The Select of Whitmore Chase.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume XII, Issue 497, 5 August 1867, Page 1

The Select of Whitmore Chase.

A TALE OF ENGLAND & AULf’EALLA. Br B, E. Lrs Author of “A Tangled Skein,” WBITTEN FOB THE HAWKE’S BAT WiEKIT TIMES. Theright of translation is reserved bg..the author. the fatal step. apartments in Hyde. Park Gardens occupied by Philip Wliitmore, presented vS? in their appearance an indication of his character. Though elegantly furnished, ,v 1 the costly articles were scattered about '> a supreme contempt for their value or ! the preservation of order. A pair of muddy boots bad left their legible impress on a richly covered ottoman; while a college “ pewter,” placed on a valuable engraving, introduced into its foreground i beery circle. Whips, spurs, boxing gloves, and fencing foils, bore testimony to Whitmore’s taste fur muscular Christianity ; while an easel and palette, with several half finished studies, attested ids fitful ■penchant for art. On the mantelpiece stood a letter-rack full of epistles, some of which were ominiuously indicative of the “ dun.”

The proprietor of this heterogenous collection was seated at breakfast with his friend Luscomhe. Whitmore appeared thoughtful; and his companion, after several unsuccessful attempts to draw him into conversation, apparently pave up the idea in despair, and devoted Ins energies to a Strasbourg pale and pule ale, t he latter of which he drank with great gusto, and a tacit signification of disgust for tea and coli'ee, which he classed under the generic name of “ slops.” “ Come, old fellow,” at length Luscomhe said, pushing away his plate, and lighting a cigar, “ this is going too far. What is the matter ? Has the governor cut up rough, or are those infernal duns at it again ? You look as if you were going to have the yellow fever—- “ ’Twas such a mug—so wan and woebegone— Drew I’riam’s curtains in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy—"

Pshaw,” interrupted Whitmore, with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile, “ I suppose I have got a touch of the blues.”

“ Try some ‘ sparkling,’ my boy,” his friend replied, “ that’s my recipe for ennui. I’ll tell you what we will do. Jack Rochford has asked me to dine with him at the ‘ Star and Garter’ to-day. He will he glad to see you, and we intend to have some fun when we return to town. By the bye, did you hear of Rochford’s performance last uight ?” “No,” rejoined Whitmore, “something eccentric, as usual, I suppose ?” “Well, you see,” Luscomhe replied, “it occurred in this way, Grey, wuo does the Opera for the ‘ Daily Crusher,’ called at Rochford’s chambers on his road to the Haymarket, and Burden and Moore happened to he there. Grey had a box for the night, so the oilier fellows went with him. Alter Grey had seat in liis enfitjur, they went to supper at Sou’s, and Koch ford got rather A nubibus ; in tact, they were all preth full. Some dispute arose as to who should p.iv for the supper, and Rochfonl proposed that ail lour should get inside a four wheeler, tell the cabby lo drive on, close the windows, and smoke away like Mount Etna ; the first man opening the window for air to pay for the supper amt cab.” “ A pleasant arrangementsaid Whitmore drilv.

" Wasn’t it a grand idea ?” continued Luseombe, unsuspectingly. “ Well, they went abend until passing the cab-stand opposite Devonshire House, when Moore was obliged to gi-e in ; he put his fist through the window. The cabby opened the door, and found the other throe insensible ; but a few buckets of water brought them round, and Moore had to stump up. lie told me that lie would not try it again at any price.” “ I should imagine not,” replied Whitmore, “ no one bat Rochford would have thought of such a thing." A servant entered with a letter, which lie gave to V.Tiitmore, who opened and road it. As he did so, Luscomhe observed him change countenance. “ 1 snail not be able to go with you to Richmond,” said Whitmore, when he had finished perusing the note. “ I must leave town for a few days.’ “ No tad news, I hope,” his frieud observed. “ Not exactly that,” was tiie reply, “ but a business matter, to which I mustattond immediately.”! “ In that case I will be otf,” said Luscomhe, rising, “ I must be at the Academy at two. Of course you will call on me when you return P” “ Certainly Whitmore replied, and Luscomhe left the room. “ This settles the matter !” Whitmore muttered, when alone, re-opening the letter he hud received. “I suppose that meddling'.brother of mine has found some clue, and has beeu hinting his suspicions.”

The letter was from his father, and ran thus :

“My dear Philip,—l am sorry to say that 1 have received had accounts of your proceedings in London, which are confirmed hy intelligence from my bankers of the heavy sums for which you have lately drawn on me. Kow, 1 make no complaint respecting the money; you know that I preferred you to amuse yourself ter a season in town i ustead of laboriously toiling at a profession which, however honorable, is unsuited to a young man in your position.

"As 1 have been thus indulgent to you, I expect something from you in return. You express a dislike to the idea of entering the Guards, and even in that matter I will give way to your wishes, Oil Otic COliuiuOu. a iCci iiiyhCif iswlit uauj* ucCuiiling worse ; and though your brother is very attentive to me, and remarkably steady, it i s my w j su to see my elder son—the inheritor of my title and estates—take his acknowledged position ir. u ie county before I die. This, therefore, is my proposition. iteturn to Westmorland, and fulfil Uiu mutual wish of General Kobartes and myseli by marrying Miss Kobartes. 1 remember you aumircd me young iady when you were down here last year; 1 have reason to know that Miss] Eobarle’s consent will not be very diefleuit to I gain ; and the acquisition of the General's estates will make you the first man in the comity. Yon can enter Parliament, and with the influence you will command may attain a high position. “ 1 am anxious for you to adopt this course, not only for your own sake, but on your brother’s account. In his future profession, the law, your influence will he of great advantage t o him; since «it iiongh the estates are not entailed. I consider they should remain undivided, to support in proper dignity tne he d of the family; and I shall therefore be able to leave Beec.ham but a very [small sum. I trust, therefore, that you will answer this letter in person; aud by complying [with my wish, benefit yourself, and gratify what ju probably the last request X may make."

Whitmore gazed thoughtfully at the letter for some moments. “It is true,” he said, abstractedly, “ Miss Ilobartes is a pretty girl, and such a marriage would double my future income; but then—”

i^ii. „.,r r,7w./ Had lie possessed SiauiCioul resolution to obey his ‘father’s request, what misery, nay, crime might have been avoided. To him might have been applied with peculiar fitness the words, “ Unstable as water, thou shall not excel.”

“ I will see Ellen,” at length he sdd, “ aud let her know bow lam situated ; her !- uud sense will shew her that our separation is unavoidable. It would not be right to leave London without explaining to her the position of affairs.”

After some further deliberation lie wrote a note and gave it to Ids servant, directing the man to take it to the “ Cromwell’s Head,” and watch for an opportunity of delivering it to Miss Needham privately. Tile man was absent some hours, and Whitmore paced the room in deep thought until ids return. “ Well,” he impatiently exclaimed, as his messenger entered the room, “ did you see Miss Needham ?”

“ I did,’; was the reply, “ and she said she couldn’t write an answer, but would be there.”

A short tune alterwards Whitmore left the house.

The note which he had sent to Ellen contained the following words—

“ Since I last saw yon somethin" has occurred which renders it Imperatively necessary for me to have some conversation witu you. t will be at the cottage of your old friend, Mrs Ardent, ou Sunday alternuou ; do not fail to come, as it is a very Important mailer."

| Ihe two days preceding the one on which the hippo.utmeat was made were passed by 'Whitmore in a miserable stale of indecision, lie tried to persuade himself that he merely wished to sec Ellen in order to explain his position to her, and to part us friends; hut it he had examined his own heart more closely he would have discovered there a lingering hesitation which might at any moment hurry him iuto a different course. In this frame of mind he found Inmseif at the place of appointment. Sirs Argent hud attended Mrs Needham at the time of Ellen’s birth, and was tlie only friend of her own sex to whom the poor girl could look for counsel. It was unfortunate tor Ellen that -Mrs Argent was likely to prove an ally of Whitmore’s in the present instance. Though well meaning, the old lady entertained the common idea of tin; lower class, that it was a “great catch” for a friendless girl to marry a rich man ; and hence she used all her influence to persuade Ellen that she ought at once to “ clinch the matter,” as she expressed it. She \vas dilating upon her young friend’s good qualities to W hitmore, when the door opened, and Ellen entered the room. At the sight of her beautiful face all her lover’s prudent resolutions immediately vanished.

“ lon can remain, if you please, Mrs Argent,” •said Whitmore, as the old lady rose to leave the room. “ Ellen may probably need your advice, and I wish her to weigh well u hut I have to propose ”

He took Ellen’s hand, an 1 wadked with her to the window. A long conversation ensued between Ellen and her lover, the miter appearing to be urging some request to which she dissented. At length Wm;nnire said earnestly, “I cannot see why you still rctusc. lam certain mv lather will forgive me «lien he knows Imn positively married; whereas if I return to Westmorland single, he will find some way of forcing this 1 match upon me.” ••i-orcc!” exclaimed Ellen, in a (one of surprise, “is that a word for a i.im to n.-e ?”

Whitmore appeared confusM. “ Tue truth is,” lie replied, “ that I shall he constantly badgered and baited until I consent to what he desires ; or exasperate him by refusing. You say it is only on my account that you hesitate, but surely von must perceive the truth of what 1 tell you.” “ It you really believe that it is tor vour own happiness, I will make no further objections returned Eilea, “hut I entreat you to consider well ere you take, the irrevocable step. You kno w your hit herbs disposition, and are the best judge of the prudence of such a measure.” ” Have no. tears upon that score,” replied Whitmore. “ lie may fume a little at first, hut be caauot see you ana remain long augrv. Wuat is your opinion, Mrs Argent p" J ims appealed to, the old lady, as Whitmore expected, gave her strung support to an immediate marriage \ and alter some hesitation, and mauv tears, Ellen at. length gave a reluctant consent.

Li the parish church, a few days afterwards, with tiic clerk, pew-opener, and Mrs Argent as witnesses, was solemnised the marrr'ge between Elieu Xccdham and J'aiiip Whiimore, contracted by the natte r in jve.jiou and disobedience, and fraught with terrible consequences lo both.

CHAPTER 111. “ IHSIXIIERITID," , -e.' til BRY AN WHITMORE belonged to one of the most ancient families in Westjnorland. He claimed descent on the a'uiaic side from John de Eoix, a Treuchh man, who was raised lo the dignity of Earl j'of Kendal by Henry VI., iu recognition of i his services during the Trench wars. The estates formerly owned by the Whitmores had been of great extent, but a portion of them had been confiscated to the Crown through the political conduct, of a former proprietor. Sir James Whitmore, who took part with Derwent water and N'itlusdale in their gallant but unsuccessful risiiiu, and the remainder of the property was only preserved by the opportune marriage of Sir James witu a daughter of one of the most powerful of Hanoverian courtiers. Sir Bryan succeeded to an estate, thes rgnt-roil of which amounted to nearly cjc'lit thousand n vc&r. It socintxi nn thing ialuis family to allow the estates to tk-sceml with the title to liie eldest son, though they were not entailed.

Whitmore Chase, Sir Bryan’s seat, was situated close to-Windermere, in the heart of that district which inspired with its beauty the minds of the '"Lake school” ot poets. Within a snort distancestood Kytlai iMouct, WordsMnrtu’s picturesque [dwelling; while Whitmore Chase itself was not ihe least striking point in the inimitable landscape.. The house was built on a gently ascending elevation ; and its picturesque architecture carried the minds of visitors back to the days of the •megen age, when the gaily attired knights and ladies thronged the green lawn in front of the mansion falcon on wrist, or rode forth m stately cavalcade to enjoy the pleasures of the chase. Trom the tower crowning the house a line view of Windermere couid be obtained, with its lucid waters sparkling and flashing in the sunlight, while the undulating landscape stretched in every direction, famishing a subject worthy the pencil* of Claude lioname or oar own Gainsborough,'

About a fortnight after the events described in onr last chapter. Sir Bryan was seated in his horary. An opened letter was before him, and judging from the expression of his features, its contents were anything but agreeable. Suddenly Tic iO»c, aau i<tug Ur; fjeil. led Mr Beecham I wish to see !dmhe said to the servant who answered the summons. Shortly afterwards Beeeham vFhifmnre tile library. He was not unlike his brother Philip in personal appearance ; but Ids features wore a very different expression. Determinationj unu enut were perceptible beneath the insincere smile with which he sought to mask his real nature.

oir Bryan motioned Ids son to a seat; Beecham obeyed, ami remained silent, waiting for Ids father to speak. So the many hints you have given me concerning I’idlip have proved true;” said the baronet, alter a long silence, during which he had been regarding Ids son intently. “ I suppose vou know all about the affair ?”

“ I really do not ; was the reply. “ I beard t!d: morning from a friend in London that Philip was married, bar I did not entertain the slightest idea that he would take such a step, in direct opposition to the wish yon expressed to Idm.” “ And I suppose you could have given me no ' information in time to prevent this disgraceful proceeding?” demanded Sir Bryan suspiciously. "I sincerely wish I had been‘able to do so;” replied Beechani, “but even if I had been informed that Philip was about to commit such u rash net, 1 think I should have treated the idea as too preposterous for belief.”

.Sir Bryan eyed his son narrowly for som moments.

“ It matters not,” he said, rr length, “ though I have my doubts on tin; matter. Your brotlmr has ilisgrae. dt he name he hears; I disown him. I have now hut one son ; hr him remember,and take warning by the consequences of his brother’s ftdiv.”

Beecham muttered something, apparently interceding for Philip. “ No more,” thundered the baronet, “ I doubt your sincerity ; would that I could believe yon knew not of this before I heave the room, and remember my warning.”

Beeclmm rose, and quitted the apartment, and a smile ol gratiimii malice overspread his features as he cli is.ai I he uuor.

“ At last I have succeeded,” ho inr.ltered, “ and this fair estate will he mine ; but much remains to he accomplished before I can feel mv position secure. The least oa’-nee on my part, and the old min uill again receive his p a into favour. I must see Philip, .and persuade li:m to keen out of the way ;or stay, perhaps—” and lie remained silent fur some time, in deep thought. “ I b.ave it!” he suddenly exclaimed, “(lie sight ot Philip while 1 1 is wounded pride is vet green will inilame the old man to madness. Liiilip is hasty, and—l will write to him at once.”.

He hastily penned tho following note to hi brother, and despatched it to the post-office ;

"My dear Knitter, —I am deeply evievod to find that you have ollended our excellent f.uher, hv rendering impossible tlie accomplishment of his dearest wi-.i. 1 have attempted to intercede for you. but in vain; I am suspected of comp n ity — ton know how innocently. Ifyoe, will unLow 1113' advice, come at oneo and ask bis pardou; your presence may ctfeet mucii, and I re illy sco no other way than this. 1 wish particularly to see vou before sir Kryan does; tiler, fire when you arrive remain at the inn at Sedgwic*, and sired over to the Chase for me."

“ That will do,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands, “ I will work- upon the fool so Unit lie will destroy Ins only hope ; and even if my fattier sees the letter lie can only attribute i. to brotherly alfeetioi . Brotherly affection I” he added, with a -ueer, “ a younger son cannot afford to include it m his list of virtues!”

Two days alter the letter had been despatched the expected messenger arrived, and ufiveham hastened to meet his brother. Philip was very pale ; the crisis was at hand on winch las fate depended, and now that he hail gamed the prize so long sought, he had more seriously considered its probable cost.

“ What does my father say p” lie eagerly asked, grasping his brother’s extended hand. Beecuani shook his head. “ You must be very careful,” he answered ; “ sec him, and acknowledge manfully that your happiness was involved iu tirematter. Aoove p.il tilings maintain an air of independence, ami do not admit that you have done wrung. Insist upon your right of choosing fur yourself; and though he may at first he. augrv. he will admire your struighttonvariiucss upon ivdreticle.”

“ But should he refuse to acknowledge mer” said Philip, ruefully. “To tell you the truth, my dear hrolher. I hurried into this marriage without reflecting upon its consequences ; and now I sec too plainly that i stand a fa.r chance of becoming a beggar.” Beecliain took his brother’s hand, and said, with what he intended to represent an affectionate Miiiie, and which imposed upon the credulous : I’mlip, “ You were never remarkable for deliberation or calculation, my dear Philip ; and I supiposc, with your usual fickleness, you are already beginning to repeal this match T”

Philip coloured, but made a gesture of dissent, and llcecham continued : “ Do not lead Sir Bryan to suppose so ; you would only heighten nis exasperation if he believed you had sacrificed his. wishes to a transient passion. , v tfce him, and adopt the course I have pointed tint, and should his anger continue fora time, rely upon me to act as a brother should do in such an emergency. You know I do hot spend hilt my allowance, aud to what better purpose pan I apply it P” Philip, overcome by this unexpected kindness, accompany me to the Chase p”

“ Noreplied Beecham, “ I must not appear to have seen you, or Sir Bryan may susn.vt us of collusion. Go at once, and i will remain here until vmir return.”

Philip left the inn, and took his way in the direction of Whitmore Chase, pondering as he wont on the most likely means of averting Ins lather’s anger. A vague rumour was prevalent anion" the household servants (who. are often as well informed upon such subjects as their masters) that Philip had offended Ins father ; anil toe footman who opened the aoor cast an enquiring look upon his young master.

“ Is my lather at homo?” Philip asked. “ Yes, sir, lie is in the library,” was the reply :< Shall I announce vou ?”

" f wall announce myself.” returned the young man, ascending the stairs. The fpotraan shrugged his shoulders, and hurried to the kitchen with the news. Sir Bryan w as regarding with a mournful .gaze a small p unting which he held in link hand. It represented a boy about ten years age, mounted on a Shetland pony, which he was leapdug across the prostrate trunk of m oak; his

long flaxen curls streaming in the wind, and a merry smile on his handsome face. The baronet groaned. “ Stung to the heart,” he exclaimed, “ by the viper I have reared.” A footstep behind him caused Sir Bryan to start; he turned, and beheld his son Philip. A pause of some moments ensued ; fierce emotions were warring within their breasts, forbidding-

At length, with an effort. Sir Bryan drew" himself up, and assuming an air of hauteur , said, “ To what motive may 1 attribute this unlocked for visit ?” “ Father!” said the young man, imploringly, “ have you no word of forgiveness for mo ? True, I have offended you, crossed your purpose, and destroyed your plans, but be not merciless. In all else I null cheerfully obey you, but mau’s affections are not within his own control. Consent to see my wife ere you decide ; her beauty and gentleness will induce you to forgive us.” “ Have yon anything further to say ?” Sir Bryan enquired, when his sou paused. Surely I need say no more,” replied Philip, You wish me to give up painting, I will cheerfully do so, enter Parliament, comply with every wish you may express; nay, anticipate your wishes—”

“Hoid!” interrupted Sir Bryan. “I have thus far patiently listened to you because I expected to bear some reasonable excuse for the intrusion of one who might at least have had the grace to remain in the class of society he has chosen. Now, mark well my words. I have but one son, his name is Beechara Whitmore; it is he who will succeed to my estates, and maintain thehonor of my name. As to you, I know you m> more, I disown you. Your future path lies with. y«mr drunken companions at the alehouse, the menial of which you have chosen to wed. You start I lam aware of more than yon imagine. This much 1 will do, that as the future Lady Whitmore—" and he pronounced the name with sneering emphasis,—-'will no doubt wish to return to her former occupation, I will advance you a sulhcient sum to embark in that business to which she is accustomed, providing you resign the name you have degraded. I dismiss you from my memory, and consider yon but as this, a thing of the past.” He threw (lie picture on the carpet, and ground it beneath his heel.

The c'.'i'i-ct of this withering speech upon Philip was such as alight have been anticipated by any person acquainted with his cliaracter. Prudence, his future prospects, every cautious feeling vanished, and he rejoined passionately, “I scorn your sneers, and treat your ironical offer with contempt, Keep your money, and with it your name ; I will have neither. Since yon disown me, so lie it; I accept the rejection. Do not fear that [ shall ever trouble you, for.even in starvation’s .lir.-st extremity I will never appeal to yon, so help me Heaven ! Henceforth we are dead to each otherand he rushed from the room. Sir Bryan turned pale as his son addressed him ; and us the iloor closed after Philip the old man stretched oivt his arms, muttered something inarticulately, and tell prostrate in an epileptic lit.

The noise of the fall alarmed the servants, some of whom entered the library, and found their mas. tcrin the condition described. A groom was at once despatched on horseback for a physician, who soon arrived ; and umier his skilful treatment Sir Brym gradually recovered the shock to his system, but he was an altered man. Always reserved,, lie became still more so, wandering about his grounds, and muttering to himself. His ion Bedehara, by his lather’s express wish, resigned his intention of becoming a barrister, and remained at Wlvtmorv Chase ; and as time rolled oc the naiiP‘. of Philip .was almost forgotten’ in the district, and Peccham Whitmore was universally recognised as the heic-to Whitmore Chase. (To be continued.)

Tu ; Araw.is and the Late Murders at Ucotiki. —The Tauranga Record, oftho I3tli July, contains tnc following;—“Mr (.’oiinni.-sion.-’r Chirk, along wUh Mr Gill, returned on Friday, the otii instant, from, Return v, whither tuey had been on an of* flcial visit to the Arawas. This visit was very opportune, for that powerful tribe were greatly incensed and their feelings deeply wounded by the loss of their relative, Wiremu To Fapota, who has been go cruelly butchered by the Opotiki banditti. They were on the eve of departing to wreak vengeance on his murderers, when Mr Clarke arrived and prevailed on them io leave the niatier entirely in the hands of the Government.”

’lji.eatened Raid ox Tauranga.— The Tauranga Record, TJth July, says:— '■ It is reported that the .Vrawa tribe haro communieated with the authorities an intimation of an intended invasion of tho Tauranga district by a portion of the disaffected tribes, some of whom, it is said to the number of 10U, have left the Waikato 'or that purpose. The object of the Arawas in giving this information is that the outsettlers may be warned in time. Wo give this report as we have received it.” 1 hi; —Tuc Opotnd correspondent of the Tauranga Record, in a recent communication io that journal, has the following statement. We commend the concluding lernarksto the consideration of those whom it may concern, iho writer says:—“A portion of the natives who a short time ago had arms issued to them from the militia store, in this camp, have to-day returned and handed them bark again. Ibis will prove [a saving to the Government, as when they ihad them in their possession they were | very reekless in their expenditure of ammuj nitimi ; besides, as is olitn the case, totally jforgetting during an attacn (if they are oa lour side) that one great feature in the cori recr. way of loading is to put in bam poioI der and bullet, and not to ignore the latter article entirely! ” Boiling Down Bosses.— -A correspondent of tne Sydney Empire, writing from j Liverpool Flams, says:—“A new enterprise has been set on Rot here—boiling down horses lor the oil, (he bones are theu crashed, and the hides saved. As horses have been sold in Yass for 6d per head, land 2s 6d, it is very probable this nitty pay, and so would turn' to profitable account the worthless portion of this stock.”