Johnny Ludlow First Series Part 87

"No, I never saw him," said Harriet. "But, after all the reports and talk, I was timid at being in the house alone--James and his wife had not come then--and that's why I asked you to let me stay at the school-house the night my husband was away."

"But it was told me that you _did_ see him."

"I was always frightened for fear I should."

"It strikes me you have had other causes for fright as well, Harriet,"

cried shrewd Miss Timmens.

"Well, you see--this business of James Roe's has put me about. Every knock that came to the door seemed to me to be somebody coming for _him_. My husband says the ghost is all rubbish and fancy, Aunt Susan."

"Rubbish and fancy, does he?"

"He says that when he came in here with Johnny Ludlow, the night there was that commotion, in going up for some matches, he fell over something at the top of the stairs by the end cas.e.m.e.nt, and flung it behind the rafters. Next day he saw what it was. I had tied a white cloth over a small dwarf mop to sweep the walls with, and must have left it near the window. I remembered that I did leave it there. It no doubt looked in the moonlight just like a white face. And that's what was taken for David's ghost."

Miss Timmens paused, considering matters: she might believe just as much of this as she liked.

"It appeared again at the same place, Harriet, two or three days ago."

"That was me, aunt. I saw you all looking up, and drew away again for fear you should know me. Mrs. James was making my bed, and I had crawled there."

There it ended. So far the mystery was over. The explanation was confided to the public, who received it differently. Some accepted the mop version; others clung to the ghost. And Hill never had a penny of his rent. Louis Roe was away; and, as it turned out, did not come back again.

Mrs. James wanted to leave also; and Maria Lease took her place as nurse. Tenderly she did it, too; and Harriet got well. She was going off to join her husband as soon as she could travel: it was said in France.

No one knew; unless it was Maria Lease. She and Harriet had become confidential friends.

"Which is the worse fate--yours or mine?" cried Harriet to Maria, half mockingly, half woefully, the day she was packing her trunk. "You have your lonely life, and your never-ending repentance for what you call your harsh sin: I have my sickness and my trouble--and I have enough of that, Maria." But Maria Lease only shook her head in answer.

"Trouble and repentance are our best lot in this world, Harriet. They come to fit us for heaven."

But North Crabb, though willingly admitting that Harriet Roe, in marrying, had not entered on a bed of lilies, and might have been happier had she kept single, would not, on the whole, be shaken from its belief that the ghost still haunted the empty cottage. Small parties made s.h.i.+vering pilgrimages up there on a moonlight night, to watch for it, and sometimes declared that it appeared. Fancy goes a long way in this world.

XXI.

SEEING LIFE.

The Clement-Pells lived at Parrifer Hall, and were as grand as all the rest of us put together. After that affair connected with Cathy Reed, and the death of his son, Major Parrifer and his family could not bear to stay in the place. They took a house near London, and Parrifer Hall was advertised to be let. Mr. Clement-Pell came forward, and took it for a term of years.

The Clement-Pells rolled in riches. His was one of those cases of self-made men that have been so common of late years: where an individual, from a humble position, rises by perceptible degrees, until he towers above all, like a Jack sprung out of a box, and is the wonder and envy of the world around. Mr. Clement-Pell was said to have begun life in London as a lawyer. Later, circ.u.mstances brought him down to a bustling town in our neighbourhood where he became the manager of a small banking company; and from that time he did nothing but rise.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune," says Shakespeare: and this was the tide in Mr.

Clement-Pell's. The small banking company became a great one. Its spare cash helped to make railways, to work mines, and to do all kinds of profitable things. The shareholders flourished; Mr. Clement-Pell was more regarded than a heathen deity. He established a branch at two or three small places; and, amongst them, one at Church d.y.k.ely. After that, he took Parrifer Hall. The simple people around could not vie with the grandeur of the Pells, and did not try to do so. The Pells made much of me and Joseph Todhetley--perhaps because there was a dearth of young fellows near--and often asked us to the Hall. Mrs. Pell, a showy, handsome woman, turned up her nose at all but the best families, and would not a.s.sociate with farmers, however much they might live like gentlefolk. She was decisive in manner, haughty, and ruled the house and everything in it, including her husband, with iron will. In a slight degree she and her children put us in mind of the Parrifers: for they held their heads in the clouds as the Parrifers had done, and the ostentation they displayed was just the least bit vulgar. Mr.

Pell was a good-looking, gentlemanlike man, with a pleasant, hearty, straightforward manner that took with every one. He was neither fine nor stuck up: but his wife and daughters were; after the custom of a good many who have shot up into greatness.

And now that's the introduction to the Clement-Pells. One year they took a furnished house in London, and sent to invite me and Tod up in the summer. It was not very long after we had paid that visit to the Whitneys and Miss Deveen. The invitation was cordially pressed; but Squire Todhetley did not much like our going.

"Look here, you boys," said he, as we were starting, for the point was yielded, "I'd a great deal rather you were going to stay at home. Don't you let the young Pells lead you into mischief."

Tod resented the doubt. "We are not boys, sir."

"Well, I suppose you'd like to call yourselves young men," returned the Pater; "you in particular, Joe. But young men have gone up to London before now, and come home with their fingers burnt."

Tod laughed.

"They have. It is this, Joe: Johnny, listen to me. A young fellow, just launched on the world, turns out very much according to the companions he is thrown amongst and the a.s.sociations he meets with. I have a notion that the young Pells are wild; fast, as it is called now; so take care of yourselves. And don't forget that though their purses may be unlimited, yours are not."

Three footmen came rus.h.i.+ng out when the cab stopped at the house in Kensington, and the Pells made much of us. Mr. Pell and the eldest son, James, were at the chief bank in the country; they rarely spared the time to come up; but the rest were in town. Mrs. Pell, the four girls, the two sons, and a new German governess. The house was not as large as Parrifer Hall, and Tod and I had a top room between us, with two beds in it. Fabian Pell held a commission in the army. Augustus was reading for the bar--he was never called at home anything but "Gusty."

We got there just before dinner, and dressed for it--finding dress was expected. A worn-looking, fas.h.i.+onable man of thirty was in the drawing-room when we went down, the Honourable Mr. Crayton: and Fabian brought in two officers. Mrs. Pell wore blue, with a string of pearls on her neck that were too big to be real: the two girls were in white silk and white shoes. Altogether, considering it was not a state occasion, but a friendly dinner, the dresses looked too fine, more suited to a duke's table; and I wondered what Mrs. Todhetley would have said to them.

"Will you take Constance in to dinner, Mr. Todhetley?"

Tod took her. She was the second girl: the eldest, Martha Jane, went in with one of the officers. The younger girls, Leonora and Rose, dined in the middle of the day with the governess. Gusty was not there, and Fabian and I went in together.

"Where is he?" I asked of Fabian.

"Gusty? Oh, knocking about somewhere. His getting home to dinner's always a chance. He has chambers in town."

Why the idea should have come over me, I know not, unless it was the tone Mrs. Pell spoke in, but it flashed across my mind that she was looking at Tod as a possible husband for her daughter Constance. He was not of an age to marry yet: but some women like to plot and plan these things beforehand. I hated her for it: I did not care that Tod should choose one of the Pells. Gusty made his appearance in the course of the evening; and we fellows went out with him.

The Squire was right: it was fast life at the Pells', and no mistake.

I don't believe there was a thing that cost money but Fabian and Gusty Pell and Crayton went in for it. Crayton was with them always. He seemed to be the leader: the Pells followed him like sheep; Tod went with them.

I sometimes: but they did not always ask me to go. Billiards and cards were the chief amus.e.m.e.nts; and there'd be theatres and singing-halls.

The names of some of the places would have made the Squire's hair stand on end. One, a sort of private affair, that the Pells and Crayton said it was a favour to gain admittance to, was called "Paradise." Whether that was only the Pells' or Crayton's name for it, we did not hear.

And a paradise it was when you were inside, if decorations and mirrors can make one. Men and women in evening dress sang songs in a kind of orchestra; to which you might listen sitting and smoking or lounging about and talking: if you preferred a rubber at whist or a hand at ecarte in another room, there you had it. Never a thing was there, apparently, that the Squire could reasonably have grumbled at, except the risk of losing money at cards, and the sense of intoxicating pleasure. But I don't think it was a good place to go to. The Pells called all this "Seeing Life."

It would not have done Tod much harm--for he had his head on his shoulders the right way--but for the gambling. It is a strong word to use; but the play grew into nothing less. Had the Squire said to us, Take care you don't learn to gamble up in London, Tod would have resented it as much as if he had been warned not to go and hang himself, feeling certain that there was no more chance of one than the other. But gambling, like some other things--drinking for instance--steals upon you by degrees, too imperceptibly to alarm you. The Pells and Crayton and other fellows that they knew went in for cards and billiards wholesale.

Tod was asked at first to take a quiet hand with them; or just play for the tables--and he thought no more of complying than if the girls had pressed him to make one at the round game of Old Maid, or to while away a wet afternoon at bagatelle.

There was no regularity in Mrs. Pell's household: there was no more outward observance of religion than if we'd lived in Heathendom. It was so different from Tod's last London visit, when he was at the Whitneys'.

_There_ you had to be at the breakfast-table to the moment--half-past eight; and to be in at bedtime, unless engaged out with friends. Sir John read a chapter of the Bible morning and night, and then, pus.h.i.+ng the spectacles lower on his old red nose, he'd look over them at us and tell us simply to be good boys and girls. _Here_ you might come down at any hour, from nine or ten, to eleven or twelve, and ring for fresh breakfast to be supplied. As to staying out at night, that was quite ad libitum; a man-servant sat up till morning to open the door.

I was initiated less into the card-playing than Tod, and never once was asked to make one at pool, probably because it was taken for granted that I had less money to stake. Which was true. Tod had not much, for the matter of that: and it never struck me to think he was losing wholesale.

I got home one night at twelve, having been dining at Miss Deveen's and going to a concert with her afterwards. Tod was not in, and I sat up in our room, writing to Mr. Brandon, which I had put off doing until I felt ashamed. Tod came in as I was folding the letter. It was hot weather, and he stretched himself out at the open window.

"Are you going to stop there all night, Tod?" I asked by-and-by. "It's one o'clock."

"I may as well stop here, for all the sleep I shall get in bed," was his answer, as he brought his head in. "I'm in an awful mess, Johnny."

"What kind of mess?"

"Debt."

"Debt! What for?"

"Card-playing," answered Tod, shortly. "And betting at pool."