Chapter IX.

Clutha Leader, Volume III, Issue 151, 1 June 1877, Page 3

Chapter IX.

YISCG-UNT TEMPLE. 'Gay doings were expected in Bedford How, in the house of Mr Serle, for his •eldest daughter, Charlotte, was about to be married to Walter St. George. The latter was now a partner, the firm being Serle and St. George. There were several years' difference between •his age and Charlotte's, but the attachment had begun in her childhood. Miss Danesbury was there on a visit : •she was to be one of the bridesmaids, It was the evening of a grand dinner party. The young ladies were up-stairs dressing, and Mrs Serle was about to go up for the same purpose. She was -a bustling manager, liked looking into things herself, had been very busy, and put off dressing till the last minute. She had a lot of silver forks in her hands, which she was about to take to the servants in the dining-parlour, but had stepped into the drawing-room first, for something she wanted there. Mr Serle came running up from the office, all in a hurry. ' Harriet, can you make room for another at dinnsr V 1 What an unreasonable question !' ejaculated Mrs Serle. after a pause of surprise. 'Of course I cannot.' 'It must be done, somehow,' returned her husband. 'It can't be done. I never heard of «uch a thing. We are just a dozen. Who wants to come V ' One of our best clients. Lord Temple.' Mrs Serle was considerably molified. Lords were not common articles on her "visiting- list. ' He has been getting into a scrape,' proceeded Mr Serle. 'He is always getting into scrapes ; like his father before him. And he has come to me to get him out of it.' * But is that any reason why you should ask him to dinner 10-day ? The table will only hold twelve, comfort' •ably/ ' There are writs out] against him,' said Mr Serle, dropping his voice to a whisper, ' and he dare not show his face in the street. The house is being ■watched now for him, and if he stirs out, he'll be arrested. Here he is. safely housed, and here he must stop till the thing is settled. I have told him we will give him a bed : and tomorrow he must remain quietly upstairs with you and the girls, and not come in view of the office. It will be utter ruin if he gets taken, and not much less so, if these Jews scent his hiding-place.' ' It is very awkward about the table,' remonstrated Mrs Serle, returning to the practical part of the affair j ' otherwise I should be proud to have him. The sets of glasses are only for twelve, &nd the dessert knives and forks ' ' Who looks at the pattern of a glass V interrupted the lawyer : ' and I'm sure you need not put me a desert knife and fork, for I never use them.' * The table will be so crowded, and — oh ! we should be thirteen ! It is the unlucky number. 7 I Unlucky fiddlestick !' retorted Mr Serle, who was growing provoked. 4 Just tell me what 1 am to do, will you ? There's Lord Temple down stairs, shut up in my private room, and in the house he must remain. Would you keep him there while we dine, and send him a mutton chop upon a tray ? Is that bow you would treat a British nobleman V ' Well, then, he must dine with us,' concluded Mrs Serle, balancing her exr ultation at showing- off a real live lord to her guests, against the inconveniences it would cause, and her dread of the popular superstition. *Is he old, or youno- ?' ' Young. What has that to do witth it?' I 1 wonder whether I could coax Louisa not to come in till desert/ continued Mrs Serle. lOf course you can, 7 returned ike. ' That will do. Wait a minute.' * She is not so easily coaxed, though, •and she has been wild over this dinner party. Oh, Matthew V i What now V asked he, turning back. ' I declare we have but twelve fingerglasses !' ' The dickens take the finger-glasses,' ■cried the vexed lawyer ; ' put me a slop basin. Wait there, I say.' 'Slop basin, indeed ! that's just said to aggravate me. And what am Ito wait here for ? I shall have the people arrive before I am ready. If I don't believe he is bringing the lord up now, -and I this figure ! Well, of all the idiots " Mrs Serle stopped, for the footsteps were close, and she strove to thrust the forks into her pocket, but they got entangled with her dress, and would not go in. She was fain to make the best of it, and held them out before her, very •consciously wishing Mr Serle at York. ' Mrs Serle 5 Lord Temple.' A tall, slender young 1 man of distinguished bearing entered; a very -aristocrat. His face was pale, and his j features were almost delicately beautiful, i his hair was dark and his eyes were grey. ' What apology must. I make for intruding upon you in this unceremonious manner V he said, in a voice as pleasing as his air was frank. 'Mr Serle has

been so kind as to say he will give me a bed to-night.'

' I am most happy to see your lordship. I hope you will be able to make yourself at home with us; we are only plain people," was Mrs Serle's confused reply, as she escaped from the room with the refractory forks. Mr Serle, apologising, also left it, and the Viscount remained alone. He sat, tilting his chair, and stretching and yawning : thp scrape he was in gave him some little concern, and he was sure this incarceration in his lawyer's house would prove " deuced slow." He had given his seat an extra tilt, and was in imminent danger of pitching over backwards, when the door opened, and a most beautiful girl appeared, quite as distinguished-looking as himself, her pink dress of rich and flowing material, and her necklace and bracelets of pearl. Up rose Lord Temple, the finished gentleman. The young lady hesitated. He was a stranger, and she had believed the drawing-room to be empty. ' Allow me to give you a chair,' he said. •* I have the honour of speaking to Miss Serle V ' No,' she replied. 'I am Miss Danesbury.' Charlotte Serle came in, 'and was soon followed by Louisa ; for Louisa had declined her mamma's suggestion, jof coming in with the dessert. The Viscount scanned the dresses of the three, I and suspected company. The next to appear was Mr Serle, in orthodox dinner costume. Lord Temple looked down at his own frock coat, and drew Mr Serle I outside the door. ' Have you visitors to-day V 1 Only a few, my lord.' * Then what am I to do 1 I am in morning dress. You said I should be quite en familie'' ' Your lordship's dress is all-sufficient. We do not stand upon ceremony in our house, or our visitors either. They will not look at your coat, my lord, after they hear your name.' Mr Serle spoke the last sentence in a joking tone ; but ho was always obsequfous to rank : to be so, was innate with him. ' Well — if Mrs Serle will excuse it. I must wash my hands, and be obliged to you for combs and brushes, and such things. There is no time to send to my house,' ' I will show your lordship to your room. It is ready.' * Who is that gentleman f inquired Isabel Danesbury. ' Don't know him from Adam,' was the response of Charlotte Serle. ' He is a stranger,' resumed Isabel, 1 for he addressed me as Miss Serle.' *' I never saw him before. He has on a curious dress, if he has come to dinner. But he is evidently a gentleman.' *It is some grand client of papa's,' interposed Louisa Serle. ' Mamma came to me, all in flurry, when I was in the nursery, having my hair done, and wanted me not to go down to dinner. The idea ! Some important client had dropped in, she said, and was asked to dinner, and she did not like to have the table in a squeeze, and would not sit down thirteen. I told her there would be no squeezing at all, but plenty of room, and thirteen was as lucky as twelve. So I finished diessing and came down.' ' I like his appearance very much,' remarked Isabel. * What is his name, Louy V asked Charlotte. ' I forget. He is out of the common way, a duke, or a prince, or a something : at any rate, a nobleman.' Charlotte laughed. ' Louisa is rather given to romancing, Isabel. We never have noblemen here.' As she was speaking, Mr St. George entered. A little man with a thin face, and keen, expressive, dark eyes. ' Walter,' said his bride elect, *" who is this client, come unexpectedly to dine with us V 1 Viscount Temple.' 1 A viscount ! Louy's tale was not all a romance, then.' The guests assembled. When dinner was announced, Lord Temple, who ought, in right of his rank, to have taken Mrs Serle, drew back in all the humility of his frock coat, and she was handed in by a big and burly Queen's counsel. The viscount looked among the young ladies, and offered his hand to Isabel- [ So they sat together and coversed together, mutually pleased. Opposite to Isabel was her brother William, a remarkably handsome young man, though not quite so tall as Arthur. He had inherited his mother's soft dark eyes, and her beautiful cast of countenance, he had even her delicatety-formed lips * but while hers had spoken firmness, William's told of irresolution. ' Tell me who all those people are, 1 whispered Lord Temple to Isabel. * I do not know the strangers,' she replied. •* Only the Series, Mr St. George, and my brother. That is my brother sitting opposite to. me.' ' A Mr Serle, is he V * No,' laughed Isabel, A I told you I was Miss Danesbury. He is William Danesbury.' ■** I really beg your pardon. Thrown amidst so many people at once, it has made me confuse names, St. George is to marry one of the Series, is he not V 'Yes; the one with the dark hair, sitting next to him.' ' You do not reside here ?' * I reside at Eastborough.' * Eastborough — ' spoke Lord Temple,

half to himself — ' Danesbury 1 Eastborough ? why, you must be related to Arthur Danesbury !' ' He is my dear brother,' answered Isabel. * If we were not in a crowd, I should take both your hands and cordially shake them,' exclaimed Lord Temple, his face, his eyes, his whole countenance lighting up with animation ; * whatever you might think of me, I could not help doing it for Arthur's sake. We were together at Cambridge. You must have heard him speak of me.' Isabel reflected. 'I do not remember that I have,' she answered. * Your name appeared strange to me, when it was mentioned this evening,' ' Oh — I was not Lord Temple then, My father was alive. I was Mr Dacre.' ' You never can be Reginald Dacre !' uttered Isabel, * Reginald Dacre is no other than my unworthy self. Very unworthy indeed, Miss Danesbury, if you knew all Arthur could tell you. He was a true friend to me, and saved me from many a pitfall. "My good guardian," I used to call him ; and such he was.' j ' He is very good to every one,' said Isabel. 1 1 am so glad to have met you,' continned Lord Temple. ' I have not seen Danesbury since we parted at Cambridge, though I have often thought, since my return from abroad, of looking him up. Arthur Danesbury is almost tbe only man I ever had a respect for.' * I hope not,' remarked Isabel. 'It does not say much for your circle of friends/ 'He is, though. And now that I am told of the relationship, I can detect your likeness to him. You are very like him, Miss Danesbury. Your brother, opposite, is not,' 'He is not, I think. I and Arthur resemble papa : and William, they say, is the very image of what poor mamma was.' ' You have lost your mother V i When William was a baby.' 4 Now that I have heard oi Arthur, I shall not rest till I have paid him a visit. You will find me intruding some day upon you, Miss Danesbury.' ' Danesbury House will be very pleased to welcome you. And, if you respect and like Arthur, I am sure you will respect and like papa.' * I thought my sojourn in Bedford Row would have turned out unmitigatedly dull,' candidly spoke the young nobleman, ' but I need not fear that now, with you to talk to, and Arthur for the theme.' ' Are you going to stay here ?' she inquired, in surprise. 1 For a day or two. Serle and St. George are my solicitors, and are arranging some business matters for me. Will you introduce me to your brother William after dinner?' ' Certainly I will.' * You do not drink your wine,' observed ' Lord Temple, perceiving that, however often Isabel complied with the request to take wine, the quantity in her glass was never sensibly diminished, and the space to be filled up each time got less, instead of greater. * Thank you : I do not like wine.' ' Not like wine !' ' I never drink it by choice. At a dinner-table such as this, I sip it, not to appear singular, but I do not like it well enough to do more than just put my lips to it/ ' I never heard of such a thing as not liking wine,' replied Lord Temple. 1 What do you like V ' « Water.' ' I wonder you can choose anything so insipid. Arthur never drank anything* but water, I remember.' ■ Never. He is more particular than I. I almost call it one of the points in j Arthur', religion, to drink simple water.' * But why V enquired Lord Temple, j ' For one thing, we were brought up ! to drink it : as children, neither beer ! nor wine was erer given to us; we were not suffered to know the taste of them. And," added Isabel, sinking her voice, ** the very last words mamma ever said to Arthur, were an injunction not to drink anything but water.' _' When she was dying ?' ! 'Oh no. She was quite well ; as well as we are now, and had been din- j ing at this very table, for we were here on a visit. But mamma received a summons home, and she took leave of me and Arthur, and left us here, and started. Before she reached East- j borough, it had happened. The chaise was overturned, and mamma killed.' ' How shocking ! how distressing !' uttered Lord Temple, his countenance betraying its sad interest. i We were only children,' continued Isabel 'Mamma feared that in her absence Mr and Mrs Serlo might be giving us wine and porter, and she whispered to Arthur, in the moment of her departure, not to touch either ; and he promised. The words, though only meant, at the time she spoke them, to apply to the period she expected to be away from us, Arthur has always regarded as a dying injunction, and he has never transgressed it. He is a strict water drinker.' 'And you and Arthur really like water, better than anything stronger V Isabel smiled. *We like water much, and we do not like stronger things. The taste for water, which of course is born with every one, mamma took care should be cultivated in our childhood. She deemed it most essential to bring children up to like water,. and squally

essential not to let them acquire a pre - dilection for ale and wine.' 'Well, all this sounds like a new theory to me,' said Lord Temple, good humouredly, though, Isabel thought, j not altogether in belief. ' I fancy it must be pleasant to like water as a beverage ; convenient at times. But your brother, there, does not confine himself to water,' he added, for he saw that William Danesbury drank as much wine as the rest at the table, ' No,' replied Isabel. 6 Papa's second wife has had the bringing up of William, and she does not approve of the water-drinking system. She is Mrs Serle's sister.' And thus they continued to. converse, upon one topic or another, . until the ladies rose. It was Lord Temple who, oblivious of his frock-coat, held the door open for them as they filed out of the room. ' You very essence of all flirtation !' uttered Charlotte Serle to Isabel, the moment they reached the drawingroom. ' Had you and Lord Temple been old friends, meeting after a long absence, or on the point ot marriage, as I. and Walter are, you could not have been more wrapt up in each other.' ' A great deal less, before you all, had we been on the point of marriage,' merrily laughed Isabel. 'But we really did not seem unlike friends, meeting after an absence, though I never saw him till this evening. Before we had spoken many words, he discovered that I was Arthur Danesbury's sister ; and I, that he was the Reginald Dacre of Arthur's college days. They were close friends at Cambridge : Lord Temple says he never had so true a one.' ' But you must have known that Reginald Dacre was Lord Temple's son,' observed Mrs Serle, ' Of course I knew it at the time,' redlied Isabel ; ' but the title had quite slipped from my memoi*y.' ' How singular!' exclaimed xYfrs Serle. ' Such chance encounters do sometimes, happen, though. Mr Serle is as Lord Temple's right hand, and does everything for him,' she added for the benefit of 'her guests. 'He has recently ascended to the estates.' ' Such as they are,' spoke the Queen's counsel's wife. ' His father was a poor man — made himself poor ; gamed, drank, and squandered his money. Lord Temple — the present lord — was the only child, has come into a dilapidated purse ; and is as careless and hare-brained as his father was before him.' ' He seems .a very delightful young man,' quoth one of the ladies. ' Yes. But he made a hole in his manners to-day ; coming to a dinnerparty in a frock-coat.' 'It was a misapprehension,' interposed Mrs Serle, not choosing to be more explanatory. 'He expected a quiet chop with Mr Serle, and did not go home to dress. He talked about about not appearing, when he found we had friends, but Mr Serle assured him — you know he is fond of a jest — that when the visitors had heard his name, they wonld not see his coat. Miss Danesbury, will you give us some music ?' Lord Temple did not leave Mr Serle's at the end of a day or two. His affairs were in a more intricate state than Mr Serle had supposed, and not until the eighth day was" he at liberty to depart* He had not failed to improve his acquaintance with Isabel Danesbury. Indeed, it was no longer acquaintance, or friendship either : it had grown into love. Ay, love on both sides, short as the period had been. But they had been very much together. Mrs Serle and her daughters had been fully engaged with the preparations for Charlotte's wedding ; and Isabel was requested, as a general favour, to entertain the guest, that they might be more at liberty. She complied, nothing* loath, for she had never met with any one she liked so well as Lord Temple. She did not care to analyse her pleasant sensations ; he did not care to analyse his. To analyse anything was not in Lord Temple's line. They only felt that the presence of the other was becoming strangely dear, and, by the time the eight days had gone by, too dear to be relinquished. The first use Lord Temple, impetuous in all he did, made of his liberty, was to hasten down to Eastborough, and lay his proposals for Isabel before Mr Danesbury. Arthur Danesbury was inexpressibly ' surprised : surprised at the sight of his | former friend, and at his proposing for Isabel after so short a knowledge of her. Mr Danesbury could say little, for or against, Lord Temple being to him a complete stranger. He enquired privately of Arthur what character he bore at college, and what his principles were. ' He was no worse than many another at college,' was Arthur's reply ; ' better than some. His chief fault lay in being so easily led away.' ' Is he one to whom we should give Isabel V'As he was then, no ; as he might have been, yes,' ansvyered Arthur. 1 His faults were not grievous, ones. They were what are looked upon hy the world with a lenient eye. Years "have passed since then, and he had excellent seeds in his heart ; quite sufficient to root out the tares.' Mr Danesbury looked perplexed. ' The question is, has he suffered the seeds to bear fruit,' he gravely said, 'or: are the tares there still ?' * If they are there yet, the good must

be well nigh overrun,' was Arthur's comment. 'He has many good points. He is frank and truthful, and full of honour.' | ' I shall write and enquire of Mr Serle what he knows ol his private character,' said Mr Danesbury. ' Lord Temple frankly states that his affairs are such that he cannot marry yet, for Iris father's death left all in confusion, and it will take take time to get them even tolerably straight.' 1 He informs me that he has made himself answerable for some of his father's liabilities,' observed Arthur, ' He used to be generous to a fault. Suppose, sir, you accept him conditionally V ' Yes, I think that must be it, I will tell him that if we hear nothing to his disadvantage I will say yes, after a while. If is a higher alliance than a Danesbury could have expected ; but I look to Isabel's happiness, not to her grandeur/ Lord Temple went over the extensive works. He was pleased with all he saw. He appeared not to share in the popular prejudice which men of his rank hold ag-ainst commerce. ' I should think it an honour to be a second Danesbury/ he remarked to Arthur, with whom tie was alone, and very much in earnest he appeared when he spoke it : ' and a lucky thing for me if it were so, for it would keep me out oi idleness.' * Dacre/ returned Arthur Danesbury, in a grave voice, ' have you sown your wild oats ? Answer me truly, because, if not, you know that you are no fit husband for my sister.' ( I have sown most of them,' replied Lord Temple, ' and what few may cling to me still, a wife will, of necessity dissipate.' * It is a serious thing to us, Dacre, to give away Isabel, Though pray forgive my still calling you " Dacre," ' Arthur broke off to say ; ' I cannot rid my tongue and memory of the old familiar name. And. were one to receive the gift who proved afterwards proved unworthy of it, it would break some of our hearts.' ' She shall find me all she could wish,' returned Lord Temple, in his impetuous fashion. ' I would go through fire and water for her.' Arthur Danesbury doubted his lordship's being called upon to undergo the suggested ordeals. ( Would you go through self-denial for her ?' he asked. * I would go through anything and everything for Isabel. Mr Danesbury need not doubt me. She is the first woman who ever touched my heart, and I swear that I will do all in my power to make her happy.' Viscouat Temple was soon back in London, whither Arthur accompanied him. He — her lover — informed Isabel that her father had no objection to him, and they plighted their troth. Mr Serle had written word, in answer to Mr Danesbury's application, that he knew nothing unfavourable of Lord Temple. The true fact was, that he knew nothing whatever of his private habits, except that he got out of money. And Isabel Danesbury returned home, after Charlotte Serle's mnrriage, an engaged girl. But now, what was, in reality, the daily life of Lord Temple ? He was an idle nobleman. Had he been trained to engage in any pursuit, he would have been a different nian. Want of occupation rendered him indolent, and an easily-swayed disposition led him into sin : few men but could resist temptation better than Viscount Temple. Let us glance at four-and- twenty hours of his life, and that will serve for an illustration of all. A choice knot of young men had assembled to dine at the bachelor residence of Sir Robert Payn ; a wealthy commoner, of extensive purse, fastidious taste, and fast habits. The half-dozen guests collected, of whom Lord Temple made one, were all of fast habits likewise. Look at the preparations for the dinner : the costly table with its costly appurtenances. Silver ornaments; silver dishes; brilliant glass, richly cut ; superb china from the fair manufactories of Worcester ; with damask linen of rare beauty ! The fittings-up of the room were luxurious ; and 'the peculiar paintings on the walls, though finished and beautiful as to their execution, would have told that their owner was an unmarried man. The preparation of wines was great. There was champagne, and there was sparkling Bur- , gundy ; Madeira, and golden sherry, and heady port ; with the array of lighter wines from France, claret, Bordeaux 5 too many sorts to be named. Bottles of foaming ale were under the sideboard, and spirits stood on it in their handfome stands. The dinner was "most rechercke ; Sir Robert's entertainments always were ; and the guests did it ample justice. They all drank deeply ; not certainly to intoxication ; that v> ould have been a sin against good manners at that hour of the evening ; and custom enabled them to drink much, with impunity. After a potent cup of coffes and a glass of rich liqueur, they went put ; to the opera, to the green room of a favoured theatre, or to look in for half an hour at some of the entertainments, held that night by the noble and great. That over, the night-work began: their clubs; their geming houses; their questionable saloons ; and the supper, the finish up. The less said about these suppers the better. It was a motly scene : gentlemen and -ladies, eating, laughing, and getting tipsy together : red and white wines, ales, spirits, and showers of

brandy and champagne. Lord Temple's coroneted cab was waiting- for him outside, amidst a crowd of other cabs, and wait it did till morning- light. The grooms and servants in attendance on the cabs sometimes got loud and quarrelsome, for they also must while away the midnight hours in drink, while waiting for their masters. Daylight broke, and the lords came forth : some had to be helped into the cabs by their servants, little more sober than themselves. Lord Temple pitched into his, and was driven home. His valet assisted him to undress, and he got into bed at an hour when less exalted people were beginning their day. He awoke with aching head and^evered tongue. What was the time 1 Eleven. And he turned round and closed again his heavy eyes. Later, he struggled up, dressed, and went into the breakfast room, not inclined to eat; on the contrary, shuddering at the displayed viands on the table. As he stood there, wif.h his hands in his pockets, George Eden dropped in, one of the last night's party, with the same burning head and shaking frame. It was those cursed cigars made me ill — it was the adulterated wins — it was tbeimpure brandy; the fellow aC the '• Finish " ought to have his license stopped for supplying such : it was anything, in short, but the quantity they took, and, of course, it was not that. Certainly not: nobody ever acknowledged to such an imputation yet. What could they take now ? A glass of hock, said George Eden ; brandy and soda water, said Lord Tempie, and his servant supplied them. They were not fit for anything ; they did confess that ; and the horses were ordered round, that they might go for a long bracing ride The fresh air blew on their heated brows, and made other men of them, but they were awfully thirsty, and they called for some half-and-half at more than one roadside inn. They got back to town in time to pay some morning visits (morning-, as they are called), and they looked in at the clubs for a gossip, and idled away an hour in the betting rooms, leaving time for the display in the park. Then came round the late dinner hour, and they sat down to it, as on the previous evening, though not at Sir Robert Payn's, and afterwards finished up the night solen les regies. But what reckoning was it that he was laying up for himself? Time wasted, powers prostrated, talents thrown away ? Lord Temple's intellect was fine, and his heai'fc good, but what use was he making of them ? He never cast a thought to the solemn warning that " for all these things God would surely bring him to judgment." (To be continued.)