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000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

172 JOSEPHINE CREWE " Josephine," shrieked Mrs. Holland, and drowned the voice of the other, as she imperiously waved her aside, and planted herself before me; "Josephine Crewe, do you wish to marry my son Giles ? " Before I answered her, I rose from my chair, and stole to Aunt Eliza's side; then, with my hand slipped into hers, and with modest, downcast eyes, I murmured, in a small, meek voice, " No, thank you, Mrs. Holland." I was tempted to curtsy in all humility, but I refrained. For a moment Mrs. Holland looked at me in absolute silence, and I watched with interest the contending passions that swept across her face. I had not realized all this conversation meant to her, but I understood it when she pulled herself together and spoke again. " I see that you are playing a part, but I do not understand you," she said coldly. " You are acting in direct opposition to your own interest, and appar ently with the sole object of annoying me ; but let me tell you, that from every standpoint of worldly prudence and common-sense, your conduct is in exact accordance with my wishes. I had no wish that my only son should marry a girl of dis honourable birth and connections; a girl without money, or any worldly advantages ; I may say, with out education or moral training. No, Josephine Crewe, it went hard with me before I gave my consent that Giles should seek such a connection, and harder still before I agreed to come and plead

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

JOSEPHINE CREWE 173 his cause. It was because I loved my son that I did it. I felt that his happiness depended on your union, so I laid all other considerations aside, and for his sake I came to solicit the hand of a girl who, but for charity, would be a homeless, nameless beggar; for his sake I bore with your aunt's rude ness and your mock modesty, and now for his sake I go back gladly to tell him that any such connection is out of the question ; that he is spared — yes, merci fully spared, though I know his escape will half break his heart." I was sorry for the woman, and sorry for Giles, and I did not mind the hard things she said of me. I understood the struggle between pride and love of which that visit was the outcome, and I honoured her for her self-conquest, and pitied the soreness of her defeat. I went up to her, and laid my hand gently on her arm. " I am sorry, Mrs. Holland," I said ; " I appreciate the way you have acted, and I am very sorry to cause you distress." " You are a dangerous girl, and a hypocrite," she answered, and then without another word she left us. "Now, I do think she's a vulgar woman, don't you ? " said Aunt Eliza. " But I don't think she will take a servant without a character again, do you, Josephine ? I hope I didn't speak too strongly about it, but I shouldn't wonder if she doesn't keep Betsy ; I shall go to church on Sunday to see if she

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

174 JOSEPHINE CREWE is in the Rectory pew. Do you think you will have Giles now, Josephine ? " " I think not," I answered drily, and left her, and went to seek for solitude in which to think of what had occurred. So there was other love in the world besides what Pete and I bore for one another. Love and marriage were unfolding themselves before me in a new aspect, and I saw that they were not sub jects to be laughingly accepted, nor light-heartedly rejected. I felt, with a sudden sense of power, strangely mingled with fear, that my childhood was over, that I had entered upon womanhood, and that it was to a woman the river had spoken the previous day ; a woman's beautiful face it had shown me.

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

175 VII " The veil which covers the face of futurity is woven by the hand of mercy." — Bulwer Lytton. I walked far when I had quitted Aunt Eliza, and gradually I left behind me the perturbed, uneasy thoughts our visitor had awakened. Spring's sweet influence soothed me, and I sighed with her tender wistfulness, or laughed with her gaiety as she bade me. I watched a rook's slow, dark flight across the blue sky ; I saw a lark rise carolling heavenwards, singing as if his little heart would burst for joy ; I listened to the cuckoo's monotonous voice in a distant field, and every sight and every sound was a call to rejoice and be glad with spring's gentle gladness. The glorious fairy greenness of every branch and bough, the waving cowslips, the carpet of bluebells beneath the trees, the white clouds overhead, all filled me with a wild, sweet happiness, and I forgot man's strivings and failings, forgot there was ever a night to any day. I went among the fields and hedgerows, and past the lonely, scattered cottages where little blue-eyed children came out to look wonderingly at me; I passed their bronzed and taciturn fathers sitting at

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

176 JOSEPHINE CREWE their noontide meal under the hedge-bank; and I stood to watch the strong, patient cart-horses and the sleek red cows standing knee-deep in grass. I drank the water I gathered in my hand from a wayside brook, and never wine more gladdened the heart of man ; I raised my eyes, and noted that the sun had passed his zenith ; and I knew that every moment of the day meant happiness, and that the greatest happiness would come with evening. I watched how the sun sank slowly westward, how the shadows lengthened across the grass, and the quiet kine went lingeringly homewards down the lane. I saw their straggling line, and heard the merry whistle of the little lad who was fetching them up to be milked; and then I, too, turned my steps joyfully towards home, and went with a glad heart to meet my love. I went swiftly homewards through the quiet fields and copses all bathed in the soft evening light; I went with willing steps that danced across the grass, for every step was bringing me nearer to him, and I pictured how his dark face would brighten, and his eyes grow soft and kind as he greeted me. Thus I had pictured it all a hundred times, and now another hour would make my dream a fact, and I should see my Pete again. Thus I had dreamed it, but thus it was not to be. I had crossed a wide field, and stepped through the broken hedge that divided it from a straggling wood, or belt of trees. Here the ground was waving blue with hyacinths, and the green of the tangled

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

JOSEPHINE CREWE 177 brambles was gold in the level rays of the sun. I had parted the brambles, and almost passed the trees, when I started, and my heart gave a great bound, as I came upon a figure standing motionless against a tree close beside me. It was the figure of a strong and immensely powerful man, with large muscular limbs, and a face — ah, what a face ! It was turned towards me, and was as dark and threatening as a thunder-cloud; the deep eyes looked at me almost menacingly from under the massive brow, and the lips were closely compressed. It was Pete, and he was looking at me, and ah ! it came like a cold blast to my heart that his face never brightened, no glad ness came to his eyes at the sight of me. I felt the joy fade from my face, and knew it was blank as I stood still, and held out my hands beseechingly towards him. I could scarcely restrain my tears as I saw his face work painfully, and he leaned his elbow against the tree, and spoke to me. " You strange, beautiful thing ! " he said slowly ; " you strange, wild thing ! You came through the trees like a spirit, Josephine. I could fancy that grey dress a soft mist, and your beautiful face and hair those of some holy spirit. Yes, my God ! surely there can be no evil in you ; you must be holy, my beautiful Josephine." He came towards me, but I did not understand him ; fear awoke within me, and I sprang from him and stood, scared and trembling, by a tree. But he smiled at my distress, and at that the strange man N

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

178 JOSEPHINE CREWE vanished, and my old Pete stood in his place. I came forward fearlessly, and kissed him with all the old unbounded devotion I had felt for him since my childhood. He kissed me many times, and gravely, and taking my hands in his, he drew back, and examined my face intently. " You are beautiful, little Josephine," he said. " I left you a pretty child a year ago, and now I find you a beautiful woman. Do you realize all that means ? Do you know your power ? Do you under stand that you may be a second Helen, and scatter mischief far and wide ? that your sweet eyes may send a man, ay, a dozen men, to perdition ? But not me, Josephine ; no, your childhood is my safeguard. There is that between us which unites us, that forms an indissoluble bond between us, a bond that no power on earth shall break. Let us ratify it, Josephine, now as we stand here. Listen ! I neither have loved, nor shall ever love any woman but you. If I attain to greatness, it shall all be yours, but if life means sadness and failure for me, all the sorrow and the shame of it shall be yours, too ; for you arc a woman, Josephine, and you are mine. Do you understand ? Do you say yes to that ? " Though he spoke almost fiercely, he looked at me with eyes that were full of a wonderful tenderness, but I tried to look beyond them into the very soul of the man. I could not, for the awful barrier that divides soul from soul was between us; each was alone, and could but dimly guess at the other ; but

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

179 JOSEPHINE CREWE my whole being went out in yearning tenderness towards this man whose loneliness was to me deeper and darker than that of any other creature I had known. " Oh, Pete," I cried passionately, " I would die to make you happy. I love you better than all the world besides, and I am yours, Pete, so long as I live ; yes, for ever and ever." I burst into tears, and kissed the hands that held mine and the lips that smilingly came to meet my kiss. With his hand on my shoulder we strolled towards home through the mellow evening light and the singing birds and the waving trees. It was spring-time for us, I thought, as well as for the world around us, and there was something in my heart that responded to the breeze and the sunshine, to the fresh, bright green of field and tree, to the shy tenderness of wild-flowers, and the joy of carolling birds. It was our youth, too, and I looked with loving eyes into Pete's face to see its glad hopeful ness reflected there. But Pete's face told nothing of spring and youth. It seemed to me that he couLl never have been light-hearted, never have been a child, and with an intense longing to bring him happiness, I put my arm through his, and slipped my hand into his hand, and spoke. " Pete," I said, " do you love the spring ? " " Ay," he said, looking into my eyes, " this even ing, with you beside me, I love all that life brings me ; I even forget to hate myself. But yesterday,

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

180 JOSEPHINE CREWE Josephine, I hated, and maybe to-morrow I shall hate, or now at any hour." " Have you been unhappy while you were away, Pete ? " " Nay, I have been the jolliest dog alive. I have had a gay time ; I have danced and made merry, and when that failed me, I have studied. How then could I find time to be unhappy ? " "But you don't look happy," I said, holding his hand very closely in mine. " You look so much older, and you look miserable. You shut your lips tightly, as if you had much to restrain and bear; there are furrows in your forehead, and there is something that looks like pain in your eyes. You are restless. Do you ever rest, Pete ? Are you ill ? " " No, I am not ill ; but as for rest, I do not want it." " It is not remorse then, Pete ? You have done nothing wicked ? " " No, pretty saint," he said, looking at me mock ingly, " I have harmed neither man, woman, nor child. I am no picturesque Byron rejoicing to spread ruin, and then rejoicing again in a gloating remorse. I hate sin, and can show a cleaner conscience than most young men towards every soul who has crossed my path. If there is one thing for which I blame myself, it is a folly, not a sin. No, I swear it is not a sin, nothing but a folly." " What is it, Pete ? Tell me."

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

181 JOSEPHINE CREWE "No." " What never, Pete ? " "Yes, some day, dear; not now. I will tell you some day, and you shall help me, for out of your childhood's knowledge you will understand. There is a fate against me, Josephine, and you must help me. I have studied, and must still study night and day, but I shall do it better with you by me. Clever men tell me that I am clever, that I am a genius, but I don't need telling ; I know it. I have an immense work before me, and immense prepara tion is required for that work, and no matter what evil fate is against me, I must, I will succeed. You must help me to fight, Josephine, do you hear? You can, and you must — ay, I say you shall ! Promise me now by all you hold sacred that you will always stand by me, always be mine ; promise me ! " " Pete, I have already promised, and I promise it again." Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, and his face had grown strangely excited, but my answer calmed him, and he kissed me very gently. " Dearest, I ask much of you," he said, " and I have nothing but my love to give you in return. I have caused you plenty of tears since I have known you with my ungovernable temper, and perhaps my will is at fault that I can't be as other men, and there fore I may cause you tears again; but through what ever I may be and do, remember, Josephine, that I am entirely yours. I wonder what it is that joins us,

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

182 JOSEPHINE CREWE you and I, you pretty fair thing. There is a dark knot somewhere, some passionate link in our natures that unites us. What do you say ? Where does it lie?" " I think it lay in the kick you gave me on the first day we met : I could understand that," I answered, laughing. " Or perhaps it is the force of contrast that possesses the attraction. I am neither brutal and overbearing, nor moody like you." "You were not much better that first day," he answered ; " and nothing but the influence of nature has tamed you since — half tamed you, rather, for your claim to be a civilized, social being is still small." I laughed lightly, and held him back as I paused to look around. We had reached the summit of some rising ground, and looked down on our right hand upon the Hall, as it lay half hidden among its woods. It was a fine old place, rich both in its ancient architectural beauty, and in the charm of its rural surroundings. It stood at the head of a wide valley, and the country immediately round it was far richer and more cultivated than the Rookery land. The timber was fine ; there were no signs of neglect anywhere apparent, and if the scene lacked the rugged picturesqueness of moor and tarn, of pine and heather, it yet possessed a great charm in its gently-undulating lines, its wide sweeps of wood, its richness, and its air of peace and security. As I mentally contrasted the two scenes, I placed the

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

JOSEPHINE CREWE 183 figures of Pete and Humphrey one in either, and they toned well, each with his own surroundings. " Humphrey will be home soon," I remarked. " Yes," answered Pete, " he comes to-morrow." " To-morrow ? And does he bring Marian too ? " "No, she comes in another week. I have seen Marian abroad." " Seen Marian abroad, Pete ? And you never told me when you wrote to me ! " " It was not the most interesting thing I had to write about. I never thought of her when I wrote to you." " Let us go home," I said. " The sun has set, and I am tired." We spoke not another word till we came within sight of the Rookery. I gathered a hazel switch from the hedge, and ruthlessly stripped it of its leaves. I cut with it at the upstanding grass and flowers beside our path, and felt a savage pleasure when a head fell before me. I trod on a beetle that ran from beneath the grass, and was glad when I crushed it. All the while I walked a little before or a little behind Pete, not again by his side, and though I felt he was watching me, I never raised my eyes to his face. When we neared the house, he stopped and spoke to me. "Pretty fool," he said, "where have you learnt your woman's ways, when you have seen so little of your sisters to teach them you ? But there is some thing of the child left still, and I am glad of it;

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

184 JOSEPHINE CREWE enough of the old Josephine to answer to the old Pete. No, I have not forgotten the old Josephine ; I remember all she said and did, and remembering it, I know she must be lenient ; that forms part of our bond." I blushed scarlet as I stood there before Pete, and recalled unguarded moments of long ago that had thrown some light on the hatefulness of the past. He was cruel, and I suffered from a revulsion of feeling after the joyful expectancy of the last few days. Thinking only of the love we bore each other, I had overlooked the untempered harshness of his conduct, and consequently it was now doubly apparent to me. I would have run from him, and sought to regain composure in solitude, but he caught me by the wrist, and held me. "I am a brute, Josephine," he said, as ho looked pleadingly into my reluctant eyes ; " but if you can't bear with me, who can ? " I could not be hard when he was gentle, and a smile lighted my eyes before my lips would own its sway. " I will bear with you," I answered, as I laid my hand on his shoulder, and looked into his deep, dark eyes. "Yes, I will bear with you, for I love you; but don't make it too hard, don't be cruel, Pete." " I am never intentionally cruel to you," he said. " I don't know how it is, but I believe I have been more brutal to you than to any living soul, and yet I assuredly love you better than anything on earth."

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

JOSEPHINE CREWE 185 He kissed me, a grave, unimpassioned kiss, such as he had sometimes given me in childhood, as sign of reconciliation after some wickedness on my part, or some unkindness on his. It was a kiss that meant entire confidence between us, and my heart was once more glad and at ease as we turned our steps towards the house. As we entered the door, we met Mark coming out. Pete had omitted to tell me of his arrival, though they had travelled home together. I was enough of a woman to feel a momentary elation at Mark's greet ing, though since our last meeting, some months previously, I had been well aware how he regarded. me, and had decided what my own line of conduct should be. He shook hands with me, and hesitated a moment before he kissed me ; his manner was somewhat embarrassed, and his colour rose slightly. He did not look fully at me till I had turned away ; then looking suddenly round, I caught his intent gaze, and knew he admired me with an admiration that was far greater than I desired. Pete went into the house and left us, and as we looked after him, Mark spoke of his brother. His manner, more than his words, told how he admired him. " People are talking about him, Jo," he said ; " I hear his name everywhere, and almost every review has some article on his writings. Of course there are holes picked, but the praise vastly predominates over the blame, and men say that a great thinker has arisen. They say the thoughts are those of a mature

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

186 JOSEPHINE CREWE intellect, and will hardly believe that he is so young a man. I will lend you his last book. It is written in a fine, clear style, and there is something about it so striking and forcible that it carries away even those who, like myself, can't agree with many parts of it." " He is altered," I said, thinking of the man rather than the author ; " he seems years older." Mark laughed, not quite pleasantly. " He may be a hundred years older for all I know, for through all the journey here, he has hardly spoken a dozen words. I made out that he is writing another book, and I suppose that absorbs him. But what a giant he is, Jo ! As strong as a horse, and with that remarkable face; not altogether pleasant, I should call it. It amused me to see the notice he attracted to-day, and his utter unconsciousness that any one looked at him, or even that there was any one to look." " He does not know what self-consciousness means," I answered. "In many ways he is still the same Pete that he has always been." With all Mark's faults, I had always had a warm sisterly affection for him, and, on the whole, I liked him better as a man than as a boy, for contact with the world had undoubtedly improved him. Yet though Pete said and did things that Mark might be trusted never to do or say, it was Pete rather than Mark whom I respected, and, judging him to be higher, I expected higher things of him.

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

187 JOSEPHINE CREWE They both settled down into their home places at once, as if they had never been away. That very evening Pete swept the ornaments from one of the drawing-room tables, and usurped it for his writing. Seated amidst a litter of foolscap and books, he was quickly absorbed in his work ; only now and again he looked towards me almost unconsciously, and the darkness of his face was illumined by a smile. Mark talked till it grew dark, and then he went to the piano. He played rather well, and fortunately my dislike for music was no longer so acute as it had been ; the first few chords thrilled me unpleasantly, but before many bars were played I grew indifferent, and then became altogether unconscious of the music, till it ceased, and the silence made me aware there had been sound. Pete, who was fond of music, was rather excited than soothed by it ; he grew restless, and at length flung aside the pen he could scarcely see to guide, and came to sit by me on the great couch in the window. Still his restlessness continued. Now he sat forward with his cheek upon his hand and looked at me with eyes that were great and shining in the dark ; now he leaned back, and held my hands, or even kissed them, and all the while he talked in a low voice, and was glad to talk. I found that I was the only person to whom he ever spoke of himself. " Mark tells me you have become a celebrity," I said ; "I am very glad." " Why ? Do you think I shall be pleasanter now

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

188 JOSEPHINE CREWE people stare and talk than when they left me alone ? " " No, Pete ; I am glad because it is right. It is your due." " My due ! Mere idle chatter ! Shall I ever get my due, Josephine ? Shall I ever fully earn my wages ? Do I even know what they are ? No, I tell you. When I write and think, it is like treading on a thin crust that may break and precipitate me head long into such depths that I tremble to think of it. Is this what they call genius, this feeling of im measurability, this sense of endless thought, a going ever ahead, all alone, into a darkness that no other soul has ever explored, that is boundless, thick, infinite ; where those who have tried to advance have sunk, and I, too, must be lost, if only to show its infinity ? I tell you, Josephine, it is awful at times, this sense of utter loneliness, of impotent limitation, and yet with a half-grasp that is always growing stronger on an infinity that is ever more and more perceptible to my mind. Ay, Josephine, I think and think with thoughts that go creeping farther and farther, till I feel there is no end, never an end, and that my very skull must crack with thinking; so that I grasp my head between my hands, and would be glad to die, if it were not for the thought of you. But, Josephine, you make the thought of death and a blessed rest appalling to me." " You have dwelt on deep thoughts too long, Pete.

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

189 JOSEPHINE CREWE Now think of me," I whispered caressingly. I took his great hand between mine, and kissed the palm, and rubbed it softly against my cheek, as I crouched close beside him with my head against his shoulder. He kissed my hair as it brushed his face. " Your beautiful hair ! " he cried. " I have lain down overwrought and desperate, and then I have dreamt of it, and it has seemed like a golden glory. And I have dreamt of you, Josephine, with your face close to mine, a sweet, quiet face that y-et could understand all I felt. You can never know what you have been to me, what you are, and what you must always be." But I thought I understood his love for me by mine for him, and forgot that hearts are hard to measure, that the love of men and women varies, and is strong and weak in different ways, no two thoughts nor intensest feelings ever quite alike. " Talk to me, Pete," I said, " tell me of all you think. I love the very sound of your voice, and you will be happier than with nothing but silent thought." Then he talked gently of my life through the past year, but not again of himself. He asked me of all I had done, of what I had thought and read, and he thanked me for the brightness he said I had brought into his father's life. He spoke nicely, too, of Aunt Eliza ; it was evident that he felt towards her with far more kindly forbearance than formerly. Yes, he was altogether charming, his manner was kind and

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

190 JOSEFHINE CREWE gentle, and he was interested in every detail of the old home life. But Mark played on, wandering from tune to tune, till he struck on one that made Pete start and frown. He grew silent, morose, moody; his heavy brow contracted; his eyebrows frowned low over his deep-set eyes. What did it mean ? Did it recall some scene during the past year ? Did it make him think of the folly of which he would not tell me ? He moved impatiently, and answered me harshly when I spoke. " What is it that vexes you ? " I asked. " Why don't you like this tune ? Where and when have you heard it?" "What ! you talking of tune, you little fool ! you who don't know one note from another ! You had better talk of what you understand, or be silent." I could not stand unmoved that sneering look, that contempt, from him. I drew away from his side, aud with my elbows on the end of the couch, and my face between my hands, I made as if I would listen to Mark, while I tried to think clearly of what life now meant for me. Ah ! yes, I knew well enough what it meant. It meant that the old painful happiness and bitter tears had returned ; the old days of closely mingled pain ami intense pleasure; Pete kind, and Pete cruel. But it also meant more than that, for we were men and women now, and the happiness had a deeper tone, and tears and reconciliation would not always wash out the sting of sorrow. As I crouched there, my heart was divided between burning indig-

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

191 JOSEPHINE CREWE nation with a man who could make a woman suffer as Pete could, and intense pity for one whose life seemed so hard as his. Great forefathers he might, perhaps must, have had, but why had he been born the son of so weak, so indolent a man as Uncle Crewe, of such a mother as Aunt Eliza ? Why had there been no powerful restraint to curb and direct one who so greatly needed it ? Above all, why had I been chosen for the sole gentle, tender influence of his life ? After a while Uncle Crewe came in, a lamp was lighted, and he and Pete played chess. Aunt Eliza brought her knitting, and Mark and I moved to the window, and sat in the moonlight, laughing and talking softly. Mark was pleasant and easy to talk with. He had just come down from London, and the very name brought strange recollections. But it was not of the poor he spoke, but of the plays, the fashions, a hundred slight things, all cleverly touched upon and rendered entertaining. It was very quiet sitting there in the moonlight ; we could plainly hear a night-jar away in the woods, and involuntarily our voices sank lower, as if we feared to disturb the still ness. Mark's tone grew confidential, and he began to whisper foolish speeches, but I refused to be senti mental, for Mark was Cousin Mark, and I must be Cousin Josephine, nothing more. I was not surprised that Pete lost his game of chess, for I knew he was watching us, and I saw he was ill pleased by our whispered chatter and

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

Longmans

England

England

300 pages (8°)

English

000431585

1895

Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

192 JOSEPHINE CREWE laughter. It vexed me that he should be annoyed that Cousin Mark and I should talk together ; and then I sighed, and thought with a pang of the differ ences a pretty face may breed among friends. Though Pete and Mark were brothers, they were not to each other what Pete and Humphrey were, and Pete loved me, and I knew I filled a larger share of Humphrey's thoughts than I had ever believed that he with his pride would allow. Though Aunt Eliza kissed her younger son that night, she forgot the elder, but Uncle Crewe looked proudly after him when he and I went out to stroll on the terrace before the house. And I, too, was proud of our great man, ay, and was ready to worship him ; but again there was pity in my love, for my heart ached for his moody restlessness. Turbulent and passionate, he seemed unconscious of what peace meant. His very physical strength was a burden to him. Its employment would have sufficed to work off the unrest of any other man, but Pete's mental energy was yet greater ; his mind knew no moment's stagnation, it was always on, oil, breaking down many a barrier, and struggling against those that could never be broken down. It tired me even to think of that endless working, like a day without a night, a year with no change of seasons, a life without a death. " There are three facts in my world," he said, as he bid me good-night. A cloud had swept across the moon, and we stood hand in hand in

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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193 JOSEPHINE CREWE the darkness. " There is work, immense, intellectual work, and there are you and I, Josephine. All the rest is a shadow : only these seem real." On the morrow, and on many a morrow after that, I tried to be jealous of the first of those three, tried to think it was his work that was absorbing him, stealing in between us, taking him from me. That he was changed I felt every hour of the day ; his varying moods had another tone, and there was an indefinable difference that I alone noticed. To the rest he was a man set apart, a genius not to be judged as other men, and all nice differences in his wayward ways were overlooked and merged for them in that one fact, that he was a genius. But to me he was the man I loved, and I questioned, Was it his work that absorbed him, was he only older, or would that secret folly explain all ? He was now tender, now rough to me as he had always been; his tones of tenderness had even a deeper ring; yet often when his eyes were fixed on me and followed me everywhere, I knew it was not of me he was thinking, and I prayed it might be of his work. His rough moods, too, were changed; they were longer, and often deeply sullen. It was as if there were something preying on his mind, and it seemed to me it was a something he dared not face, and that was why he could not tell me of it. He no longer wished always to have me with him ; his study door was locked while he worked, and at all times, and the room was once more made o

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

London

194 JOSEPHINE CREWE into forbidden ground. It hurt me, for it is always hard to part with a privilege that has once been ours, and I felt the long hours during which he thus voluntarily cut himself off from me. I tried to argue that it was better for his work ; yet when he brought his writing to the drawing-room, as he not unfrequently did, he would call me to fetch my book and sit on a stool beside him, and while he wrote, his left baud would wander to my bent head, and play idly with my curls, and he often told me it was a help to have me there. Then, and at all times when he was kind to me, I was happy, yes, I was very, very happy, and I would not think of the dark hours and the subtle change that I could not understand. That first week after we met again was a strange one to me, so different from what I had pictured it, as I had recalled the old days when we had been together. Not only was Pete changed, Humphrey, too, was altered. He had travelled, and seen much of the great world, and had taken on its polish. I was scarcely at ease with him ; I had to make his acquaintance afresh, and the great, though un obtrusive admiration he showed for me made it none the easier. But Mark was my greatest difficulty. Shut out from Pete's society for many hours at a time, I was thrown back on my own resources, and was prepared to turn again to solitude and nature for solace. I thought to find my companions once more in cloud and sunshine, in trees, and flowers,

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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195 JOSEPHINE CREWE and birds, and wild, shy things that never shunned one who belonged almost to themselves. But this was not Mark's idea. It was nothing to Mark that Pete shut himself up to write ; it seemed but natural, and was moreover an agreeable and convenient arrangement, as it left us much together. Mark seemed all eyes in those days, for I never left the house, no matter by what way, but he was sure to follow, ready to help me to forget all troubles out in the bright spring fields. He was a pleasant enough companion those sunny afternoons, for, after town life, his enjoyment of the freshness and beauty of the country was very great, and he did his utmost to amuse and please me. If he would have stopped at that, I should have been glad to have him with me, but he would not ; each day his attentions were more pronounced, his manners more impressive, and I knew a final explanation was close at hand. The cowslips were all in flower in the meadows, and Mark and I went to gather them. Beautiful cowslips they were, with long, juicy stalks, and the fields were all pale and sweet with their flowers. We sat down among them, and his blue eyes watched me with silent pleasure, while I broke off the flower heads, and called on him for help to tie them into cow slip balls. Years ago, he and Humphrey had taught me how to make them, and, big boys as they were, they had not thought themselves too old to toss them high in the air for the little girl who had been

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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196 JOSEPHINE CREWE their favourite plaything. Now, with the larks singing overhead, and the flowers waving round us, with the bright spring sunshine flooding all, and making the world happy, I could throw the balls with almost as light a heart as then ; but Mark's blue eyes were all that laughed, and he watched me all the time. " Josephine, you must often be dull when you are here alone," he said. " Don't you sometimes wish for the town ? " " Never ! I never want to see a town again. And I am never dull, only sometimes rather — rather lonely, but not so lonely as in a town." " But if — if your circumstances were to alter, if the Rookery were no longer your home, if you were to marry, you would not mind a town life then ? " "Oh, Mark, I should hate and detest it!" I cried, and I spoke all the more warmly because Mark had chosen to follow the career of a barrister, and would live in a town. " Jo," he said, leaning forward ; " do you know you are very beautiful ? Have you no wish to shine above other women, as you would if you were seen beside them ? Have you no vanity ? " " Oh yes, any amount," I answered, laughing ; " but all the eyes in which I wish to shine are here, about my home. I have thought and thought of how they would look at me, Mark, especially by Marian's side ; but as to how I should look in strangers' eyes, by the side of strange women, I don't care a jot nor a tittle

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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197 JOSEPHINE CREWE for that. The women who love such admiration may keep it gladly for all I care." " But there are others who would care about it for you," he cried, and there was a light in his blue eyes and his cheek paled ; " others who would wish you to have the homage that is due to your beauty, who would " He was Cousin Mark — Brother Mark, I might almost say — and my sisterly love for him rose up to spare him what pain I might. I dropped the flowers from my lap, and stood up. " Hush, Mark," I said gently, " don't say it. It can never be, Mark ; I couldn't say yes to it. Besides, I love Pete." " Love Pete ! " he cried, and he, too, stood up there among the cowslips, with white face and wild blue eyes. " Love Pete, and not me, Josephine ? " "Yes, Mark, I love Pete that way, not you. I tried to make you see it all along. I thought you could not fail to do so." " You love Pete and not me, Jo ? " "Yes, Mark, aud I have tried to make you see it." " No, that you never have ! " he cried passionately, and the blood mounted hotly to his face. "You have been a heartless flirt. You made me love you, I say, and you made me think you loved me, too. What has Pete been to you all this last year ? Have not you walked with me, and talked with me, and been everything to me whenever I chanced to be at

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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198 JOSEPHINE CREWE home ? Have you not led me on to think you cared for me all the time, I say, have you not ? " "No, Mark, never ! I " " I say you have," he broke in passionately ; " you have, and I despise you for it." " You are vain," I said coldly, for he angered me ; "your vanity has misled you." "Misled me? Ay, that it has, it has misled me far, Josephine. I have been a fool, a fool to look at you just because you have a fair face. I might have known better, for you soon showed us what you were, and the nature that was born in you. I should have kept it before me, that picture you once gave us of your real mind ; I should have known what to expect. And what have you done now ? Have I asked you for your love ? Was it womanly, was it modest to refuse it when it had never been asked ? No modest girl would have done it, no, but that was born in you, too, I suppose, inherited, and now I know what to expect." " Shame, Mark ! " I cried, and I shivered as I stood there in the warm sunshine. " Shame ! ay, shame !" he answered, and laughed harshly, as he turned and strode quickly away through the long, fresh grass and the cowslips. I watched him go, and then I threw myself down by the side of the fading flowers I had played with, and cried as if my heart would break. It was all so quickly over, my hand stretched out to spare him, his burst of passionate anger, his cruel

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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199 JOSEPHINE CREWE words, and now the sunshine had lost its brightness, there was something plaintive in the breeze, the long grass waved sadly past me, and the cowslips hung their heads as if they could feel my shame. I cried miserably, for it seemed to me there was some truth in Mark's words. Aunt Eliza and Mrs. Holland had told me of the shame of my birth; Uncle Crewe's very tenderness, and Humphrey's pride had spoken silently ; Pete had referred to it ; but nothing had brought it home to me like Mark's innuendoes. Yes, the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children ; it was true, and each year I felt its truth more clearly. I was set apart ; I was not as others. There was a stain upon me, and though it was not of my own bringing, I could not wipe it off.

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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200 VIII " Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow, because most full of love." — Walt Whitman. " Josephine, I am going, but I must speak to you first." And Mark drew me aside among the trees, out of sight of the house. " Jo, I am ashamed to look you in the face after yesterday. I behaved in an unmanly and brutal way, and I shall never cease to regret it. You must scorn my idea of love, when I could speak to the woman I love as I did ; you must think it a small mean thing by the side of my self-love and vanity ; and I won't deny that hurt pride helped to make me speak so. But it was not only that, Jo. I love you, I have loved you for years, and, like a fool, I let that blind me, and was sure you loved me in return. So it was an awful blow, Jo, when you told me you did not. It maddened me to think I had lost everything, and when I had felt so sure, too. I was beside myself, and my misery turned to passion, and now I shall always regret how I spoke to you. And I take back my words, Jo, and ask you to pardon them if you can. I know it was no want of modesty that made you speak out : I honour

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 201 you for it. It was the kindness of your heart that made you put my feelings before your own. You " " Hush, Mark ! " I said gently, and I put my hand in his, and looked in his pale face. There were dark circles round his eyes, and I knew he had not slept, and that he felt miserable with remorse and dis appointment. " Say no more, Mark, it is all forgotten, and I love you, Cousin Mark, as I always have done — more, I think, because you have spoken now." " Forget ! no, you can't forget," he said bitterly ; and he was right. I might forget that he had spoken, but I could not forget the truth he had told me. Yet I had known his character well before, and because he had said a hard thing to me, it was not altered ; he was the same, and I only laughed softly and kissed him. " You are going back to London to-day, Mark, and I am glad. It is best, for then you, too, can forget all this. Work very hard, so that you won't have time to think." " I can't help thinking," he said hopelessly, " and I shall never forget." When I saw Marian again for the first time that evening, I recalled Aunt Eliza's plans for her and Mark, and the thought flashed across my mind that perhaps of all people she was the one best calculated to help him to the desired forgetfulness. There were the recollections of a childhood in common, of an old friendship, to draw them together, and as

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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202 JOSEPHINE CREWE a vroman, she had acquired many attractions that had been wanting in her as a child. Surely she might please Mark. Pete and I were sitting in the garden that even ing, I on an old garden chair, and Pete on the grass among the daisies by my side, and I was reading aloud to him. It was poetry I was reading, while in a tree behind us a blackbird was singing a full, liquid melody, and I could hear the bleat of lambs in a distant field. It all brought a sense of peace, and as I looked down at Pete's face, I saw that it was quiet and content. I was startled, therefore, when he suddenly sprang to his feet with a deep, muttered exclamation. Looking up, I perceived Humphrey and Marian coming towards us, and throwing aside my book, I also rose, not without excitement, to meet my only girl friend, if friend she could be called. She was tall, taller than I was, and she looked many years older. There was something stately about her well-formed figure and in the carriage of her handsome head. She was a fine creature, with brilliant colouring, large dark eyes, regular features, and a coronet of heavy dark hair. I admired her immensely, and yet she was scarcely feminine, so proud and independent was her carriage, so self reliant her bearing. I could fancy her courageous, but not tender; a man's brave helpmeet, but not a loving mother to a little child. She smiled when she saw me, and held out her hand ; then we

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 203 both laughed, and kissed each other, but only lightly. " It is eight years since we parted, Jo, and you have altered," she said. " Many things have altered," and she laughed again as she looked at Pete. His eyes were fixed upon her, and I thought there was something alert, almost suspicious, in the way he watched her. We sat together out there, and talked idly, or listened to the evening song of the birds, to the leisurely caw of the rooks, or the distant bleating of the lambs. There were some wallflowers growing near by, and they made the air about us sweet. Humphrey spoke of his love for the country, but it was not at the scene about him that he looked, but at me, and he drew nearer to my side, so that the other two were left to talk together. I tried to give my mind to my companion, and not to listen to the others, but again and again I caught their words, and I despised myself for entertaining a paltry, despicable jealousy. Surely I could trust Pete when he had told me he loved me, and me only; then why should I think for a moment of Marian's handsome face and the attraction of her free, careless manner? Because she had fascinated him in his raw boyhood, and because they had met abroad, perhaps many times, without my knowledge, did that give me cause to fear her ? No, nor the fact that they now had much to talk of about which I was wholly ignorant. It was not that, it was the covert

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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204 JOSEPHINE CREWE way he looked at her, the strange expression with which she sometimes watched him, and a broken sentence, now begun by her, now by him, and never ended. From that first meeting I felt there was something between them of which I did not know, and I recalled that secret folly to which Pete had owned, and questioned if it might not be Marian who was at the bottom of it. I think Humphrey noticed my distraction, for he grew quiet, and a little uneasy stiffness entered into his manner. Perhaps from that evening may have dated his knowledge that it was not a mere brotherly love that existed between Pete and me. Hitherto I know he had regarded us as a family party at the Rookery, united by mere family ties, and so he had conquered his pride, and allowed himself to drift on, and his feelings for me to grow warmer. Then, or soon afterwards, he learnt the truth, and he seemed to grow graver and older in the days that followed. Nature and fortune had treated him liberally except in this one point, that the woman be wanted was for another man. Pete and I walked with them when they went home, and in the dusk we returned silently, side by side, with scarcely a word spoken between us. I would not trouble him with questionings, and I felt he was scarcely conscious of my presence as he walked, grave-faced and deep in thought. We came back by the rough path, white in the dusk, across the moor, walking slowly and looking straight ahead.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 205 The sunset light was almost gone from the sky, its soft grey was changing to blue, and stars were coming out : there would be no moon that night. Dimly we could trace the rise and fall of the sweeps of heather, and far away the dark outline of hills. It was quiet, dark, mysterious, on the lonely moor, till, on our right hand, a red light shone in the sky, a red glow, spreading broad and ruddy, then leaping, yellow flames. They were burning the heather on a distant part of the heath. Once Pete looked towards it, and then again looked straight ahead. Yet it was a weird, strange scene, with those yellow, licking flames, spreading fast, dancing high and fierce, or sinking low, and casting far and wide a broad red light over all that wild country-side. They turned the tarn to blood as we passed it, and shone red on Pete as he walked beside me. I would have gladly stayed to watch them ; I would have gone towards them ; but Pete held straight onwards towards the Rookery, and I kept by his side, thinking he might break his silence and speak to me, perhaps tell me what that change meant, and what Marian knew. I hoped in vain, for when we reached the house he bid me good-night, telling me he was going to write, and should not see me again that evening. He took my face between his hands, and kissed it, and looked at me tenderly ; then turned, and locked himself into his study. Thinking that of late I had neglected Uncle Crewe, I went to talk to him and Aunt Eliza.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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206 JOSEPHINE CREWE They had set fire to a large tract of heather, and through many hours of the night the flames went licking and creeping over the ground. When I went to my room, I found it red with their light, and from my window I could see the line of yellow tongues fiercely lapping the ground, or rising high in the air. I threw the window open and sat to watch them, and in the stillness I could faintly hear their crackling, and at times the breeze brought me the smell of the burnt heather, like the smell of burnt cork. It was fascinating, watching the flames and the cloud of smoke and the red light, and hour after hour I sat wrapped up in the weird scene. I could not leave it, could not think of sleep, while those hungry tongues were lapping, lapping, and the strong play of the red light transformed the well-known stretch of woods and moor aud hills into a dusk, infernal picture. There was a fascination, too, in the strength of the flames. Who should control them ? Would they not burn and burn, burn all the country side, those greedy flames, and still burn? So I thought, and watched them for hours, till, stiff and chill, I rose to my feet, and thought of rest. Yet I stood for a moment still watching them and listening for their faint, distant crackle, and while I stood so, another sound caught my ear, and I heard a footstep in the house. It was very late, or rather early, and an hour at which I believed all but myself to be asleep. I was startled, therefore, and curious, and taking my shoes from my feet, I softly opened

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 207 the door and stole noiselessly down the passage. There was no red light there, and all was still as black as midnight, but I heard the step, and made my way towards it. Half-way down the stairs I paused and listened, and the step drew nearer, a heavy, uncertain step feeling its way in the darkness. I stood silent, but when it came beside me, I stretched out my hand, and caught at a man's arm. He was still, as though startled, then something muttered, and a hand grasped mine. I knew the tone of that low mutter and the touch of that hand, but why was Pete working so late, and then stumbling to bed in the darkness ? " Pete," I whispered, " is it you ? What are you doing ? Where is your light ? " " Here," he answered, with a smothered laugh, and loosing my hand, he struck a match close in my face. It flared for an instant, and then a draught extinguished it; but by its light I had caught a glimpse of a dark, excited face, flushed cheeks, and a strange, unusual smile. " Why do you play the ghost ? " he whispered, holding me roughly by the arm. " They are burning the heather," I answered, " and I was watching the flames till I heard a footstep in the house, and came to see." "Flames? Flames of Tophet? Are they out? Will they reach us, Josephine ? " *' What do you mean ? I don't understand."

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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208 JOSEPHINE CREWE " Fire and brimstone ! " he answered, and laughed a low, convulsive laugh. "Hush! Don't try to frighten me, Pete," I whispered uneasily. " Don't you believe in eternal punishment ? " he asked, and I felt cold and alarmed. " What ? Not in devils, and fire and brimstone, blue flames, and naughty words ? " Oh, why had he thought and studied so long? It was not well for him ; he was ill ; he was excited and overwrought. " Pete," I said gently, " you must go to bed and rest. You have worked too hard, and written too long. See how your hand shakes. You are ill." "Yes, yes, that is it. Ill, horribly ill." And leaning heavily upon me, we went together up the stairs. At the top I kissed the band that leant upon my shoulder, and turned towards my own room. He took no notice, but stumbled on in the darkness, feeling his way by the wall, till he reached his own door. I listened till he had closed it after him. The flames had sunk low when I again looked out, only a little yellow tongue started now and again, and the red light had nearly faded, and was barely discernible as I looked through a mist of tears. They fell slowly, I scarcely knew why; only as I stood there, it seemed to me I could think more clearly of that foul London alley than of the pure, sweet country, and the uprightness of character and life that I had learnt to honour.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 209 I cried that night, but in the morning I wondered at my tears, when I looked out at the sunshine, and listened to the morning gladness of the birds. Yet the smell of the burnt heather reached me, and I knew that in the distance there lay the black, charred track where the flames had done their work. To Pete, too, that nocturnal meeting seemed to have become a dream ; he made no reference to it, said nothing of overwork, and met me just as usual. But I was glad that all day long he did no writing, but spent the day in the open air with Humphrey and Marian and me. There was no hunting nor shooting then, and there were no guests at the Hall, for Humphrey and Marian said they were tired of society, and had left London in the midst of the season for a few quiet weeks in the country, just when it was at its best and sweetest. We saw much of them therefore; often all day long we four were together, but generally paired two and two, Pete and Marian, Humphrey and I. And Marian flirted with Pete, and encouraged him, and took him from me just as she used to do. I owned honestly enough that in her utter disregard of what the world thought and said, in her freedom, and daring, and masculine independence, there was an immense attraction when coupled with her hand some, open face — bold, some would have called it, though it was free from all self-consciousness to make it either bold or shy. But I knew that more

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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210 JOSEPHINE CREWE than by any attractiveness, he was drawn to her by that secret understanding. Many a hard battle did I fight with myself not to think of it when he was tender to me, but to try to believe in his tenderness. Yes, I fought hard to trust faithfully in his love, but he was changed in every way, and when I tried to think I was mistaken, I knew that Humphrey noticed it also. No one could have been kinder than Humphrey was to me in those days. He put all thought of his disappointed love on one side, and tried with careful tact and consideration to throw the shadows into the background, and bring out the sunshine. He seldom spoke to me of Pete, but when he did, it was to tell me of some review praising his books, some con versation in which he had been spoken of in terms of eulogy, and once, but only once, he went so far as to speak of how clever men stood on a different plane from the rest of us, and their failings could not be judged by the same standard. He did it tactfully, and I was grateful, grateful for that and for all his most generous kindness, but it was little it could do to dissipate the miserable nightmare that life was becoming for me. Nothing was ever said now of when Pete and I should marry ; indeed I did not think of the future, the present was more than enough to fill my thoughts ; and so the days passed on. Pete and I stood together by the gate that led to the path across the moor. We were waiting for Humphrey and Marian, who had promised to join us.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 211 Pete had not spoken to me as we walked there, but his silence was no longer new to me. For days he had seemed to avoid me, and though again and again I had found him watching me with a painful, hungering look, he would not meet my eye, he would turn away from me, and was harsh and constrained in his manner to me. But that look haunted me like the wordless cry of a dumb creature. I saw that his cheek was growing hollow, and I knew that his writing was altogether at a standstill. There was something wrong, terribly wrong, and Marian knew it, and I who loved him was left in ignorance. "Pete," I said imploringly, coming close to him as he stood against the gate, " Pete, tell me what is the matter. If you are ill, if you have done some wickedness, if you don't love me any longer, tell me, Pete. Oh, Pete, I can't bear your silence ; it is worse than anything ; it is breaking my heart, my darling. I love you so, I would bear anything with you ; I think I could even go away from you altogether if it would make you happier. But I can't stand by, quite outside your thoughts and your life, like this ; I can't, Pete, no, I can't, I can't." I leaned my head against his arm, but he turned from me, and silently bowed his face between his hands with his elbows on the gate. " Pete, won't you speak to me ? " But still he was silent, and my misery rose up in rebellion. "You are cruel, you are unjust," I cried, with wet eyes, but with angry, flushed cheeks, and I clutched

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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212 JOSEPHINE CEEWE tightly at a bar of the gate. "You are worse than that, for with all your roughness, you were my ideal of truth and honour, and now I find that your life is a lie. Oh, I am rising in my own estimation, for I verily believe I am above my ideal ! " " My life a lie ? " and he turned and looked at me darkly and questioningly. " If you were a man you dared not say that, Josephine, but with that fair face you know your hold on me." " Yes, your life is a lie," I repeated passionately. " You say you love only me, but you pass your days with Marian, and you have a secret with her that you hide from me. You avoid me, and you lock and hide yourself from me ; you won't speak to me, but you are ready to walk and talk with her. Oh, I am miserable, miserable ! You are breaking my heart. I wish I had never seen you ! " "Don't, dear, don't," he cried passionately, and he held out his arms to me. Then I crept close to him, and tried to think he was mine. " I tell you, my darling, that I love you," he said. " Marian is nothing, absolutely nothing to me. She is a fine, bold, daring creature, but she is no woman; she is nothing to me. I have told her no secrets, and if I talk with her, her company is not of my choosing. I wish I might never see her again. Yes, I swear I do." "Then tell me that secret," I said, "that secret that she knows, even if you have not told her." " I tell you, Josephine, there is no secret," he

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 213 answered, with passionate irritation. "If Marian knows anything of me, I have never told it her." " It is wicked, wicked ! " I said ; " I don't trust you. How can I when you won't trust me ? " I started from him, and walked, wet-eyed and miserable, up and down among the trees till Humphrey and Marian joined us. Humphrey must have seen my distress, for he walked silently by me, and neither of us spoke till we paused to rest by a stile. Pete and Marian were before us, laughing and talking noisily. There was a reckless ring in Pete's laughter that I knew was born of our conversation. " I wish I was dead," I broke out passionately, turning my face from Humphrey. " Poor Josephine ! " he said ; " poor Jo ! " "Oh, I feel wild, beside myself!" I cried. "I wish Uncle Crewe had left me to go to the work house : I wish he had never taken me from the gutter ! Yes, the gutter, Humphrey ; and I wish he had left me there, or that I had never been born." " Hush ! " he said quietly. " It seems to me my life would have been a poor affair if I had never seen you." "No, no," I cried, "not that; that is worse than anything !" " Let me speak," he said, " if it is any comfort to me, for it can hurt neither you nor Pete. I know that you love him, and I know that I love you ; just

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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214 JOSEPHINE CREWE that; but there is the tragedy of a man's life in it, yes, of a whole life." " Humphrey, hate me, I am not worth loving. Recall your pride of birth to help you, and think who I am — born among the lowest, and a workhouse child if it had not been for Uncle Crewe's charity." " I love you," he said, " and you are far above me. And now I am glad I have spoken, for I don't think I could always have been silent, but I shall never speak of it again. I am your friend, Josephine, and I am Pete's friend, and I would go all lengths for either of you." Then he dropped his voice, and added — " Forgive me for speaking, Jo, but I know all, and oh, I should be thankful to do anything to help you." Then I almost forgot to thank him for his kindness and his friendship, for he knew all, and I did not — or was it would not ? No, no, I did not. There were so many things ! When we reached home, Pete and Humphrey went to look at a new horse that Uncle Crewe had bought, and Marian came indoors with me. " Let us come and find Mrs. Crewe," she said. " I do enjoy a talk with her ; it is so elevating and instructive." So we went to the old faded drawing-room, and found Aunt Eliza busy with a piece of ugly knitting. She stood very much in awe of Marian, but still thought with fearful pleasure of some day calling her daughter-in-law. Marian knew it as well as I did.

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 215 " How do you do, Mrs. Crewe ? " she said. " What news have you of Mark ? " " Thank you, Marian, thank you, I am pretty well, only chilly ; I sometimes think I shall have a cough. But Mark is sadly, yes, sadly. He has never written a line since he left, and to-day I have a post-card from him, Josephine, to say he is coming home for a day or two, coming to-morrow. I hope he is not ill, that it is not lungs. You can't keep too clear of them, they are nasty things." " But a little difficult to avoid," suggested Marian. " Yes, but they say spirits make a difference, and Mark has very good spirits ; he is better-tempered than Pete. No, Josephine, no — at least, I mean — yes, you understand." " Oh, Aunt Eliza, you cruel, unjust mother ! " I cried, laughingly shaking my finger at her. It was too much for her, she burst into tears, and sobbed out broken sentences about Mark's little white frocks, and blue sash, and rattle, and about Pete, and a broken water-jug, and a scratch on Mark's leg, from which I inferred that she was indulging in a retro spect of her sons' characters as developed at an early age. I kissed and consoled her as best I might, and let her talk on, her breath catching now and again with a sob like a child's. Her eulogies were all for her darling Mark, but she put in a kind word for Pete now and again out of consideration for me, and went so far as to wish us happiness. " Josephine," said Marian, " come out with me ;

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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216 JOSEPHINE CREWE I have something to say to you." She put her arm through mine, and led me into the garden. Her face was very grave, and she said nothing till we were quite away from the house ; then she loosed my arm, and looked at me. " Jo," she asked, " is it true what she says ? Do you still care for Pete ? " I turned upon her fiercely — " Why do you ask ? " I cried. " Is it because you love him, too, and you want to take him from r, 11 me ? She did not resent my words ; there was no anger about her, only a grave wonder which, while she looked at me, changed to a great pity. " Jo, are you ignorant still ? Don't you know ? " she asked gently. " Know ? " I cried bitterly ; " yes, I know that while he says he loves me, you flirt with him, and take him away from me, and have secrets in common with him of which I am ignorant. I know that it is base of you, and that you are making me miserable." Still she was not angry, as she laid her firm hand on my shoulder. " Hush ! " she said, " and I will tell you all, but remember, I tell you in kindness. You think me hard and masculine, and perhaps I am ; certainly I prefer men to women, and value their friendship far more highly, and that is not considered right. But perhaps I am masculine enough to have fallen in love with your beautiful face ; anyhow, I have never cared

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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217 JOSEPHINE CREWE for a woman before, but I care for you, and it hurts me to think that you should suffer." She stopped, and kissed me a little awkwardly. I was passive, for it was what she was to tell me that I cared for then. " I did care for him, Jo. Years ago I thought him a sort of god, and I hated you for coming between us when you first came to the Rookery. When I met him again abroad a year since, I fell as nearly in love with him as perhaps I shall ever do with any one. He was my god come back to me with all a full-grown man's attributes to add to his attrac tion, and above all, he had become a celebrity. The world was talking about him at a distance, while I knew him close to, knew all about his home, and his home life, and his character. We saw a great deal of him at first, and I was often jealous because he talked of you, but then — oh, Jo ! I found it out, and it cured me. I have only flirted with him now — -well, as I might with any man, just for amusement. I knew it was nothing to him, and I did not think it was hurting you, for I fancied you must know long ago." " What ? " I asked. And I never moved my eyes from her face, and I trembled with cold and dread. " Jo, we all knew it there. He grew callous at last, and never attempted to hide it. I have seen him " "Oh, hush," I shrieked, "hush! Don't say it, Marian. For pity's sake don't tell me." " You know it," she said. She was a woman after

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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218 JOSEPHINE CREWE all, and she shed tears, while my eyes were dry, as she took me in her arms. I hid my face on her shoulder to shut out light and thought, to shut out that terrible knowledge which was worse than a waning love for me, or love for another ; for my idol had fallen. "Pete," I said, when he tried to close his study door upon me, " I am coming in ; " and in uncertainty he let me pass. I looked at him, still dry-eyed, and I told him — " Pete, I know your secret." He sat down and bowed his face in his hands upon the table. Yes, his head was bowed before me, and I had looked up to him, and worshipped him. I knelt down beside him, and put my arms about his neck, and kissed him. " Pete, when I said I loved you, it was for better, for worse," I whispered. But still he did not lift his head, though he put his arm round me. "For my sake, Pete," I whispered, "you will change ; for my sake it shall be different ? " " Yes," he said, lifting his head at last, and looking at me, " before God I swear it shall be different, for your sake, Josephine."

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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219 IX " O, how brief, how false, how inordinate and base, are all those pleasures!" — Thomas a Kempis. " I don't think Pete is well, Jo," said Uncle Crewe. " He looks thin and ill, and I feel sure he works too hard, and sits too long over his writing. Persuade him to ride more, or take him out walking with you, Joey ; that is what he wants, eh ? " " He is not always easy to persuade," I answered ; "but I will do my best." That was the first intimation Uncle Crewe gave that he perceived that all was not well with Pete. It was strange how long we all remained in ignorance of what in any one else we should have noticed so quickly, but it was just the fact that we had never looked upon Pete as one of the ruck of humanity that closed our eyes to his increased irregularities. As boy and man he had been so different from the rest of us; his temper so much wilder and more passionate; his thirst for knowledge so much more eager ; his physical strength, his energy, his domineer ing spirit, his variableness, his cruelty, his gentle ness, his artistic perceptions, all had been so much more marked, more clearly defined than ours, that

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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220 JOSEPHINE CREWE we had learnt to bow unquestioningly to him, and of late years admiration for our successful great man had still further blinded our ey-es. None can ever know with what anguish I struggled still to preserve that blindness in those about us. I grew years older in the weeks that followed, and I thought regretfully of the girl who had laughed and talked to the birds and flowers, who had played with the rushing mill-stream, and the wild wind among the trees, who had laughed with the whispering breezes and the sunshine, and whose heart had been gladdened by an undoubting, faithful love. She was a child, far away from me, with whom I had neither part nor lot, nothing in common. For to me the soft west wind blew tearfully ; there was a wistful, speechless yearn ing in the song of the birds ; the flowers danced in the breeze, but they would fade so quickly ; and the blue mist on the moor was like a mist of tears in sad eyes. Yes, the beautiful world had grown damp, and dank, and grey for me ; the winds moaned drearily, and a horrible mistrust was ever whispering in my ear, and chilling my heart with a cold, dreadful touch. Every half-heard sound brought a fear to me, and I held my breath, and watched stealthily, with a dread that made me sick and cold. If only I could have borne it alone it would not have been so hard, if only none but Pete and I had known it ; but to think that Humphrey and Marian knew it, that they looked at him with pity, even with contempt — at Pete — my Pete ! It maddened

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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221 JOSEPHINE CREWE me that there was sympathy in Humphrey's manner when he talked to me, and that Marian's face softened to a womanly gentleness when she turned my way. I wanted none of their kindness, for each little act that showed it cast a slur on my Pete, as if they thought he was making me suffer, and perhaps they despised him for it. Despised him ! How dared they even think of him? Oh, but perhaps they talked of him, and said hard things of him to one another ; talked of that time when Marian said he had been callous, and had not tried to hide it. Perhaps they laughed at him ! Oh, no, no, they could not have done that ! — not at Pete ! Night and day I thought of him, and even if I slept, it was to dream of him ; he had driven away the old thoughts of my mother, and, waking or sleeping, my whole mind was given to him. To hide it from others, to help him to fight it, those were the two aims that took entire possession of me. In the first they all seemed bent on helping me, Aunt Eliza and the servants in their blind awe of him, Uncle Crewe and Mark with their loyal admira tion and their faith in this genius of the family. But in the second my heart failed me when I watched how his pen lay idle, and his work failed to interest him, and when I saw what he had ceased to hide from me. Now that I knew, that the woman he loved knew, he no longer fought for restraint, but again grew callous. Only now and again there would be a wild outburst, passionate

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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222 JOSEPHINE CREWE protestations of amendment, eager declarations of love, earnest pleadings that I would not forsake him, and desperate attempts to call his powers into play and resume work. At times I hoped for him, and then again I was heart-sick, and well-nigh desperate. From time to time Mark came home for a day or two, and then it was still worse. Uncle Crewe and Aunt Eliza only saw Pete at times, but Mark was with us all day long, and my fears lest his eyes should be opened increased tenfold. On his first visit his attention was too entirely given to me for him to spare any thought for the change in Pete. Again on his second coming it was me he watched, and I found that it was the alteration in me rather than in his brother that he remarked. " Jo," he asked me anxiously, " are you ill ? " " 111 ? No, perfectly well ; only tired with this hot weather," I answered, rather wearily. " You must be ill, Jo. I have never seen any girl so altered. You are so quiet, and you look so pale and tired. You have never been ill, Jo, but what shall we do if you are ? " "You need not worry about that," I answered, with a little laugh. " I am as strong and well as ever, and only tired, as I tell you." Then he bent his face nearer to mine. We were walking in the garden, some way from Pete and the Wyldes, who were in sight of us, seated on the grass near the house. Jo," he whispered, " I have seen it. Your dear

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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223 JOSEPHINE CREWE eyes are sorrowful. Tell me, Jo, have I anything to do with it ? Have you changed from what you said that day ? " " No, Mark, and I never shall." Perhaps I spoke hardly, for my heart felt cold and dull; but it was a hard, bare fact that Mark must learn, and sweet words would not soften it. He answered rather bitterly — " I might have known it, and not have asked for a second blow. You are too good for me, but we all want the forbidden fruit. Come, let us join the others." I knew that it was in soreness of heart that he went and sat by Marian, and devoted himself to her ; but no matter what led to it, I was glad that he did so. I knew that he was susceptible to a pretty face, and Marian's dark eyes might fascinate him. The very contrast between us would assist her attractions. " What are you writing now, Pete ? " asked Humphrey. " You are dirtying reams of foolscap, I suppose." "Ay, making food for the waste-paper basket. sneered Pete. What did he mean ? I wondered, for I knew that it was little he had written for weeks past. " How modest he has grown, Jo ! " said Humphrey good-temperedly. But I rested my arm on Pete's shoulder, and pinched his ear. " Mock modesty, old genius ! " I said tenderly.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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224 JOSEPHINE CREWE " He is as proud as possible of the books he has written, I am sure." " Mockery ? Ay, mockery ! " said Pete, with sudden, vehement bitterness. " If I could write one half I think and feel, all the old wiseacres and philosophers would mock at me, while now I mock at them. Yes, I'll mock at everything — at genius, and honour, and friendship, and love ; I'll deride them all as hypocrisy, cant, misery ; curse it ! " Fearfully I looked round, but Mark and Marian were talking, and Humphrey avoided my eyes as if in shame. " There is something rotten in the state of Denmark," continued Pete, with a hoarse laugh, "and yet we applaud it as a perfect constitution. We bolster up our sick man, and call him a giant of strength, and don't see that all the time he is slipping, slipping, slipping, almost down. But I don't hold to him ; no, I have broken loose, I tell you. Yes, I have broken loose from everything ; there is never a precedent for me ; I am altogether alone. I have an isolated existence, where I see men as shadows walking, and there is never a sign to bid me do or not do, arise or rest. I am absolutely untrammelled, I tell you ; yes, I swear to you I am." Humphrey looked at him uneasily, and I longed feverishly to run away, yet could not leave him. " I don't believe in any man's being untrammelled," said Humphrey. "The same laws of right and wrong bind every one of us."

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 225 "Cant!" said Pete; "all cant and hypocrisy! Right and wrong are comparative terms that each man defines for himself, and therefore they are no limits." " What ? Do you believe in no moral laws ? Have you no faith in anything above you ? Have you no form of religion ? " "Humphrey," he answered impressively, "I have more than religion. Yes, there are depths deeper than hell, and heights higher than heaven in my mind. I believe in a little black devil ! " Oh, I could have cried out in an agony of shame. I never raised my eyes as he rose and shuffled off towards the house, nor looked up when Humphrey murmured in intensest pity, " God help you, Joseph ine ! " Ay, God help me, indeed ! for I sorely needed it. Pete did not dine with us, nor join us all that evening, and again Uncle Crewe spoke of his over application. I could see he was growing terribly anxious and worried about him, and I was not sur prised when, late in the evening, he called me to his study to speak of it. He was sitting in the dusk with his chair drawn up near the open window, and he called me to his side. " Come here, little Joey ; I am worried, and I want your sympathy. I suppose I must be growing an old man, and garrulous, that I can't keep my troubles to myself, but must needs prate of them to somebody. They weigh on my mind, and perhaps Q

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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226 JOSEPHINE CREWE seem heavier than they are, and you shall lighten them for me, eh, Joey ? " I brought a stool, and sat down by him, leaning against his chair. I was glad that it was so dusk that with my back to the light he could not see my face, nor read the suspense it must have shown, for what was he going to say 1 "Tell me everything," I said. "Talking often makes troubles seem much lighter." "It is of Pete I want to speak," he continued. " There is something wrong ; all is not as it should be. I have thought " " He is ill, Uncle Crewe," I cried out quickly. " Yes, he is ill ; I am sure of it." " Is that it ? Is it nothing but that ? Josephine, I had feared it might be worse." Then he had seen it ! He knew ! I was cold and shivering as I whispered — " What ? " " Joey, I have feared it might be his brain, that perhaps the strain of work had been too much for his excitable, passionate nature, and that his brain had refused to bear it. Yes, I have thought that it might be mental illness that was changing him ; for he is changed, sorely changed. With all his rough ness of manner, he had never been anything but an excellent son to me, but now I have known him rude, and he avoids me, almost as if he feared me." What could I say to him ? What could I tell him ? Should I leave him to think this of his

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 227 firstborn whom he so loved and admired ? leave him to watch what he believed to be the aberration of that fine intellect ? Or should I tell him the truth, tell him that his son had yielded to a weakness, a madness, a sin, that lowered him lower than the very brutes, that made the strong man base and contemptible in the eyes of women and children, and that must undermine every mental and moral faculty, and leave him a blot, a disgrace on the face of God's earth ? I loved Uncle Crewe as if he had been my father — ay, and more than that, for he had done more than a father for me : he had taken me to be his daughter when I was nothing but a shame to his family. I could not tell him that then, could not raise my hand to deal him so terrible a blow. I could only shuffle weakly between his fears and the truth, and give him what feeble comfort I could. I knelt up before him, and took his hands in mine, and looked in his pale face which the grey light from the window threw into strange relief against the darkness of the room. " Nay," I said gently, " I am certain you are wrong there. I am very sure, Uncle Crewe, that Pete is not going mad, and that his work has not in anywise affected his mind. I do not think he is well physically, and then intellectual work must be trying, and likely to make a man's temper uneven and irritable. I will try to do more for him, to watch over him more carefully ; I will exert myself to the utmost, Uncle Crewe."

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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228 JOSEPHINE CREWE "I know you will," he answered, as he released his hand, and laid it on my head, " and may God reward you, Joey, for your forbearance ! You have done me good, dear, with your assurance that my fears are groundless ; and the very fact of speaking has been a relief. To dwell alone on such a thought is to raise it into a haunting nightmare." He leaned back in his chair, aud I looked at him with an aching heart. His face looked thin and grey in the pale, dim light from the window. It was a refined, sensitive face, with no markedly strong lines of character, and I wondered as I looked at it how Uncle Crewe would bear the troubles that lay before him. Oh, it was very, very hard for him, and Pete was his favourite son, his pride, the creature of whom he thought most in all the world ! Ought I to tell him ? Could anything be done for Pete ? No, I could not say the words ! Instead, I asked him where he had ridden that afternoon, whom he had met, and what he had heard in his friendly chats with the few passers-by, and before we left the dark study he was talking cheerfully, and had, at least for the moment, forgotten his anxiety. From that evening forward I felt certain that exposure must come, and the thought of it haunted me night and day. Suddenly I would think what if it should be now ! or now ! and the misery and humiliation of such a scene would rise up vividly before me. But I had no time to dwell on such thoughts, for late and early I fought and struggled

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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229 JOSEPHINE CREWE for Pete. Whether morning or evening was worse it would be hard to say, for all the day was dark. Pete admitted me freely to his study now, but I hated to cross the threshold, for the place was a hell to me. Night after night, when all the rest of the household were asleep, I left my room and stole to a staircase window from which I could see the light in his room, and there I sat with wide eyes and burning cheeks, watching and listening, every nerve stretched to its extreinest tension in my longing to see that light darkened, or to catch the sound of his advancing step. Sometimes I was rewarded, and then I stole softly away, and lay down thankfully to sleep. More often the light burned steadily on. and the silence remained unbroken except by the old clock in the hall as it struck the quarters, or the hours. Each time it struck I said, " Now I will go to him," and then came the terrible feeling of repulsion, till it seemed well-nigh impossible to go to that room and look on my love sunk to the level of the lowest of humanity, to meet his dulled glance or foolish smile, to listen to his thick utterance and senseless words. I dared not leave him there all the night through with temptation beside him, but I shuddered when I approached him, and shrank from the touch of his hand as I guided his uncertain steps up-stairs. Often he seemed unconscious of whom it was who led him. What of our love for one another ? Did he love

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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230 JOSEPHINE CREWE me still ? Did I love him ? I never questioned ; I only thought of how I might shelter and help him ; how I might raise him whom a few short months ago I, in my great love, had believed to be so far above all other men. My repugnance could be only for his failing, not for him ! How could my love ever lessen for him to whom I had looked in every joy and every sorrow, the man who had made the brightest happiness of my life, the man who had seemed to me greater, tenderer, more worthy of devotion than any other could ever be ? And his love for me ? I don't know; only in those times I often read half the night through, till I dropped asleep over my book, sooner than face the thoughts that would visit me if I lay down awake. Dawn would rouse me, and I would raise my head wearily to look at the half-finished page and the pale, flickering candle by me, and to recall with a sickening heartache the meaning of it all. Morning brought nothing brighter, for hour after hour I sat by Pete's side trying to lessen his depres sion, while he held my hand tightly, and would not let me go, though often he refused to speak to me. Then, at such times, he would throw himself back in his chair with a loud, hoarse sob, and writhe, and curse the day he was born. Or sometimes he would sit hour after hour with his face buried in his arms upon the table, and cry like a woman. Yes, my strong, great Pete cried like a woman, and would not be comforted. He had ceased to even attempt

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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231 JOSEPHINE CREWE to write, and he no longer promised amendment. To me who knew nothing of that year abroad his downfall seemed sudden and awful. With a sudden blast his great gifts seemed all to have deserted him, and his moral character to have been undermined. Now the rush down was precipitate and headlong ; love, filial affection, honour, pride, could not for a moment arrest him. It was as if he pursued ruin in hot haste, and overleaps all obstacles. " It is no use, Josephine," he told me, " it is no use : I have taken the leap, and I tell you I can't go back." So night after night, and by day, too, he yielded to temptation, as if it was nothing to me, or I was nothing to him. I kept my eyes on my companion, and did not look forward along the road we were travelling. Those sunny summer afternoons brought least sorrow and anxiety, for then Pete was sometimes almost like himself, and would take the lead of the whole party in his old masterful way. He would talk and spar good-temperedly with Humphrey, or show his amusement at the strange love-making into which Mark and Marian had gradually drifted, and he would be kind and gentle to me, while his eyes followed me with their old look of love. But I could never trust him, that was the terrible part ! When he joined us, I looked fearfully to see if his cheek were flushed, watched if his step were uncertain, listened for a thickness in his utterance ; and even when all seemed well, I dreaded some outburst of folly or anger, some foolish remark that might arouse

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232 JOSEPHINE CHEWE suspicion and betray him, for I think at that time he was never really master of himself. Who can tell all the bitter shame and misery of such a watching of one loved and honoured ? Mark's love-making made a sweet drop in my cup of bitterness. At least I had marred but little of his life, and Marian's wayward kindness was fast healing the wounds I had made. He was almost ashamed of his speedy recovery ; his happiness was at first bashful before me, and once he attempted a half-apology. There were stammered words of " first love," " never the same," " a different feeling," but I cut him short laughingly, and told him lightly, though with serious meaning, that Marian was his only love. A strange love she was ! I had looked for the gentle passion to make her more womanly, to perhaps call forth an awkward tenderness, something of a girl's shyness, but never a bit ! She was sometimes rough, and always free, careless, offhand, and inde pendent as ever, and treated Mark as a pleasant comrade whose society was welcome, nothing more. At least so it seemed to the casual onlooker, but Mark appeared contented and very happy, so I suppose he saw more in it. Indeed, closer observ ation showed me that she watched for this comrade, was specially cheery and genial with him, teased him, laughed at his jokes, and listened to his stories, and I suppose was in love in her own way. So things went on for a week or two longer, till a day came, every detail of which seems burnt and

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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233 JOSEPHINE CREWE seared on my memory, so that no time nor change can dim its clearness. It was a sultry day near the end of August, just when we first notice that autumn is stealing stealthily towards us, but when she comes in such golden guise that we cannot resent her approach. I woke with a headache, in part owing to the closeness of the morning, in part to my long watching in the night, and to the fact that I had not been to bed. I was sitting in the window with an open book on my knee, and a burnt-out candle on the window-sill beside me. There was little air, and as I looked at the mist that hung over the woods and foretold a hot day, I thought of thunder before evening. I noticed how thin and small my hands looked as I raised them to push back my hair from my hot forehead, and leaned out of the window to meet what little coolness there was. I knew that my face was also thin and pale, but I only smiled drearily as I thought of it, for it was little I cared. I looked towards the purple moor, and the woods that had a dash of gold here and there, and I wondered what would have come to Pete before the moor was brown, and the woods bare. When I met him that morning, I almost thought it might be happiness that would come to him ere then, and the dawn of a brighter future than we had either of us dared to anticipate for many a long week. Contrary to his recent custom, he was down betimes, and in cheerful spirits. Aunt Eliza was fidgeted because he upset the arrangement of the

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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234 JOSEPHINE CREWE breakfast-table, but it was plain to see the pleasure his presence afforded Uncle Crewe. The care that was now wont to sit so heavily on his brow was lifted, he joked with his eldest son, and when breakfast was ended, carried him off for a walk, and bade me accompany them. " Josephine," said Pete, as we waited a moment in the hall till Uncle Crewe should be ready to start, " the old man would be pleased if I turned over a new leaf. Did you notice him this morning ? " " Yes," I said ; and added, " Have you watched how his hair has whitened the last few months ? " " I suppose that is my doing," he answered, in a strangely unmoved voice. " And I suppose it is I who have worn your cheeks so thin, and made you the ghost of yourself. I wonder you don't hate me, but you hold to me as you promised, Josephine. You remember your promise ? " " Yes," I answered, " I remember. But, Pete, what have you done for me in return ? Oh, Pete, for love of you, I could have overcome a greater temptation than yours ; there " But Uncle Crewe joined us, and no more was said. We were out for a long while, and Pete took his full share in the conversation. I marvelled at him, for he showed no sense of constraint nor awkward ness, nothing of shame for the past. He held his own, and pronounced his opinions somewhat dogmati cally, and did not exhibit his old deference for Uncle Crewe's visionary theories. I could see that

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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235 JOSEPHINE CREWE the old man felt it through all his pleasure in his son's society, and a growing sense of anger against Pete rose within me. If Uncle Crewe was ignorant of Pete's shortcomings, surely that very ignorance should have shamed him, and in my presence, too, I who was as painfully cognizant of his failings as he himself could be. A feeling was growing up within me as I listened to him, that not only was my Pete changed, he was gone, lost to me. Yes, my Pete was dead, and another man had taken on his likeness, a hard, callous man— yes, a weak, narrow man, wanting in the shame that had become his only possible nobility. I watched Pete hungrily, and tried to think he was still my Pete, but he hurt me by his cool calculation on my affection after the hard test to which he had put it. I began to think distinctly that his real love for me was dead, his generosity, his honour, his nobility, all dead, and I crossed to Uncle Crewe's side, and only spoke when I could soften Pete's words, or divert the old man's attention from their hardness. We sat in the shade of the woods through the hottest hours, and waited in vain for coolness. It never came ; and the sun was hot, and the air sultry, as slowly and silently we crossed the moor on our way home. The scent of the purple heather was sweet and oppressive in the heat that was dancing over it ; and all along the horizon great banks of clouds closed us round, and told of the approaching

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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236 JOSEPHINE CREWE thunder. I pitied the sweating horses that passed us, drawing a heavy load of grain, and urged on by the anxious carter, whose eyes were turned towards the gathering clouds, and I felt for the little moorland cattle as they galloped restlessly past, or stood and lowed uneasily, as if they feared and were oppressed by they knew not what. Yes, the storm was coming, and the sooner it broke, the sooner anxiety and oppression would be ended. I was tired and depressed when I reached home, and I went at once to my own room to rest till dinner-time. So tired was I that I thus left Pete to himself, though for many weeks I had watched over him as well as I could through every hour of the day. I could scarcely have rested then in ignorance of what he was doing had not sleep over taken me, and cut short my anxieties. Yet even when I awoke, he had seemed so much master of himself all day, that I scarcely troubled to think how he might be. As I entered the dining-room a little late, a faint flash of lightning startled me. It was the beginning of the storm, and the room was thrown into some confusion by Aunt Eliza's wish that all the steel knives should be removed from the dinner- table ; thus I alone noticed Pete's entrance, till he stumbled against Mark, and swore. Mark looked up annoyed, then, arrested by Pete's face, he looked at him keenly, and the blood mounted hotly to his brow, while he watched his uncertain step and the difficulty with

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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237 JOSEPHINE CREWE which he gained his chair. There was no mistaking his condition; the time of exposure had come, and Mark's eyes were the first opened. He looked round in uncertainty, and his eye met mine. I looked at him imploringly, and I think, with an awful shock, he must have realized it all, for the shame that should have been Pete's was written on Mark's face. If only we could have sent the servants from the room and dismissed Aunt Eliza, if only we could have done anything rather than wait there for the scene that must follow ! Mark did his best to shield him. He answered his incoherent remarks, started fresh subjects, and tried to draw attention from his brother, but Pete would not be shielded. His voice was loud, his utterance thick, his laugh noisy; his cheeks were flushed, and his repeated calls for wine were alone enough to occasion remark. I saw Uncle Crewe watch him ; I saw the servants' surprise ; I saw them exchange significant glances, and only because I could not desert Uncle Crewe could I still bear to sit at the table and wait for what was coming. Aunt Eliza asked for whisky; the storm made her feel ill, she said ; but though she had put out three bottles of whisky on the Monday when she gave out the stores, there was none left. What had become of it ? " Three bottles," cried Pete, " what were a d d paltry three bottles ? She should put out three dozen bottles, or three dozen dozen bottles, and

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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238 JOSEPHINE CREWE keep them in rows, in pairs, neck to neck, ten to one on the winner, neck and crop, straight across country — Tally-ho ! " Oh, but I cannot write the meanness and the shame of that despicable scene ; the lowness, the disgust of it ; it was all so contemptible, so degrading ! And Pete was the firstborn of the house, and they had looked on him with pride, and his father had idolized him ! And Pete was my love, and I had worshipped him ! And there we hung our heads in shame for him, and the servants stood and gaped at him, and would go their ways, and laugh, and tell tales of him ! And he had sunk so low that it mattered nothing to him, for he felt no shame in his shame ! Awkward and abashed the servants left the room when Uncle Crewe mutely motioned to them to do so ; and if anything could have silenced their gossip, it would have been the pain that was written on their master's face. No good to speak to Pete then, no good to use either word of reproach or anger. Uncle Crewe did not look at him, but with pale shaking lips he bade Mark, " Look to your brother," and then he crept away to be alone. I followed him; not to intrude on his grief, but to crouch all evening in the dark by his closed door. Once I heard the old man sobbing, and my heart was almost broken. I sat there while the thunder shook the very roof above our heads, and the lightning reached even to the dark passage where I crouched. But what were

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 239 thunder and lightning to us over whom a worse storm had broken ? The lightning struck one of the great elm trees near the house, and simultaneously with the peal of thunder that rolled above our heads came the crash of the falling tree, but in the deep silence that followed our thoughts were given rather to the greater who had fallen. Yes, for a man had fallen, the firstborn of the house had fallen from his high estate, and was become mean in our eyes. Very late that evening Uncle Crewe's door opened, and he came out. He showed little surprise when he found me waiting for him, but drew me into the room. I was shocked to see how old and shaken he looked as he laid his hands on my shoulders and spoke. "The hand of the Lord is very heavy upon us," he said, "and it is hard not to rebel. But I have been weak, and I have merited the blow, Josephine. My sons were hard to manage, and I left them without management, and now my ill-doing has returned and fallen on my own head. Ay, it has fallen so heavily that I think I can never hold up my head again." His voice was hoarse as he added — " I was proud of him, Josephine. Yes, I thought all the world of him." Then his voice broke entirely, and sinking into his chair he cried silently. Oh, it is awful to see an old man cry ! An old, grey-headed man ! I threw my arms round him, and his tears fell on my bent head. "Thank God I have you !" he whispered. "But,

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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240 JOSEPHINE CREWE oh, Joey, you have suffered terribly, terribly ! Dearest, you must bear no more for him ; you have borne too much already. Yes, I, bis father, say it. You must give him up, dear, you must give him up. It is worse than I had fancied, Josephine. I think I could have stood anything better than to see him degrade himself like this ! " " I can't give him up," I said. " That would mean that it is hopeless. No, we must fight for him, Uncle Crewe, if he won't for himself." I refused to listen to Uncle Crewe then, never theless from that evening dated my recognition of the fact that Pete and I might part. I drove the thought back, but it gained ground in the days and weeks that followed, and imperceptibly I gave place to it. We all worked for Pete, and we all suffered in those days, and certainly it drew some of us more closely together than ever before. Thus in their constant thought for Pete, in the forbearance it entailed, in the frequent disappointments that day after day brought, and in the patience both had to exert in dealing with Aunt Eliza during that most trying time, Uncle Crewe and Mark were thrown much together, and became more to each other than they had ever been. A sound, work-a-day affection, too, grew up between Mark and me ; there was respect, liking, reliance, but nothing sentimental, and the feeling stood us in good stead. Together we tried to cheer Uncle Crewe, and we bore with Aunt Eliza, whose tongue nothing could restrain.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 241 All day she harped on Pete's misdoings, now lament ing, now blaming, and constantly comparing the troubles of the present with those she had suffered with her father. She dwelt continually on the details of her old father's life, and the degraded end to which he had brought himself, and she appeared to find a painful, but intense pleasure in finding points of resemblance between him and Pete. Often Uncle Crewe left the room, unable to stand her words, and Mark and I were sorely tried in our attempts to be patient with her, and to realize that this was one form of sorrow. Mark had his own troubles which he poured into my ear. The Crewes had always been a proud, upright, self-respecting, and respected family. True, my father had been no credit to them, but his ill doings had been kept in the background, and constant absence from home had made him little known in the neighbourhood. There were few tales of other discreditable Crewes for many generations back, and at least the head of the house had always been worthy of respect. But some day Pete would be that head, and he promised to drag the name through the dirt, and effectually lower the family pride. Mark felt this keenly, and he freely told me why it most troubled him. How, he asked me, could he, for many years to come, ask Marian Wylde to be his wife ? He had had at least a good name to offer her, but if Pete was to make that name the scorn of the country-side, as he bid fair to do, then B

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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242 JOSEPHINE CREWE Mark must wait till he had gained a position of his own before he could speak to her. It was little comfort I could give him beyond a ready sympathy, for in truth Pete's conduct was rapidly becoming such that his society was sufficient to drive any lady from the house. Marian still visited us, though less and less frequently, for Mark, unable to be true to his real sentiments, avoided her, and I saw she felt his coldness deeply, though whether she in anywise understood it, I could not say. I fancied the partial estrangement that resulted did more to soften her into something like womanliness than tbe smooth course of love could ever have done. She grew quieter, and, in a strange, embarrassed way, showed me much affection, the result, I think, in part of sympathy for me, in part of a craving for a woman's sympathy with her own unspoken troubles. I would fain have offered Mark some comfort, and he would gladly have afforded me the like, but truly there was none to give. Pete went from bad to worse. We tried to send him from home, but he refused to go : we tried to keep temptation out of his way, but he eluded all our watchfulness : we tried to rouse him to a sense of shame, but he sank lower and lower, without the least apparent effort to master himself. We hid all we could from Uncle Crewe, but the days of hiding were past ; the whole house hold watched his debasement, the whole neighbour hood knew of it. How was it to end ? we asked ourselves, and could see no end to it.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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243 JOSEPHINE CREWE I despised Pete ; yes, it had come to that ; I had neither respect nor love left for him. Showing utter disregard for me, for his father, and us all, he merited no consideration in return ; and as I stood on a dreary November afternoon, and looked through the drawing-room window, I freely owned to myself that he was nothing, worse than nothing to me. It was Sunday, and behind me Aunt Eliza was asleep over a volume of Paley ; it had lasted her for Sunday reading for many years, though not half its pages were cut. Uncle Crewe dozed, and waked, and dozed again over yesterday's paper, and Pete lounged half asleep upon the sofa. The old clock ticked sleepily on, and the time passed slowly to its drowsy accompaniment and that of the driving rain against the window. It was a cheerless autumn day, and perhaps the most miserable I had yet passed, made so by Pete's unbearable conduct. Marian had been at the Rookery that morning, and his words and behaviour had been such as to drive her from the house. Mark's rage had mastered him, and he had used strong, but ineffectual words to Pete, and then had left us to wear off something of his bitter anger by violent exercise. I now sat at the window to watch for his return. I did not see him come, but I heard the hall door driven violently open by the wind, and a step in the passage, and I knew it must be his. Aunt Eliza awoke with a start at the sound, and began to read to herself in a whisper ; Uncle Crewe glanced hastily

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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244 JOSEPHINE CREWE at Pete, then refolded his paper, and sought for some thing new, and Pete rolled heavily over, and opened his closed eyes. Mark had conquered his passion, but the hard look on his face, and the close com pression of his lips, told the struggle it had been. He had hardly entered the room before Pete set on him, and I marvelled to see how well he retained his self-mastery under the taunting words and badgering. Pete seemed to delight in trying each one of us to the utmost. That afternoon he was especially exasperating, and I was not surprised when Uncle Crewe hastily left the room, and Aunt Eliza's handkerchief came to the fore and played a prominent part. Mark seated himself resolutely with his back towards his brother, and read, or pre tended to read the paper in dogged silence, and Pete directed his unwelcome attentions towards me. " Josephine, come and talk to me," he cried ; but I could not talk to him in that mood, so I was silent, and did not move. " Why don't you answer me ? " he asked. " Would you rather go and talk to Mark ? What ? Do you think I have not noticed how you lay your heads together, and whisper, and look in each other's eyes ? But I tell you, Josephine, I won't stand it. You are mine, and what is mine is mine, and you shall flirt with no man, brother or no brother. I will have you understand that ; do you hear ? " I saw Mark flush darkly, but he maintained his silence, deeming it wisest, I suppose. Pete was not

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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245 JOSEPHINE CREWE master of himself, and I answered him shortly, but bitterly, and bade him be silent. " I'll be hanged if I let you tell me to hold my tongue," he cried savagely. " A chit of a girl like you indeed ! Come and tie my shoe, and fetch me — No, I'm going out, going for a walk. But I'll not leave you to talk to Mark. Mother, if you let them, I'll— I'll— I'll— yes, that is what I'll do. You had better mind, Miss Josephine, or — or — I'll horsewhip you, do you hear ? Yes, there now, yes." He rose from the sofa, and walked off with the uncertain, shuffling step that had become habitual to him. I was conscious that Aunt Eliza's increasing sobs were intended as a demand for pity and con solation, and I was aware that Mark was looking at me uneasily, but I sat dumb and motionless with my eyes fixed on the dreary outlook through the window. I could neither cry nor pray, I could neither speak nor move, but I sat with tight-clasped hands, now cold, now burning hot, and tried to still the tempest of passionate misery that would not let me think. The rain was dashed against the window, and the wind rushed and moaned round the house with the melancholy wail with which autumn greets winter's approach. The wail was echoed in my thoughts till the sound grew to a physical pain, and when, through the driving mist, I saw Pete's figure pass under the dripping trees, I rose with feverish haste to follow him. " Josephine, where are you going ? " Mark asked

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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246 JOSEPHINE CREWE uneasily, and caught at my hand as I passed, but I snatched it from him, and roughly bade him loose me, as I hurried away. I caught up a wrap as I passed through the hall, and then went out into the wind and rain to follow Pete through the growing dusk of the day that was closing in so early and so darkly. I hastened the way he had gone, over the dead, sodden leaves that muffled the sound of my footsteps, on through the Rookery garden, and on again past a part of the moor to a rough, broken hill where scattered pine trees grew, and hawthorns were distorted into strange, unnatural shapes by the wind that worked its will there all unopposed. Pete was not far ahead of me now, and my step slackened, as a shrinking pain made me hold back from the interview I had come to seek. The rain drove between us as I followed him through the soaking heather, and past the gorse bushes that were heavy with hanging drops, and I walked yet more slowly, and looked from him to the dreary scene before us. Across the moor the wet, grey clouds were scudding along close over the ground, and I watched how they hid now this, now that. Some cattle were seen, and the thick mist swallowed them ; a group of rocks was near, and it disappeared ; the dark pine-wood lay beyond, and that, too, vanished in the driving rain, to re-appear in part through the mist that grew darker and more sombre as evening drew on. Now and again sad-voiced peewits cried

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 247 across the moor, but they were hidden, and, save Pete, no living thing was left on any side ; nothing but heather and rocks, dank and dark with wet, a swollen brook, a brimming pool, and mist and rain, and rain and mist driven by the gusty wind across the land. The rain drove against me and splashed coldly in my face, and the wind battled angrily with me, and I was glad it was so, glad it was wet, and grey, and wild — ay, glad of any storm without to help to still the storm within. Still I followed Pete slowly across the bleak hill-side, and his figure loomed out darkly before me against the strip of angry orange that showed in the west through the rain as the sun went down. He stopped, and I sought what shelter from the storm I could behind a rock, and waited. The pitiless rain beat upon me, and the wind rushed past to tear through the naked haw thorns, and toss the tall heads of the pine trees. The evening closed in apace; dusk came stealing quickly on, and rocks, and trees, and shrubs, and Pete himself, were fast growing dark and shapeless in the shrouding storm and dusk. Then Pete turned and came towards me, aud I drew near to meet him. He strode through the driving rain with long, quick steps; his hands were clasped behind him, his head pushed forward, and his eyes bent upon the ground. He did not see me till I stood close beside him, and laid hold of his arm; then he

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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248 JOSEPHINE CREWE stopped, and looked at me in surprise. A dull, grey light still shone from the stormy west, and showed me his face as we stood there close together, looking the one at the other. His head was bare, and his thick, dark hair was heavy and matted with wet, his face was pale, his lips twitched slightly, and his eyes were filled with a dulled, heavy pain. He was himself, I saw that instantly, as I stood there among the cold, wet heather, trembling with excitement, and heedless of the beating rain, and the wind that hustled us as it swept across the hill. " Josephine," he said, in a slow, quiet voice ; and I knew he felt why I had come. My words came fast and almost incoherently. " Yes, Pete," I said, " it is over, all over. I take back my words ; I break my promise ; I will never marry you. I don't love you ; no, I hate you — yes, hate you. We are nothing to each other now, I say, and never shall be again, never again ! Pete, I think you have broken my heart. I loved you altogether, most entirely, and you have trampled on me and my love, and you have trampled on your father's love, and you have sunk to nothing better than a brute. Oh, I hate you — I hate you. I would to God we had never met ! " " Amen," he answered gravely. " Yes, Josephine, amen to that wish. Oh, it is an agony for me to look at you, for I know that I am nothing better than a beast. But I swear to you, Josephine, as I stand here, I love you, and therefore I will give you up."

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 249 "Pete! Pete!" I cried wildly, holding fast to him ; " what sort of a love is yours ? Love me ! and you sink down, and down, and down, till it is pain to look at you ; yes, the sight of you means disgust and contempt. And you call that love ! Oh, Pete, I loved you ; yes, I loved you with all my heart, I say, and you have cared so little for me that you have killed my love, and I despise you!" "Yes, that is it," he answered quietly; "you despise me, and you are right. Josephine, I despised my grandfather for his weakness, and my mother for her folly, and I despised my father's indolence, though never my father — no, never ! And now I am more despicable in every point than they in any. Yes, that is it." " Pete, if you think nothing of me, think of your father and brother, for pity's sake think of them ! " " What ! think of them when I did not think of you ! I tell you, Josephine, I did struggle for your sake, but it was no good, and I can do no more. There has been something wrong all along," he went on hopelessly. " That start they called genius meant nothing, for all the while there was something funda mentally wrong, and I see it now ; it was my will. If I swore to you never to yield again, I should break my oath this very evening." " It is because it is undermining your will. Oh, if only you would give it up!" And my tears fell fast in the wet and cold.

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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250 JOSEPHINE CREWE " I can't," he said weariedly, almost indifferently ; " I can do nothing : often I can even feel no love for you. I never thought it could come to that." " It is well it has," I answered, with great bitter ness ; " for I tell you, Pete, from this day forth you are nothing to me, nor I to you ; we are absolutely divided. I shall leave your home, and you must follow your own course ; follow it to the end." He looked at me in uncertainty, and murmured — " I can't drive her out ; no, I must go. It is all hell, all the same." And then it was as if the meaning of our parting pierced through the crust of dulled sensibility, and touched a last remnant of love for me, for he took me in his arms, and kissed me passionately, while great tears fell on my face. " Josephine, my darling, my darling ! " he moaned. " Love me still, my darling," and he kissed my hair and face. " Kiss me," he implored me ; but I turned away, and he loosed me. " So it is ended, all over ! " he cried bitterly ; and without another look or word he turned away, and was lost in the darkness, and the dreary wind and rain. Sick at heart, I leaned against a cold, wet rock, and moaned as I turned my face up towards the sky and the pitiless storm. I tried to pray to God to spare me, to take me away from this misery ; but Pete's words echoed again and again, and I could neither cry nor pray. I held to the rock, and my

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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251 JOSEPHINE CREWE breath came in hard, difficult sobs, till those words sounded to me in another voice — " So it is ended, all over ! Little Joey, little Joey ! " My mother had said them that last night years ago. I could not cry for Pete, but at the sound of my mother's voice, the blessed tears came, called up by a passionate longing, and a wild, useless wish that I had kissed her. No tears could alter that little deed, and no tears could wash away the sorrow that Pete had wrought for himself and me. I did not leave the Rookery as I had thought I needs must do, for Pete never again came home.

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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X 252 " I cannot see the features right, When on the gloom I strive to paint The face I know ; the hues are faint And mix with hollow masks of night." Tennyson. I STOOD alone on the moor, on the highest point anywhere round, and with my hand I shaded my eyes from the setting sun, and swept the whole wide horizon with a lingering, wistful glance. Yet I should have found it hard to say why I was wistful, even to tell myself for what I wished. Perhaps it was a feeling in part born of the hour, and of the influence of the still, autumnal scene before me. The harvest in the distant fields was gathered in, the heather near at hand was over, and even the ling had faded, the hairbells had grown scarce, and whole stretches of bracken had turned to every shade of gold. The sun was setting over the distant purple hills, and its deep amber light flooded all the land, and rested on the thick woods that hid the Hall in its fertile valley on my right. They were still leafy and gorgeous with the rich variety of their autumn dress. All was beautiful, and filled with a mighty repose. The world was sinking to a

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 253 double rest, rest after the toil of the day, and rest after the long, hot summer. There was a satisfaction, a luxuriance, in such repose ; a rich harvest was gathered in, abundant fruit had ladened the trees, and was safely garnered for the winter, and the land waited a moment, and was still, as if to enjoy this latest beauty ere it sank into its long, deep winter's sleep. The vague longing that such a scene almost inevitably awakens arose within my mind, and stirred with an aching pain a sorrow that lay hidden there. My eyes filled with tears as I followed the flight of the rooks across the yellow sky towards the Rookery woods, or watched the team of patient, heavy-footed cart-horses, two brown, one white, that a farm boy was leading home across the moor. The lad cracked his long whip idly, and sang a song that sounded melodious on the quiet evening air. I brushed away my tears, and looked with great longing towards a far-off stretch of white high-road. Nothing was moving on it, no one was coming. I expected no one, no, I had never expected any one, though through the two years since Pete had left us, I had often and often gone up to that hill at evening, and looked along the road. I sighed with the old sorrow that had eaten very deeply into my heart, and which changing events were calling into fresh prominence. Sitting down among the heather, I rested my chin on my hand and looked towards the golden west, while my heart sank low, and I wondered where was

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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254 JOSEPHINE CREWE Pete ? Through all those long months since he left us, we had had never a sign nor a token from him, no slightest indication of where he was, and all endeavours to trace him had resulted in nothing further than the knowledge that he had left the country. Where was he then ? Was he in some great city, lonely and sad, among all the busy, swarm ing men and women, eating his heart out with sorrowful thinking of home and of me ? But then why did he not write ? Was he perhaps far away in a strange land among men and women who neither knew nor thought of him, trying to forget his home and me, trying to drown the thought of us ? Or was he dead ? Yes, I trembled, but I prayed God that it might be so ; I believed it was so. The conviction had grown strong within me that I should never see Pete again, that far away he was lying still and quiet, and deaf to the restless hurry of strange feet passing to and fro. I believed he was resting at last, and it comforted me to think of him so, rather than as still tossed about by relent less passions, degraded by the temptations to which he was a prey, and sinking God only knows how low. But oh, it was sad, and my heart ached. That death should have met rough, loving Pete all alone was a fearful thought ; I would have given every thing to be by him then. Tears rose to my eyes again, and fell slowly on my knee ; but why was I crying ? Crying for Pete, my Pete ! Nay, but I hated him ; he had been

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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255 JOSEPHINE CREWE cruel, very cruel to me. My great, noble Pete, my love, was after all but a drunkard, and I shuddered as I thought of it out in that calm, beautiful world. Oh, the very thought was a shame under the clear heaven that stretched cloudless above me. Instead of a face great with noble thoughts, deep eyes looking far into the distance and learning wonderful and beautiful things, there rose before me a heavy, besotted face, and eyes that cared to look nowhere, that would not readily meet mine. So it was ever when I thought of Pete : those two conflicting pictures arose and struggled which should be clearer, my love as he had been when I loved him, or my lost love when he had killed my love. And so it had been with Uncle Crewe when he thought of his favourite son. In the early months of uncertainty his trouble had been terrible, and we had been drawn very near together. Aunt Eliza did not seem to feel Pete's absence; indeed I believe it came to her as a relief; and as for Mark, he never mentioned his brother, made as if he had forgotten him, or he had never been. Thus it was to me alone that Uncle Crewe could turn for sympathy. It grieved me to see how fast he aged at that time; and constant thought for him helped to fill the terrible blank in my own life that Pete had made. We walked together and talked together, and I sat for hours by his side when he was reading, often with my hand in his. Sitting there, I was ready to listen when speech was a relief to him, and to

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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256 JOSEPHINE CREWE sympathize when a swift shaft of sorrow or anxiety crossed his mind. I was less free than I had ever been, and trouble was ever gnawing at my heart, so that often the days seemed long and sad, and I craved with feverish eagerness for the night-time, when in solitude, and long, dark, silent walks I could gather strength to meet the trials of the day — patience and gentleness to bear with Aunt Eliza, sympathy with Mark's plans for the future when ho chanced to be at the Rookery, and cheerfulness and ready interest for Uncle Crewe. I needed strength sorely in those days, for though the daily trials and miseries that Pete had heaped upon me were gone with him, my great love was gone too ; life was blank ; little things tried me that I had laughed away so easily, and there was no one to whom I could pour out my whole soul as I had to Pete. I could not sew, for then thought was free, and Pete sat beside me ; I could not read, for Pete had directed my reading, and his opinions and ideas found their way to me in every line. Even when I turned to Nature, sorrow still walked beside me, and often, as I wandered to and fro, I cried bitterly to ease the ache at my heart, the terrible, blank longing that had nothing for which to long. Yes, that was the deadening misery of it. There was nothing to hope for, nothing to wish for. The prop to which I had clung was rotten at the centre ; if I trusted to it again it would crumble : I could put no faith in it. The light had gone out of my life, and I was

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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257 JOSEPHINE CREWE broken-hearted. The days were long and grey, the daily tasks hung heavy on my hands, and often despair dogged me closely at the heels. Two things helped to raise and comfort me ; first my love for Uncle Crewe and the sense of his dependence on me; next the belief that came to both of us that Pete was dead. We talked of him as dead, and we grew to think of him as dead, and we forgave his sins, and thought gently of him, as we do of those whom death has hidden from us. Time passed slowly over us, and all the time as it passed us, the days and hours, the weeks and months, stood behind, as a mist between us and him we had lost. The outline of the face we had loved was softened, and we grew to talk of him with no bitterness in our sorrow. Once more we saw that there was sunshine in the world, though never again could life be quite the same, never again could Uncle Crewe throw off the old age that had stolen upon him, never again could my laughter be so light and ready. My face was grave, Jane told me, but it was beautiful, she added with tears in her eyes, for she had loved me ever since the day when I had come to her, poor, and dirty, and forlorn. Others believed Pete dead; all the country-side believed it, all the household believed it, and I had difficulty in dissuading Aunt Eliza from adopting crape, and occasionally drawing down the blinds. Mark accepted the general belief, and came to me with hints and whispers of a speedy marriage. s

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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258 JOSEPHINE PREWE Pete was no longer there to hinder it, and must they wait for the confirmation of the belief that he would never return ? No, he had talked it over with Marian, and they had decided to be married. So new thoughts drove out the old ones ; Mark was happy ; Aunt Eliza was proud and elated - the household talked of the wedding, and only with Uncle Crewe and me was the thought of Pete constantly present. Nine months after his departure they were married, and left us. Then life fell back into a regular routine, and the days passed quietly and peacefully, with little change. Another winter stole silently past us, again spring laughed across the land, summer followed and slumbered drowsily, and now another golden autumn was almost gone, and it was well-nigh two years since Pete had left us. It had seemed to me that life would always flow slowly and uneventfully like this, till my summer, too, should be gone, and winter creep towards me ; but all the while slow changes were at work, and as I sat on the moor that evening, they thrust themselves prominently before me. Uncle Crewe had ceased to watch for the letters ; he no longer walked often to the window to look along the drive, nor glanced eagerly round when he came in after even a short absence; he had bowed his head, and accepted the loss of his eldest son as final. He was an old man now, but once more he took pleasure in his rides and drives, and gossiped cheerily with his neighbours. Mark's

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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259 JOSEPHINE CREWE marriage, and the birth of a grandson had brought him new interests, and Mark and Marian were often at the Rookery. Of late they had come more frequently and stayed longer, and I noticed how Mark was tacitly accepted as the heir, and watched how he set a curb on Uncle Crewe's extravagance, and gave an eye to the estate, cleared and planted, and brought the place into better order than I had seen it in before. Uncle Crewe was proud of the baby, thought highly of Mark as a business man, was amused by Marian's inde pendent ways, and grew fond of her. I began to question whether Mark would not soon relinquish his profession, and live altogether at the Rookery. With no evidence of Pete's death this might be a most unwise step, but I saw that it was one to which his inclinations strongly prompted him, and for Uncle Crewe's sake, I could not find it in my heart to attempt to dissuade him. Thus the old man's life had altered, and grown brighter, and though it was still to me he turned, and my sympathy and opinion he sought on every point, yet he now no longer dwelt continually on his loss ; it was mainly pleasures and interests I was called upon to share with him, and I began to question whether he still needed me, whether I might not leave him. It was upon this question, and all it involved, that I dwelt that evening on the moor. This it was that had brought up the thought of Pete so clearly, and that had directed

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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260 JOSEPHINE CREWE my steps to this spot where I had so often thought of him, and looked hopelessly for his return. Once more I fancied I could see him coming towards me, could note his long, firm steps, and his preoccupied air, was sensible of my old intense pride in him, aud felt my heart glow as his face lighted up at the sight of me, and his love shone in his dark eyes. Then his steps stumbled and were uncertain, he wore a hang-dog expression, and nothing could bring a light to his eyes. Now that I had lost him, I could neither love nor hate him, but from the past there came to me bits of happiness and affection, bits of misery, a backward glance of admiration, a look of pity or contempt, and I only knew that never could I forget him. It was the thought of forgetting him that of late had made me dwell continually on his remem brance, and that had caused me many times to question his death. Yes, what if he were not dead, if he came back ? What then ? Well, what then ? We were separated for ever ; there might be pity, but never again honour and respect. Nevertheless, while I thought, I arose hastily, and passed down the hill with uncertain steps. I plucked at the tall yellow bracken, and crushed the leaves in my hands, for on that quiet evening there was no peace in my thoughts. My thoughts were busy, and my eyes were on the ground, so that I did not notice a man's approach, till Humphrey's voice startled me, and he joined me, and walked slowly by my side. He

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 261 carried a gun, and talked of his shooting, and while he spoke, I stroked the soft feathers of a little partridge, and it left the mark of blood on my hands. I showed it Humphrey, and he wiped it tenderly away — but Pete had kissed those hands ! I met his glance, and saw how fondly he watched me, ay, every whit as fondly as Pete had ever done ; but with a deep, quiet love that had been silent ever since that one and only time he had spoken. Did he, too, love my blue eyes, and the hair that Pete had called beautiful ? Did he love the little good and the much evil that was in me as Pete had done ? Nay, but what of himself ? Was he worthy of admiration, and love, and honour ? Or would he, too, fall, and grow mean and base ? I looked at him, and he held his head proudly and erect, and fronted all the world with a bold, free, fearless glance. I knew that he was strong, and true, and honourable, and I felt a sudden sense of pride in him; and that feeling brought the blood hotly to my cheeks. Our conversation flagged, and we walked almost silently to the gate that led towards the Rookery. I turned to say good-bye, but Humphrey lingered, and leaned upon the gate. I felt he was watching me as I gathered a few late blackberries that grew close by. " As Mark and Marian are here, I will walk back with you to see them," he said. " Do," I answered ; " Uncle Crewe will be glad to see you." And then I could not think of another word to say.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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262 JOSEPHINE CREWE It was always like that now. When Humphrey and I were alone, a horrible restraint grew up between us ; we could not talk naturally on indifferent sub jects ; we could not look easily at one another ; there was always something in the background. During the past two years he had been our most constant visitor at the Rookery; he had come with perfect freedom at all hours, and had been almost a son to Uncle Crewe, and a veiy great friend to me. As often the only young people there, we had been thrown much together, we had met out walking, and had gradually and imperceptibly grown more and more dependent on each other. I had called it friendship, aud Humphrey had never made love to me ; but I knew what Uncle Crewe and every one expected, and I was conscious that Mark and Marian watched us and laughed, though they had never breathed a word on the subject to me. But lately I had begun to question if Humphrey did not expect something, too, and that was what made it so embarrassing. " Josephine," said Humphrey suddenly, " of course you have had no news of Pete ? " "No, never a word," I answered, and forgetting my embarrassment, I drew near, and also leaned against the gate. " I don't think we shall ever hear, for surely he must be dead." "I thought," he said, looking at me anxiously, ': that perhaps you were watching for him when I saw you shading your eyes on the hill." " Yes, I was," I answered, " but I did not expect

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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263 JOSEPHINE CREWE to see him ; no, I knew I should not, only I had been thinking of him. I used to watch for him night and day. For months, if I heard a horse, I started, and thought it was Pete riding back ; if I saw a man in the twilight, my heart beat, for I thought he had come home. I fancied that each post would tell us that he was coming, or that he was dead, or that it would at least bring us some news of him ; and often I waked in the night and believed that the bell had waked me, and that he was standing at the door and ringing. Yes, I have gone down and opened the door, and cried to find no one there, though whether it was sorrow that made me, or a blessed relief, I don't know. But I used to lie awake for hours afterwards, thinking that perhaps he was ill, and suffering, and all alone." " Poor Josephine ! " he said gently. " It was very hard for you." " Oh, Humphrey, it was a relief when at last I could really believe he was dead, and bring myself to think of him as at rest, with all his misery over. He did not haunt me in the same way then ; only again just lately I have thought a great deal of him ; I don't know why." And then I remembered that I did know why, and I wished I had not said so much. Humphrey took my hand as it lay on a bar of the gate, and asked me in a voice, the calmness of which was not quite natural — " Josephine, tell me, if Pete came back, should you marry him ? "

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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264 JOSEPHINE CREWE " No, never." " But you still love him ? After a moment's pause, I answered — "No," and then I bent my head, and turned away my face, for my cheeks grew scarlet, and oh ! I wished they would not. Steps and voices approached us, and I was thankful for it. A workman came towards us leading his little son by the hand, while his wife walked by his side. They were laughing and talking, and I saw when the woman noticed us, she smiled and spoke to the man, and he also looked at us, and laughed back at her. They passed through the gate, and Humphrey watched how the man lifted the child in his arms, and the woman picked a couple of blackberries, and put them in the little outstretched hand. We heard the child's laughter, and the man and woman laughed, too. When Humphrey looked at me again there was something pathetic in his smile, as if he would say — " Surely you will not let Pete always stand between me and happiness such as that." But I took advantage of the open gate, and passed quickly through it, and at the same time I found my tongue, and talked fast all the way, though I do not remember a word I said. I know that my cheeks burned hotly, and that Humphrey's half-smile of amusement did not tend to cool them, for I knew it was at my expense. Neither were his confident high spirits, and Marian's quick looks of intelligence when we joined the

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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265 JOSEPHINE CREWE Rookery party, calculated to allay my confusion. I knew what it all meant; yes, I knew what was coming, but I could not tell how to feel and think. They were merry over dinner that night, but I was absent and abstracted, and could not keep pace with the conversation. I did my best, but my thoughts would wander, and Marian noticed it, for I saw her watch me, and look at Mark and laugh. Those two were a happy couple, far more so than I think any one would have dared to prophesy before their union. Mark was extremely proud of his handsome wife, and appeared to find extraordinary pleasure and entertain ment in her somewhat brusque manners and mascu line ways, while she had a husband after her own heart in cheerful, blue-eyed Mark. It was well that ter affection and admiration for Pete had died out early. Even had events taken an altogether differ ent course, they could have found little satisfaction in one another, for she did not need a genius, could not have understood one, and Mark's business capacity was quite cleverness enough for her. They admired each other greatly, worshipped the baby, rode and hunted together, planned improvements at the Rookery, saw a fair amount of society, and led the life for which each seemed to be most suited. Even her mother-in-law appeared to be no drawback to Marian's happiness. She was fairly kind to her, but looked upon her as a standing joke out of which a laugh might always be had. Dinner ended, Mark went to write letters, and I

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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266 JOSEPHINE CREWE sat alone with Uncle Crewe over his wine and walnuts. I looked at him, and wondered if I could leave him, as I had wondered so often lately. He had many things of which to talk, from theories about the baby and Marian's strange notions of rearing him, to discussions on the improvements Mark was making, and the clearing of that coppice where Pete and I had first met when he came home from abroad. It was some time before he noticed that I was grave and silent, but when he did, he looked at me keenly, and dropped his voice. " Joey, may I speak of it ? " he asked. I nodded, then cracked and peeled a walnut, while he con tinued. " It is what I wish for more than anything, dear. You know since we lost Pete you have been all the world to me, and I have thought much of your future. You are young, and not exactly ugly, Joey, and I am getting old, and there is no one else upon whom you have any claim. It is little I can do for you, for Mark will have almost every thing. I had trusted your interests to Pete : I thought I could not trust them better. But now, fond as they undoubtedly are of you, dear, it is impossible to say what view Mark and Marian may take of the matter, and this has troubled me sorely. If I could see you happily married, it would give me greater satisfaction than anything short of my boy's return." " But if he should come back ? " I said, as I leant my cheek on my hand and my elbow on the table, and looked earnestly at Uncle Crewe.

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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JOSEPHINE CREWE 267 "He will not come back," he said, "I shall not see my son again. We shall not meet in this world, but — ah, he was my eldest son, and I am an old man." His voice shook, and he added hastily — " Thank God that I have you, Josephine ; yes, I thank the Lord gratefully that He sent you to me." Then his voice broke altogether, and I turned away my face. It was only for a moment, and then he returned to his first point. "I know no man whom I respect more than Humphrey, nor to whom I would sooner give my daughter. If you can love him, don't let Pete's shadow come between you ; but if Pete has made such love impossible to you, then may God for give him, for he will need a great forgiveness." " But it is you I am thinking of, Uncle Crewe," I cried. " How can I ever bear to leave you, you who have been kinder to me than I can ever say ? Even though you have Mark and Marian and the baby, I fear you might miss me, and I could not bear to feel that." " God bless you and be merciful to you all the days of your life, and reward you for all you have been to me," he said solemnly. " Yes, dear, I should miss you ; but the Hall is near, and I should only half lose you. To see you and Humphrey happy together would give me all for which I can now wish. Let him understand it, Joey ; don't wait another day ; let him see to-morrow that you love

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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268 JOSEPHINE CREWE him. Come and kiss me, Joey, and whisper in my ear that you will." I kissed him, but I whispered nothing, and he laughed as he let me go. What? Had it come to this ? Was I, Josephine Crewe, to marry Humphrey ? Was it I who was feeling so wild and happy and excited ? Yes, it was I, I who had loved Pete, and loved him tenderly and truly, and would have loved him till this day if he would have let me. But he had stamped out my love for him, he had changed till he was no longer my Pete, till I shuddered at the thought of him, and could not wish for his return. And Humphrey had loved me truly and silently for years ; he was strong where Pete had been weak, and I could honour him, and was proud of him, and proud in all humility to think he loved me. I could not go to the drawing-room that night to talk to Aunt Eliza and Marian. It was a quiet moonlight night, and I went out to be alone and think, and to drive back those thoughts of Pete that I did not want to haunt me then. There was a blessed peace on the moor at that hour, and the moonlight slept on the wide expanse of heather. The touch of the white mist was tender as it lay in the hollows, and a great stillness hushed the world. Nature's cool, firm hand was laid on my brow, and troublesome thoughts were banished. Here was a calm, deep strength, stronger and more enduring than Pete and Humphrey and I, a

Boulton, Helen M.

Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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269 JOSEPHINE CREWE strength that called forth trust, and under its influence I felt that all was well. Surely Pete was dead, and that was a rest grander even than Nature's — deeper, more sublime, a perfect rest with no troubled waking. Yes, surely all was well. On the morrow I thought of how Uncle Crewe had told me to let Humphrey see my love, but my cheeks burned, and I could not tell how to meet him. I thought that perhaps my embarrassment of the preceding day had let him see only too clearly how I felt, and I was all confusion when I thought of facing him. It was afternoon before he came, and we were all together in the drawing-room when I saw him approaching the house. I alone had seen him, and I could not stay to meet him there among them all, so hastily leaving the room, I took my garden hat from where it hung in the hall, and went straight out to meet him. I had not stayed to think, and when I met him I could not tell what to say, nor how to account for my coming, but in another moment we had turned our backs upon the Rookery, and he had relieved my embarrassment by taking upon himself the full burden of the conversation as he led me towards his own woods to show me how beautiful they still were. I was painfully conscious that my silence, my downcast looks, and my shyness were obeying Uncle Crewe all too well. The air was fresh and bright, but very still, and as we passed through the woods scarcely a leaf fell to

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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270 JOSEPHINE CREWE join those that were already crisping beneath our feet. We walked slowly till we came to a fallen tree, and there we sat, and looked down a little valley that lay before us. It was carpeted with grass that was thick and green in its autumn growth. At the lower end a few dappled deer were feeding, and all along its length the sunshine came flickering through as if to enjoy the lush luxuriance of the grass, and the splendour of the beautiful trees. Great beech trees grew on the steep hillside on either hand, and stretched out long branches that made a glory of gold and orange almost dazzling in the sunlight. Among them stood stalwart chest nuts that yet retained a partial greenness, though some of their finest limbs showed a dash of yellow, or a streak of deep blood-red. Over the fallen leaves beneath the trees, and across the grass, the rabbits were scuttling to and fro, and high up in a beech tree, where the topmost branches were bare against the sky, a robin was singing his plaintive song. It was an autumn sound, and an autumn scene, and the scent of autumn was strong in the air ; a damp haze hung over the distant trees, and autumn's beautiful melancholy breathed over all. It may have made our love more tender, but it could not make us sad. Then Humphrey stole my hand, and I did not with draw it. "Joey," he whispered tenderly, "Joey, do you love me ? " I wanted to tell him yes, that I did, that all my

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Boulton, Helen M. [person]

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Josephine Crewe. A novel

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271 JOSEPHINE CREWE love was his, but the silly blushes rose hotly to my cheeks, and not a word would come. It was not easy to answer my old playfellow when I raised my eyes to his beautiful face, and saw its suppressed emotion. I realized what I was to this man, and felt that on me, worthless me, he lavished a great love, all his love. I trembled, and my eyes were downcast as I wished I was worthy of it, and that I might make him happy. My lips shook, and my voice was silent when I tried to frame the words, so that I could only turn towards him, and hold out my other hand. He took them both in his. " Is it yes, Josephine ? " " Yes," I answered quickly, for his intense glad ness was almost more than I could bear. " But oh, Humphrey, don't love me so much. I am not good : I am not worth it ; and your love is so great." " Yes, Josephine, it is great, but if it could be a thousand times greater, it would not be too great. I love you, dearest, entirely, and I will be a true and faithful husband to you, and strive for your happiness in all things, ay, so help me God." " Oh, I will be as good, and true, and loving a wife as I can," I cried ; " but I wish I was better ; I wish I was more worthy of you ! " He closed my lips with a kiss, and put his arm about me, and as we sat and talked, love made even our foolish words seem sacred. We sat on the old tree trunk till the robin ceased his song, till the deer

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