By BERTHA M. CLAY. CHAPTER I

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2036, 25 July 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

By BERTHA M. CLAY. CHAPTER I

TOUNO WOMEN HOT iDMITTXD. " Oh, God, I am so young, so young ; I am not nsed to balls at night Instead of slumber— nor to prayer With sobbing lips and hands outlining " E. B. BitmvMNO. Tn« bead and front of his offence— the boginning and end of bia wrong-doing — the one mistake of nil life-time was— that he married her. He, Lord Vivian Carsdale, only eon and heir of Earl* of Waldrove, married Alice Derwent, the daughter of John Derwent, dancingmaster by profession— married her with far leu thought than he wonld hare bestowed on ehooring a hunter or a hound— married her from i good, honest, honourable, mistaken impulse, yielding to the weakness of his eharaottr which made him look always for the easisst way out of a difficulty, and sacrifice the future to present ease. It happened in this way : Lord Vivian Carsdale had gone through the usual routine of the Eoglsh nducation ; he had been to Eton and Oxford ; ho had made the grand tour ; but even then his father, thn Earl of Waldrove, was not satisfled. Lord Vivian was just nineteen, and he expected from him tho learning, the solidity, the wit, and the wisdom of a man of thirty. Very much against his son's will, he made arrangements with Doctor Wallis, one of the finest scholars in England, to receive his son as a boarder for one year, and during that year he was to be fitted to take place as a statesman and an orator. 710 bad the natural gift of eloquence — this handsome young stripling to whom fortune had been so kind. He was to remain for one year with Dootor Wallis to study statesmanship as a science, to read all the written speeches ol great men, bom Demosthenes downward, to cultivate the art itself; but before the young lord had been with him long, the doctor, who was a keen reader of character, wrote to the earl, strongly advising him to procure for bis son a commission in the army, and to let him see a few year's service before be entered on bis parliamentary carrer. " There is a fund of romance in the young man," wrote the doctor, " a fnnd of simplicity, • child-like directness of purpose, and want of thought that will cause nim, sooner or later, to make great mistakes. The bent means of counteracting this will be to let him see some of most aotiva and most commonplace grooves of life." Lord Waldrove was amazed, still be had no thought of opposing this wine counsel. It was arranged that bis son should remain for the year with Doctor Wallis, then his commission should be purchased, and ho should join the army. That was the beginning of the chain of oircumst&noes that ended in hin marriage. Dootor Wallis wan a man of brilliant attainments ; be had a very moderate fortune, which he eked out by takingjfour gentlprocn boarders of an unusual style— sonn of noblemen, cither remarkable for their talent, or those who required atom discipline to kfpp them in band. He had been very nucctpsful. Borne of bis scholars— the men whom be had coached— made a great mark in the world. Some young men sent to him aa refractory, disobedient, idle, useless, induced to bo too fast to live, had been sent back to their parents wiser, steadier, and in every Kcnse of the word reformed ; so that the doctor ha-1 quite a reputation. Few wero ablo to p fiord the luxury of sending their rons to moh a place; those who could do so appreciated the blessing. The doctor belonged to a good family, and he was proud of it. "It is no use expecting your boys to be formed into gentlemen unle*n you send them to a gentleman," he was wont to say ; " u third-rate man has only third rate manners." But the doctor had ono weak placn in hi* armor, one skeleton in his clopet. He was a rigid martinet in tho way of morals ; no young man ever found time for flirtation iv nis bouse ; it seemed to have bern built with 4he express purpose of keeping all wrmon nt A distance; no pretty mind-servants wr>re «vcr to be found lurking about the halls and staircases; no pretty girls waited af. tnb'c or attended to the wants of the young gentlemen. The dootor was far too wise ;he hud a discreet, motherly bonrekeepcr, two prrira, elderly maid-servants, a bntler, and n footman. No woman under the age of forty was ever allowed to enter his doors. Of all establishments in the world it wai the last from which any one would inwune a clandestine marriage — the very lant. People had such faith in the doctor ; they told phpli other that their boys could not k<> t" » nuft r plaoe — the dootor was bo very particular. Then for this to happen I The doctor had one shadow hanging over him, and it woh Ibis ; He bad but one sister, a light hearted

Uu^hing pirl» of whom ha \ru very fond, and sho— this was hit trouble — eloped, when she was seventeen years of age, with her dancing-master. The doctor nerer told this, the trouble of hii life, but to one person, hie deareit friend, and then bit words were strong. "I wash my band« of her forever," he said. " A dancing-master 1 I give you my snored word of honor that if she had married a private soldier I should have respooted her twice as muoh. But a dancing-master. I hardly believe snoh people have souls." His indignation was intense ; he never pardoned her; it was, in his eyes, * most terriWe mesalliance. " A fiddle and a tombitone," he said, over and over again, "could not be more opposite than a lady, a clergyman's sister, and a dano-ing-master." Doctor Wallis did, after a worldly fashion, the wisest thing that he could do— he left the town where he wai known, and began Ufa afresh at Ladywoll. There be made for himself fame and reputation, and this one terrible drawbaok was never known. Some twelve years after bis sister marriage sh« wrote to him. " For God's sake, Rtchard," she said, •• forget yoor pride and remember whose minister you art. Do not preach mercy and leave your only sister to starve. My husband has bten ill for three months ; I have no food for mystlf or my ohildren. Yon will not like to read in a daily paper that I had been foand, with my babe in my arms, starved to death That will happen unless you come to my resooe." The lame day the doctor announced to his pnpils that he wa» compelled to leave Ladywell for a day or two ; in the meantime the R«t. Horace Treselan would take his place. He wont to London, where he found tho unfortunate dancing-master still prostrate with low fever, his sister and her ohildrsn absolutely without food. His heart melted; he emptied his purse, but his pride was too great— he would not touch the burning hand that John Derwent held out to him. True, he was a clergyman ; he was also a gentleman— and the gentleman was uppermost just then. He was sorry for his sister— willing to help her, even to acknowledge her ; he could preach most eloquently about mercy, charity, and peace. He had written a long and able Latin treatise on the subject of family ties, but be could not call the dancing-master "brother ;" that was impossible. He emptied hi« purse ; he promised to send fruit, wine, and meat. He announced his intention of settling a certain *m&ll income on his sister, so that she should never be reduced to suah absolute poverty again. Then he took his leave, leaving a burning sense of degradation and ihame behind him. Perhaps his heart relented ever so little when be saw the dancing- master* haggard eyes look wistfully aftor him. 11 Good-bye, sir," said John Derwent. " I would not take your money if I wero strong and well, but God has laid me low, nnd I cannot help myself. If ever I can, sir, I will repay you." The kind Doctor Wallis left the room, not quite satisfied with himself, but wholly unable to overcome his pride. Aa he walked down the dark, narrow stairs, a warm, soft hand clasped bis. " Uncle," said a child's dear voice, " do be kind to me. I never have enough to eat— l have hardly any clothes to wear— l long to learn something sensible; I am no tired of dancing and the sound of the violin. Do be kind to me, uncle, and send me to school." The doctor looked, and saw what even he knew to be a most lovely child standing before him — a child with a fair face and groat starry eyes, a profusion of fair silken hair falling over a white neck. , " Sand me to sohool, uncle," she repeated ; •• indeed I will try to be a clever girl." I The words that really won him were tho^o in which she declared ehe was tirod of the sound of tho violin. " I should think so," he said to himrelf. Then, noting the exquisite beanty of the (>irl, be said to himself, with a sudden impulse of gfnorosity : " I will pave her ; if she «rows up pretty and olever they will be quite sure to make an actress of her, or a dancer, or something of that terrible kind. I will save her. What is your name ? " " Alice," was the brief reply. Doctor Wallis looked down at her. 0 " It I send you to school, Alice, clothe you, educate you, will you promise mo to be a good woman ? " " Yes, I will, I will, indeed," she replied, earnestly. " Try me, uncle." He went back into the room. " Fanny,' he paid to his sister, " this child seems pretty, clever, and ambitious. I will educate her ; I will find out a fitting school for her, and will send you money to provide her with clothes." He saw hia sieter's face fall, not brighten. "Are you not pleased ?" ho asked, calmly. "Alice is onr best pupil," said Mrs. Derwent; "her danoing would havo brought us something in soon." The child looked wistfully at him. " I lovo music," she said ; " but I do not like dr.nciut;." These words decided the dootor. " L"t it be as I wish," be said ; and the parents consented. So Alice Dorwent was sent to Germany for her education, and she received a good one. She remained there until ehe had reached her seventeenth year, then she was to return home. She Bpeat some weeks with her parents, then, without an invitation, went to Ladywoll to see the dootor— entered that stronghold of bachelorhood much to the doctor's dismay. " You here 1" be cried, in dismay, when he saw a tall, bmntiful, Blrndnr girl standing with outstretched hands before him. " I am hpro to thank you, uncle," she said, in ft Hp*r, musical voice 11 Yi'S, yea— very well; that is all right, of oourse ; but you rrniHt not cotno here, Alice. I allow no woman under forty to enter this homo." Alice rai'ml her lovely eyes in wonder. " Undpr forty 1 Do tell me why, uncle — toll me why ?"