504 ALL THE YEAR ROUND. now it is all over. The doctor told me to take him home, and think myself lucky if I got him there alive. It's decline, you know-of the galloping kind, they call it." She spoke roughly, but in her hard face and under her hard tone there was real distress. "He's not like himself at all, Miss Kindersley, and he's so nervous, and fearful, and thinks there's no mercy for him; but he's done worse to me than ever he's done to his father that I know of, and I've taken him back when he'd gone too far for the patience of the people that would have been ashamed of me-and they say a child is nearer still." "Nearer than what?" Madeleine said in a difficult whisper. "Nearer than a husband or a wife. I'm his wife." "His wife!" "Oh yes, this long time. We were married when he lodged with me in London first. But never mind that; it doesn't matter now, nor what he did to me. I want nothing from anybody belonging to him for myself. What I want is what I can't give him, for himself. I was foolish once and I wanted revenge, and to show him up-but that's all over and done with. He hasn't a month to live, and I want him to die in peace and comfort. Then you neeu not trouble yourselves about me. Give me an answer, Miss Kindersley, and let me get back to him." [August 5, 1876.] dersley's return to Beech Lawn. "Here's that good-for-nothing fellow ending his days with every chance for repentance, and 'making a good end' with his father, his sister, his friend, and last-but I really do not think least-his wife, all occupied about him, all lavishing every care upon him that the most virtuous of mankind could have deserved. And I suppose it would be very hard to tell to which of the four he has behaved most badly. Even his fancy for having Dwarris's marriage with his sister solemnised, all in a hurry, in his room, must be complied with, forsooth, just because he has always been a plague to his family! You must admit, Olive, it's discouraging to the discreet and the respectable." "Barr, Barr, don't try to be a cynic and a grumbler. He has certainly not deserved this merciful ending, so far as we can see; but perhaps they who love him have deserved it, have won it for him, and, for themselves, the taking of the sting out of his death." "I suppose that's it," said Lord Barr resignedly. "Time's nearly up," he added, looking at his watch. "You'll let me hear all about everything, won't you? It is rather odd, too, how quickly this place has become home to you, and how all these people have let you into their family secrets." "It is, indeed," said Lady Olive, and she laid her hand fondly on her brother's shoulder; "but family secrets are not the only ones I have found out. My dear brother, don't be angry because I know yours, and have kept all I have to say about it until these last few minutes." "What-what do you mean? Do you think--?" แ "I think you will come back here from Ireland, and I have no doubt you will ultimately visit the colonies; but I don't think you will go alone. Trust me, Barr, will win Ida Pemberton yet, if you only stick to Madeleine's motto,' Wait and hope."" you The Right of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR ROUND is reserved by the Authors. Published at the Office, 26, Wellington St., Strand. Printed by CHARLES DICKENS & EVANS, Crystal Palace Press. "THE STORY OF OUR LIVES FROM YEAR TO YEAR? THE YEAR ROUND ALL THE No. 402. NEW SERIES. A Weekly Journal CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS WITH WHICH IS INCORPORATED HOUSEHOLD WORDS" SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1876. WHAT HE COST HER. BY JAMES PAYN, PRICE TWOPENCE. sonified Whole Duty of Man, gilt-edged, and bound in dark blue, and always pronounced by his reviewer, who is the AUTHOR OF "LOST SIR MASSINGBERD," "AT HER MERCY," Commander-in-Chief, "in habit studious, "HALVES," &c. CHAPTER I. WELLINGTONS IN EMBRYO. ABOVE all the sounds that human ingenuity has invented to stir the heart of man, the bugle-call stands pre-eminent. It does not require for its appreciation imagination in the hearer, nor a particular phase of mind, nor a taste for music. The very charger pricks his ears and dilates his nostrils as he listens to it; and through the misty morning air it rings its réveillé bright and clear, and spirit-stirring as the "breezy call of incense-breathing morn" itself. and in conduct exemplary." We all know the story of that unconsciously cynical child, who asked of his mamma in the churchyard, "Where are all the bad people buried?" and, like him, when I read the narratives, put forth nowadays, descriptive of our young gentlemen at school-all, I suppose, more or less trustworthy-I am tempted to inquire, "Where are all the bad boys brought up?" What becomes of them? Is the race extinct, or do they all run away to sea, as only the very worst of them used to do, and become "stowaways" in over-insured and presently-to-be-scuttled vessels? The And yet there was no sound so hateful question becomes as interesting as that of to the gentlemen cadets of the Military "hybernation" used to be in White-of-SelAcademy at Woolwich, when it awoke borne's time. They are not here. Where them for extra drill. We are speaking, it have they got to ? Even if one offered a must be premised, of a far, far-back time reward for a bad boy-we are speaking, -not in years, indeed, but as respects the of course, of boys of the upper classes progress of humanity, which, as everybody only, though even the lower ones are knows, has taken such prodigious strides being made angels of by the school boards of late as to leave, not only our forefathers, at the rate of a thousand a weekbut our very fathers, aghast at the perfec- we doubt whether we should secure a tion of their descendants. We have no specimen. At the period of which we doubt that in these days the bugle-call to write, the good boy was about as rare a early drill, being the call of duty-albeit creature as the kingfisher or the otter; a disagreeable one-is eagerly welcomed while the goody-goody boy, now so comby the Woolwich cadet. He has doubtless mon as to be somewhat obtrusive, was marched step by step with the rest of the almost as unknown as the dodo. One or great army of our youth-and presumably two of these latter, driven by stress of in much better time-on the road to what circumstances, were indeed known to stray one of the greatest philosophers of the age into the very spot we are now describing has denominated "bestness," and is highly-the Royal Military Academy. at Woolprincipled, deeply religious, though competitive "a Christian first and a gentleman afterwards;" in brief, a sort of per VOL. XVI. wich; but they were treated with such barbarity by the aborigines, who had a distaste amounting to fanaticism for any 402 506 [August 12, 1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by thing of the sort, that they fled away im- companionship. The trifling advantage in mediately, or perished as martyrs. the way of pay that the one service offers above the other is of no consequence to Landon, who is the only son of a rich City merchant; but it is of great importance to Darall, who is the only son of his mother, who is a poor widow. Darall is It is half-past five on a fine summer morning, and the sun is shining brightly into a high white-walled apartment in which Gentleman-cadet Cecil Henry Landon," head of the room," and three others are lying, each on their a strong, well-built young fellow, but not narrow beds" of iron, after the pattern of that patronised by the great Duke of Wellington, whose well-known figure, with uplifted finger, was at that epoch still to be seen in London streets. They are asleep, and therefore out of mischief; nor do their upturned faces, even in that powerful light, exhibit any signs of marked deformity. That of Landon is a very handsome one, though the handsomest part of it, his soft hazel eyes, are at present closed. His features are regular, and, if rather large, it must be said in their excuse that he is a tall young fellow. He has symptoms of a dark moustache, upon which the military authorities have already passed censure- -for in those days moustaches were not permitted except to the cavalry-and on his sun-burnt cheeks there is that amount of down, for the removal of which wags recommend the cat's tongue instead of the razor. One arm, as white as a girl's and as strong as a navvy's, is thrown upon the coverlet, and with the other he supplements the pillow, which is of "regulation" size that is, about half the proper dimensions. There is a smile upon his face, so let us hope he is dreaming of his mother, who has, however, been dead these ten years, and does not recur very often to his waking thoughts. In the next corner-all the beds are placed in the angles of the room, as though they were playing at puss in the cornerlies Hugh Darall, Landon's chief friend and ally. In character they are the antipodes of one another, which is, perhaps, one of the bonds of their friendship. Darall is diligent and painstaking, and, though a year junior to his friend, is much more distinguished as a student. It is almost time for Landon to pass for his commission, and he will doubtless do so when that period arrives, for he has plenty of brains; but he will not take a high place. He is too fond of pleasure to have much time for study; and he regrets his backwardness for one reason only he will be in the artillery, whereas Darall is "safe to get the sappers' (the engineers), which will deprive him of his so handsome as his friend; his complexion is one of those delicate ones which will not take the sun-burn, and his hair is of that colour which, though it grows tawny with years, has in youth a fluffy appearance. A disciple of Lavater would, however, give this lad the preference over his fellow in the way of moral qualities: his mouth is firmer, his chin is squarer, and his blue eyes, as they open for a moment while the bugle blares and shrills in the parade-ground without, are much more steadfast. For a moment they open, as do those of the other two occupants of the apartment-younger lads, who are in subjection to their seniors-then close in serene content. Those three are in the happy position of that retired naval officer who made his servant call him at some small number of "bells" every morning, that he might have the pleasure of throwing a boot at him, and going to sleep again. They had not to get up; whereas Landon was in for "extra drill." His eyes remain open, and in his reluctant ears the martial music continues to blare on. "Confound the bugle!" exclaims he, passionately; then puts forth a hand to the socks upon the chair beside him, and proceeds to attire himself in his regimentals. Even they are old-world and forgotten now; something between the famous "Windsor uniform" and that of the telegraph boys-light-blue trousers with a red stripe; a dark-blue coat, turned up with red, and with metal buttons; and a really becoming foragecap with a gold band. If anybody is ever good-looking at 5.45 A.M., and before he has washed himself, Cecil Henry Landon might claim to be so, as he stands equipped for drill. He has a minute or two still to spare, and "Never waste time" is the family motto engraved upon his gold watch. He takes up the regulation pillow, and, moving towards Darall, poises it above his head; but a troubled look in the sleeper's face arrests his attention, and causes him to change his purpose. "No, Hugh, you shall sleep on," he mutters; "this will be an ugly day for you-a monstrous unpleasant case Charles Dickens.] WHAT HE COST HER. And at the middle syllable of the word profession," he brought the pillow down with a thwack upon the nose of the nearest sleeper. "Eh-what the devil--! Oh, it's you, Landon ! exclaimed the suddenlyawakened youth, running the whole gamut of expression from wrath to conciliation in a breath. "Yes; it's me, Trotter," answered the other, mimicking; "ain't I a second father to you? Here you are, oversleeping yourself, and running the risk of arrest, when the bugle is just going to sound for the second time for extra drill." "But I'm not down for extra drill," expostulated Trotter. "Then you're a deuced lucky fellow," observed Landon, coolly. "It must be this lazy Whymper that wants to be woke;" and, with a sharp and adroit movement, which showed practice in the art, he pulled away the pillow on which the other young gentleman was sleeping the sleep of innocence-or at all events of forgetfulness of his crimes and brought his head down, with a bang, upon the iron framework of the bed. "Hullo-oh dear me-did you please to want anything, Landon?" said Whymper, rubbing his eyes and the back of his head coincidently, yet at the same time contriving to present a respectful air. "Yes I do. I want to know what the deuce you mean by destroying the property of Her Majesty's Master-General of the Ordnance by dashing your thick head against your bed bars; I do believe you have obliterated the broad arrow. There's the second bugle! It's too late now for you to be at extra drill, you young sluggard." "But, indeed, Landon, though I am much obliged to you for waking me, I am not down for What an abominable ruffian! Did you ever see such an unmitigated beast, Trotter ?" The last part of the sentence was spoken by Gentleman - cadet Whymper, after Gentleman-cadet Landon had rushed from the room to the parade-ground, and in a [August 12, 1876.] 507 tone that bore every mark of genuineness and deep feeling. The speaker was a fat and rosy youth, with projecting eyes, which had gained for him the appellation of the Lobster. "Your sentiments are mine, Lobby, to a T," responded Trotter, whose frame was still quivering with mirth at his companion's discomfiture; "but let us be thankful that our friend is now being tormented by two drill-sergeants while we are lying at ease.' "But I am not at ease," answered the other testily; "I have a lump on my head as big as a hen's egg." "Well, let me be thankful, Lobby, and have my sleep out ;" and without waiting for the desired permission, off he went at once into the land of dreams. Gentleman-cadet Whymper picked up his bolster, but found it little to his liking; the lump in his head had become one of the finest organs that ever met the eye of a phrenologist. "Confound that Landon!" exclaimed he passionately; "of all the vile, abominable, and hateful wretches-of all the monsters in human form-if you can call his human -I do think "Who is it that you are talking about, sir?" inquired the authoritative voice of Senior-cadet Darall, whom Landon's onslaught upon the two "neuxes," as the lastjoined cadets were called, had awakened, in spite of his solicitude to avoid disturbing him. "I was thinking of those infamous scoundrels who mauled poor Bright and Jefferson, at Charlton Fair, yesterday," observed the Lobster, in his most dulcet tone. Darall smiled lugubriously. The smile, and, perhaps, the melancholy also, encouraged Mr. Whymper to continue the conversation. "I suppose, Darall, there is to be no change in the arrangements for two o'clock drill to-day; we are to obey orders ? " "Whose orders?" inquired the other, drily; "those of the officer in command, or of the old cadets ?" "Of the old cadets, of course," answered the Lobster. He had not only come out of his shell by this time, and was all softness, but was in addition, as it were, oiled, as if for a mayonnaise; "no one cares about the officers, I should hope." "Why, I expect to be an officer myself, you young scoundrel, or at least to go down to the Arsenal, within the next six months." "Oh, then, of course that will be dif 508 [August 12, 1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. ferent," answered the other unblushingly. "If all the officers were like you, nobody would wish to disobey them. It's only the governor and the captain of the company, and those two disgusting lieutenants "One of them is my first cousin, sir," interrupted Darall sternly. "Nay, I like that one; we all like that one," observed Whymper obsequiously; "it is the other that is such a beast." "Which of the two lieutenants of the Cadet Company do you call a beast, Mr. Whymper ?" [Conducted by costermonger with more contempt. You would have imagined that Gentleman-cadet Whymper was not a vertebrate animal, and indeed he wished himself a snail that he might have had a shell to creep into. It did not mitigate his embarrassment to perceive his friend Trotter alive to the situation, and making faces at him expressive of lively enjoyment of it. "This is what comes, my dear fellow," said the faces, "of sponging,'" a word indicative, in the Royal Military Academy, of an attempt to conciliate one's superiors, and of such extensive application there that any devotional observance, or rather the bare idea of it, was stigmatised as "sponging upon Providence." The return of Landon from extra drill at that moment was a positive relief to Mr. Whymper, notwithstanding that that gentleman's presence generally brought some inconvenience with it, as indeed it did on the present occasion. Mr. Whymper was to the last degree disconcerted. The chances were exactly even that he should get himself into a hole, by picking out the wrong lieutenant. But, fortunately for him, Darall was a goodnatured fellow, slow to anger, and with a touch of humour which-except in the case of great villains, when it takes a grim and cruel form-has always a softening influence upon character. He was called by the younger cadets, or "snookers "—the poor "Now you snookers!" cried he, skimcreatures had many a derogatory alias-ming his forage-cap with skilful accuracy “Gentleman Darall," and by his contemporaries, we are afraid somewhat in derision, "the Snookers' Friend." It was not, however, his friendliness that protected Mr. Whymper on this occasion so much as his indifference. He seemed to have forgotten that he had put that crucial ques-unbought, than fee the doctor for a noxious tion about his first cousin at all, and was gazing earnestly out of the window, through which came the abrupt sounds of command from the drill-ground, as though the familiar words had some new interest for him. "There will be a precious lot of extra drill, I expect, after to-day's business?" observed Whymper interrogatively. For a neux to ask frivolous questions of an old cadet was in general a dangerous impertinence something like playing with a tiger's tail; but there was a certain fascination about it to Mr. Whymper, who belonged to that large order of persons who had rather the king said to them, "Go to the devil," than receive no notice from majesty whatever; and, moreover, this tiger was a tame tiger. "I suppose so," answered Darall, abstractedly. "And are we to remain at the fair till night, or return for evening parade?" continued the other. "One might just as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and I shall certainly vote for staying." "You vote!" ejaculated Darall, in a tone of scorn equal to a folio. No Tory peer could have uttered "You vote!" to a on Mr. Trotter's nose, and unbuckling his belt with a certain vicious snap, the significance of which was well understood by those whom he addressed, "it's a lovely morning, and you must go out and enjoy it. Better to hunt the field for health draught,' says the poet. I want to have some private talk with Darall.” Neither young gentleman needed any further recommendation of this healthful suggestion, but each-with his eyes furtively fixed upon the belt, which seemed to have a sort of basilisk attraction for them- -rose from his couch, and commenced his toilette. "You can wash afterwards," observed Landon, curtly; "go and stand under the window, and when I chuck the soapdish or something at you, then you will know that you may come upstairs again.” "All right," said Trotter as he vanished through the door. "Thank you very much," said Whymper, meaning doubtless to acknowledge the consideration of Landon's arrangement. A clothes-brush from that gentleman's unerring hand hissed through the air, and smote his retreating figure as he followed his more agile companion. CHAPTER II. THE TEMPTER. "WHAT a wretched sneak and sycophant that Whymper is," ejaculated Landon, as he sat down by his friend's pillow. |