pier found a difference in him. He was not less aifectionate, but he was ill- at-ease with his son. The latter dared not inquire very closely, remembering several escapades which might have reached the strict old gentleman ; — not disgraceful escapades, but such as, he admitted it with contrition, would distress his father. But when he gently sounded his way, Mr. Rawdon seemed unconscious. Several of the old servants had been pensioned off. Ben remained, hearty and devoted as ever ; he, had much to tell about the ladies' doings, but Pier would not listen. They made themselves very pleasant, and he was glad that his father should have companions. Then Garrow arrived from his uncle's place, and all went merry as could be. The county began to talk about young Rawdon. He knew little and cared less ; but Sweyn, of course, was familiar with the FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 47 great ones of the neighbourhood. One day he carried a report of Mr. Rawdon's engage- ment to Mrs. Lambert. With infinite delicacy Pier took this news to his father. In the generosity of youth and strength, he pitied the lonely old man, who had no resources in himself, and cared nothing for rural pleasures. *' Don't think of me, father," he said, " if Mrs. Lambert makes you happy ; I shall certainly love her." " Then you would not object to my marrying again ? " asked Mr. Eawdon, eagerly. '* I could not object to anything you did, sir ; and if you marry Mrs. Lambert, don't grudge a portion for Arabella on my account. You mustn't marry the family, you know," he added, laughing. No more was said. The summer passed, and the two boys matriculated at St. Aldate's. The fellows of that ancient college, which 48 THE GOLDEN PPJME. we call St. Ole's, were still seated round their Common Room fire, thougli it was nearly midnight. The Dons of a working college are late sitters generally — that is, they used to be, for the Oxford Pier Rawdon knew is extinct. In those days, when men had done their life's work, hard work too, they loved to rest at ease beside the nectar. There are those who believe that the discussions of a Common Room are learned as the talkers, that the scientific theories of the day are tested, the last suggestion of Teutonic scholarship reviewed, oppos- ing systems of politics loftily debated. They are those who will believe anything. The Common Room of St. Aldate's was composed of men quite able, and indeed ready, to enter on these subjects at a proper season ; but the proper season, as they thought, was not in those jovial hours between hall and bedtime. Already in- deed there were men of the new school FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 49 amongst them, persons of uncertain birth and doubtful manners, promoted, so to speak, from the ranks. As yet these were only two, — Danvers the Bursar, and Car- penter, one of the most successful tutors, — men not easily put down, but overruled generally by the good taste and easy humour of their fellows. The talk mostly ran upon University scandals, with a par- ticular fancy for the tattle of their own college. Now and then, towards the small hours, la politique militaiite was introduced, or the conversation took a turn towards speculative theology. But all these men, saving the pair mentioned, had been taught to "drop the shop" in the Common Eoom. Drapers, I suppose, do not price their house- hold linen, nor play at shops with the olive branches. " We seem to have a nice lot of fresh- men this term," said the Dean to his neighbour. " Oh, freshmen are always nice !" replied VOL. I. E 50 THE GOLDEN PKIME. Danvers. **Papa has given them a new suit of clothes, and mamma has washed their faces, and Susan has curled their hair." **Why," exclaimed the cheery old chief, who declined to recognize new fashions, and sit, dignified but lonely, in his dark old house, "it seems only a month or two since you and your friend Carpenter were freshmen ! " **Time flies fast with us," said that gentleman ; " but we don't keep pace with the age. A more precocious set of young jackanapes than those the Dean admires I never saw. Do any of you know the name of a tall young fellow, with yellow eyes, who has an offensive way of staring ? " " Er, I know whom you mean," said Danvers, a thick -browed, heavy-jowled man. ** He chums with another freshman, light-haired also, and indeed equally offen- sive. His name is Rawdon, and his father is a grocer somewhere." " That's what we've come to in St. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 51 xlldate's ! " cried Carpenter. " To counten- ance a fraud by writing a grocer down as Armigero." " Your facts are wrong, gentlemen ! " said the chief. " Mr. Rawdon's father is the only son of Colonel Kawdon of Rawdonshaugh, the oldest family in my own county. I understand, however, that he has made a fortune by trade." "Then I don't see that Mr. Bursar's statement is incorrect. But it matters not at all whether the elder Rawdon is a grocer or a prince of the north country. The son s manner is impertinent." *' If you have really a complaint against him, Mr. Danvers, you had better lay it officially before the Common Room," said the chief, stiffly. " I shall be very much mistaken if Rawdon does not appear before us in no long time. I judge badly of freshmen who imitate the liberty of a man in his third year." E 2 52 THE GOLDEN PRIME. Tlie Vice-Principal, waking from a doze, muttered, " AVhen Carpenter was a fresHman, he used to cap every one who wore a mortar- board, even the choristers of St. Mary's." " I happened to stand for a moment inside the gate when these youths were lounging outside, not dressed in academic costume. It is impossible to take notice of remarks overheard under such circum- stances ; — I was reading the Schools' notice, of course. But I repeat that their con- versation was most insulting." " Why, what did they say ? " cried the Vice- Principal, now wide awake for mischief. " It is not necessary to detail " "Oh, yes, it is! Mr. Dean is blushing already at the dreadful ideas his fancy conjures up." "I think," said Dr. Crosby, "that you are bound, having gone so far, to state the actual words used. Our imaginations may do these boys grave injustice." FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 53 "Well, then," cried Carpenter, savagely, " I sacrifice my feelings. Said one to the other, Eawdon I'm sure it was, ' That man must always live in fear that somebody will catch him and shave him, and set him to dance to a barrel organ.' What do you think of that remark for a nice young freshman, Mr. Dean ? " " I suggest that the Common Room take notice of it," exclaimed Danvers. " I second that proposal," cried the Vice- Principal, who had taken wine enough to let the wit out — as usual, alas ! ^' My bile has not been so thoroughly moved within me since I heard the pitiful story of a cock and a bull. What, Mr. Principal ! a fellow of high attainments, wdiose volumin- ous contributions to the learned literature of his country is acknowledged even by re- tail dealers, admitted a gentleman wherever the acts of this University have power — he cannot listen for a moment behind our gates without hearing a description of himself as 54 THE GOLDEN PHIME. ill-natured as a Eussian passport ? And by whom is he thus insulted ? By a freshman, a class which should walk with eyes down- cast. And what manner of freshman ? — one with yellow eyes, shameless, and light hair, damnable ! By a freshman who lies under suspicion of grocery ! By a freshman who has a friend, as Mr. Bursar so well puts it, equally light-haired and — the ergo of the schools — and equally offensive ! I say, sir, that this matter should be put before the Hebdomadal Council, and I propose that this Common Room do pass an act forbid- ding any persons whatsoever from listening to ribald observations at our g;ates ! " Danvers and Carpenter both rose. "Dr. Beetle," said the former, stammer- ding with passion, '' it has long been the mis- fortune of this college to own as its most responsible official a man who controls neither his appetites nor the scurrilous moods to which self-indulgence gives rise. Every undergraduate in this University FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 55 tells how thoroughly you are at home in scenes where wit of the kind just displayed is cherished. The Common Room of St. Aldate's is no place for such an exhibition, and we shall not return to it until the possibility of a repetition is no longer to be dreaded. The matter does not cease here, nor to-night. This ancient and vener- able colleore shall not lono-er suffer from the drunken — I have said the word ! — the drunken eccentricities of its A^ice- Principal ! " He withdrew, and most of the others followed. Doctor Beetle was sobered. He foresaw the result of Danvers' report, and he knew that though his friends were many, his supporters in this cause would be few. Those who think to recognize some of my characters, will cast back their memory to the time when Dr. Beetle reigned in our noble college, and mourn with me the reckless, brilliant, kind-hearted old man. t)6 THE GOLDEN PEIME. whom all loved if none respected. He is dead long ago, killed by the disgrace of his deposition ; whilst his foes flourish amain. Would a worse fate had befallen those, and he whom they persecuted had finished his time peaceably in the pleasant rooms looking on the statue. So we said ; but years, which bring re- sponsibility, kill youth's blind enthusiasm. With one half of our boyish prayer I still sympathize. One may dislike the doers of a necessary act ; but poor Doctor Beetle had become " impossible." So it will be understood that Pier Kawdon, who was the immediate cause of a great scandal in the college, did not enter it under good auspices. He found himself suspected from the first by those who had a predominant voice in the Common Room, after their success in ex- pelling Dr. Beetle. The old-fashioned fel- lows liked him, but their voice was no longer powerful. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 57 I am not telling a story of Oxford life, engaging as that task would be. Baby novelettes, I believe, are my true province, something in the style of ' Harry and his Bearer,' or ' Paul and Virginia.' But at this moment the biography of two men occupies my time, and leaves little space for their boyhood. The only in- cidents of that period worth relating are those which bore result in the future. The confinement of Oxford proved too irksome for Sweyn Garrow. He should have undergone a couple of years' travel before seeking the arms of Alma Mater. I have not mentioned, I think, that this fortunate youth was owner of Gaythorpe, a fine estate within some miles of Wey- bridge, which was let during his minority. Sweyn's only surviving guardian was a bluff old general, to whom, after twelve months at the University, he made a proposition, " Double my allowance," said he, " or I will go to the Jews ! " 58 THE GOLDEN" PEIME. The general told him "to go and be damned ! " But his. lady had views con- nected with her youngest daughter. She did not wish to see the boy ruined. After a while the guardian was persuaded, and Garrow prepared for flight. He had won honours at collections, moved to exert himself by the weariness of sitting hour by hour in hall ; he had won honours on the river, which he scarcely valued more, being confessedly the strongest man in college ; honours in the cricket-field, at the pigeon grounds of Iffley, at the cover side. But life at Oxford was no life for Sweyn. He craved golden joys. The friends lay side by side in a punt, at the other end of which sat Morley, no more regarded with reverence and heard with awe, but the tolerated com- panion of these gilded youths. Morley had not changed in one iota, but the promise of boyhood had ripened. His supporters expected no less than a Double FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 59 First, and in the mean while he was favourite for the great Wales Exhibition, for which Pier had also entered. But, of course, there was no interruption in the friendship of the rivals. Sweyn Garrow broke a long silence. " I shall take my name off the books to-morrow," he said. This was not unexpected news. Pier gazed upwards, through the golden elm leaves to the turquoise sky. " In one month from now," continued Sweyn, " I shall stand in the bazaar at Cairo. I shall see palm-trees, Pier, and real sunshine ! " But Pier was watching a gallant dragon- fly skim to and fro above the water. " Instead of your dull books, I shall study the solemn Eastern tongues. For this ditch they call a river, I shall see the rolling Nile. Whilst your companions are the dull dogs we know, I shall live with Bedouins, free as the air above us. Come 60 THE GOLDEN PEIME. with me, Pier ? " His comrade raised a lazy hand to intercept a caterpillar hang- ing from the tree. " Your father can do without you now." " Be gentle there, old friend ! If he's looking for other comfort, it's my fault." " Yours ? There never was a better son, or one a father should be more proud of! If I were you. Pier, I'd no ! I suppose I should do like you. But it will come hard to have a stepmother." " It's my own fault. If I'd thought more of the governor, and amused him, he wouldn't have wanted a wife. Don't you see that it was my absence in Italy, where I was such a hideous young cub, which did the mischief. It's too late now, but I'll make the dear old man proud of his son. It's not Danvers nor Carpenter that shall stop me, nor anybody else, eh, Morley, old man." " I don't think I can beat you, if you choose to work." FEOM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 61 " And I don't think I can beat you, if you'll only take a little play. Put down your book, man, and give yourself a chance." '' I know it's only the way which is natural to you, but a stranger would believe you were trying to ' establish a funk ' already. What cheeky coolness you boys had at school 1 " But Morley put down his book, and then looked eagerly forward. Another punt was coming round the bend, poled by the stalwart *' champion." A lady sat in the stern, and in front of her, upon a little camp-stool, a gentleman. The youths re- cognized that cramped figure and fluffy hair. " The poodle in a punt, by Jove ! " whispered Sweyn. *'What a pretty girl he's got with him." By his face Pier saw that Morley knew her, and muttered the question. *' xA widow lady, Mrs. Lumley," he answered. 62 THE GOLDEN PRIME. She was very pretty. Thougli long out of mourning, Mrs. Lumley was not yet twenty-five years old, whilst her blonde hair and exquisite complexion made her seem still younger. Sitting in that unro- mantic craft, a punt, even smiling on their enemy, she appeared a very siren. Pencils of light quivered down through the thick branches of the elms, and glittered in her hair. Her face was flushed, her blue eyes sparkled, in the pleasure of this new amusement ; for the banks of Cherwell were crowded with handsome youths. As for the Eeverend Mr. Carpenter, his emo- tions are grotesquely visible. Dishevelled he was, from ceaseless arranmnor of his light hair. His eyes were open with love, and his mouth with heat. Even Morley was amused in his thoughtful way. " Look at that man," he whispered. *' His iambics are worthy of Sophocles, and his odes are Horatian. But what a fool he looks on a three-legged stool ! " FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 63 So intent was Mrs. Lumley on the play of light among the elms, intent also perhaps on the ponderous babble of Mr. Carpenter — who can guess the fancies of a young widow ? — so intent was she upon some thing, that her glance did not fall upon the other punt apparently till they were almost beside it. Then she gave a little pretty cry, " Oh, Mr. Moriey, I didn't see you ! Isn't this charming ? " The colour flushed suddenly to her face as she met Pier Eawdon's gaze. " Champion " had stopped at this recog- nition. The widow, with head aside, gazed into the stream, whilst Garrow addressed his tutor. '^WeVe worked so very badly together, Carpenter, that I half doubt whether you may not be pleased to hear that I am throwing up the sponge. My name will be scored off the Buttery to-night." In his delight Carpenter did not no- tice the familiarity of the address. He 64 THE GOLDEN PRIME. even made an acidly gracious speech to Eawdon. " I am glad to see that you have put your name down for the Wales. You are young enough to be not deterred by failure if that should be your unfortunate lot. To be beaten by Mr. Morley is not disgrace. These two gentlemen," he said, turning to Mrs. Lumley, " are the favourites, as sports- men say, for the Great Wales Exhibition." It was possible, I suppose, to take this speech as an introduction. The pretty widow bowed as though the ceremouy had been performed, and Pier took off his hat. Perhaps Carpenter suspected the propriety of this conduct. He glanced from lady to gentleman ; then drew himself in like a snail which sees the marauding blackbird near. '' Go on, Champion ! " he cried. "You are almost at the end of Cher- well," said Pier. " The proper thing now, Mrs. Lumley, is to fasten your punt FROM NUESERY TO COLLEGE. 65 under shadow of these trees, and there to smoke, drink beer, and meditate." " Now I see what a real manly diversion is. In the first place, set somebody else to your work ; in the second, treat your- self to amusement in which ladies cannot possibly join." Sweyn plunged into a loud conversation with Carpenter ; as for Morley, no one paid attention to him. " Can you not meditate ? " said Pier. " When so many are thinking of you, is there no one you will give a thought to ? " Mrs. Lumley glanced at him, indignant and astonished, but Pier's laughing eyes checked her. " What a very impertinent boy you are," she said, with a blush and a smile. " Don't keep up the conversation in this tone, or I must go away." "Wouldn't you rather turn back, Mrs. Lumley ? " asked Carpenter ; "it is very hot." VOL. I. P 66 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " Yes. I could almost drink some of that beer you spoke of, Mr. Rawdon." In an instant the tankard was produced, and Mrs. Lumley took a sip, whilst Pier held it. Their fino;ers did not g-et disen- tangled till she took her fresh lips away, and the lady expressed great interest in the inscriptions covering the vessel. " What are all these ? " she said, softly. " We call this tankard the Special Gazette, becamse it records such a number of battles. That upper hieroglyph, which to uninitiated eyes might seem to represent a chess-board in a pie-dish, is the arms of our ancient college. Here it is recounted how Mr. Sweyn Garrow, whom you be- hold," — the lady bowed with a charming smile, and Sweyn uncovered his handsome head, — " with his friend, challenged the University in pair- oared races, and won the cup of strife. The other inscriptions show various matches between Mr. Garrow and his friend, in which the trophy changed FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 67 hands many times, until, as you perceive, Rawdon's mare Proserpine beat Garrow's horse Pluto over four miles of hunting country ; — an allegorical lesson to married men, which is quite wasted on — ' imperti- nent boys.' " '' I have made up my mind to take no offence. What a storied urn ! As you have set such an example of frankness, I may ask if your naMe is really ' Marie.' How strange ! " " It is indeed," Carpenter broke in. " The irony of nomenclature was never more con- spicuous. Mr. Eawdon is one of the idlest undergraduates in college, and the most troublesome." "That is indeed an excellent example, Mr. Carpenter," said Pier. "It is recorded that Mary did not trouble about many things." The little widow laughed gleefully. " You are quibbling on the word ' trouble,' Mr. Rawdon," Carpenter replied, "I said F 2 68 THE GOLDEN PRIME. not that you troubled yourself, but that you troubled other people." ^'Yes, sir, and you trouble me for it. That's a syllogism in Barbara, Mrs. Lumley, which any lady will perceive. Fm a greater nuisance to the college than any other undergraduate ; Mr. Carpenter is a greater nuisance to me — if I may be allowed to say so on this neutral ground ! — than any other ""don ; therefore, Mrs. Lumley — " But Mrs. Lumley thought he was going a great deal too fast. " Therefore," she said, "you are a very impertinent boy." This was an unexpected conclusion which quick-witted youths, untroubled with self- consciousness, could thoroughly enjoy. De- livered with malicious intelligence, and pointed by lovely eyes full of fun, it reached its mark. As soon as he recovered from his laughter, Pier owned defeat ; but Car- penter was not granted any share in it, and Morley did not understand at all. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 69 "Now tell me, Mr. Eawclon," said the pretty widow, " if you are subdued, how it happens that you are called Marie ? " " I am not subdued at all. If the Special Gazette does not prove to you how hardly we two are beaten, I must challenge another contest. I am called . Marie because my father was a prophet." " Dear me ! " " Yes. He saw that a moment of destiny would arrive in my existence, and he named me in a prescient spirit. You know what an anagram is ? " *' Of course. I am accepting the new challenge, you see. Well ! E, I, K, A, M — Eiram. That's not sense, and it sounds as if one dropped one's h's. Besides, though your father was a prophet, you are not a king of Tyre." " Nor am I worthy to be Solomon's friend, though he, an impertinent boy no doubt, lived to be a master of brass. But I feel the true significance of my name now." 70 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " Oh, though not king of Tyre, you're tiresome. Arrange the anagram, please ! " ''The two vowels first." ''A, E, M— A, I, M, E— Oh, cest trop fort I — Mr. Carpenter, don't you find it very hot ? '^ " Yes, it is. Champion, put back.'' '' No, no," cried the little widow, seeing that Pier was embarrassed. " I only meant to hint to these young gentlemen" — with the least emphasis upon the adjective — "that their tutor might not disdain some beer." Mr. Carpenter, despairing, sought inspira- tion in the tankard. " Are you subdued now ? " " To threaten flight is only a woman's way of gaining victory. I do not own myself defeated with fair arms." "Very well. We will emblazon another Gazette. Prophesy to me now. I am called Bessy." " May I spell it with two e's ? " FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 71 '' I believe the thing is clone by illiterate persons, and I will allow you every advan- tage." " Then, if I divide your name in two, and address you as Dick Turpin might have done, would you prettily reply with the other half?" Mrs. Lumley pondered, and then a smile not to be repressed broke over her soft lips. For a moment she struo^o^led, but the lauo^h mounted to the sweet dimples of her cheeks, and to her eyes. '' How dare you ? " she laughed, crimson with harmless indignation. — " Now, Mr. Carpenter, if you have slaked your thirst, let us get home as quickly as possible." "Then we will race," cried Sweyn. " Did you ever see punts fly, Mrs. Lumley ? We can show you. Even the Champion is a little afraid of us." " You'm good punters, I don't gainsay, for I taught you," observed that master, superbly. 72 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " Oh, let us have a race ! We came down so slowly. Mr. Rawdon against Mr. Garrow, for the tankard once more." " That is a consecrated vessel now. But I will race for love." ''Ah, if that prize were for the fastest, you would seldom run in vain," said Mrs. Lumley. Mr. Carpenter protested, but his donship had lost its virtue on the water, like other mischievous charms. Pier and the Champion exchanged places, and the light boats started with a rush to amaze the inexpe- rienced. It is the easiest of exercises, in theory, to push a flat-bottomed craft in a straight line. A turn of the wrist, a judicious distribution of weight, will do it. But theory is a gay deceiver. Punting is an art in any waters, but in the Cher well, so narrow and winding, it is specially difiicult. How often there is seen that deliberate walk overboard, so droll because compelled FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 73 by DO visible necessity, of the ambitious freshman ! But these youths had long been professors. From bank to bank they slid, rapid and smooth, avoiding that tree by a hair's breadth exactly measured, shooting like arrows over the straight. These feats were done so easily and lightly that a spectator might not have guessed their skill; but the Champion applauded loudly, and his praise was golden. Few men avoid looking ridiculous in the struggle of a boat-race — the real cause why that exercise is not popular abroad. Great needs be the affection which can regard without a smile the crimson features and the agonized expression of a row^er at the crisis. But a graceful form is never seen to more advantage than in punting, and Mrs. Lumley, who studied art, resolved to learn how ''Antinous conceited" would be expressed in Greek ; at some time or other, in those word-battles which she fore- saw, the phrase would certainly be telling. 74 THE GOLDEN PEIME. Plenty of promenaders tliere always are in Christchurch meadow at that hour, and the news spread that Garrow and Eawdon of St. Aldate's were racing on Cherwell for an incredible wa.o^er. From baro^e and from walks the crowd hastened, shouting, '' Oh, well punted, Rawdon ! — Into him, Garrow ! — Now you have it ! — Oh, well steered — well poled — well punted all ! " Excitement reached the studious halls of Merton and the boudoirs of Canterbury Quad. What a situation for Carpenter — career- ing on Cherwell in a punt, with a pretty woman and the fastest reprobates of his college ! When the crowd identified that fluffy little man so wildly gesticulating, demoniac glee arose — a hundred voices called his name. '* It's Carpenter, the pro- proctor ! They're going to duck him ! Hurrah ! " Sweyn threw down his pole, and laughed till he ached. Pier did the same, and Mrs. Lumley, though rather shocked and FEOM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. /D frightened, could not resist the jest. The Champion, grinning but cool, pushed to shore, and landed the pro-proctor ; a few men of St. Aldate's helped him up the bank, and he vanished without leave-taking. "Will you allow me to escort you home ? " asked Pier, as he strolled towards the High Street with Mrs. Lumley. " Certainly not ! When you are much older, wiser, and less impudent, you may come to call ; — I live at Elf Cottage, about half way to Witney. But I don't promise to wait there for your reformation." " It will be no long time ; I have felt myself growing older and wiser and better within the last hour at a prodigious rate. By to-morrow, depend upon it, I shall be equal to any test of sobriety, and then may I call ? " "Here is my carriage waiting. Good-bye ! " A great wine was Garrow's that night — so very great that he only left table to catch the train for London. 76 THE GOLDEN PRIME. CHAPTER III. FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. It is scarcely needful to say that Rawclon very soon discovered Elf Cottage, where he was received with that tantalizing superi- ority which piques youthful manhood. The flirtation commenced in glee warmed to something like passion ; not the real kind truly, but that love of the head which is not less dangerous than love of the heart. So well does the one imitate the other, that a man j)erceives no difference until, if he be ill-fated, possession and familiarity reveal the mistake ; or, if he be lucky, a short absence displays the astonishing fact that life is endurable apart from his beloved. FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 11 In practical result of happiness and misery, of ecstatic delights and cruel chills, and all the other phenomena, an affection of the head, whilst it lasts, is identical with an affection of the heart. Pier did not doubt for a moment that he was in love "for good and all." He came as near to worship of the lady as, he imagined, lay in his nature. And a very charming lover she thought him, of a kind new to her experience. A boy's passion is nearly always wearisome and ridiculous to a woman of twenty-five, too old to be grateful, too young to be flattered by mere adoration. But Pier, whatever his inward tremblings, always sustained, in appearance at least, that air of gentle self- confidence which becomes a man. He would not be enslaved, and though his sauciness was somewhat forced occasionally, he could always summon spirit enough to resist attack. I am not equal to describing Mrs. 78 THE GOLDEN PRIME. Lumley's feelings. She was one of those women who will not, if they can help it, look beyond the next amusement, or the next new dress. That she enjoyed the attentions of this handsome, brilliant boy is certain. That she encouraged him to the utmost he could not be unaware. But whether really, at any time, she thought of marrying him I cannot say. One would wish to believe that she did — at least some- times, when he was before her. But her real feelings are not very important. Somebody at Elf Cottage watched the small romance proceeding with eyes sharp- ened by interest. Mrs. Thomas, the com- panion, was that desperate being, a clever woman defendinoj her last strono^hold. Hard experience had taught her that such charms and accomplishments as she could boast are not valued by ladies seeking a confidential housekeeper. She had no claim upon her mistress, and if the latter married, if this love-making came to a serious result, FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 79 a half-year's salary, a ring, or a dress, was all she could reasonably hope. Mrs. Thomas did not deceive herself by thinking that Pier would have her in his house, while she had some grounds for hope that Morley, if he won the prize, might keep her on. That the widow would marry again was almost certain, and amongst all the aspir- ants — they were not a few — ^this was the only one who had the companion's good wishes. She it was who encourag-ed him o not to despair when Mrs. Lumley neglected him. The friendship of the youths had suffered an eclipse, of course, and they seldom met but at the cottage. We may take up the episode some weeks after that scene on Cherwell. Pier was sitting on horseback at the garden gate of the cottage, Mrs. Lumley on the ground beside him, with one hand on the mare's glossy neck, and the other clasped in her lover's. Mrs. Thomas watched from a window. There was evidently some light 80 THE GOLDEN PEIME. talk between the two, concerning a bracelet, or a glove, for Pier laughingly measured the slender wrist. " It is time to stop this," muttered the companion. When she descended, Mrs. Lumley was standing on a garden-seat, looking down the road. "Mr. Eawdon looks well on horseback, ma'am, doesn't he ? " said Mrs. Thomas. One of her objectionable habits was to call a lady " ma'am." How many failures had she owed to that unconscious solecism ! Is it our merits or our address, our sins or our manners, which bring us most success in the world, or most disappointment ? Mrs. Lumley made an impatient gesture, but the other went on : "He rides away quick, like the knight one reads of in the poet." Mrs. Lumley put out a dainty little foot and jumped down. " Mr. Eawdon rides quickly because he is late." FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 81 "It's a shame a young gentleman should liave to gallop like that, risking his neck. But undergraduates are not their own masters. It's proctors and tutors here, parents at home, ordering them about. They are almost worse off than girls for that. A young widow lady like yourself, ma'am, is the one to be envied. If I were in your place — " "There, go away, Thomas!" cried Mrs. Lumley. "I see the butcher-boy coming." The companion withdrew, but she was not sorry to return with a very long bill. " It's Tester's boy, ma'am, with the fish account. He says his master would be glad if you'd settle it, for the young Oxford gentlemen are ruininoj him." " Of course I'll settle it. Tell the man to come to-morrow morning." The incident recalled Mrs. Lumley from pleasant meditations. Her cottage was charming, so were her ponies, and so her dainty entertainments. Charming indeed VOL. I. G 82 THE GOLDEN PEIME. they were to such extent, that £1000 slipped away every year in the most graceful manner. Towards this sum the widow's modest jointure provided £300, and the balance hitherto had come out of a few thousands over which she had con- trol. These had nearly vanished, and Mrs. Lumley shuddered to think that in a very short time the joys of life would go after them ; she could not face existence on £300 a year. Mrs. Thomas knew enough of her affairs to guess the secret of that moody irritation, which showed itself after the rare event of a financial review. At lunch she guided the conversation, not unskilfully, to the sub- ject of Rawdon's fortune. In confidential discourse with Morley she had learned, without the latter's intention, that Pier's father might probably marry again. This disastrous chance she cleverly set before her mistress, and then she drew another picture. Morley had a snug fortune of his own, FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 80 independent of fathers or guardians, and the promise of a living as soon as he reached the necessary age. Tlie house- keeper declared that Mrs. Lumley was born 'to fill with dignity the position of a rich vicar's wife ; and so on. I. fancy the little widow made up her mind that night, with some tears possibly, and much reo^ret no doubt. Puttino: heart aside, as an organ whose secrets are not easily read, her eye must certainly have been pained by the contrast of the favoured with the rejected lover. She would not break with Pier until it was necessary to declare herself. Who could tell what chance mio^ht brinoj about ! So Pier received no hint, and came as usual to receive the usual welcome. But days spent in love-making had to be re- deemed by nights of work, for he was resolved to win the Wales. And so, a fortnight before the examination. Pier had to consult a doctor about alarming slips G 2 84 THE GOLDEN PRIME. of memory. A week's rest was imperatively advised. Disinclined to risk the issue of a year's hard work in mere bravado, Pier got leave, telegraphed his father, and mounted his horse to bid Mrs. Lumley farewell. They parted for a separation of some days with cheerful regrets. But Mrs. Thomas saw an opportunity in this unexpected incident. Her sap was complete, her batteries planted. A coup de main executed with skill and resolution would scarcely fail ; so she opened lire, and before evening a parley was sounded. Morley ; received a little note, reproaching him with neglect, and begging him to take an early dinner next day. Pier meanwhile felt an increasing agita- tion. His parting with Mrs. Lumley had not been so warm as the occasion demanded. With growing seriousness, a conviction formed itself that the lady had been cool. Perhaps she expected a proposal, as she had the right, he thought. Anyhow, Pier FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 85 resolved to bid good-bye over again next day, and start by a later train. An interview with the chief detained him till noon, and other nuisances wasted some time. It w^as nearly three o'clock w^hen he reached the cottage, and Mrs. Lumley had invited her other lover for that hour. She w^as waiting under the beech tree. Summer leaves threw chequers of shadow on her white dress, her golden hair, and pure, smooth throat. The crimson rosette upon her shoe peeped in and out, as she tapped a little foot in irritation — irritation at herself, at Morley for being plain, at Rawdon for being poor. Sud- denly the bloom paled on her soft cheek. The too familiar beat of a horse's hoofs approaching frighteued her. She peeped through the leaves — it was the wrong man ! Distrustiug her composure at the mo- ment, Mrs. Lumley hurried indoors, and Pier found her bent over a drawinsr board. 86 THE GOLDEN PEIME. The nervousness of her greeting confirmed his suspicion that a proposal was expected and would be not unwelcome. Boy-like, uniover-like, he played with the situation. " Is this a reminiscence of Switzerland ? Those mountains are really grand, and there is a boldness of fantasy in the colour of the forest pleasing to the eye. Scarlet oaks, I presume ? Are the Swiss lakes really so green as this ? I look forward with delight to my first view of that magnificent country. How delightful to paddle all day amongst these numerous islands, to compare their varied tints and curious shapes I " " Those are cows, Mr. Eawdon, and you know it perfectly well." ^' Ah, sea-cows basking in the meridian sun. Would not a little red in the old woman's cap carry out the tone of the forest ? " " The view is from my own window, and the woman is a tree, and the time is sunset, and the mountains are clouds, FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 87 and there ! there ! there ! " she cried, tear- ins: the sketch to frao^ments. " Dear me ! Let me restore that lost work of art." He took the brushes, arranged the torn picture before him, and copied it in rapid strokes. Mrs. Lumley stood silent, looking, not at his work, but at the painter. " There ! " he said, rising. " Pray go on with it. It gives me great pleasure to see you busy." '' You make me paint wrong," she an- swered petulantly. But anything was better than talk, and Mrs. Lumley reseated herself. Blue and red and yellow she dashed on, unable to see for the mist before her eyes, dizzied by the hot beat of her heart. So still they both sat, that they heard the light swish of the brush upon the paper, and the tinkle of the glass. The sun- rays turned upon the floor ; the cry of the corn-crake and the soft cuckoo's call 88 THE GOLDEN PRIME. sounded clear from the meadow through the open sash. " Bessy ! " He slipped gently on one knee beside her, so that their faces were almost level. She strove to look aside, to master her emotion, — and spread a sheet of blue across the landscape. He passed an arm round her shrinking waist. *' You know what I have come to ask, Bessy ! " Both arms closed round her, and she could not pursue the pretence of painting- Crimson flushes came and went, her soft mouth quivered. Slowly she turned to that glowing face upraised to hers, and looked sadly into his eyes. " Don't ask it, Pier ! I am not good enough for you." Then she burst into an agony of sobs, pushed him aside, and ran from the room. In returning to Oxford he met Morley in a pony chaise. FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 89 A refusal like that counts for nothing on reflection. ]\Irs. Lumley meant, of course, that she was too old, but of that her lover was best judge. By the time he reached Weybridge, Pier had quite recovered heart. Upon the morning of this day Arabella Carey reminded her mother that they were engaged to dine with Mr. Rawdon, and, said she, " Pier is coming down for a week. He is ill with over- study. Fancy Pier losing his health that way ! " " Ah, my poor John had a high opinion of him, and he is a fine lad. What shall you wear, Arabella ? " " I shall wear the grey silk Mr. Rawdon gave me." '^ He said it was for a grand occasion, my dear," replied thjs old lady, with emphasis. " You would not like to off'end him." " Oh, the grand occasion is past." '^When? I thought— What grand occasion ? " 90 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " Pardon me, mamma dear. I wore the dress yesterday." '' Yesterday? Whilst I was at the Lathams ? " '' Yes ; I went to Swinerton." " Alone ? " '' No, dear mamma ; Mr. Rawdon was with me." The old lady looked for her spectacles, always hidden carefully in a work-box, for fear of an unexpected visit. Arabella got up and found them. Whilst her mother silently fixed them on her nose, she reseated herself, saying, " Mr. Raw^don talked a good deal in the train." Mrs. Lambert peered at her daughter like an owl awakened by the sunshine. Ara- bella dropped her heavy white lids, and calmly observed — " He asked me to marry him, mamma." Mrs. Lambert took off her spectacles, got up, and sat down again. With a face like an elderly Medusa's she watched her daughter. FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WOELD. 91 " And I did. dear mamma ! " One cannot have much sympathy with an old woman seeking her third husband, led by no affection, and driven by no necessity. Mrs. Lambert's motive was simply the habit of a husband, and her expectations had been raised from her own fancy. Mr. Rawdon, of course, had given her no cause to believe that his intentions were other than friendly ; more than that, lie supposed that Arabella had long since confided their engagement to her mother. Whatever be thought of her conduct, one could scarcely pity Mrs. Lambert under such, circum- stances, and in truth she needed no pity after the first surprise. "You dlx^wliat?'' " I married Mr. Rawdon at Swinerton yesterday." What could the old lady say ? '* You bad girl ! " she cried ; " you wicked, deceitful, undutiful girl ! To treat your mother like this, you — " 92 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " But wliat have I done, mamma dear ? T tell you as soon as possible. I am nearly thirty years old, and most of your income dies with you." Mrs. Lambert relieved her incoherent feelings with a burst of tears, but Arabella was ready with comfort. She neatly laid down her work and approached. "It is the secrecy of it that pains you. But you know, dear mamma, that Pier does not like me, and Mr. Rawdon is a little afraid of him — I can't think why ! He would not be rude or violent, of course, but he would sneer, and you would not have liked that." *' Pier would not treat his fa-ather as you have treated me ! " sobbed Mrs. Lambert. " I have acted for the best, dear mamma. It's three years since Mr. Rawdon first proposed, and all that time he has been trying to find courage to tell Pier. He would never have done it. Now that we are married, I shall tell him." '' You have couras^e enough ! " " Yes, dear mamma. — I am not afraid of him, and I am glad he is coming so unex- pectedly. Of course you will live with us at the Hall, that's settled ; and we shall draw Mr. Eawdon into society. He is even richer than people suppose, and your great taste will guide us in making Weybridge the foremost house in the county." " Would you talk of gaiety, Arabella, to the mother whose heart you have broken ? " Experience told that Mrs. Lambert was coming to rights when she spoke in this dignified manner. Arabella ventured to put an arm lightly round her mother's waist. " Not gaiety, of course, dear mamma. Did I say gaiety ? I meant that we shall entertain a good deal, and Mr. Rawdon quite relies upon your tact and judgment to guide me. I have warned him that I shall be almost as helpless as himself with- 94 THE GOLDEN PRIME. out your advice. You must forgive this deception, mamma." The reconciliation was made there and then, without further sighing, and within twenty-four hours Mrs. Lambert had quite forgotten her hope of reigning in person at Weybridge ; — forgotten it for some years, that is, for after- events recalled the disap- pointment. For a long time they sat and talked of the capabilities of the hall for entertainments, intellectual or saltatory, and the capabilities of its owner's purse for outshining all the fixed stars of the neighbourhood. The daughter drew blank cheques, and the mother thoughtfully laid out the cash. She pulled the house down and rebuilt it, furnished a town mansion, projected a scheme of soirees, and finally settled herself into a reverie of toilettes which might have been prolonged till bed- time. But between a corsage expressive of determination to withstand the frivolous tastes of the day, and a jupe displaying FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 95 eager aspirations for the sublime, Mrs. Lambert was pierced by a sudden memory. " But you have to tell that boy, my poor child ! When is it to be done ? " '' This afternoon, as soon as he arrives. I shall go early, and Mr. Rawdon will send the carriage for you." " My poor Arabella ! I should like to be beside you. Pier's anger will be dreadful." " I am not afraid, dear mamma ; but if you were by I should be. If Pier did become insulting, it might bring on one of your attacks." " True, my child. I shall pray for you. But — but after dinner ? " " Oh," said Arabella, calmly, " I shall come back with you. We go away to- morrow for a few months, and if you will be so very kind, Mr. Rawdon would like you to move to the Hall at once." '' Bless you, my child, I can scarcely believe it all ; but you have my thought- 96 THE GOLDEN PRIME. fulness and grasp of circumstances. That is much the best arrangement." Half an hour after Pier's arrival, Arabella reached the Hall ; Mr. Kawdon had nerv- ously escaped, leaving a note for his son, which partly prepared him for news. The lady met him with a pleasant greet- ing. " It is not usual," she laughed, " to congratulate people on being ill, but you were always an original kind of boy. We don't know whether to be pleased with the proof of industry, or to regret its conse- quences. But as they give us the pleasure of seeing you for a short time, we rather incline to the selfish view." " Thank you, Arabella. A very pretty speech. How am I to answer it ? I can't honestly say that I am delighted to have a stepmother, but I gave my filial blessing to the match long ag;o." '* I am glad to find that you know what has taken place. It will not be my fault if you are not happy under the new state of FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 97 things. We have been so intimate, ever since you were a child, that there will scarcely seem a difference." ''Oh, we shall get along smoothly enough, no doubt." " Of course," said Arabella. " Mamma is ofoinor to live with us — " The blank inter- rogation of Pier's face interrupted her. " I fear you are confounding things," she added. '^ What is the truth then ? Speak out ! " He was all aroused now. "You must learn to address your step- mother more respectfully, dear Pier," she answered, with a pleasant smile. But neither respectfully nor otherwise could he speak just then. " Honour thy father and thy mother ! " Pier muttered at length. ''There's no in- junction about thy father's second wife, or my days would be short in the land. This is the secret then ? How long has your plot been hatching, Arabella ? " She would not quarrel. The convenances VOL. I. H 98 THE GOLDEN PRIME. must be preserved at any cost. She an- swered laughingly — " I can't allow that tone. You will be plotting yourself in a very few years. Mr. Rawdon asked me to be his wife long ago, but 1 had scruples." " They wear with age, like Hall-marks on gold. Have you any other secrets to reveal at present ? What is to be done with me, for example ? " " Oh, Pier, you cannot think I would have entered this house if it was to make any difference to the heir. I mean to make you love me like a real mother. Mamma even claims some credit for your successful dthut at the University, and who but I nursed you through the mumps ? You may laugh, but your head was swollen twice its size, and you were quite delirious. Come, Pier, don't quarrel with your father or with me." " I don't quarrel with either. My father is right to do as he pleases, and I am grateful to you for the attentions you FROxM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 99 showered on me before I could clearly recol- lect. But we know each other, Arabella. You and I cannot live in the same house,, and if it were only for my father's sake, I must go. You need not speak — I under- stand. There shall be no scandal. We will seem friends, and — This must be your mother coming, I will go and dress." Pier went through his toilette mechanic- ally, so absorbed in bitter thought that he was surprised to find it complete when Ben came to tell that Mr. Eawdon had returned. He went to the dressing-room, where his father was anxiously waiting, and threw his arms round the old man's neck. Neither could find voice just then, and I think they cried together. Pier knew what would happen. As in a glass, he saw how this woman would daunt and drive his father, her iron will concealed by honey words, until they two were forced asunder. And the old man also knew it H 2 100 THE GOLDEN PEIME. now. A moment sometimes comes, after the doing of an act long meditated, long 'desired, when the consequences are revealed in one prescient flash — too late ! Pier's unexpected return, announced that morning, woke his father as from a dream. Ara- bella had fascinated him. In the anxious suspense of the last three years he had not observed the phases of the game which now stood clear before his eyes, for a moment. Mr. Eawdon did not speak, but clung to his son, grateful and tremulous. " God bless you, father, and make you happy," said Pier. Arabella had her reasons for wishing that the first interview should not be prolonged, and she sent to announce dinner. During the meal Pier and she kept up a friendly conversation. Mr. Rawdon was silent and nervous, Mrs. Lambert showed an hysterical impatience to bless her elderly son-in-law. But those two repressed the demonstration, and the new stepmother thanked Pier in FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 101 a whisper as she left the room. Pather and son remained alone, and the latter drank, in all sincerity, to the happiness of the marriage. "Thank you, my boy," said the old man, quavering. " You are all that is good and generous. It came on me gradually — I don't quite know how. She's a good gir]. Pier, a very good girl. When I told her this property was entailed on you, she was delighted. I must let you know what arrangements are being made. Whilst I live your allowance will be £800 a year ; if you think that not enough, say so. I've done well with my property, Pier ; the grocer will leave a full till. Now, whilst we are alone, tell me if there's anything you would like to say." "Nothing, father. Your allowance is most liberal." " And you will live with me ? " " It shall be by no fault of mine, father, if I leave you." 102 THE GOLDEN PRIME. ''You promise that?" said Mr. Rawdon, holding out his hand. " I swear it ! " Next day Mr. Rawdon and his bride quietly met at Swinerton, and departed for some months' tour. Pier saw them go, and when he returned, Mrs. Lambert was already at home. She sat in the library, addressing wedding cards to such persons of the neighbourhood as she thought de- serving. "By the bye, Pier," the old lady said, " I've told them to remove all that rubbish out of the old nursery. I felt sure you would not mind." The rubbish was Pier's battery and fishing apparatus, his tool- chest, and the thousand odds and ends a country-bred youth finds needful for existence. He set his teeth and went out. Mrs. Lambert lowered her spectacles and wrote on blandly, innocent of harm. At the week's end Pier returned to FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 103 Oxford. At Lis rooms he found a pretty note from Mrs. Lumley, begging him not to call for a time — not till after the examin- ation. "I am sure you are in a feverish state," it said, " and I should never forgive myself if I had an indirect part in your failure." Pier kissed the note a great many times, though he did not quite like it, and vowed that on his next call he would bring matters to a crisis. A weary, anxious time passed — laborious days, uneasy nights. Fortunately the sus- pense was not so long as usual. But ^ve Ctmdidates put up for the Wales, and one of them broke down at an early point. The examiners got through their work expeditiously, and the names were duly posted : Pier Marie Rawdon — Terence Morley proxime acccssit. That was a great day in St. Aldate's, a college whose traditions rather dwelt on triumphs of the pentathlon than of the schools. About four o'clock, somewhat flushed 104 THE GOLDEN PRIME. with champagne, Pier trotted along the well-known road towards Witney. As the old woman at the turnpike gave him his change, she said, ^'You're quite a stranger of late, sir ; Master Morley, he's had it all his own way this fortnight past." Pier was not a little astonished to find that even the pike-keeper knew his errand, or, at least, his destination, but this feeling vanished on considering the woman's speech. He was not jealous by nature, or suspicious, and the idea of a rivalry between Morley and himself anywhere but in the blind old schools was too absurd. But somehow, when Mrs. Lumley's servant announced that she was not at home. Pier linked these facts together, and felt impatient. He remounted, and "larked" across country — as they used to call it at St. Aldate's — until his horse, failing to clear a treacherous old hedge, struck his forefeet against a haw- thorn stump, and landed awkwardly upon his nose. The rider was not hurt, nor the FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 105 horse, but both were shaken. They rested, perforce, until nine o'clock at a farm-house. Mounting then, he rode slowly back, and the half-hour after ten rang from St. Giles's Church as he passed. It was very unlikely that a horseman could escape the proctors on that road, at such an hour ; but Pier had grown indifferent. In the corn-market he was stopped and challenged in the sacramental form — " Your name and college, sir ? " "Rawdon of St. Aldate's." " Ah, the winner of the Wales ? Your friends have kept you rather late, Mr. Rawdon. Well, well, get to your coUege as quickly as possible. We may allow a little latitude to a commoner so promising, Mr. pro -proctor, and one of your own house too. No fear of his takino^ advantage of the indulgence, I'm sure." And the proctor closed his note-book. "You didn't hear the scandal of the University at your parsonage, Dr. Eaby," 106 THE GOLDEN PRIME. said Carpenter, viciously. "Mr. Eawdon has great abilities, but he gives the college more trouble than any undergraduate be- longing to it." " Well, well ! " said good old Dr. Raby. " Be more careful in future, Mr. Rawdon. Good night." *' If the proctor is satisfied," Carpenter broke in, "as pro-proctor, I have nothing more to say ; but as Dean of St. Aldate's I have still a word. Mr. Rawdon, you will be in college by nine o'clock until the end of term, and you will report yourself at the gates every night." Eawdon smiled and took off his hat to the astonished proctor, and trotted up the corn, gated till Commemoration. An hour afterwards he tapped at Morley's door, and received a boisterous welcome. A bottle of champagne stood on the table, a dressed crab from Tester's, and a plate of preserved ginger from — was he not named Gadney, that pastry-cook FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 107 by St. Mary's, wlio had such a very pretty girl behind his counter, oh, comrades of twenty years ago ? By whatever name, his ginger we thought a delicacy to swear by, as a digester to shell fish. Morley had reached that stage of the repast, and a brightness in his vague eyes told that half a bottle of champagne caused him to view defeat with equanimity. "What!" he cried. "The victor comes to rejoice over his fallen enemy ? I can bear it, young Eawdon ! There are com- pensations for defeat in the Schools. Here's your health ! Will you drink mine — and Bessy's ? " Pier's heart seemed to contract as if a cold hand gripped it, but he drained the glass without speaking. The wine gave him voice. " I'm used to drinking wedding toasts of late. May you be as happy as you deserve." " Thank you ! You wouldn't believe, 108 THE GOLDEN PEIME. Kawdon, that I have been jealous of you. Wasn't it silly — wicked indeed ! But Bessy has forgiven me. I couldn't resist the temptation to drink her health after I came back ; but isn't that champagne very strong ? I'm no judge." " How long have you been engaged ? " " Only this afternoon. Bessy asked me to dine there, whether I was successful or not. When I told her my defeat, she was so nice that it came, — you know — " " I thought what would come of your daily visits — the loss of the Wales, and the inestimable gain of a wife." " But wasn't it odd I should be jealous of you ? Have another bottle. That cham- pagne's been lying in the scout's hole ever since I matriculated. How clever you are at opening bottles ! It sounds cheerful, I think, the pop of a champagne cork ! But I might have known you wouldn't suit Bessy." " No, we shouldn't suit ! " answered Pier, carefully filling the glasses. FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 109 " Of course not ! Shall I tell you what she said when I confessed I'd been afraid of you ? You won't be offended ? " " Not one bit, I swear ! " *' Well, Bessy was a good deal excited, of course. You never saw her look so lovely," &c., &c., &c, "And she said something about me?" interrupted Pier, after a while. " Oh yes ! When I said that, she laughed out loud. 'No one,' she said, 'need be jealous of Mr. Rawdon for some time to come.' I asked why, and — you're sure you won't be offended ? I thought it so neat — Bessy said, ' He's too mannish for a boy, and too womanish for a man, and too boyish for a girl. Mr. Eawdon won't be dangerous until he makes up his mind what character to affect.' " " Very smart indeed. It doesn't mean anything ; but, as you hint, Mrs. Lumley is rather brilliant than coherent. What an ideal life will be yours, illuminated by 110 THE GOLDEN PRIME. such flashes of wit ! — Now you'll be ill, old fellow, if you take any more champagne, and your head-ache to-morrow will discount even the joys of the honeymoon ! " " Bran'y and soda's in scout's hole ! Been there ever since a mati — matrilated ! Sit down, an' tell all 'bout it?" And so on. Pier helped his rival to the bed, pulled his boots off, blew out his candle, and left bim. It is ill to learn at the outset of life that the sex of our mothers and sisters is not all good. With trust in woman go over- board other virtues which lend a charm to youth. The finer his feelings, the loftier his nature, the more keenly does a boy suffer from that disillusion. Pier saw how he had been deceived and played with ; — per- haps, as is natural, he judged Mrs. Lumley with more harshness than she deserved. These events had an influence on his career both immediate and future. The motive FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. Ill for gaining fame had vanished when his father married; the motive for even remain- ing at Oxford was gone. Careless now what the result might be, Pier determined to settle a score that had long been growing. But he did not wish, in avenmng himself on the Dean, to give that gentleman a chance of returning the blow with interest, if it could be avoided. So far as the con- sequences went, he did not care at all ; but poetic justice must not be sacrificed. Commemoration week arrived, however, bringinor no idea. His studies for the Wales had been a trifle compared with the profundities of thought in which Pier lost himself. One day, as he strolled up the Broad in deep reflection, a voice behind attracted his notice. It was high and boisterous, though drawling — a voice which caused people to look round. Upon doing so. Pier recognized Jonas Davis, in the full vigour of his manhood displayed by Poole. Very cordially indeed Pier welcomed him 112 THE GOLDEN PRIME. to Oxford — so cordially that Jonas, who was not a fool, smelt a bill ; not smelt it only, but resolved that if his school friend proved sufficiently polite, he would not decline. Kawdon was polite enough in all conscience. He gave the young gentleman a breakfast, caused him to be invited to a Wine, and brought the selectest of company to the Mitre when Jonas gave an entertainment in return. He found him tickets also for the Exeter Concert, the Brasenose Theatri- cals, the Christchurch Ball, and the Trinity Flower- Show ; but there was no mention of a bill. Jonas wondered how all this courtesy was to be repaid ; and soon he learned, for time w^as pressing. On the Sunday night Pier broached his secret, and coaxed, bullied, flattered the youth into consent. He ran to town by the first train on Monday, returned in the afternoon, and whispered it was all right. As every one knows, Wednesday used to be the great day of Commemoration; alas. FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 113 that one should write " used to be ! " Carpenter habitually came off his rounds at midnight, and dismissed his bull-dogs at the corner of the High. These custom- ary events took place on the Tuesday night. Majestic then in silk robe and velvet sleeves, the pro -proctor advanced to the gate of St. Aldate's college and rang. Heavily the bolts clashed, and the big lock rolled in its case. Fat old Keats pulled, rattled the door, tried all its bolts again, and swore beneath his breath, whilst Carpenter fumed outside. " D-d-d," muttered the porter. '' There's a summut wrong with the gate, Mr. Dean. Wait a moment, if you please, sir, whilst I get my lantern." "Clumsy man!" cried Carpenter, while Keats entered his lodge. Returning in a moment, the candlelight streamed through the huge keyhole. ''Clumsy!" roared old Keats suddenly. "You'd be clumsy, Mr. Dean, if your VOL. I. 114 THE GOLDEN PRIME. gate was all screwed up like Noah's Ark ! Heavins ! Won't there be wigs singeing for this ! Sir, it's a case for the Hab- dominal Council, and they may unscrew it, for I can't ! What am I to do ? all the college is abed ! Can't ye speak, sir ? " The Dean proved he could by suddenly raising a cry of murder and thieves. Old Keats started, listened, and let the lantern fall, a sacrifice to the outraged numen of St. Aldate's. Then he raised both hands to his mouth, and bawled with eyes shut, murder, thieves, help, and the rest, till Carpenter's voice was overpowered. From every staircase men hurried down. They filled the ancient gateway with clamour and confusion. Keats answered no question, but stood and yelled. It was pitch dark. The dons arrived rather tremulous, but provided with candles. Then, in one horrified gesture, Keats dis- played the outrage on his doors. " Do you see that, Mr. Bursar ! and FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 115 there's the Dean outside, sir, a-weltering in his blood on the hard pavement." "Silence, please, gentlemen," cried the Principal, arriving, and then Carpenter's voice was heard. " Are you much hurt, Mr. Dean ? " asked the Principal. " I don't know. I can't use my arms. King the alarm bell ! " Two or three volunteers began to unscrew the gates with such instruments as they could find ; but loug before this was done a policeman rapped. "We've taking the pro-proctor to the Mitre. He's not 'urted." '' But — but, policeman ! " exclaimed the Bursar. " What has befallen him ? " " Some gentlemen has been 'aving a lark with him, sir. Tied him to the rail- ings by his sleeves, they has, a crucifying of him like. But they ain't 'urted him." The police tramped off, and presently sent screw-drivers, which were handed I 2 116 THE GOLDEN PRIME. through the lodge window. A few minutes more and the wicket-gate was free. Every man in St. Aldate's rushed through, burning to learn the fate of his beloved dean. What a jolly night that was ! St. Aldate's had broken bounds. It played leapfrog in the High Street, and organized a " grind " in the Corn-Hall ; a dozen men started to bathe at Parson's Pleasure. In all haste the proctors were roused, and the bull- dogs summoned, which hearing, St. Aldate's ran back as tumultuously as it had run out. Sitting round a bed at the Mitre mean- while, the dons heard aj woeful tale. Two shameless ruffians had sprung on the pro -proctor, put their dirty hands on his mouth, dragged him to the railings, and there suspended him by his official sleeves, a spectacle for pinned cockchafers to jeer at. All the efforts of his memory would not suggest a trail to identify these monsters. The machine inside Carpenter's FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD. 117 skull was pre-eminently useful for purposes of University discipline, but rough men knocked it out of gear. St. Aldate's was gated to a man next day. Its sisters and cousins, mothers and maiden- aunts, might attend the theatre by them- selves, for no escort came through that desecrated portal. The dons meantime sat in council, with several detectives as amici curiae. Painful it is to admit that nothing came of their long deliberation. The sus- pected culprit was not without friends, and no evidence as yet was brought against him. But the feeling of the Common Room found expression when Pier called, as usual, upon Dr. Crosby before going down. " This has been a dreadful scandal, Mr. Rawdon," said he, gravely, " of which, of course, we have not yet seen the end. Er — I believe you have no specific object in following the curriculum ? " " Nothing specific, sir." 118 THE GOLDEN PHIME. "' Hum — er — well. You have much dis- tinguished yourself in the Schools, Mr. Kawdon. The college will sustain a loss there by the withdrawal of your name. But in the leisure of the long vacation you will do wisely to reflect, upon your side, whether — er — it will be better to return to this quiet retreat, where — er — I may say, annoyances might encounter you, or to seek another field for the exercise of your abilities." " I will consider it, sir," said Pier, and left Oxford for ever. RAWDOX ENTERS SOCIETY. 119 CHAPTER IV. RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. Had he not promised his father to re- main, Pier would have left Weybridge as recklessly as he left the University, and without more to-do. Mrs. Lambert had taken possession, and the heir ceased to be master before his step-mother returned. She changed everything, and derided Mr. Rawdon's system. The old butler had to learn new methods, and the housekeeper was told she must not " do like that." Pier suggested that Arabella herself might prefer the former regime, but he was told in reply that "Mrs. Rawdon had been accustomed 120 THE GOLDEN PRIME. to a well- managed household, and she would certainly approve her mother's changes." Pier avoided the house as much as he could, and held on loyally. Mrs. Lambert did not mean any harm, and he knew it. But she was almost the more irritating on that account. Have you ever lived with a woman supremely foolish, oh most bright and intelligent of readers, at twenty-one years old, when you thought yourself some- body ? Eeturn thanks where they are due, if you have not endured that experience. Mrs. Lambert's small persecutions were kindly meant, when not undertaken in mere thoughtlessness. The boy had been her charge for ^ve years, and she forgot the lapse of time. But what irritated him more than her didactic interference was the utter silliness of the woman. Mrs. Lambert felt actually no interest in human affairs, past, present, or to come, unless they touched herself or her neighbours ; — a fault so common as to go unnoticed, but annoy- RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 121 ing to generous twenty-one. And those matters in wliicli she took interest seemed so very, very small as to be invisible in Pier's eye. When she drove out, she only saw Lady Latham's carriage, or Mrs. Ash- ton's, or somebody's. Those people spoke to her — or did not speak — were travelling in a mysterious direction, for unknown pur- poses to be discussed at length, or on an errand which Mrs. Lambert identified im- mediately; had liveries conspicuously new or conspicuously shabby ; had, perhaps, a stranger Avith them. When this event was announced. Pier marvelled at the old lady's memory, and her grasp of private affairs in each family round. Give her but a glimpse of this stranger, and, coming home, she would tell his name, and his object in doing whatever she saw him do. Though Pier found her conspicuously wrong once or twice, not for a length of time did he discover that these circumstantial narratives were all fiction ; that Mrs. Lambert in- 122 THE GOLDEN PRIME. vented facts and motives for the delight, not of scandal-mongering, but of mere tattle. Guided by this clue, he found a bitter amusement for some time in studying the old lady. But the fool is not to be appre- ciated by the philosopher of twenty-one years. Irritated by mysteries beyond his solution, Pier took Solomon's advice, and left Mrs. Lambert to her folly. I wish that he had given more attention to the precepts of the sage. No proof of Solomon's consummate wisdom is more con- vincing than his analysis of the fool, a subject on which he never tires. It lies within the range of an intelligent mind to comprehend more or less the loftiest charac- ter, but of those who can lift their under- standing, how few can lower it ! Every man sees a mountain, but to sound the murky crevasse dizzies the brain. He who is satur- ated with the principles of the wisest is saved many a heart-burning, many a helpless passion against destiny, many an RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 123 act of kindly foolishness. No human being who has recorded his experience had such authority to speak. Any man can preach, — that we know too well, — but few have the needful experience to command respect. .When we cry " All is vanity \'' we lie open to the retort that we do not know all, know, in fact, mighty little. Life is short, and our opportunities for experiment few ; but Solomon lived a whole existence in a day. Our one wife resents with emphasis if we strike the chords of emotion too strongly ; but the Hebrew king had a thousand and five — or thereabouts, if his toasts corresponded with his songs ; and they could not say nay to any process of moral vivisection. How comforting it is, what a balm ines- timable, to perceive that the wisest man who ever lived reached just the same con- clusion as you or I — not refining, or hair- splitting, in his definition of life, but pro- nouncing a clear and downright statement. 124 THE GOLDEN PHIME. *' Its weariness and trouble, every bit/' says Solomon, after exhausting every pleasure we can dream of, every ambition we can fancy, every science and intellectual de- light. Envy, most part of hatred, and all uncharitableness would be banished . from human affairs if Solomon s philosophy were accepted as a rule. At the same time, one must regret that the circumstances have not been recorded under which those con- soling aphorisms were devised. It may be that the wise king wrote under influence of dyspepsia, or gout, or toothache, or what not. In that case — well, I am myself indit- ing this panegyric of his philosophy before a visit to the dentist. One day Pier had been a ride, and he took a short cut home over hedsfe and ditch. Weybridge park was divided from the lawn by a sunk- fence. Cantering up the slope, Pier set his horse at this leap. He refused, flying over the grass. A smart cut of the whip, and the pressure of his RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 125 rider's will, brought him to the effort onee more. Snortino; and tossino^ his head, he rushed to a point where two chestnut trees overhanging shadowed a garden-seat upon the lawn — cleared the fence, and two yards beyond. A sudden cry startled Pier, and he reined up as soon as possible. By the seat stood a little girl, white with alarm, her hands clasped. Pier let his horse go free, at the risk of bitter expostu- lation from Mrs. Lambert, and advanced with a smiling apology. "I don't want excuses!" the child pas- sionately exclaimed. " It's just what I told mamma would happen ! jYou're the boy that beat my brother James, and now you want to kill me ! " " Indeed I didn't know you were here. We have so few visitors at Weybridge." "No wonder, when you run over them with horses ! Oh, I wish Dawson would come back." But she did not try to move. Pier noticed a little wheeled chair close 126 THE GOLDEN PRIME. by, and it flashed across his memory that Miss Latham was a cripple. What a pity ! he thought, looking at her perfect face, white as silk, but marked by a small red smear upon one cheek, like a blood-spot carelessly rubbed. Pier thought that stain set off the large dark eyes and the marble skin deliciously. The child wore a dress of sheeny white material, brown silk stock- ings, and shoes. There were no signs of distortion visible. The delicate limbs were straight as a young Diana's. But her childish beauty was marred by an ugly frown. *^Will you let me put you in your carriage ? '' said Pier kindly, seeing that she dared not move. " I won't let you touch me 1 Go and call my servant." "You have a very cruel prejudice against me, Miss Latham, and I feel it the more because you seem to me the most graceful little girl I ever saw. Won't you let me clear my character ? it's only fair ! " RAWDON" ENTERS SOCIETY. 127 This speech caused the child so to tremble with anger that she dropped upon the seat aofain. Pier was almost friorhtened. " Keep off ! " she cried, threatening him with her tiny hands. " How dare you call me a girl — you grocer's boy ? " . " Appearances are deceptive sometimes — '' " I am the daughter of Sir James Latham, and what are youV^ " Your very humble servant, Miss Latham," said Pier, laughing heartily. " Shall I send you some lollipops from the shop ? " He took off his hat aiid started. " Stay ! " exclaimed Miss Latham, less savagely. " Don't leave me alone. Come nearer. I thought you were such a very ugly boy." "Not when I see anything very pretty. I have my good and bad days, you know, and this is a sort of a half-and-half day." '' Why ? " " Because I am admiring a lovely little 128 THE GOLDEN PRIME. girl who has a vile temper, and I want to get away from her as soon as possible. Here comes your servant." The footman approached with a glass of milk, and upon him the vials of Miss Latham's wrath were opened wide. " Man ! " she cried. " How dare you leave me fifteen minutes here to be run over by horses and insulted by tradesmen ? I discharge you ! Don't come nearer. Take a month's wages and go. If you steal your livery you shall be put in prison ! " Dawson didn't argue the matter, but with- drew at once, never touching his hat. Miss Latham called after him : "Tell my mamma that I am here with Mr. Kawdon's son, who is insulting me. Tell her to come immediately." The man made no answer, and perhaps he did not hear. Suppressing his mirth, Pier offered to bear the command himself But she wanted him neither to go nor stay. After sullenly allowing the messenger to RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 129 take a few steps, she called him back imperiously. '* I am glad you are unwilling to dismiss me," he said. '*You would not carry the message right ! " '' I give you my honour I would." " You would tell my mamma you had been insulting me ? " " Why not ? If you think so." She looked at him gravely, the frown (•learing from her beautiful eyes. "I don't want you," the child said at length ; " but some one must stop to take care of me. I can't run, and when people gallop about on horses I must not be left alone. What did I come here for ? " " Let me help you into your carriage." " ril scream if you touch me. Go over there to the top of the slope and call. What horridly stupid people they are in this house ! Call very loud. Perhaps they are deaf as well as silly." VOL. I. K 130 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " There may be a combination of infirmities worse than that," answered Pier, disgusted with her evil temper. He shouted, and presently the Latham servants heard him at the front door. They ran in panic to rescue their young mis- tress from her awful situation, but she would be touched by no one but her mother. Pier strolled away before that personage arrived. Mrs. Lambert observed during dinner, " I was much distressed that you did not come to the drawing-room to-day. Lady Latham was so polite as to call — the first time, I believe, that she has entered this house." '^ A sufficient reason for my quitting it." " But you know you had an opportunity of meeting her casually, as it were, when you came back from riding. Why did you leave the lawn, as that sweet little Mary Latham told us you did ? " "An old goose chevied me about," answered Pier, laughing. RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 131 " A goose on the lawn ? Where were the gardeners ? I shall reprimand Scott severely to-morrow." " Pray leave Scott alone. It wasn't he brought the goose to Weybridge." "You are too young to know what serv- ants are. If there was a goose on the lawn Scott is responsible. And it was a dangerous creature, as I understand you. Now, my dear Pier, is it possible," &c., &c., &c. '' Oh, confound the goose," he exclaimed, laughing at his own vexation. " I'm going to smoke." ''A very unfortunate, and, I must say, a very disgusting habit," answered Mrs. Lambert, rising also. "Your dear father doesn't smoke, and " " How long do you make it till this day three months ? " Pier asked bitterly. Mrs. Lambert called after him in vain, pondered, and finally resolved that she must have misunderstood. Within the next few weeks Lady Latham K 2 132 THE GOLDEN PRIME. made several kindly efforts to obtain ac- quaintance with Pier, but they all failed, partly by accident, partly by the want of good-will on the gentleman's part. He had no pleasant memories connected with the Latham family, and he thought that the county people would bore him. It was the easiest thing possible to avoid an introduc- tion without seeming to do so, and Lady Latham never imagined that this ill-success was not bitterly mourned. The acquaintance came at length in a manner very unexpected. Jonas Davis wrote to announce a visit, which Pier had suggested during that time when he was bribing the youth with attentions, and his host was less displeased than might have been thought possible ; for anything was welcome that would break the eternal duo with Mrs. Lambert. Jonas arrived on Saturday, and next morning he accompanied his host to church. This gentleman was connected with the RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 133 " Drum/' a newspaper of some position. Personally, he had nothing to do with editorial work, but this fact was not univers- ally known. His name and his face were familiar in London, and he was spoken of in connection with the paper. Persons so far removed from the inside ring as to make the error, were very civil. Sir James Latham would not freely have admitted that he knew Jonas. He used, to express the situation, one of those forms in which he was proverbially happy — '^ I was con- scious of the young man," he said to his wife. It happened that the Lathams attended church that day at Acton Green, where the Weybridge people usually sat. As soon as the service was finished Jonas hurried out, waited in the porch, and when the member arrived, he invented in one breath such important news for Monsieur, and such a choice scandal for Madame, that they stood a moment by their carriage door. 134 THE GOLDEN PRIME. Pier could have found no escape liad lie sought it ; Mrs. Lambert came up, and made the presentation. He declined an invitation to lunch, which Jonas accepted without apologies. He made himself vastly agree- able. A county member without crotchets of legislation is as rare as one who succeeds in carrying them through. Sir James was convinced that public justice and propriety demanded a reduction of his rates. Jonas heard his views with attention, and pledged the * Drum's * support. Conciliation of Lady Latham proved a more agreeable task. He had but to carry a stage further his tale of the Duke and the heiress, and leave them in a fix. " Then how is it settled ? " asked her ladyship, breathless. " I cannot tell you yet," Jonas replied. *' It's on such occasions that the Sunday post law seems unbearable. I do not know ^—I actually do not know how the Duchess has taken the matter. I gave instructions RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 135 to wire me from the ^ Drum,' but you know what a great newspaper is, Sir James. Unless I give the very strictest orders, they will not send me information." " I w^ill telegraph to my sister," said Lady Latham. " Pray don't ! " cried Jonas, much alarmed. " If this matter gets known, all is lost, and the Duke goes abroad for ever. He would know who betrayed confidence." But there was a personage at table with whom his well-meant attentions quite failed. Miss Latham puckered her pretty chin, and thrust out her lips scornfully at sight of Jonas ; then she sat very still and watched. After awhile she asked — '' Are you Mr. Rawdon's friend ? " " Ever since we were at school together," said Jonas. " I don't understand that," observed Miss Latham thoughtfully, with a manner im- plying no compliment. ''He is rather an odd fellow, young 136 THE GOLDEN PRIME. Eawdon, isn't he ? " said Sir James. " Very clever, they say, but decidedly odd. I thought he hadn't any friends besides that young scapegrace, Sweyn Garrow." *' Oh, Garrow was at school with us too. I remember, indeed, that he introduced me to Eawdon." " Do you recollect the quarrel between my brother and Mr. Eawdon ? " asked Miss Latham, with interest. " What was it about ? Because I can't go about and ask, people always tell me stories." "Mary, dear!" expostulated Lady Latham. " They do, mamma ! They told me that Mr. Eawdon was an ugly grocer's boy, and he isn't at all. So you are his friend ? Do you love him ? " " What an awful child ! " thous^ht Jonas to himself. " I am very fond of Eawdon," he said. " Your very is not much, I should think. Would you die for him ? " *'My dear Mr. Davis," said Sir James, EAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 137 "you must excuse the extravagances of this spoilt child. After entertaining for years a grotesque antipathy to your friend, she has suddenly conceived an admiration for him not less fantastic. I " " James ! " interrupted his wife. *' Be more prudent." She stooped over her little daughter, who was fairly gasping with rage. The delicate pallor of her skin would bear no tint stronger than rose, but the veins in her forehead and temples swelled purple, and her eyes showed a ring of white. Great artists would have loved to mark those signs of passion which did not spoil, though they disturbed, her beauty ; but Jonas was prosaic, and he only thought the child was going into a fit. " Papa," she cried, after several attempts, *' I hate you — I hate you ! Oh, my head ! Mamma, my head ! " Lady Latham tenderly kissed her, arranged the pillows, and wheeled her gently from the room. But at the door Mary raised herself, 138 THE GOLDEX PRIME. opened lier eyes wide, and looked at her father. '' I hate you, papa ! " she repeated, and fell back. Sir James was not so much disconcerted as one would expect. He said to Jonas — " You have been treated to a glimpse of our fa,mily skeleton — a very little one, and a very dear one, but uncomfortable some- times. Don't be shocked by those unfilial sentiments. In half an hour's time Mary will be crying with penitence. Our skeleton cupboard is open, and all the country knows its contents." " Miss Latham has a strong character," said Jonas, vaguely. " Yes ; and we should regard the future very anxiously if the doctors did not give us hope that, in regaining the natural use of her limbs, these fits of passion would wear away. With Mary it is the old case of the sword eating through the scabbard. Well, Mr. Davis, I am very much obliged to you RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY. 139 for those hints. Before you leave Weybridge I must ask you to dine with us, and meet some gentlemen of the county who are inter- ested in these questions as much as myself. Pray do your best to persuade Rawdon to join us. There was, as you know, a certain misunderstanding between him and my boy at school, and I think well enough of Mr. Rawdon to believe that if you tell him James is coming over, it will be a temptation. My boy is attache at iParis, you know." Accordingly, next day. Pier received a formal note from Lady Latham, as did Mrs. Lambert and Jonas. In the afternoon Sir James himself called, expressly for Mr. Pier Rawdon ; he made a little speech about the Wales, hoped to see more of his neighbours, and so on. Por the present a brief view seemed to satisfy him, for he departed in ten minutes. " Oh, my dear boy ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lambert. " What an honour ! Sir James has heard of you, you see. What an en- 140 THE GOLDEN PRIME. couragement to persevere ! Now you see what a good thing it is to work and get a reputation. I wonder how Sir James heard of your success at Oxford ? " "Perhaps he sees a newspaper." " Perhaps so. Was it in the papers really ? I wonder how he came to notice it ? There's so much in the papers now-a- days, what with one thing and another. How very lucky Sir James should just have hit upon your name. I don't think dear Lady Latham knows. She has never spoken about it, and of course I did not like to intrude your affairs. Perhaps Sir James will tell her — most probably, indeed, I should think ; shouldn't you ? That will be very nice," &c., &c., &c. Thus Mrs. Lambert worked Rawdon into a lever. I have known a man die of mosquito bites. So Pier was driven into the county set. He could no longer resist when told that James Latham was coming to the dinner. CAST ADRIFT. 141 CHAPTER V. CAST ADRIFT. It was Pier's first entrance into society. Supper parties he had known, and bachelor dinners, and tutorial breakfasts, but to strange ladies he had scarcely come closer than one does in a crowd. A grave trial it was to approach those unknown beings, for the first time, in the pride of their majesty at a great county dinner. All the neighbourhood met at Latham Hall. The fact is that Jonas, by his vapoury quota- tion of the ' Drum,' had led Sir James to believe that he might really shift some of his taxes upon other people, and the magnates of the shire had assembled. 142 THE GOLDEX PRIME. Latham Hall is a building of the Italian- Gothic order — at least I should so describe it, and the architect may cry out as he likes. It had arches over all its windows, an octagon tower at each wing, gurgoyles ad libit mi, and a barbican gateway. Above the house, for it lay in a hollow, rose the stately ruin once called Latham jVIanor. Visitors used to mutter, below their breath, that to destroy the antique mansion was barbarous. I myself am a fervent lover of old things, and I would not suffer my neighbour to repair his roof if I could help it. Sir James lost my vote for ever when he touched the old hall, and no arguments change my resolution. What had it to do with me that there was not a room therein ten feet high, that the drainage system was forgotten, or had never existed ? Property has its duties and trials. The baronet was such a country gentle- man as lyrical tradition loves to draw. He was big and broad, smooth-faced, blue- CAST ADRIFT. 143 eyed. Dull of intellect, though not stupid, hating novelty in all things but comfort, Sir James followed the easy system of his forefathers. What they had not seen he did not see. His grandfather had been only the bailiffs son, a youth endowed with a certain bovine beauty and gentleness. The heiress of Latham fell in love with him, and a hard wooing she had, for his modesty was almost hopeless. Sighs and hints were thrown away upon him ; any number of inches given never enticed him further. But all came right at last, by devices which the lady would never tell, and the gentleman never understood. A happier match could not be. One weakness only the youth had, an amiable passion for sculpture. No matter what the subject, or the ability of its treatment, a statue was to him a thing of beauty to be cherished in as large quantities as possible. *' Why, my dear," he would say to his wife when she re- 144 THE GOLDEN PRIME. monstrated, *' a statoo is a lovely object ; every one admits that, I think. There's a humanising air about statooary. The ex- tended leg on the Amoor there, kicking up, if I might so express myself, gives an air of freedom and sans jane to our apart- ment, which was a little dull, my dear, like — like anything else that would have a similar effect." Mrs. Latham, for Charley had taken her name, was too good-natured and too fond of her big husband to oppose this weakness, and her house was gradually blocked with " statoos." Many of them had been sold, but enough remained to make the new hall an ideal play-ground for children. Besides the transient pleasure of criticizing them by daylight, there was a weird joy in frightening oneself or others into a fit at night-time. And they might have been contrived expressly for playing hide and seek. Of a large family borne by Lady Latham, only two survived. Pier's old antagonist, CAST ADRIFT. 145 James, and his new one, Mary. The only pleasure he expected from the festival was a meeting with these two, and he much feared that the latter would be absent. Upon entering the drawing-room with Mrs. Lambert, he looked for her in vain. All eyes were fixed upon him. " Gauche ! " pronounced Mrs. Ashton. "We are so select to-night," murmured Miss Conyers. To enter a splendid room, peopled by splendid creatures, is indeed trying for the first time, and 1 would not vouch that Pier was not a little nervous. Lady Latham w^as expecting him, however. "I was so sorry to have been from home when you called," she said. " Both James and Mary talk so much about you, that we feel quite out of the conversation, knowing you so little. This is my son. I hope you will find him improved." Had he told the truth. Pier would have confessed he did not. James Latham VOL. I. L. 146 THE GOLDEN PEIME. worthily sustained the family repute for comeliness, but his forehead promised few convolutions of the brain, and his eyes, though handsome, were shifting. Such a man, if he had no evil instincts, had cer- tainly no good resolutions, and some argu- ments might be produced to show that vicious inclination works less harm than lack of virtue. The sage who loved a good hater had doubly reason. Latham had already gained that trick of smilino[ " from the teeth outwards," which is the first art of our diplomatists, often the last. He shook hands warmly, much more warmly than needful, observing, " I remember you only too well, Eawdon. You gave me a lesson in savoir vivre, impressed perhaps with too much iteration, but all the more lasting." *' I am very much ashamed of my conduct." " Oh no ! Pardon me, but I cannot believe that. Apropos of nothing at all, CAST ADRIFT. 147 do you know that I have been questioned about you a good deal in Paris ? '' " By the Comte de Perouac ? '' asked Pier, suddenly interested. " More especially by his sons. Your mother belonged to that family, I think ? I shall be very pleased to introduce you. Some men would give half their posses- sions to claim cousinship with Mademoiselle Jehanne ; and the brothers are very pleasant, in different ways. If Hugues de Perouac would only rally, a great career is open to him." *^ Rally?"" " To the empire, I mean. It is so utterly stupid to sit at the back and sulk, waiting for what will never come. There is but one party possible in France. Take my word for it ! I have paid great attention to the internal politics of the country — in fact, that is my special department at ihe Embassy. Such arguments as I have had with your relatives ! Look at their L 2 148 THE GOLDEN PRIME. own case : the father and Albert, Legitimist ; Hugues, the eldest, Eepublican — yes, posi- tively Republican ! He has his seat in the cab. Now isn't it evident that the empire alone keeps this family from domestic WTCCk ? " These French relatives, of whom Pier knew nothing but the name, and his father no more, had always been a fascinating subject. He asked for more information, but dinner was announced, and a young lady allotted to him. Pier felt himself an actual savage, with this bemuslined damsel on his arm. He knew none of those com- monplaces with which it is usual to begin a languid talk, nor could he think of a subject at the moment. They passed to the dining-room in silence, and Miss Blenchley explained to her friends in panto- mime that she had fallen victim to a muff. On the left of the hostess sat her crippled daughter, placed before the com- pany arrived. Pier was gratified to find CAST ADRIFT. 149 his place marked beside the child, for she would certainly not be a bore. She looked up with beautiful eyes, bright with intelli- gence, undarkened by temper now, and said softly, ^' I didn't think we should meet again, Mr. Rawdon — didn't hope it, I mean." " But I did," answered Pier, Lady Latham turned and exclaimed, "They have made a mistake. Your place was higher up the table, Mr. Rawdon. I could not allow my little daughter to tease you." " Don't go away," Mary whispered. " Not if they charge at me with wild horses," Pier replied. "Those whom Fate has joined do not put asunder, Lady Latham. I am too comfortable here." Miss Blenchley shrugged her shoulders, but it crossed her mind that this young savage was at least no muff. " Thank you," whispered Mary. " J changed the tickets. You don't eat much, do you ? " 150 THE GOLDEN PRIME. ''Lots. Why?" asked Pier, busy with his soup. "Because I never eat, and I had tea an hour ago. I thought you would talk to me.' "That can be done, if Miss Blenchley doesn't object." " Oh, not at all," replied that lady, haughtily. Pier saw that he had "put his foot in it." He looked at his partner, and their eyes met. "What I meant was," he said, laughing, " that my conversation is much better suited to Miss Latham's capacity than to Miss Blenchley's. I don't know anything about anything." " Not even manners ? " said the lady, icily. " Least of all, manners. They don't teach deportment at Oxford." "That's why you can get on with me, isn't it ? " asked Mary. " Tell me, you're a very clever boy, aren't you ? " CAST ADRIFT. 151 " Tell me, you're a very pretty little girl, aren't you ? " That opening didn't promise. The child laughed and said — "Not so little as I seem. I am nearly fourteen, and I shall begin to grow, and to walk, in another year. Where do you think I shall go, as soon as ever I am strong enough ? " " To your native fairy land, I should imagine," said Pier, admiring the exquisite beauty of the little face. " To Weybridge. And I shall stand on the lawn, under the chestnut trees ; and you will come galloping up, with a tremendous thud of horse's hoofs, and pass me like lishtnino-, bent down on the saddle-bow to avoid the branches. You will see then if I stand and cry. I shall run like the wind and laugh at you." " I hope I may be there to play my part, and applaud yours," said Pier. " Why, where should you be ? " 152 THE GOLDEN PKIME. '*Do you picture me to yourself," said Pier, laughing, '^ always jumping the sunk- fence, always frightening a little girl, and asking in vain the privilege of putting her in her carriage ? " " I don't like to be laughed at, but no one will ever see me evil-tempered again. What did you mean by saying, ' There is a com- bination of infirmities worse than being deaf and silly ' ? Does it apply to me ? " ''No; to a man." " What man ? And what is the com- bination ? " " I am the man, and the combination is roughness and want of sympathy." *' So you tell stories too ! I know very well what you meant, and I wished to tell you that it was a lesson. I shall never, never forget how manlike you were that day, Mr. Eawdon ! But you are only a boy," she added, with a pretty laugh. "Perhaps I shall grow, like you." *' Oh, you are tall enough. Now I will be CAST ADRIFT. 153 quiet and think, whilst you talk to Miss Blenchley." That lady meanwhile had tried her neigh- bour of the other flank, and found no solace there. What she overheard of Eawdon's conversation caused her to suspect that he might be amusing under proper treatment ; so she met him half way. "Do you know Mr. Morley of your college ? " said Miss Blenchley, after some skirmishing amongst flowers and theatres and books and scientific propositions, which Pier endured with difficulty. " Very well indeed. We were school- fellows." " They say he is to be married ? Do you know the lady ? " Carelessly and innocently as the words were spoken, Pier saw an open trap. His visits to Elf Cottage had not been unreported in the county. " She lived near Oxford, and I often met her. You will like Mrs. Lumley very much." 154 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " Every one likes her, don't they ? Some more than others, of course." " No doubt. She is a charming woman, and with her, if anywhere, we undergraduates might have learned what the professors don't teach us.'' " Love ? " " No ; manners. But some men, like other beasts, are unteachable." "You don't mean yourself?" " No one else, certainly. If you can't believe in such monsters, consider me as the last representation of my species, like the flying lizard." " 1 don't know anything about flying lizards; but you cannot be untamable — caught so young." " I said unteachable, but perhaps the words are synonymous. You flatter me with delusive hopes." " What, of being caught ? " " Of finding somebody who thinks me worth pursuing." CAST ADRIFT. 155 "Oil, sport is sport, whatever the game." " No doubt, but the sportsman compli- ments a rabbit by turning an elephant gun upon him." Mary Latham apparently had finished her meditations, for she observed abruptly — " I am not afraid of you when you stand on your own feet." " I should think not. Man is poor game. In the great day coming, devote yourself to hares. After hunting you can eat them." ''I wish I was eighteen years old." " Why ? " "To make you talk seriously. I think you would be w^ortli pursuing, Mr. Eawdon. I should like to try." "Is this a challenge ? Your time and place, donzella ? " " Anywhere, four years from to-day." "It is too early for both of us. I should give no sport ; and if I won the match your 156 THE GOLDEN PRIME. parents would plead infancy, and deny me the spoils." "You shall choose your own time." '* Say six years. Then we shall both be at our best." "Agreed. Oh, I will avenge myself! Take the conditions down." " I have no bettino^-book." " A cela ne Hens ! " Mary answered, ex- citedly. She produced a beautiful old set of tablets, ivory and gold, and wrote rapidly. " We will ' say, on my twentieth birthday. ' Mr. Pier Kawdon ' — • Have you any other name ^ " " Pier Marie. Let us be careful not to compromise my parent." " ' Mr. Pier Marie Rawdon undertakes to present himself before Miss Mary Latham, and '—what ? " " I'm sure I don't know." " ' And let her work her will ' " "Her wicked will." "^ Her will' " CAST ADRIFT. 157 " Her wicked will. I insist on that." " ' Her wickedest will upon him.' There ! Keep the record. I shall not forget." " It's a pledge/' answered Pier solemnly, pocketing tlie tablets, which he meant to return next day. " I shall now go and make my will. It is a duello to the death." " It is." " What nonsense is Mary saying to you ? She is the oddest child," said Lady Latham. " Quite the reverse of nonsense," Pier answered. " I " " It's a secret," Mary cried. "My mouth is sealed." "Have you heard anything of Garrow?" asked James Latham across the table. " He's in Abyssinia, pursuing the local sports," Pier answered. "They consist, he says, in base-ball, played with Brummagem muskets, beggar my neighbour, strip Jack naked, and cut with his wife. The only interruption to these games is caused by a stray lion, which plays trump, and generally 158 THE GOLDEN PE.TME. scores the o