Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXX, Issue 2474, 19 May 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist.

Through Deep Waters. —«— By INA LEON CASSILIS, Author of "lima Raphael, Actress," "The Young Widower," "M. Caddie's Carpet Bag," &c, &c. CHAPTER Vir. " There goes Agnes do Clifford ; look, Spencer, quick, or sho'll be gone! " said Lord Charles Mervyn, pointing with his cane (as ho leaned on the railing of Rotten Row) towards the crowd of spectators at Apsley Gate. "By Jove! what a beauty that girl is—d'ye see her ? " " I see a glimpse of her horse and a wave of her habit," said Spencer, languidly, " but sho'll be back in a minute or two and I'll wait for her. Who's that with her ? " " Sir Selwyn Grant-Faulkner — an old friend of the family—an old beau, too —tries to come the young rather," replied Lord Charles', " but I don't think he manages it somehow ; he was on the Row with Iα belle the day before yesterday— lie seems to dance attendance on

her." " My dear fellow," said Spencer, laughing, " J' oll don't mean to sus- i pout him of any ' intentions ; ' why the child is only seventeen and ho is—" i "Hard on fifty I should sup- . pose," said Lord Charles, coolly; "pooh! Spencer, why not? you must know that those old fellows often fancy young things, and that girl mijrht turn the head of an old ghost of seventy." " You're getting quite sentimental about her," observed Spencer, " do you want to enter the list of her admirers? " '•Why shouldn't I? I've as "ood a chance as any, I expect." ° " Hum ! well, but you're a heretic you know —and those- Cliffords are ' good Catholics.' " "I'd turn anything you like, for that matter," said Lord Charles; " but the girl doesn't give you much chance ; I declare she won't let you talk nonsense. Here she comes again! who's that they have met— the beau of ancicn regime, and none other—-" , "A left-handed member of it! said Spencer, with a half laugh. " Put up your glass, Charlie, and vou'U see who it is—Carnbaceres." " " Ah ! " said the other, quickly, as he raised his glass, " so it is, by .Tove! a dangerous fellow that! "What a splendid looking man he is, and sits his horse like a Pampas Indian." „ -~ „ , -■ "A dangerous fellow." repeated Spencer, deliberately, "aye; what if he .entered the lists ? " •" He.? " said Lord Charles, flushing slight " Spencer, he has never been known to pay attentions to any womsm yet; and more than ithat, he is credited with leading a spotless life—you may sneer, but I never heard any other tale of him— and that from men who would see spots in the sun if they could. That fellow, I believe, is as proud as wo are and he wouldn't risk a refusal which he would be sure to get. The Cliffords are as proud as Lucifor- they would not forgive base blood even in a man of such note as that." ~ " Heait3 are stronger than pride sometimes," said Spencor, who was a Liberal in politics, and disposed to bo philosophical. " For my own part I think it would be ridiculous ;to keep up such notions in this day,

even with a man of West Indian birth. Why, there isn't a fellow hero that can hold a candle to-Cam-baceres. He has made his own namo, a name that will live when such as you and I, my dear Charlie, are forgotten. I can tell you if he fell in love with my sister, I'd have tho courage of my convictions, and givo her to him gladly." "I hope he may then," said Lord Charles rather dryly, "it would be a just reward for your heroics. Now quit them for a minute and feast your eyes."

Tho three ridors were passing at the moment —for Cola de Cambaceros had wheeled his horse and joined them —and every head was turned to look after the painter and Agnes de Clifford; the former was talking, tho latter listening, but catching sight of Lord Charles Mervyn sho bowed with hnr bright sunny smile, and then turned to answer a question of Sir Solwyn Grant-Faulkner, probably concerning the person whom she had honoured with a recognition. " Happy fellow to obtain a salute from Iα diva" said Speucer, looking after tho riders. " I shall certainly seek an introduction to her ; can't you manage it, Charlie ?" " If you promise to leave the road clear," said Lord Charles, " unless" with half a sneer, "you don't think I've a chance against the West Indian." " You certainly wouldn't have if the ' West Indian' disputed the ground with you," resuming his natural or assumed drawl. " I doubt your having much chance anyhow. I'd back him to win if he tried against any man in London." " Well, but he is not very likely to try; and how about the other, Sir Selwyn 1" "Stuff and nonsense, Charlie; he's more fit for the old lady than the young one. She must look upon him as a father, at the least; not to say a grandfather." " Stranger things have happened, and if Lady de Clifford should back him—what then ?" " I'd back thi! girl ten to one," said Spencer, with some animation,

" the old lady would come off second best. The idea of that beautiful young creature marrying an old villain like Grant-Faulkner. I'd sooner go to a funeral than to such a wedding as that." "You are in a very romantic vein to-day, Spencer," observed Lord Charles. " Here comes Cambaceres back again. He must be a stoic to quit the side of Iα diva so quickly. Come on ; I see Lawrence Stanh'eld, and he always knows the on clils : there are a few questions he can answer for me." He linked his arm in that of his companion, and the two men sauntered on. Meanwhile, Sir Selwyn and Agnes, after parting from Don Cola, cantered to the end of tho Row and then turned back at a walk. " Where did you meet that Lord Charles Mervyn V asked Sir Selwyn, " he looks a fop." " I met him a few nights ago at Mrs Tressilan's," answered Agnes " I suppose he is something of a fop ; most young men are, I fancy, but he is a very nice young fellow— in some respects."

" Heir to an enormous property, [ believe," remarked GrantFaulkner, carelessly. " Is he 1 Is he an elder son, then 1 Purely there is a second title in the family." " Yes. Lord Ramsden inherits the ducal estates, which he will do iiis best to waste on the turf if he continues his present courses. Lord Charles will come into his mother's property." "Is he on the turf too V said

ignes, more for something to say ;han for any other reason. " A great deal more than is good "or him or his pocket," said Sir Selwyn, " woe betide the woman ie marries." "He might give up gambling," jaid Agnes, smiling, " and then I :laresay he would make a very good husband—as husbands go. " Are you getting these notions already, Agnes T said her companion, frowning slightly. " Young Mervyn is a very good ball-room parti, I dare say, but for anything graver I would advise you to beware of him."

Agnes opened her large hazel eyes in wonderment. "Do you like beardless boys, then V asked Sir Selwyn, giving his horse a ilick with the riding whip that made the inoii'ensive animal start. Agnes glanced in his faceWhat had she said to vex him The impulse sprang into her heart and she was young enough and wicked enough to let it pass into words. "He is not so very young," she said, " and you forgot how young I am." " Pooh ! child, a young fop like Charles Mervyn would never attract you. You are more likely to fall in love with a man of forty than a man of two and twenty." " A man of forty !" said Agnes laughing. "Oh! Sir Selwyn, my own father might be forty. He would leave me a widow at thirty, and I don't like widows."

Grant-Faulkner did not immediately reply ; he showed his vexation more than he was conscious of ; ;md the dark eyes of his companion, looking out from their observant brows, noted the fact, but she could not understand how she had annoyed him for a moment, until it suddenly crossed her that her last speech plainly implied her opinion

that forty was an advanced age, and this she had said to a man who was decidedly sensitive about his age; but she was in a perverse humour to-day, or else her dislike to Sir Selwyn had taken a stronger hold of her mind than she was conscious of, for the discovery caused her, usually so careful not to give pain or offence, a feeling of amusement rather than of compunction. Sir Solwyn spoke before she could frame an apology. " I might answer your words, carina, in the words of Othello," he said, lightly — " For I am declined into the vale of years ; yet that's not much." Something in the tone as well as the quotation itself jarred on the oar of Agnes. She did not perceive any direct significance in either, but habitually ready at repartee, she did not know how to answer her companion this time, and remained silent. Grant-Faulkner tried, and tried in vein, to read her countenance. The closer compression of

the lips was a change too slight to mean anything in a face in which firmness was a decided feature. Her silence was more marked ; but

this might show vexation, or simply perplexity. Sir Sehvyn was baffled again. Was she right 1 Could he never learn to understand this child ? The next moment she was intimating to him a mutual acquaintance, and making some laughing remark about an incident in which that acquaintance had been actor. Was this change of humour only from the sunny southern temperament? Was it entirely natural? Or did there run through this girl's disposition that vein of Italian subtlety which, hardly realised by the mind that obeys its promptings, leads to the " open face " and the "hidden thought?" Sir Selwyn answered Agues'* remark laughingly, and while he spake he said suddenly— "There is Don Cola again—T thought he had left the Row." The painter came up at an easy trot; he did not stop this time ; but only bowed low, lifted his hat, and passed on, and again, as every time lie saw him, the noble beauty of the West Indian came like a shock upon the eyes of Grant-Faulkner. "Poor fellow !" he said to Agnes, looking after him, " his position is certainly anomalous, and his own pride or high sense of honour does not improve it." " He has made his own position,"

said Agnes. "Of course; but I was speaking of the future; he could hardly marry into a noble family." " Perhaps his art is his only bride, like the heroes in novels," returned Agnes, " though I am sure that some noble families—-or at any rate some high families forgive him for what he is in himself." " You draw a notable distinction," said Sir Selwyn, "but then the Cliffords always were as proud us Lucifer." "Pride is the legacy of blue blood," said Agnes, epigrammatically, "but I am a worshipper of fame for all that." She seemed determined not to be serious, and Sir Sehvyn. could make nothing of her last answer, nor did she give him opportunity to attempt a solution, for she almo t instantly proposed a gallop, and set off at a pace which was dangerously near to breaking the regulations as to " rough riding," she shortly after declared herself tired, and said she would leave the How.

"As you will," said Sir Selwyn, patiently, "if you want a ride," and not a mere amble, you should come with me some clay to Richmond Park ; it is a splendid place." "So Lord Charles said the other night," replied Agnes, " perhaps I will go some day. I should like to see the park." "In any company but Othello's, eh V " I despise Othello," said Agnes. " What makes you choose such a comparison 1" "Italians always despise creduality," said Sir Selwyn, biting his lips to suppress the keen anger which the girl's evidently deliberate words filled him, " who would suspect you, Agnes, of despising the man who trusted and Jovcd, and admiring the man who so basely deceived 1" "You inserted the last clause into my sentiments," returned Agnes, coolly, " I was not aware of it before. To despise Othello is not to love lago, I have no sympathy with either. Othello loved, but trust is precisely what, he had not." "Yet an Italian should hardly complain of a jealous love, granting your correction." "They all call me Italian," said Agnes, half to herself and aloud, " but whether or no I am pledged to hold to every sentiment which fact or tradition has stamped as peculiarly Italian, it is better to believe too much in one we love than to believe too much of him or her." " An answer truly woman-like.' "Man-like, too, Sir Selwyn— knightly, at least. I come of a race that believes in the principles of chivalry." Again a sting ! Grant-Faulkner's face flushed crimson.

" Of a race that hides a dagger in a velvet sleeve," he said in a tone that startled her, and made her look at him half woaderingly, as lie could have bitten out his tongue that had betrayed him into uttering the hasty words. " Forgive me," he said directly, "I have made too much of trifles.

I am sure you never meant to wound."

What was there in this man that he never could touch a nature so sensitive as that to which he addressed himself? But that, on the contrary, the more he sought to do so the more she felt hardened against him. Was it, as she had said to Pere Michel, because she never believed him to be in earnest, and her own intrinsic and instinctive sincerity shrank with an actual antagonism from all that was shallow and false ? Be it as it may, she only said quietly— "If I hare wounded you, I beg your pardon ; but you could hardly tnir.d what such a child as I am can say." " Child, Agnes ? no you arc not that." "To you I am, at least, you carried me in your arms. litre wo are at "home. Will you come in and see madreV* " Yes, I want to speak to her." Be spoke rather abruptly, and Agnes, who thought him a man of strange variable humours, said no more, but when they entered the house left him to go to the drawingroom and ran straight to her own dressing-room. " I don't like him," she said, setting her white teeth, and throwing her plumed hat on the floor the moment sho reached that sacred shelter, "if he saved me from a thousand deaths I should never like him. 1 wish, Oh! I wish we had never met him again."

Meanwhile Grant-Faulkner passed up to the drawing-room, where he found Lady de Clifford sitting alone, reading. " Home already ?" she said, as she rose to greet him. "Yes, your wayward child avowed herself tired of the Row in less than hour, whieh shows her lack of vanity, for she is observed by all observers.' " '•Oh ! Agnes was always deficient in vanity, if it is a deficiency," returned Florence, "but she is not wayward." "No ? well, opinions differ. Are you expecting vistiors ?'' " None that I know of, why?" " Because T want to ask you to spare me a few moments." " Which means half-an-hour," said Florence, too much a woman of the world to betray any change of countenance. " Not unless you needlessly prolong the interview," said Sir Selwyn, coldly. "The time is long past, Florence, when I should prolong it wilfully.' "You might have spared that reference to the past," said Lady de Clifford, flushing slightly," but I must bear all, I suppose ; it is a woman's lot, they say. I am at your service," she added, reseating herself. Sir Selwyn sat down ou a sofa opposite to her and leaned back in an easy attitude. " I want to speak to you," he said, "of that child —of Agnes."

Strive as she would the woman could not help the deadly sinking at her heart from showing itself in her face, as she knew two well, for she lifted her handkerchief to hide the growing pallor of her lips. Sir Selwyn watched her without concealment or compunction. "My speech is simple enough," he said, after a moment's pause, " is it strange tlmt I should speak of a child whom I knew from her cradle, in whom I have surely a right, as slic is your daughter, to take a deep interest."

"' As my daughter you would almost hate her Selwyn, if that were all. But it is not."

" Vous avez raison ; it is not. Hate her! no indeed, though she bears small love to me. Well, why should I hesitate to say it ? I lov ed once, years ago, and was disappointed, as you know, Florence. I shall not be disappointed this time." The dread phantom was before her now, it had driven sleep from her eyelids many a night lately, she bad been prepared for its actual presence, and yt, like death, its appearance had almost made her spring to her feet and stretch out hor hands as if to ward off a tangible foo. With a strong effort she suppressed the cry that rose to her lips, and only betrayed by a quick movement the agony of her mind. "Speak plainly," she said, " I understand you only too well, God knows ; but speak plainly."

"Is it necessary ? Do you want me to say that I love the child ? That may mean nothing. She would believe that my affection was only fatherly, she almost told me by inference that she considered me an old inau; but I care nothing about belief or fancies. You ask me to speak plainly " he said, leaning forwards, "I will do it. Plainly then, Florence, this child must be my wife."

His wife ! His ! She covered her face shuddering, trembling from head to foot.

" Selwyn, Selwyn, have you no mercy? you cannot even love her. Spare her youth, she is but a child." " Spare her!'' repeated the baronet, with a sudden cruel gleam' in his light eyes, " did you spare me, Florence Hyde ? She might ask mercy from me—-but you —and why should she be unhappy 1 pah ! do girls in her rank always marry for iove 1 will she break her heart because she doesn't love her husband V " You do not know hor, GrantFaulkner. I do not, but I know her too well to suppose that sho will marry willingly where she cannot love. It is useless to sneer; she has all the passionato southern

nature ; the world has not spoiled her, she is not like the girls who fritter away their lives in these salons ; you know it. Hear me out. She has, besides, a, citadel to fall back upon, that you never scaled yourself, and so you know nothing of its strength—you will not even believe that it is strong. .Religion is to Agnes no mere round of forms and ceremonies, as it is to some. It is a living power ; sneer as you will; I speak truth. With us remember, marriage is a sacrament; she will never profane it, and you cannot persuade yourself that you can make her love you."

" I might be so ambitious," said Sir Selwyn, still calmly, "but I am not. If Agnes de Clifford bo not my wife, you know the power I have, and by all you hold sacred (I, perhaps hold nothing sacred,) I will use it. Weigh the alternative. I know how we are strangely matched. I know that there are many, younger and fairer, more likely to win a woman's heart than I am ; but I am not asking her for her heart; though by Heaven ! I would not tolerate her giving it to another."

" You demand impossibilities," while her hand closed like a vice over the back of the chair from which she had risen. " What if she has given it now?"

" Has she ? To your knowledge, —to that West Indian V said the baronet almost fiercely.

" Folly ! Why should you think that ?"

" I do not think it, I have no cause. She speaks of him with the utmost frankness. Igo simply by my knowledge of human nature. Would it be strange if such a girl thought too much of a man like Cambaceres. And for him—"

" For him," interrupted Lady de Clifford, " his honour or his pride, will keep him silent. You cannot blame me in this. It would bo simply impossible while we are in London society to avoid meeting him in almost any salon we enter. Nay, pass him over even, are there not hundreds better formed to win a young girl's heart than you are? You know it, you admit it and fyet you can talk calmly of winning a wife without a heart." " Did you give your heart when you gave your hand, Florence V " No; and have I not been punished ? What! do you openly avoid a mercenary motive ?" "Certainly not," said GrantFaulkner " because the mercenary motive is part, and part only of my reason for wishing to make this child my wife." "It is the main part." "Be that as it may, I will not dispute it. you would not believo me if I did. Leave things to me for a little while ; I will let you know when to interfere. At present Agnes regards me with something like aversion, and by Heavens she shall pay for it. I didn't wish to raise: opposition; I will deal gently if I can. but if gentle means are of no avail, then she must be made to understand that in her hands rests her mother's fate."

Florence clasped her hands before her face with a half-gasping cry—" Selwyn, Selwyn, have pity ! not on me—this is your hour of revenge, you have waited long for it—but on her !" Her anguish did not move him ; the change in his countenance was only something like a smile— "I have longed for it, and have I not a right to revenge?" " And have I not known its bitterness ? Holy Mother ? she said, looking upwards with such despair in her face as startled even him, though it did not touch him or move him one hair's breadth from his purpose —"if twenty years of captivity could undo that past, I would suffer it willingly, joyfully." '.' But it cannot be undone," said Grant-Faulkner. " nay, you cannot even atone for it by imprisonivent, nor do I believe that if you were put to the test you would endure it long. Agues might be a martyr ; you are not created for one."

" You can say that," said Florence catching at a thread of hope, " and yet suppose that she may not stand firm against all lean do."

" Florence," said the baronet, stonily, " you will not turn me back by such pleas as this. I tell you that if Agnes herself begged mercy of me, as she may yet do, I would do it. What ? am I to be bearded and set at defiance by a child of seventeen, who cannot know her own mind ? Am I to be told, as if life were a novel or a play, that hearts are broken by unloving marriages? And for the rest, in what primitive ideas have you suffered Agnes to indulge that you can advance as a serious barrier to such a marriage the belief that it would be sacrilege? Have you given her over to the care of the priests in Italy ? " You know," said Lady de Clif- " that such ideas vex me and are, to my thinking, only fit for cloister. I know that few, if any, in this world of fashion live by them. Agnes is one of those who will draw honey from gall, as an infant iu the nursery she was the same and Padre Leonardo —" " Leonardo, ah 1" " Hush 1" said Florence, with a quick glance around her, " walls have ears. I could not openly interfere with her; she went her own way, and has formed her principles independently, at least, of me." " And yon believe that a girl so young can resist all the influences brought to bear upon her?" " You forget a counter influence."

"Stuff! Her own heart. Don Cola, or some sprig of nobility." "No; one whose influence you cannot duly weigh, her confessor." " Florence," said the baronet, impatiently, "you are, as I foresaw, prolonging this interview needlessly; it rests with you, it is your interest to smooth my path. If this confessor be (as many of them are) a

worldly-minded mail, well and good. Agnes must promise to remain silent; if she will not give that promise it is time to think of other means of enforcing obedience." He rose as he spoke. Florence de Clifford wrung her hands. " Will nothing move you— nothing ?" " Nothing," said Grant-Faulkner. " Could you move me, Florence, you —who gave me revenge to nurse instead of love —if that child could not? She. might move a harder heart than mine, yet if she knelt there— did I not tell you so V I would not yield to her prayer. I will see you again ; for the present, as I told you, leave things to me." " And to Cola de Cambaceres." Sir Selwyn paused as he was moving towards the door. " I trust, like you, to his pride or his honour. He may break his heart, if hearts are so easily broken, but he will not ask Agnes de Clifford to be his wife."

And with those words he opened the door and went out without one more look at the woman he left in such terror and despair as she had never yet known in her guilty remorseful life ; the woman who long years ago had been his betrothed wife; the woman who at a father's bidding, and prompted, too, by her own secret ambition, had turned from him to a wealthier husband, whom while she vowed to love and honour, she hated in her soul. Truly the stern drama of her youth was to be revived with a new and terrible change of character, and she was to play the part Wilbraham Hyde had played more than twenty years ago ; hut was Agnes de Clifford another Florence Hyde 1 If there were a mirror, which when we stood on the brink of some great sin, our Guardian Angel could flash before our eyes to give us but one glimpse of the future, which of us, even in the madness of an absorbing passion, would plunge headlong over that

brink ? (7*o be fiontinih'tl.)