



Transcribed from the 1890 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org





THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SLANDER


BY
EDNA LYALL

AUTHOR OF 'DONOVAN' 'WE TWO' 'IN THE GOLDEN DAYS'
'KNIGHT ERRANT' ETC.

   _Trust not to each accusing tongue_,
      _As most week persons do_;
   _But still believe that story false_
     _Which ought not to be true_

   SHERIDAN

_NEW EDITION_
(THIRTY-NINTH TO FORTY-FIRST THOUSAND)

LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
1890

_All rights reserved_

DEDICATED
TO ALL
WHO IT MAY CONCERN




MY FIRST STAGE


   At last the tea came up, and so
   With that our tongues began to go.
   Now in that house you're sure of knowing
   The smallest scrap of news that's going.
   We find it there the wisest way
   To take some care of what we say.

   _Recreation_.  JANE TAYLOR.

I was born on the 2nd September, 1886, in a small, dull, country town.
When I say the town was dull, I mean, of course, that the inhabitants
were unenterprising, for in itself Muddleton was a picturesque place, and
though it laboured under the usual disadvantage of a dearth of bachelors
and a superfluity of spinsters, it might have been pleasant enough had it
not been a favourite resort for my kith and kin.

My father has long enjoyed a world-wide notoriety; he is not, however, as
a rule named in good society, though he habitually frequents it; and as I
am led to believe that my autobiography will possibly be circulated by
Mr. Mudie, and will lie about on drawing-room tables, I will merely
mention that a most representation of my progenitor, under his _nom de
theatre_, Mephistopheles, may be seen now in London, and I should
recommend all who wish to understand his character to go to the Lyceum,
though, between ourselves, he strongly disapproves of the whole
performance.

I was introduced into the world by an old lady named Mrs. O'Reilly.  She
was a very pleasant old lady, the wife of a General, and one of those
sociable, friendly, talkative people who do much to cheer their
neighbours, particularly in a deadly-lively provincial place like
Muddleton, where the standard of social intercourse is not very high.
Mrs. O'Reilly had been in her day a celebrated beauty; she was now grey-
haired and stout, but still there was something impressive about her, and
few could resist the charm of her manner and the pleasant easy flow of
her small talk.  Her love of gossip amounted almost to a passion, and
nothing came amiss to her; she liked to know everything about everybody,
and in the main I think her interest was a kindly one, though she found
that a little bit of scandal, every now and then, added a piquant flavour
to the homely fare provided by the commonplace life of the Muddletonians.

I will now, without further preamble, begin the history of my life.

* * * * *

"I assure you, my dear Lena, Mr. Zaluski is nothing less than a
Nihilist!"

The sound waves set in motion by Mrs. O'Reilly's words were tumultuously
heaving in the atmosphere when I sprang into being, a young but perfectly
formed and most promising slander.  A delicious odour of tea pervaded the
drawing-room, it was orange-flower pekoe, and Mrs. O'Reilly was just
handing one of the delicate Crown Derby cups to her visitor, Miss Lena
Houghton.

"What a shocking thing!  Do you really mean it?" exclaimed Miss Houghton.
"Thank you, cream but no sugar; don't you know, Mrs. O'Reilly, that it is
only Low-Church people who take sugar nowadays?  But, really, now, about
Mr. Zaluski?  How did you find it out?"

"My dear, I am an old woman, and I have learnt in the course of a
wandering life to put two and two together," said Mrs. O'Reilly.  She had
somehow managed to ignore middle age, and had passed from her position of
renowned beauty to the position which she now firmly and constantly
claimed of many years and much experience.  "Of course," she continued,
"like every one else, I was glad enough to be friendly and pleasant to
Sigismund Zaluski, and as to his being a Pole, why, I think it rather
pleased me than otherwise.  You see, my dear, I have knocked about the
world and mixed with all kinds of people.  Still, one must draw the line
somewhere, and I confess it gave me a very painful shock to find that he
had such violent antipathies to law and order.  When he took Ivy Cottage
for the summer I made the General call at once, and before long we had
become very intimate with him; but, my dear, he's not what I thought
him--not at all!"

"Well now, I am delighted to hear you say that," said Lena Houghton, with
some excitement in her manner, "for it exactly fits in with what I always
felt about him.  From the first I disliked that man, and the way he goes
on with Gertrude Morley is simply dreadful.  If they are not engaged they
ought to be--that's all I can say."

"Engaged, my dear!  I trust not," said Mrs. O'Reilly.  "I had always
hoped for something very different for dear Gertrude.  Quite between
ourselves, you know, my nephew John Carew is over head and ears in love
with her, and they would make a very good pair; don't you think so?"

"Well, you see, I like Gertrude to a certain extent," replied Lena
Houghton.  "But I never raved about her as so many people do.  Still, I
hope she will not be entrapped into marrying Mr. Zaluski; she deserves a
better fate than that."

"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. O'Reilly, with a troubled look.  "And
the worst of it is, poor Gertrude is a girl who might very likely take up
foolish revolutionary notions; she needs a strong wise husband to keep
her in order and form her opinions.  But is it really true that he flirts
with her?  This is the first I have heard of it.  I can't think how it
has escaped my notice."

"Nor I, for indeed he is up at the Morleys' pretty nearly every day.  What
with tennis, and music, and riding, there is always some excuse for it.  I
can't think what Gertrude sees in him, he is not even good-looking."

"There is a certain surface good-nature about him," said Mrs. O'Reilly.
"It deceived even me at first.  But, my dear Lena, mark my words: that
man has a fearful temper; and I pray Heaven that poor Gertrude may have
her eyes opened in time.  Besides, to think of that little gentle,
delicate thing marrying a Nihilist!  It is too dreadful; really, quite
too dreadful!  John would never get over it!"

"The thing I can't understand is why all the world has taken him up so,"
said Lena Houghton.  "One meets him everywhere, yet nobody seems to know
anything about him.  Just because he has taken Ivy Cottage for four
months, and because he seems to be rich and good-natured, every one is
ready to run after him."

"Well, well," said Mrs. O'Reilly, "we all like to be neighbourly, my
dear, and a week ago I should have been ready to say nothing but good of
him.  But now my eyes have been opened.  I'll tell you just how it was.
We were sitting here, just as you and I are now, at afternoon tea; the
talk had flagged a little, and for the sake of something to say I made
some remark about Bulgaria--not that I really knew anything about it, you
know, for I'm no politician; still, I knew it was a subject that would
make talk just now.  My dear, I assure you I was positively frightened.
All in a minute his face changed, his eyes flashed, he broke into such a
torrent of abuse as I never heard in my life before."

"Do you mean that he abused you?"

"Dear me, no! but Russia and the Czar, and tyranny and despotism, and
many other things I had never heard of.  I tried to calm him down and
reason with him, but I might as well have reasoned with the cockatoo in
the window.  At last he caught himself up quickly in the middle of a
sentence, strode over to the piano, and began to play as he generally
does, you know, when he comes here.  Well, would you believe it, my dear!
instead of improvising or playing operatic airs as usual, he began to
play a stupid little tune which every child was taught years ago, of
course with variations of his own.  Then he turned round on the music-
stool with the oddest smile I ever saw, and said, "Do you know that air,
Mrs. O'Reilly?"

"Yes," I said; "but I forget now what it is.'"

"It was composed by Pestal, one of the victims of Russian tyranny," said
he. 