The golden prime : a novel
Boyle, Frederick, b. 1841
i^i 'Ui4 \ ^S iZyM 3P<^ LI B RARY OF THL U N IVLR5ITY or ILLINOIS v.l THE GOLDEN PEIME. VOL. r. THE GOLDEN PRIiME BY FREDERICK BOYLE, AUTHOR OF CAMP NOTES," "legends OF MY BUNGALOW," ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : CHAPMAN & HALL, Limited, 11, HENRIETTA ST., W.C. 1882.. \_All rights reservtd.'\ CLAY AKD TAYLOR, PRINTERS, BfNGAY, SUFFOLK. 6 6^4^ CONTENTS OF VOL. L K CHAPTER I. PA«JK RAWDOX OF RAWDOXSHAUGH, GROCER ... ... 1 5£ CHAPTER II. CD FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE CHAPTER III. ^ FROM THE UNIVERSITY TO THE WORLD •^ CHAPTER IV. 2? RAWDON ENTERS SOCIETY ... ... ... 11'.) cP :i a: CO _, CHAPTER V. *^ CAST ADRIFT ... ... ... ... ••. 1-^1 c  THE GOLDEN PEIME. CHAPTER I. EAWDON OF EAWDONSHAUGH, GROCEPv. In the north of England, some hundred years ago, dwelt a notable family called Kawdon, of antiquity unquestioned, of large estate, and of the High-Tory prin- ciples befitting their position. Many gen- erations had found their way from the Haugh to the churchyard, and each suc- ceeding heir had found his paternal lands not diminished, but rather increased. The Rawdons were free-handed in two senses. Whilst their door stood hospitably wide, VOL. I. B ^A THE GOLDEN PEIME. their neighbours landmark was pushed steadily backwards, until every rood of fell and copse overlooked by that stately mansion was their own. But Fate avenged itself at last. The destined spendthrift came, and he was succeeded by a worthy heir. In two generations of madmen, all was spent, and the last Eawdon of Raw- donshaugh left his son, at seven years old, penniless and alone. The mother had been dead for years, her relatives did not come forward, and his own connections, all dis- tant, ignored the existence of a child they had never seen. All that the Jews and lawyers gave him from that great estate was £500. An old servant took charge of the boy, protected his small interests, and. passed him on to another county, where, in fine, he was apprenticed to a grocer. When this startling news spread abroad, the sexton of the village church where so many Rawdons lay surely expected that such disgrace would wake the whole RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 3 proud clan to direful life again. But neither the living nor the dead protested. The boy served his time, and proved himself both thrifty and enterprising. His £500 gave him a start. In course of years he moved southward, and presently ob- tained a partnership in a great London firm. Money poured in, and Eawdon had scarcely yet reached middle age when he bought the estate of Weybridge, the seat of an old family whose tale was very like his own. But the pleasures of the country did not tempt him from the shop. It is probable that the grocer might have died there, a bachelor, but the one romantic episode of a prosaic existence shortly befell. A pale and delicate old man replied to his advertisement for a foreign clerk, and he begged so eagerly for the place that Rawdou overlooked the weakness of his testimonials. For years the Frenchman did his work, growing feebler month by month, but complaining not at all. Rawdon was B 2 4 THE GOLDEN PRIME. kind in his grave way, and at length he offered the old man a pension for his few- remaining days. AVeakened by illness and anxiety, the clerk burst into tears, and begged his employer's protection for the daughter he was leaving friendless in the world. Mr. Eawdon was not a man to promise lightly. He visited the poor lodg- ing to see the girl for whom his aid was asked. One glance of her hazel eyes found the grocer's heart, and within a very few weeks Marie's father had no more occasion for anxiety on. her account. He suffered a little, however. His parents, like so many more, had fled from the days of Terror, but they had not the luck to dip in that Pactolus which flowed at the Restoration. Representing a family of no small account, whose younger branch had recovered much of its . possessions, the Marquis de Perouac came very near starvation. At his death, the trifling sum allowed by the Count de Perouac was discontinued, and the son RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 5 found employment in Rawdon's shop, whilst the grand-daughter Marie earned a few poor shillings by needlework. The old man lived to see a quiet wed- ding, and to touch French soil once more. Upon his deathbed, he spoke hesitatingly to Rawdon about leavinor trade. The old o shop had been a home to him, but, said he, " a woman's position is different." Mr. Rawdon understood very well, though most persons would see the distinction in an opposite light. It was hard to surrender his own interest, but he did it. The wed- ding tour was prolonged until the heir of the Rawdons of Rawdonshaugh could again take his place before the world as a country gentleman. At Weybridge, two years after, was born to him a son christened Pier Marie, and his wife died in childbed. These events roused a stir in the neigh- bourhood. Rawdon the grocer, a married man, though claiming thirty-two quarterings of nobility, and never a stain or doubt on 6 THE GOLDEN PRIME. his escutcheon — though reputed to possess ten thousand a year — was necessarily and properly cut by the county. Its opinion, deliberate and unalterable, was finely syllo- gised by Mr. Latham, heir to the grand property of that ilk, and member, of course. " If a man's a grocer," said he, w^hen it was announced that the purchaser of Wey- bridge was coming to reside there, ''he can't be a gentleman ; if he's a gentleman, he couldn't be a grocer.^' The delicacy of the unconditional mood was vastly admired. " It's his great facility in grammar which gives James his standing in the House," said little Mrs. Latham ; and, as usual, no one could be sure whether she was laughing at her lord or no. This verdict of the shire was not to be altered by the husband's quiet virtues, or the wife's fascination. But when Marie died, Eawdon the grocer became Mr. Rawdon of Weybridge, the widower. It was then recollected that no one could dispute his pedigree, that his RAWDOJs^ OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 7 wealth lay beyond question, visible to the whole country-side, on hill and meadow, night and day, frank winds blowing over and the candid sun shining on it. A power- ful squadron came into the field, who had not hitherto taken an active part in the discussion. The mothers of the county began to move, and the daughters thereof. Once more council was held in the house of Latham, and Lady Blenchley then and there took up her parable. " Mr. Eawdon was very fond of her, they say, and there must be a depth of good feeling in a man who suffers so acutely. I think he sets an excellent example. He is comparatively young — not much over forty I understand. Blenchley says that the Weybridge rental has even increased. Do you know whether that property is entailed ? The poor child is said to be sickly, and there are so many risks, even with a mother's care. Blenchley says he would not feel easy if he had only one son." 8 THE GOLDEN PRIME. " I think," said Mrs. Lambert, the rector s wife, *' that your ladyship would not regret any attention paid to Mr. Kawdon. We have known him from the first, of course, and I can assure your ladyship that he is a thoroughly good and Christian person. His wife, poor thing " (here Mrs. Lambert touched her eyes), " was angelic. You are aware that she was Protestant ? " "Mr. Kawdon gives £200 a year to the Hunt, I believe. And he is really very nice-looking for his age," observed Lady George Fieldfare, with the boldness of a widow. ''And he was born at Kawdonshaugh," interposed Miss Crugers, the genealogist. "Darcy happened to speak to him a year ago, and it was only yesterday he declared that a man more thoroughly presentable he had never met," mur- mured Mrs. Ashton, who owned a hive of children, all queens and drones. "Mr. Ashton must be right, if he has EAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 9 taken twelve months to mature his opinion," said sarcastic Mrs. Latham. " But what steps can we take now ? " " Oh, the men must call, and do as well as they can," replied Lady George decisively. The young ladies also held their council. One, of course, quoted the antique custom of Brittany, which permitted a damoiseau to hang his sword in the parish church, until, by hook or by crook, the fisheries or the wool trade, he had earned enough to mount it decently. '' A pretty display of learning, my dear," objected Miss Eivers; " but this worthy man didn't hang up his sword — indeed, I am sure the bishop would not allow any such tomfoolery. A grocer's weapons of offence are sand-bags and mixing-sticks." " How dreadful you are, Grace ; of course, nobody has a sword now-a-days." " Oh, Milly," cried a little sister, " Cousin Alfred has, and I saw you kissing it yester- 10 THE GOLDEN PEIME. day ! " Conversation was interrupted until the uninitiated one had been removed. "Of course Milly is right," sighed Miss Ashton. " Men don't wear swords and things, and so there's no beautiful romance in life." "The Heraldry book says, you know, Bojig sang ne se pert pas ! " " Oh doesn't it ? " cried practical Miss Eivers. " The Morleys are good blood, if any of us are, but when poor Harriet ran away with the tutor, she lost herself so completely that I have never been able to find her since ! " " You may be as sarcastic as you please, Grace, but I heard papa say that it is part of woman's mission to refine these rich parvenus who are springing up all round us." " And who would not like to refine Weybridge ! " exclaimed Miss Rivers, clasp- ing her hands enthusiastically. So the county made overtures to Mr. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 11 Rawdon, which he courteously passed by. The county was offended and astonished, as each new assailant of the recluse made his charge and withdrew, baffled. But Mr. Rawdon's position changed. His manner of declining intimacy gave no excuse, had such been wished, for is^norino; him a.o^ain. And in this amphibious condition the master of Weybridge remained, acknowledged by society, though mixing not therein. Comfort was long in finding Mr. Rawdon, but as years passed, bringing strength and beauty to his child, the bereaved man turned with passionate love towards this link which bound him to his dead wife. The boy was eminently lovable. Though quick to anger under a sense of wrong, and slow to forgive an injury until it was acknowledged and atoned, he had a dis- position so frank and unsuspecting that his fits of passion were rare. The servants were his slaves, especially the pretty ones, and the feeling of servants towards a child 12 THE GOLDEN PRIME. is no bad test of his character. It was Pier's grave misfortune to have no com- panion of his own age. One acquaintance he had indeed, little Sweyn Garrow, who lived at the Rectory with Mr. Lambert; but the boys fought with such determina- tion that they seldom, were allowed to be together. Till his eighth birthday, Pier ruled a little kingdom all alone. Mr. Rawdon was utterly unfitted to train such a nature. A gentleman in every in- stinct, narrowed by circumstances into the form of an honest, god-fearing worshipper of routine, he could not even understand this boy. Sitting on his father's knee, listenino: to the moralities which have served so many generations. Pier sometimes de- livered himself in a manner that confounded the paternal wisdom. He would gravely revolve in his young intelligence the moral stone which should stand to him in lieu of bread, and propound some monstrous question. Mr. Rawdon was not quick of RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 13 thought, and eight years passed before he thoroughly comprehended that this was no common child he had begotten. An incident of the class just referred to brought him rather suddenly to a conclusion. With- out more loss of time, a note was de- spatched, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Lambert to dine and consult. "Bring little Sweyn with you," added Mr. Kawdon in a post- script. " He can stay the night with Pier, if you approve." In the mean while, the boy dismissed deeply balanced in his mind the respective pleasures of fishing and bathing on this summer afternoon. The low green hills which bounded Weybridge were quivering in heat, and he remembered with ecstasy how cool and black the water lay beneath the beech trees at the upper pool. But along the valley on which he looked, the stream was sparkling through gaps of alder and willow like a rosary of diamonds. Undecided he strolled on, through the ancient shrubbery 1 4 THE GOLDEN PRIME. of holly and Irish yew, beneath the nursery windows, to the stable-yard. A lovely child was this little Pier. When he rode forth with Ben, his private groom, every woman turned to smile at the slender figure^ sitting so upright and assured, looking straight in front with keen amber eyes. His expression was firm, and his features moulded, at an age when most children are a mere congeries of roundnesses. The county people he recognized with a stately little bow. When they stopped to kiss him, a temptation irresistible at times, he endured the ceremony like a monarch courteous but bored. Young ladies called him Prince Camaralzaman. When he appeared in the stable-yard, the big dogs shook their chains and barked with joy, the little terriers and pups came bounding from the shadow. But the men were engaged. Under the stable wall they sat, grooms, coachman, and under-gardeners, listening open-mouthed to a stalwart com- RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 15 rade, whose gaiters and velveteens betrayed the gamekeeper. Little Pier advanced as eagerly as dignity permits, hoping to hear of a monstrous fish seen that morning amongst the reeds and water-lilies of the big pond on the hill, or of an abnormal bird, a weasel, or perhaps a badger. But he found the keeper eloquent upon another theme. " Her didn't break out dang'rous, not at first, ye know," he was saying, whilst a rough ash stick added force to his periods ; "the wench only seemed a bit queer-like, and moithered a good bit in her head. But this morning her begun a screaming and a tearing, as 'twas terrible to hear her in my house. They'd all as they could do to keep her ofi" of the old man, old Smithers, as she was so fond on. Her come at him wdth a knife, her did that ! " " Aye, they mostly set on the folks they was fondest on," said one of the listeners. "Well, they got her off of him, though 16 THE GOLDEN PRIME. Smithers he was badly cut about the hands, and they tied her neck and heels, and locked her i' the back room, that as looks on the garden. And there the wench is now, a roaring like a mad bull. Eh, it's dreadful to go off your head a-that ns." They all shook their polls, gazing solemnly into space. '' Herd just kill a man like winkin', and all for fun." "Mad folks is that strong when the fit's on 'em." " Smithers," resumed the keeper, " he come and axed me to give 'em a hand, but I telt him out as I'd see him deed. I ain't afeard of living man, nor yet of beast, but I doan't like to handle folks as isna right. They're like to ghosts, somehow." All shook their heads again. " You're a big coward, Watson ! " cried little Pier, shrilly scornful. '*Aye, Master Pier ain't afeard of a woman, sane nor simple," said one of the RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 17 grooms, with a big laugh. " Are ye, Master Pier ? " " Who are you talking about ? " asked the child, superbly. " Betsy Smithers, as was your wet-nurse, Master Pier," said the gamekeeper ; " she's gone off her head, and they've locked her up." " Poor Betsy ! Will they hurt her ? " '' Like enough, poor thing ! She's going to the asylum to-morrow, and they be mortal cruel to poor folks there, I've heerd tell." So said the coachman, and ghastly stories were recited on this text. Pier list- ened in growing wrath. '*My nurse Betsy — they'll treat her like that ? They shan't ! I say they shan't ! Where is she ? " " Locked in the back place at Smithers' farm, close by the dairy. They'll not let you see her, Master Pier ; and more'n so, it would frighten you out o' your seven senses. She's the strangest sight ever you VOL. I. 18 THE GOLDEN PKIME. seed, from what I hear tell ; her hair's full of flowers, like a play actress, and she swells out her throat at you like a tooad for all the world." " Hold your deed tongues ! " muttered Ben, who but just arrived. " Can't yer see how mad young master's growing ? He's fond o' Betsy Smithers above all, and this is enough to gie a lad fits of a night. Damn all waggiog tongues. Will you come with me. Master Pier, to catch trout i' the brook ? " Eeadily enough, of course ; and all after- noon through he wandered on the banks of pretty Weybridge stream, breathlessly excited. It was not wide enough for fly- fishing, and he who would make closer acquaintance with the speckled trout, and wriggling ''nine-holes," and silvery dace, and mottled bull-heads dwelling there must betake himself to the antique art of " tickr ling." A noble sport is that whilst one is young, and rheumatism still a bogey. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 19 Marked with the whitest stone were those childish days of mine, when I dabbled all the summer's afternoon, seeking: trout under flowery banks, and encircling them with restless fingers. Never has the sun shone so genially on me, though I have followed him from land to land where he glows warmest. Meadows have never since ap- peared so green, nor water so bright, nor weeds so fragrant. I remember now each sparkling shallow of the brooklet which flowed beneath my home, and each shadowy hole where the big fish lay. Milk-white in spring, glowing red in autumn, the haw- thorns lined its banks, alternate with black alders, and willows shivering. The faint odour of the night-shade fills my nostrils. Many a time, by lovely waters far away, I have longed with a sick pain to tread once more those sweet English meadows, and rest there for ever. Weybridge brook held many strange creatures besides fish, and Ben's instructions C 2 20 THE GOLDEN PRIME. were to bring them all to light. Under the pebbles and in holes of mossy roots were cray-fish, which swam backwards, and per- formed many curious feats. Then there were semi-fish, like animated horsehairs, which Pier verily believed them ; — had not Watson's brother kept a grey horsehair in a bottle till it took life ? Caddis-worms dwelt in a cavern of sticks and stones, and there were shrimps, and boat-flies, and water-beetles, and spiders with a red-velvet cross upon their backs, and innumerable small monsters, most of which bit. "Aren't they brave," said Pier, sucking his slender finger, "these little tiny boat- flies ? They bite me when I touch them, and yet I'm ten million times bigger than them. Don't you think men are the most cowardly things alive, Ben?" This was a view that honest groom had not been trained to contemplate. He an- swered vaguely, "There's a many puzzling circumstances in Nature, Master Pier." RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 21 All the afternoon they wandered by the stream — Ben in the water, and Pier on the bank. " In kep' him out of mischief so far," thought the former to himself, as he led the way home ; " but he'll be rare an mad about Betsy Smith ers when he recol- lects. rU give nurse a wink to mind him." But when they got in, Ben was ordered instantly to mount, and fetch the doctor to a sick housemaid ; so the hint was forgotten. Pier, rejoicing in his load of sheeny trout, carried them to the kitchen for Mr. Lambert's entertainment. The rector and his wife duly arrived, bringing their little charge, Sweyn Garrow. He was a child about seven years old, fair- haired, very high-spirited, always ready to kiss or fight. Pier submitted to a great deal of bullying from his junior, but dis- putes would arise sometimes, and there was not so much difference in strength as to make a combat unfair. Little Sweyn would hold his breath so resolutely, if Pier 22 THE GOLDEN PEIME. refused to fight, that the boy consented in alarm. But they were very fond of each other, and rapturously pleased to meet when permitted. One of their keenest joys was to sit peacefully side by side, and imagine the atrocities they would commit upon each other when "grown up." Mr. Eawdon was a stickler for early hours, and he sent the children to bed at dinner-time. So soon as the nurse's foot- steps had died away, Pier sat up and called — " Little Sweyn, are you afraid of any- thing ? " " I'm not a bit afraid of you," lisped he, always ready for battle. " I don't want to fight you, darling little Sweyn. Are you afraid of people who have gone off" their heads ? " " No ! " very indignantly. *'What do people do who have gone ofi" their heads ? " " I don't know/' answered the little EAWDON OF EAWDONSHAUGH, GROCEE. 23 hero, his fair face flushed red ; " but Fm not afraid of them." Pier was vague himself, but he replied, ''They come out all over feathers, little Sweyn, and they swell out their throats like a toad, and they bite your fingers." This terrific description produced instant results. Sweyn jumped out of bed, and ran to the attack, little milk-teeth clenched, and blue eyes shining like lamps. Pier hurried out on the other side, and de- manded a parley. " How dare you think me a coward, you great elepham ? " Sweyn stammered, trying to reach his foe. " Fll kill you, and pinch the inside of your arms ! " Forgiveness was granted on a proper apology. Then they sat in their night- gowns on the edge of the bed, and held council. *' My nurse Betsy has gone off her head, and they've tied her hands and feet, and locked her up ; and to-morrow they'll take 24 THE GOLDEN PRIME. her to be beaten, unless some one lets her out. I'm going to let her out." '*Yes, of course," said little Sweyn, look- ing in his friend's face, and taking his hand. " We'll get through the window of the day nursery, and slip over the roof of the tool-house, and climb down through the hollies ; I know the way. You get your hands pricked, but it doesn't hurt much." They dressed in prodigious haste, but quiet as mice. Then Pier opened the creaking window, which was of that ancient model called a casement. Over the tops of the hollies and the yews the lawn could be seen, glowing red in the level sun-rays. Long blue shadow^s fell across it from the bordering limes. No sound arose save the evening call of the corncrake in the meadows ; not even the small scullery- maid, who nightly met her faithful stable- man in this secluded corner, was about. "All's well, little Sweyn!" Pier whis- pered. "Watch how I go down the tiles. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 25 This yellow moss will bear your feet, but if you slip there's no danger — the holly branches will catch you." "Danger!'' repeated the superb little fellow. With some scratches the descent was accomplished ; then, hand in hand, they hurried, breathless with excitement, through the damp, green arcade of the ancient shrubbery. "I see a nest," whispered Sweyn, "in the yew." This discovery delayed them, for, mag- nanimous as Pier might feel towards his poor nurse, it was beyond human resolution to pass a new nest uninvestigated. Just as he softly introduced his hand, a warning "hush" froze him. Sweyn crept into the shadow, and they remained stock-still, one beneath, one on a bough. Presently foot- steps and low voices, which Sweyn's ears had caught, sounded closer and closer. In the arch of dark foliage two forms ap- 26 THE GOLDEN PEIME. peared — that of the grave and serious coach- man, that of the discreet nurse. The serious coachman had his arm about the discreet nurse, and was whispering such sweetness in her ear, under cover of the yew's black shadow, that she was con- strained to murmur, " Get out with your nonsense, do, Mr. Jones." To which gentle rebuke Mr. Jones made reply fitting, no doubt, and the jDair walked slowly on. " How many ? It's a blackbird's, isn't it ? " whispered little Sweyn. " Yes ; four young ones, nearly fledged," Pier answered joyfully. " If nurse catches us she daren't tell, for I know she's engaged to Simpson." " You won't tell of them. Pier ? " " If you were bigger, little Sweyn, I'd put your head in that rain -tub until you turned blue." " You wouldn't — you wouldn't ! I'd stick onions in your eyes, and cook you in the green-house fire." RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 27 Tliey came near a quarrel, but Pier apolo- gized humbly, and they proceeded, hand in hand, to the ancient yew, which stood, all black and weirdly and solemn, at the end of the kitchen garden. Behind it w^as a hole, hidden with furze and pea-rices, whereby Pier often escaped. They crept throuo;h and reached the fields. The dappled cows were lounging from the gate, after their evening visit to the farm. Green and still and holy the meadow looked, as the boys crouched waiting till the cowherd withdrew. Then at top speed they galloped across the open, climbed the opposite fence, and reached the water- meadow, through which ran the brook. An irresistible temptation of king-cups and meadow-sweet, and pale, pink milkmaids, delayed them here awhile. Muddy and wet, but bearing each a nosegay of marsh-flowers, they regained the path and crossed the stream, where golden tassels and flowery catkins were 28 THE GOLDEN PEIME. added to their treasure. Upon the culvert they were once more detained by the appari- tion of a crowd of minnows, fleeing before some unseen monster. But at length the shadow of a barn was gained, on the other side of which lay the small village street. Sweyn advised a dash across ; Pier recom- mended a detour by the keeper's cottage. " I won't hide/' whispered Sweyn, vehe- mently. " We shall be like Red Indians on the war-path," suggested Pier, and the argu- ment was irresistible. Creeping under the hawthorns and maples, they stole forward, described a half-circle by the stile, crossed the road, and at length, all breathless, their hearts beating loud and eyes brightened, they stood under cover of the garden fence. The boys peered awhile through gaps in the quick-set. All was still. They forced their small bodies through, with many a RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 29 scratch and rent. Pier knew the farm- house well, having explored it many times before the increasing eccentricity of his nurse obliged Mr. Eawdon to part with her. Easily, therefore, he singled out the low window of the room where Betsy was confined. He called " Nurse Betsy " under the casement, but there was no answer. Then he stood agjainst the wall, and little Sweyn climbed on his shoulders to recon- noitre. " There's a woman lying all huddled up," he whispered. " Is the window fastened ? " Pier asked eagerly. It was not. Close by stood an empty barrel. They rolled it underneath, set it on end, and with difficulty he climbed upon it. Betsy made no sign in answer to bis cautious whispers. He slipped through the casement, and Sweyn followed. They stood still for a time, oppressed by the silence and the awful heap before them. No sound 30 THE GOLDEN PRIME. was in the house, save a low murmur as of some one reading in a distant room. The floor was littered with crushed blos- soms— pansies, sweet-williams, and red daises. In poor Betsy's yellow hair they were twined, a withering garland. She did not seem even to breathe, and her face was hidden. " Is she dead ? " muttered Sweyn, white with awe. *' Nurse, nurse ! " whispered Pier, draw- ing closer. He put his hand upon her shoulder, still calling. Then slowly the woman lifted her head, and shook back her pretty hair. The face she raised was deathly pale, streaked with smears of blood. Her eyes were unnaturally wide, with no speculation in their glare, but her mouth twisted rapidly. Pier drew back with a scream, and Sweyn cried out, " Oh, she is dead, and I am afraid of her ! " But he kept his place, and raised no alarm. RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 31 *' Nurse Betsy, don't you know us ? I'm your little Master Pier, come to set you free." Then the madness broke out. Low and soft at first she repeated, " Master Pier — Master Pier ! " but gradually her cry grew faster and faster, higher and shriller, till it was a frantic yell — '* Master Pier ! Master Pier ! " The children fell back in terror at this demon they had raised. She moved no muscle of her body, nor turned her horrid eyes, but lying there, cramped up, she shrieked the name without intermission, so fast as to dizzy their brains. Little Garrow burst into tears of fright, but he pulled his knife out, and handed it, sobbing, " Be quick, dear Pier ! Some one is at the door." The other did not tremble less, but he ran to cut his nurse's bonds, and they cauo^ht him searchinoj for them amonojst o o o torn garments and silky hair. Of course 32 THE GOLDEN PRIME. the ehildren were arrested and sent liome in the midst of a crowd of villagers uncer- tain whether to cheer or scold. Mr. Rawdon was equally perplexed when they came to interrupt him over his wine. The boys were sent to bed again, and the council of three resumed the discussion of their future. Mr. Rawdon had been telling the in- cident which caused him to summon his friends. It was that excellent gentle- man's habit to dilate every day upon some moral question, and the morning's theme had been story-telling. Pier had never even shirked the truth in all his life, so there was no personal application. But Mr. Rawdon explained the sin of lying carefully, and his son listened. Afterwards came one of those terrible questions which disturbed the paternal moralist. " Yes," said Pier, '' but why is it wrong ? " *' Because those who tell stories never go to heaven." RAWDOX OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 33 Pier thought awhile, and replied, " But that isn't a reason, papa. I think it's very mean and selfish, too, always counting what you're going to get by being good. Why is it wrong ? " Pier was dismissed as a bad boy. The rector said, upon hearing this story, " There's no harm at all in that speech. It's easy enough for any one used to children to know what Pier meant, and I respect him for the idea. The fact is, Mr. Kawdon, that it needs a rather painful operation to understand a child's mind, if Mrs. Lambert will allow me to say so. Pier is a noble little fellow, but he ouQ;ht to q-q to school." Then came the discovery of the boys' escapade, which confirmed Mr. Lambert in his opinion. " But a child can't go to school at eight years old," said the father. " He must, if he can't stay at home." " I will make a proposition," Mrs. Lam- VOL. I. D 34 THE GOLDEN PRIME. bert broke in. " We have been keeping these children apart, and they are both growing up very troublesome. Trust Pier to me for a few days. Arabella says that if they saw each other oftener they would not fight, and I have a great confidence in Arabella's judgment. It would solve all the difficulty if they could be brought up together." Mr. Rawdon was not so guileless as to overlook that this course would also put a very round sum in the rector s pocket yearly, but that was no consideration. Pier went back with Sweyn next day, and stayed a week. The experiment was quite successful, but Mrs. Lambert disclaimed any but the smallest share therein. " It's all due to Arabella's cleverness," she said. " The dear girl knows by in- stinct when they feel mischievous, and interests them until they get good again." " Mrs. Lambert does not exaggerate," observed her husband. " Arabella is a RAWDON OF RAWDONSHAUGH, GROCER. 35 domestic Talleyrand, and she finds all the pleasure of high diplomacy in counter- acting the evil inclinations of these chil- dren. It's as good as a play to watch, I assure you." Arabella Carey was Mrs. Lambert's daughter by a first husband, a soft, plump, smiling girl of sixteen. She had sleepy black eyes, with very thick white lids, a face rather pretty than not, and a cha- racter of unquestioned amiability. Her mother had always persisted that Ara- bella's judgment was miraculous, but no- body believed her, though the rector did not contradict. The servants hinted that their young mistress was even too clever. Mr. Rawdon, delighted to see his child in good hands which could manage him, intrusted Pier to Arabella's special charge. She smiled, blushed, and accepted. In the course of a very few months such striking progress was visible in the education of D 2 36 THE GOLDEN PRIME. both boys, that Mr. Rawclon doubled the handsome allowance he already made. For the care of Sweyn Garrow the rector was granted a large sum, and he began to lay by money fast. Pier's father never missed a day in visiting his son, and he had many opportunities of seeing with what skill Arabella curbed his headstrong nature. Gratitude took a substantial form with him and her jewel-box began to be talked of. In this household Pier spent four years. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 37 CHAPTER II. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. When Pier was twelve years old, and Sweyn eleven, Mr. Lambert suddenly died. This misfortune caused them to be sent to a public school, where several lads from their county were being educated. In a very few hours young Latham, son of Sir James Latham already mentioned, made insinuations which demanded notice. Pier challenged him, and they fought until Latham fell upon a stone, and was hors de combat. The rector's teaching did him credit, for both boys were placed in a class above their years. Whilst Latham wore a bandage round 38 THE GOLDEN PRIME. his head the friends treated him with grave politeness, but in a fortnight the last trace of his mishap had disappeared. Then Garrow carried a challenge, which was ac- cepted, and for an hour the boys fought again. Latham succumbed. Most people remembe rthe formal words which termin- ate a school-fray. The victor asks, ''Do you give in ? " An answer " Yes " puts an end to the business. But when Latham failed to come up to time. Pier omitted this formality. Leaning on Sweyn's arm, he withdrew, to wash his cut face and hands. Again there was peace until the last bruise had worn away ; then Garrow made his third appearance, with solemnity, and delivered the message. Latham protested against this vendetta, of a sort unusual amongst English boys. " You can stop it when you like," returned Garrow, But the other wished neither to fight nor apologize. Upon this report the challenger came on the scene. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 39 "Do you refuse to meet me, Mr. Latham ? " he asked, with scrupulous politeness. " I have fought you twice," muttered the victim, sulkily. " Then, my good fellow, you are a coward, and this is how cowards are treated." He twisted his foe suddenly round, and admin- istered the deadly kick. For the third time they joined, but Latham had no heart in it. In the midst of the struggle appeared that Neptune of the school, the prefect. Mr. Morley was a most unhandsome dignitary. He had a face scarred and discoloured with small pox, his whiskers, though precocious, were scanty, and his figure was squat. A soft- ness in the large vacant eyes, and lines of good nature about the mouth, alone saved the prefect from downright ugliness. Pier had not hitherto been brought into contact with him, having his orbit as yet far beneath the personal notice of a being 40 THE GOLDEN PEIME. SO high-placed; but Morley had remarked the two new boys, whose look was so bright and spirits so high. He viewed the troubled scene with sublime composure. Pier gave no atten- tion, for it was not unusual for the prefects to countenance a mill particularly interest- ing. But Latham's friends, glad of the excuse, withdrew their man. When Eawdon objected, the prefect said, "Come with me, youngster; I want to have a talk." There was no appeal from this command. Pier put on his coat, and followed indig- nantly ; Sweyn took his arm. "I said I wanted to speak to you^' said Morley, glancing at their uninvited com- panion. "My friend wants to speak to me also it seems," returned Pier, with a clash of his teeth. " Will you be good enough to grant me a few moments' private conversation, Mr. FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 41 Rawdon?" asked tlie prefect, ceremoni- osuly. " I shall not be long," said Pier to Hs friend, who fell back. ''You have fought Latham twice before this they tell me," Morley began. "He has not apologized." '' Have you asked him ? " "No." "Perhaps you are not anxious to give him a chance ? " " No, I'm not ! " "You would rather go on knocking him about 1 " " He may knock me about, he's older and bigger. He called my father the Weybridge grocer ! " " He was a grocer, wasn't he ? " " Yes. I'm not ashamed of that. Rawdon of Eawdonshaugh can do what he likes." "Then why so deadly hard on young Latham ? " "If a man wants to insult another, it 42 THE GOLDEN PRIME. doesn't matter much what his words are. There may be as much offence meant in 'good morning' as in an oath. That's why I don't care for an apology." "You think that honour is only to be absolved by the human sacrifice ? " " I think that any one who insults me shall be sorry for it. What's an apology to Latham ? Why, he hasn't even the gentlemanly instinct to see that I should be shut up ! But I expect he begins to be sorry. '^ " There's something to be said for your notion. A man must be a very bold and ingenious cad now-a-days to push insult beyond the limits covered by an apology. Better not ask for it, perhaps, but smite him. However, Latham has been punished enough. Let the eumity drop, and embrace a new friendship." " Latham and I could never be friends ! " " I did not mean Latham, but myself." "You, Mr. Morley?" FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 43 *' If you think me worthy." " Why, sir, I am only in the third class." " That is a difficulty, of course. We must get you into the first as soon as possible." " So the boys became friends, and Morley so urged and pushed his ^protege, that when he himself left school for Oxford Pier had actually climbed "into the first." Sweyn was very far behind in the school. He had talent enough and energy enough, but the student's laurels did not tempt him. A favourite with all whose regards he would have accepted, Pier Eawdon had five hundred well-wishers, and fifty timorous foes ; but I need mention only one amongst the whole number. Jonas Davis, a small, red-haired boy, had some influence upon Eawdon's career. Upon entering the school he was placed in Garrow's class, and that aristocrat gave him the contemptuous name of "Fao:in." Jonas went to the master, 44 THE GOLDEX PETME. who dismissed his complaint, and Garrow promised him a " licking." In dreadful fright he consulted his form-fellow, who, for a sovereign and a new knife, undertook to get him off. This business-like youth was one of Eawdon's zealous worshippers, and rather a favourite. He scribbled a note and passed it from hand to hand through the *' Long Kooni Classical," wherein the mediation of Pier was entreated, for reasons of state. The moment school broke up Jonas was led to his protector, who scorn- fully promised to save him. And he did so, earning Oriental volubility of gratitude. Mrs. Lambert and Arabella, meanwhile, led a roving existence, of which they tired at length. The latter, a well-grown young lady of twenty-four, decided to return to Weybridge, and Mr. Kawdon gave them, on easy terms, a cottage just outside the park. The ladies gradually acquired a certain in- fluence, not abused, and perceptible only to the son of the house. He had never FKOM NURSERY* TO COLLEGE. 45 liked Arabella, though she seemed to feel for him one of those motherly alSfections which became a well-bred young lady of twenty-four towards a handsome boy of sixteen. The silent and watchful intelli- gence by which his childhood had been ruled was not lost in disuse. Pier wished to go abroad with Morley, now a grave aspirant for honours. Mr. Rawdon did not approve, but he gave way suddenly. At the end of the long vacation. Pier was not a bit tired of foreign ways, and he begged to remain abroad until his matricu- lation. This was refused, and then granted. The boy had no doubt to whose intercession he owed these favours, and he wrote to Arabella, thanking her. She did not reply. The tour was prolonged accordingly, but it came to an end very near the tragic. Whilst staying at Florence, Morley awoke one morning in his calm and peaceful bed to learn that his charge had fought a duel, and had received a bullet in his arm. They 46 THE GOLDEN PEIME. returned to England as soon as he could travel. Mr. Eawdon knew nothing of this incident, but Pier found a difference in him. He was not less aifectionate, but he was ill- at-ease with his son. The latter dared not inquire very closely, remembering several escapades which might have reached the strict old gentleman ; — not disgraceful escapades, but such as, he admitted it with contrition, would distress his father. But when he gently sounded his way, Mr. Rawdon seemed unconscious. Several of the old servants had been pensioned off. Ben remained, hearty and devoted as ever ; he, had much to tell about the ladies' doings, but Pier would not listen. They made themselves very pleasant, and he was glad that his father should have companions. Then Garrow arrived from his uncle's place, and all went merry as could be. The county began to talk about young Rawdon. He knew little and cared less ; but Sweyn, of course, was familiar with the FROM NURSERY TO COLLEGE. 47 great ones of the neighbourhood. One day he carried a report of Mr. Rawdon's engage- ment to Mrs. Lambert. With infinite delicacy Pier took this news to his father. In the generosity of youth and strength, he pitied the lonely old man, who had no resources in himself, and cared nothing for rural pleasures. 