ROMANCE AND REALITY.
If we had heard that she was dead
We hastily had cried,
"She was so richly favored
God will forgive her pride!"
But now to see her living death--
Power, glory, arts, all gone--
Her empire lost and her poor breath
Still vainly struggling on!
--_Milnes._
The "Ocean Empress" steamed her way eastward. The month was
favorable; the weather bright; the wind fair and the sea calm. Every
circumstance promised a pleasant voyage. None but a few unreasonable
people grew seasick; and even they could not keep it up long.
There was a very select and agreeable set of passengers in the first
cabin.
But Lord and Lady Vincent were the only titled persons present; and
from both European and American voyagers received a ridiculous
amount of homage.
Claudia enjoyed the worship, though she despised the worshipers. Her
spirits had rebounded from their depression. She was Lady Vincent,
and in the present enjoyment and future anticipation of all the
honors of her rank. She gloried in the adulation her youth, beauty,
wealth, and title commanded from her companions on the steamer; hut
she gloried more in the anticipation of future successes and
triumphs on a larger scale and more extensive field.
She rehearsed in imagination her arrival in London, her introduction
to the family of the viscount; her presentation to the queen; and
the sensation she would produce at her majesty's drawing room, where
she was resolved, even if it should cost her her whole fortune, to
eclipse every woman present, not only in the perfection of her
beauty, but also in the magnificence of her dresses and the splendor
of her jewels. And after that what a season she would pass in
London! Whoever was queen of England, she would he queen of beauty
and fashion.
And then she would visit with Lord Vincent all the different seats
of his family; and every seat would be the scene of a new ovation!
As the bride of the heir she would be idolized by the tenants and
retainers of his noble family!
She would, with Lord Vincent, make a tour of the Continent; she
would see everything worth seeing in nature and in art, modern and
antique; she would be presented in succession at every foreign
court, and everywhere by her beauty and splendor achieve new
successes and triumphs! She would frequent the circles of American
ministers, for the express purpose of meeting there her
countrywomen, and overwhelming by her magnificence those who had
once, dared to sneer at that high flavor of Indian blood which had
given luster to her raven hair and fire to her dark eyes! Returning
to England after this royal progress on the Continent she would pass
her days in cherishing her beauty and keeping up her state.
And the course of her life should be like that of the sun,
beautiful, glorious, regnant! each splendid phase more dazzling than
any that had preceded it. Was not this worth the price she paid for
it?
Such were Claudia's dreams and visions. Such the scenes that she
daily in imagination rehearsed. Such the future life she delighted
to contemplate. And nothing--neither the attentions of her husband,
the conversation of her companions, nor the beauty and glory of sea
and sky--could win her from the contemplation of the delightful
subject.
Meanwhile in that lovely October weather the "Empress" steamed her
way over the sapphire blue sea and neared the cliffs of England.
At length on a fine afternoon in October they entered the mouth of
the Mersey River, and two hours later landed at Liverpool.
Soon all was bustle with the custom house officers.
Leaving their luggage in charge of his valet, to be got through the
custom house, Lord Vincent hurried Claudia into a cab, followed her,
and gave the direction:
"To the Crown and Miter."
"Why not go to the Adelphi? All Americans go there, and I think it
the best hotel in the city," said Claudia.
"The Crown and Miter will serve our turn," was the curt reply of the
viscount.
Claudia looked up in surprise at the brusqueness of his answer, and
then ventured the opinion:
"It is a first-class hotel, of course?"
"Humph!" answered his lordship.
They left the respectable-looking street through which they were
driving and turned into a narrow by-street and drove through a
perfect labyrinth of narrow lanes and alleys, made hideous by
dilapidated and dirty buildings and ragged and filthy people, until
at last they reached a dark, dingy-looking inn, whose creaking sign
bore in faded letters: "The Crown and Miter."
"It is not here that you are taking me, Lord Vincent?" exclaimed
Claudia in surprise and displeasure, as her eyes fell upon this
house and sign.
"It certainly is, Lady Vincent," replied his lordship, with cool
civility, as he handed her out of the cab.
"Why this--this is worse than the tavern you took me to in New York.
I never was in such a house before in all my life."
"It will have all the attractions of novelty, then."
"Lord Vincent, I do beg that you will not take me into this squalid
place," she said shrinking back.
"You might find less attractive places than this in the length and
breadth of the island," he replied, as he drew her hand within his
arm and led her into the house.
They found themselves in a narrow passage, with stained walls, worn
oil-cloth, and a smell of meat, onions, and smoke.
"Oh!" exclaimed Claudia, in irrepressible disgust.
"You will get used to these little inconveniences after a while, my
dear," said his lordship.
A man with a greasy white apron and a soiled napkin approached them
and bowed.
"A bedroom and parlor, and supper immediately," was Lord Vincent's
order to this functionary.
"Yes, sir. We can be happy to accommodate you, sir, with a bedroom;
the parlor, sir, is out of our power; we having none vacant at the
present time; but to-morrow, sir--" began the polite waiter, when
Lord Vincent cut him short with:
"Show us into the bedroom, then."
"Yes, sir." And bowing, the waiter went before them up the narrow
stairs and led them into a dusky, fady, gloomy-looking chamber,
whose carpet, curtains, and chair coverings seemed all of mingled
hues of browns and grays, and from their fadiness and dinginess
almost indescribable in color.
The waiter set the candle on the tall wooden mantelpiece and
inquired:
"What would you please to order for supper?"
"What will you have, madam?" inquired Lord Vincent, referring to
Claudia.
"Nothing on earth, in this horrid place! I am heart-sick," she
added, in a low, sad tone.
"The lady will take nothing. You may send me a beefsteak and a
bottle of Bass' pale ale," said his lordship, seemingly perfectly
careless as to Claudia's want of appetite.
"Yes, sir; shall I order it served in the coffee room?"
"No, send it up here, and don't be long over it."
The waiter left the room. And Lord Vincent walked up and down the
floor in the most perfect state of indifference to Claudia's
distress.
She threw herself into a chair and burst into tears, exclaiming:
"You do not care for me at all! What a disgusting place to bring a
woman--not to say a lady--into! If you possessed the least respect
or affection for me you would never treat me so!"
"I fancy that I possess quite as much respect and affection for you,
Lady Vincent, as you do, or ever did for me," he answered.
And Claudia knew that he spoke the truth, and she could not
contradict him; but she said:
"Suppose there is little love lost between us, still we might treat
each other decently. It is infamous to bring me here."
"You will not be required to stay here long."
"I hope not, indeed!"
At this moment the waiter entered to lay the cloth for the
viscount's supper.
"What time does the first train for Aberdeen leave?" inquired the
viscount.
"The first train, sir, leaves at four o'clock in the morning, sir;
an uncomfortable hour, sir; and it is besides the parliamentary,
sir."
"That will do. See if my people have come up from the custom house."
"Yes, sir; I beg your pardon, sir, what name?" inquired the
perplexed waiter.
"No matter. Go look for a fellow who has in charge a large number of
boxes and a party of male and female gorillas."
The man left the room to do his errand and to report below that the
person in "Number 13" was a showman with a lot of man-monkeys from
the interior of Africa.
But Claudia turned to her husband in astonishment.
"Did I understand you to inquire about the train to Aberdeen?"
"Yes," was the short reply.
"But--I thought we were going to London--to Hurstmonceux House--"
"Belgravia? No, my dear, we are going to Scotland."
"But--why this change of plan? My father and myself certainly
understood that I was to be taken to London and introduced to your
family and afterwards presented to her majesty."
"My dear, the London season is over ages ago. Nobody that is anybody
will be found in town until February. The court is at Balmoral, and
the world is in Scotland. We go to Castle Cragg."
"But why could you not have told me that before?"
"My dear, I like to be agreeable. And people who are always setting
others right are not so."
"Is Lord Hurstmonceux at Castle Cragg?"
"The earl is at Balmoral, in attendance upon her majesty."
"Then why do we not go to Balmoral?"
"The queen holds no drawing rooms there."
Claudia suspected that he was deceiving her; but she felt that it
would do no good to accuse him of deception.
The waiter returned to the room, bringing Lord Vincent's substantial
supper, arranged on a tray.
"I have inquired below, sir; and there is no one arrived having in
charge your gorillas. But there is a person with a panorama, sir;
and there is a person with three negro persons, sir," said the
waiter.
"He will do. Send up the 'person with three negro persons,'" said
the viscount.
And once more the waiter left the room.
In a few moments Lord Vincent's valet entered.
"Frisbie, we leave for Scotland by the four o'clock train, to-morrow
morning. See to it."
"Yes, my lord. I beg your lordship's pardon, but is your lordship
aware that it is the parliamentary?"
"Certainly; but it is also the first. See to it that your gorillas
are ready. And--Frisbie."
"Yes, my lord."
"Go and engage a first-class carriage for our own exclusive use."
"Yes, my lord," said the man, with his hand still on the door, as if
waiting further orders.
"Lord Vincent, I would be obliged if you would tell him to send one
of my women to me," said Claudia coldly.
"Women? Oh! Here, Frisbie! send the female gorillas up."
"I said one of my women, the elder one, he may send."
"Frisbie, send the old female gorilla up, then."
The man went out of the room. And Claudia turned upon her husband:
"Lord Vincent, I do not know in what light you consider it; but I
think your conduct shows bad wit and worse manners."
"Lady Vincent, I am sorry you should disapprove of it," said his
lordship, falling to upon his beefsteak and ale, the fumes of which
soon filled the room.
But that was nothing to what was coming. When he had finished his
supper he coolly took a pipe from his pocket, filled it with "negro-
head," and prepared to light it. Then stopping in the midst of his
operations, he looked at Claudia and inquired:
"Do you dislike tobacco smoke?"
"I do not know, my lord. No gentleman ever smoked in my presence,"
replied Claudia haughtily.
"Oh, then, of course, you don't know, and never will until you try.
There is nothing like experiment."
And Lord Vincent put the pipe between his lips and puffed away
vigorously. The room was soon filled with smoke. That, combined with
the smell of the beefsteak and the ale, really sickened Claudia. She
went to the window, raised it and looked out.
"You will take cold," said his lordship.
"I would rather take cold than breathe this air," was her reply.
"Just as you please; but I hadn't," he said. And he went and shut
down the window.
Amazement held Claudia still for a moment; she could scarcely
believe in such utter disregard of her feelings. At last, in a voice
vibrating with ill-suppressed indignation, she said:
"My lord, the air of this room makes me ill. If you must smoke, can
you not do so somewhere else?"
"Where?" questioned his lordship, taking the pipe from his mouth for
an instant.
"Is there not a smoking room, reading room, or something of the
sort, for gentlemen's accommodation?"
"In this place? Ha, ha, ha! Well, there is the taproom!"
"Then why not go there?" inquired Claudia, who had no very clear
idea of what the taproom really was.
Lord Vincent's face flushed at what he seemed to think an
intentional affront.
"I can go into the street," he said.
And he arose and put on his greatcoat and his cap, and turned up the
collar of his coat and turned down the fall of his cap, so that but
little of his face would be seen, and so walked out. Then Claudia
raised the window to ventilate the room, and rang the bell to summon
the waiter.
"Take this service away and send the chambermaid to me," she said to
him when he came.
And a few minutes after he had cleared the table and left the room
the chambermaid, accompanied by old Katie, entered.
"Is there a dressing room connected with this chamber?" Lady Vincent
inquired.
"Law, no, mum! there isn't sich a place in the house," said the
chambermaid.
"This is intolerable! You may go; my own servants will wait on me."
The girl went out.
"Unpack my traveling bag and lay out my things, Katie," said Lady
Vincent, when she was left alone with her nurse.
But the old woman raised her hands, and rolled up her eyes,
exclaiming:
"Well, Miss Claudia, child!--I mean my ladyship, ma'am!--if this is
Ingland, I never want to see it again the longest day as ever I
live!"
"Liverpool is not England, Katie."
"Live-a-pool, is it? More like Die-a-pool!" grumbled old Katie, as
she assisted her lady to change her traveling dress for a loose
wrapper.
"Now, what have you had to eat, my ladyship?"
"Nothing, Katie. I felt as if I could not eat anything cooked in
this ill-looking house."
"Nothing to eat! I'll go right straight downstairs and make you some
tea and toast myself," said Katie.
And she made good her words by bringing a delicate little repast, of
which Claudia gratefully partook.
And then Katie, with an old nurse's tenderness, saw her mistress
comfortably to bed, and cleared and darkened the room and left her
to repose.
But Claudia did not sleep. Her thoughts were too busy with the
subject of Lord Vincent's strange conduct from the time that he had
at Niagara received those three suspicious letters up to this time,
when with his face hid he was walking up and down the streets of
Liverpool.
That he sought concealment she felt assured by many circumstances:
his coming to this obscure tavern; his choosing to take his meals
and smoke his pipe in his bedroom; and his walking out with his face
muffled--all of which was in direct antagonism to Lord Vincent's
fastidious habits; and, finally, his taking a whole carriage in the
railway train, for no other purpose than to have himself and his
party entirely isolated from their fellow-passengers.
Lord Vincent came in early, and, thanks to the narcotic qualities of
the ale, he soon fell asleep.
Claudia had scarcely dropped into a doze before, at the dismal hour
of three o'clock in the morning, they were roused up to get ready
for the train. They made a hurried toilet and ate a hasty breakfast,
and then set out for the station.
It was a raw, damp, foggy morning. The atmosphere seemed as dense
and as white as milk. No one could see a foot in advance. And
Claudia wondered how the cabmen managed to get along at all.
They reached the station just as the train was about to start, and
had barely time to hurry into the carriage that had been engaged for
them before the whistle shrieked and they were off. Fortunately
Frisbie had sent the luggage on in advance, and got it ticketed.
The carriage had four back and four front seats. Lord and Lady
Vincent occupied two of the back seats, and their four servants the
front ones. As they went on the fog really seemed to thicken. They
traveled slowly and stopped often. And Claudia, in surprise,
remarked upon these facts.
"One might as well be in a stage--for speed," she complained.
"It is the parliamentary train," he replied.
"I have heard you say that before; but I do not know what you mean
by 'parliamentary' as applied to railway trains."
"It is the cheap train, the slow train, the people's train; in fact,
one that, in addition to first- and second-class carriages, drags
behind it an interminable length of rough cars, in which the lower
orders travel," said his lordship.
"But why is it called the 'parliamentary'?"
"Because it was instituted by act of parliament for the
accommodation of the people, or perhaps because it is so heavy and
slow."
On they went, hour after hour, stopping every three or four miles,
while the fog seemed still to condense and whiten.
At noon the train reached York, and stopped twenty minutes for
refreshment. Lord Vincent did not leave the carriage, but sent his
valet out to the station restaurant to procure what was needful for
his party. And while the passengers were all hurrying to and fro,
and looking in at the carriage, he drew the curtains of his windows,
and sat back far in his seat.
Claudia would gladly have left the train and spent the interval in
contemplating, even if it were only the outside of the ancient
cathedral of which she had read and heard so much.
Lord Vincent assured her there was no time to lose in sight-seeing
then, but promised that she should visit York at some future period.
And the train started again. They began to leave the fog behind them
as they approached the seacoast. They soon came in sight of the
North Sea, beside which the railway ran for some hundred miles. Here
all was bright and clear. And Claudia for a time forgot all the
suspicions and anxieties that disturbed her mind, and with all a
stranger's interest gazed on the grandeur of the scenery and dreamed
over the associations it awakened.
Here "lofty Seaton-Delaval" was pointed out to her. And Tinemouth,
famed in song for its "haughty prioress," and "Holy Isle," memorable
for the inhumation of Constance de Beverly.
At sunset they crossed Berwick bridge and entered Scotland.
Claudia was entirely lost in gazing on the present landscape, and
dreaming of its past history. Here the association between scenery
and poetry was perfect. Nature is ever young--and this was the very
scene and the very hour described in Scott's immortal poem, and as
Claudia gazed she murmured the lines:
"Day set on Norham's castled steep,
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone;
The battled towers, the donjon keep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow luster shone,"
Yes! it was the very scene, viewed at the very hour, just as the
poet described it to have been two hundred years before, when
"Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward and Scrivelbaye,
Of Tamworth tower and town,"
crossed with his knightly train into Scotland. There was the setting
sun burnishing the brown tops of the Cheviot hills; gilding the
distant ruined towers of Norham Castle, and lighting up the waters
of the Tweed.
But there is little time for either observation or dreaming in a
railway train.
They stopped but a few minutes at Berwick, and then shot off
northward, still keeping near the coast.
Claudia looked out upon the gray North Sea, and enjoyed the
magnificence of the coast scenery as long as the daylight lasted.
When it was growing dark Lord Vincent said:
"You had just as well close that window, Claudia. It will give us
all cold; and besides, you can see but little now."
"I can see Night drawing her curtain of darkness around the bed of
the troubled waters. It is worth watching," murmured Claudia
dreamily.
"Bosh!" was the elegant response of the viscount; "you will see
enough of the North Sea before you have done with it, I fancy." And
with an emphatic clap he let down the window.
Claudia shrugged her shoulders and turned away, too proud to dispute
a point that she was powerless to decide.
They sped on towards Edinboro', through the darkness of one of the
darkest nights that ever fell. Even had the window been open Claudia
could not have caught a glimpse of the scenery. She had no idea that
they were near the capital of Scotland until the train ran into the
station. Then all was bustle among those who intended to get out
there.
But through all the bustle Lord Vincent and his party kept their
seats,
"I am very weary of this train. I have not left my seat for many
hours. Can we not stop over night here? I should like to see
Edinboro' by daylight," Claudia inquired.
"What did you say?" asked Lord Vincent, with nonchalance.
Claudia repeated her question, adding:
"I should like to remain a day or two in Edinboro'. I wish to see
the Castle, and Holyrood Palace and Abbey, and Roslyn and
Craigmiller, and----"
"Everything else, of course. Bother! We have no time for that. I
have taken our tickets for Aberdeen, and mean to sleep at Castle
Cragg to-night," replied the viscount.
Claudia turned away her head to conceal the indignant tears that
arose to her eyes. She was beginning to discover that her comfort,
convenience, and inclination were just about the last circumstances
that her husband was disposed to take into consideration. What a
dire reverse for her, whose will from her earliest recollection had
been the law to all around her!
The train started again and sped on its way through the darkness of
the night towards Aberdeen, where they arrived about eight o'clock.
"Here at last the railway journey ends, thank Heaven," sighed
Claudia, as the train slackened its speed and crawled into the
station. And the usual bustle attending its arrival ensued.
Fortunately for Claudia, the viscount found himself too much
fatigued after about sixteen hours' ride to go farther that night.
So he directed Mr. Frisbie to engage two cabs to take himself and
his party to a hotel.
And when they were brought up he handed Claudia, who was scarcely
able to stand, into the first one, and ordered Frisbie to put the
"gorillas" into the other. And they drove to a fourth- or fifth-rate
inn, a degree or two dirtier, dingier, and darker than the one they
had left at Liverpool.
But Claudia was too utterly worn out in body, mind, and spirit to
find fault with any shelter that promised to afford her the common
necessaries of life, of which she had been deprived for so many
hours.
She drank the tea that was brought her, without questioning its
quality. And as soon as she laid her head on her pillow she sank
into the dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion.
She awoke late the next morning to take her first look at the old
town through a driving rain that lashed the narrow windows of her
little bedroom. Lord Vincent had already risen and gone out.
She rang for her servants. Old Katie answered the bell, entering
with uplifted hands and eyes, exclaiming:
"Well, my ladyship! if this ain't the outlandishest country as ever
was! Coming over from t'other side we had the ocean unnerneaf of us,
and now 'pears to me like we has got it overhead of us, by the fog
and mist and rain perpetual! And if this is being of lords and
ladyships, I'd a heap leifer be misters and mist'esses, myself."
"I quite agree with you, Katie," sighed Lady Vincent, as, with the
old woman's assistance, she dressed herself.
"It seems to me like as if we was regerlerly sold, my ladyship,"
said old Katie mysteriously.
"Hush! Where are we to have breakfast--not in this disordered room,
I hope?"
"No, my ladyship. They let us have a little squeezed-up parlor that
smells for all the world as if a lot of men had been smoking and
drinking in it all night long. My lordship's down there, waiting for
his breakfast now. Pretty place to fetch a 'spectable cullored
pusson to, let alone a lady! Well, one comfort, we won't stay here
long, cause I heard my lordship order Mr. Frisbie to go and take two
inside places and four outside places in the stage-coach as leaves
this mornin' for Ban. 'Ban,' 'Ban'; 'pears like it's been all ban
and no blessin' ever since we done lef' Tanglewood."
Lady Vincent did not think it worth while to correct Katie. She knew
by experience that all attempts to set her right would be lost
labor.
She went downstairs and joined Lord Vincent in the little parlor,
where a breakfast was laid of which it might be said that if the
coffee was bad and the bannocks worse, the kippered herrings were
delicious.
After breakfast they took their places in or on the Banff mail
coach; Lord and Lady Vincent being the sole passengers inside; and
all their servants occupying the outside. And so they set out
through the drizzling rain and by the old turnpike road to Banff.
This road ran along the edge of the cliffs overhanging the sea--the
sea, ever sublime and beautiful, even when dimly seen through the
dull veil of a Scotch mist.
Claudia was not permitted to open the window; but she kept the glass
polished that she might look out upon the wild scenery.
Late in the afternoon they reached the town of Banff, where they
stopped only long enough to order a plain dinner and engage flies to
take them on to their final destination, Castle Cragg, which in
truth Claudia was growing very anxious to behold.