E-text prepared by David Clarke, Pilar Somoza Fernandez, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Transcriber's note:
Minor punctuation errors have been corrected without note.
Inconsistent hyphenation has been retained as it appears in
the original.
LOVER OR FRIEND
by
ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY
Author of 'Nellie's Memories,' 'Not Like Other Girls,' Etc.
MacMillan and Co., Limited
St. Martin's Street, London
1915
* * * * *
THE NOVELS OF
ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY
POPULAR EDITION
_Crown 8vo. Cloth extra. 3s. 6d. each._
NELLIE'S MEMORIES.
WEE WIFIE.
BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL.
ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT.
WOOED AND MARRIED.
HERIOT'S CHOICE.
QUEENIE'S WHIM.
MARY ST. JOHN.
NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS.
FOR LILIAS.
UNCLE MAX.
ONLY THE GOVERNESS.
LOVER OR FRIEND?
BASIL LYNDHURST.
SIR GODFREY'S GRAND-DAUGHTERS.
THE OLD, OLD STORY.
THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM.
MRS. ROMNEY AND "BUT MEN MUST WORK."
OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES.
HERB OF GRACE.
THE HIGHWAY OF FATE.
RUE WITH A DIFFERENCE.
A PASSAGE PERILOUS.
AT THE MOORINGS.
THE HOUSEHOLD OF PETER.
NO FRIEND LIKE A SISTER.
THE ANGEL OF FORGIVENESS.
THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE HILL.
THE KEY OF THE UNKNOWN.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
* * * * *
LOVER OR FRIEND
MacMillan and Co., Limited
London . Bombay . Calcutta
Melbourne
The MacMillan Company
New York . Boston . Chicago
Dallas . San Francisco
The MacMillan Co. of Canada, Ltd.
Toronto
Copyright
_First Edition_ 1890
_Reprinted_ 1893, 1894, 1898, 1899, 1901, 1902, 1904, 1906, 1910, 1915
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
1. THE BLAKE FAMILY ARE DISCUSSED 1
2. AUDREY INTRODUCES HERSELF 9
3. THE BLAKE FAMILY AT HOME 18
4. MICHAEL 28
5. THE NEW MASTER 36
6. THE GRAY COTTAGE 47
7. KESTER'S HERO 56
8. 'I HOPE BETTER THINGS OF AUDREY' 67
9. MAT 78
10. PRISCILLA BAXTER 88
11. 'A GIRL AFTER MY OWN HEART' 97
12. MOLLIE GOES TO DEEP-WATER CHINE 107
13. GERALDINE GIVES HER OPINION 117
14. 'I AM SORRY YOU ASKED THE QUESTION' 126
15. MRS. BLAKE HAS HER NEW GOWN 137
16. MOLLIE LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 146
17. AMONG THE BRAIL LANES 155
18. ON A SCOTCH MOOR 165
19. YELLOW STOCKINGS ON THE TAPIS 174
20. 'THE LITTLE RIFT' 183
21. 'HE IS VERY BRAVE' 192
22. 'NO, YOU HAVE NOT SPARED ME' 202
23. 'DADDY, I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU' 210
24. 'I FELT SUCH A CULPRIT, YOU SEE' 222
25. MR. HARCOURT SPEAKS HIS MIND 232
26. HOW GERALDINE TOOK IT TO HEART 242
27. WHAT MICHAEL THOUGHT OF IT 252
28. MICHAEL TURNS OVER A NEW LEAF 261
29. TWO FAMILY EVENTS 269
30. 'I COULD NOT STAND IT ANY LONGER, TOM' 278
31. 'WILL YOU CALL THE GUARD?' 286
32. 'I DID NOT LOVE HIM' 295
33. 'SHALL YOU TELL HIM TO-NIGHT?' 305
34. 'I MUST THINK OF MY CHILD, MIKE' 313
35. 'OLIVE WILL ACKNOWLEDGE ANYTHING' 323
36. 'HOW CAN I BEAR IT?' 332
37. 'I SHALL NEVER BE FREE' 341
38. 'WHO WILL COMFORT HIM?' 351
39. 'YOU WILL LIVE IT DOWN' 360
40. MICHAEL ACCEPTS HIS CHARGE 368
41. 'THERE SHALL BE PEACE BETWEEN US' 378
42. 'WILL YOU SHAKE HANDS WITH YOUR FATHER?' 389
43. MICHAEL'S LETTER 399
44. MOLLIE GOES INTO EXILE 409
45. AUDREY RECEIVES A TELEGRAM 418
46. 'INASMUCH' 426
47. A STRANGE EXPIATION 435
48. ON MICHAEL'S BENCH 445
49. 'LET YOUR HEART PLEAD FOR ME' 456
50. BOOTY'S MASTER 464
51. 'LOVE'S AFTERMATH' 472
LOVER OR FRIEND?
CHAPTER I
THE BLAKE FAMILY ARE DISCUSSED
'There is nothing, sir, too little for so little a creature as man.
It is by studying little things that we attain the great art of
having as little misery and as much happiness as possible.'--DR.
JOHNSON.
Everyone in Rutherford knew that Mrs. Ross was ruled by her eldest
daughter; it was an acknowledged fact, obvious not only to a keen-witted
person like Mrs. Charrington, the head-master's wife, but even to the
minor intelligence of Johnnie Deans, the youngest boy at Woodcote. It
was not that Mrs. Ross was a feeble-minded woman; in her own way she was
sensible, clear-sighted, with plenty of common-sense; but she was a
little disposed to lean on a stronger nature, and even when Geraldine
was in the schoolroom, her energy and youthful vigour began to assert
themselves, her opinions insensibly influenced her mother's, until at
last they swayed her entirely.
If this were the case when Geraldine was a mere girl, it was certainly
not altered when the crowning glories of matronhood were added to her
other perfections. Six months ago Geraldine Ross had left her father's
house to become the wife of Mr. Harcourt, of Hillside; and in becoming
the mistress of one of the coveted Hill houses, Geraldine had not yet
consented to lay down the sceptre of her home rule.
Mrs. Ross had acquiesced cheerfully in this arrangement. She had lost
her right hand in losing Geraldine; and during the brief honeymoon both
she and her younger daughter Audrey felt as though the home machinery
were somewhat out of gear. No arrangement could be effected without a
good deal of wondering on Mrs. Ross's part as to what Geraldine might
think of it, and without a lengthy letter being written on the subject.
It was a relief, at least to her mother's mind, when young Mrs. Harcourt
returned, and without a word took up the reins again. No one disputed
her claims. Now and then there would be a lazy protest from Audrey--a
concealed sarcasm that fell blunted beneath the calm amiability of the
elder sister. Geraldine was always perfectly good-tempered; the sense of
propriety that guided all her actions never permitted her to grow hot in
argument; and when a person is always in the right, as young Mrs.
Harcourt believed herself to be, the small irritations of daily life
fall very harmlessly. It is possible for a man to be so cased in armour
that even a pin-prick of annoyance will not find ingress. It is true the
armour may be a little stifling and somewhat inconvenient for work-a-day
use, but it is a grand thing to be saved from pricks.
Mrs. Harcourt was presiding at the little tea-table in the Woodcote
drawing-room; there were only two other persons in the room. It was
quite an understood thing that the young mistress of Hillside should
walk over to Woodcote two or three afternoons in the week, to give her
mother the benefit of her society, and also to discuss any little matter
that might have arisen during her brief absence.
Mrs. Harcourt was an exceedingly handsome young woman; in fact, many
people thought her lovely. She had well-cut features, a good
complexion--with the soft, delicate colouring that only perfect health
ever gives--and a figure that was at once graceful and dignified. To add
to all these attractions, she understood the art of dressing herself;
her gowns always fitted her to perfection. She was always attired
suitably, and though vanity and self-consciousness were not her natural
foibles, she had a feminine love of pretty things, and considered it a
wifely duty to please the eyes of her lord and master.
Mrs. Harcourt had the old-fashioned sugar-tongs in her hand, and was
balancing them lightly for a moment. 'It is quite true, mother,' she
said decisively, as she dropped the sugar into the shallow teacup.
Mrs. Ross looked up from her knitting.
'My dear Geraldine, I do hope you are mistaken,' she returned
anxiously.
Mrs. Ross had also been a very pretty woman, and even now she retained a
good deal of pleasant middle-aged comeliness. She was somewhat stout,
and had grown a little inactive in consequence; but her expression was
soft and motherly, and she had the unmistakable air of a gentlewoman. In
her husband's eyes she was still handsomer than her daughters; and Dr.
Ross flattered himself that he had made the all-important choice of his
life more wisely than other men.
'My dear mother, how is it possible to be mistaken?' returned her
daughter, with a shade of reproof in her voice. 'I told you that I had a
long talk with Edith. Michael, I have made your tea; I think it is just
as you like it--with no infusion of tannin, as you call it'; and she
turned her head slowly, so as to bring into view the person she was
addressing, and who, seated at a little distance, had taken no part in
the conversation.
He was a thin, pale man, of about five or six and thirty, with a reddish
moustache. As he crossed the room in response to this invitation, he
moved with an air of languor that amounted to lassitude, and a slight
limp was discernible. His features were plain; only a pair of clear blue
eyes, with a peculiarly searching expression, distinguished him from a
hundred men of the same type.
These eyes were not always pleasant to meet. Certain people felt
disagreeably in their inner consciousness that Captain Burnett could
read them too accurately--'No fellow has a right to look you through and
through,' as one young staff officer observed; 'it is taking a liberty
with a man. Burnett always seems as though he is trying to turn a fellow
inside out, to get at the other side of him'--not a very eloquent
description of a would-be philosopher who loved to dabble a little in
human foibles.
'I have been listening to the Blake discussion,' he said coolly, as he
took the offered cup. 'What a wonderful woman you are, Gage! you have a
splendid talent for organisation; and even a thorough-paced scandal has
to be organised.'
'Scandal!--what are you talking about, Michael?'
'Your talent for organisation, even in trifles,' he returned promptly.
'I am using the word advisedly. I have just been reading De Quincey's
definition of talent and genius. He says--now pray listen, Gage--that
"talent is intellectual power of every kind which acts and manifests
itself by and through the will and the active forces. Genius, as the
verbal origin implies, is that much rarer species of intellectual power
which is derived from the genial nature, from the spirit of suffering
and enjoying, from the spirit of pleasure and pain, as organised more or
less perfectly; and this is independent of the will. It is a function of
the passive nature. Talent is conversant with the adaptation of means to
ends; but genius is conversant only with ends."'
'My dear Michael, I have no doubt that all this is exceedingly clever,
and that your memory is excellent, but why are we to be crushed beneath
all this analysis?'
'I was only drawing a comparison between you and Audrey,' he replied
tranquilly. 'I have been much struck by the idea involved in the word
"genial"; I had no conception we could evolve "genius" out of it. Audrey
is a very genial person; she also, in De Quincey's words, "moves in
headlong sympathy and concurrence with spontaneous power." This is his
definition, mark you; I lay no claim to it: "Genius works under a
rapture of necessity and spontaneity." I do love that expression,
"headlong sympathy"; it so well expresses the way Audrey works.'
Mrs. Harcourt gave a little assenting shrug. She was not quite pleased
with the turn the conversation had taken; abstract ideas were not to her
taste; the play of words in which Captain Burnett delighted bored her
excessively. She detected, too, a spice of irony. The comparison between
her and Audrey was not a flattering one: she was far cleverer than
Audrey; her masters and governesses would have acknowledged that fact.
And yet her cousin Michael was giving the divine gift of genius to her
more scantily endowed sister; genius! but, of course, it was only
Michael's nonsense: he would say anything when he was in the humour for
disputation. Even her own Percival had these contentious moods. The
masculine mind liked to play with moral ninepins, to send all kinds of
exploded theories rolling with their little ball of wit; it sharpened
their argumentative faculties, and kept them bright and ready for use.
'Mother and I were talking about these tiresome Blakes--not of Audrey,'
she said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. 'If you were listening,
Michael, you must have heard the whole account of my conversation with
Mrs. Bryce.'
'Oh, you mean Harcourt's sister, with whom you have been staying. Did I
not tell you that I had heard every word, and was admiring your
admirable tactics? The way in which you marshalled your forces of
half-truths and implied verities and small mounted theories was
grand--absolutely grand!'
Mrs. Harcourt was silent for a moment. Michael was very trying; he often
exercised her patience most severely. But there was a threefold reason
for her forbearance; first, he was her father's cousin, and beloved by
him as his own son would have been if he had ever had one; secondly, his
ill-health entitled him to a good deal of consideration from any
kind-hearted woman; and thirdly, and perhaps principally, he had the
reputation for saying and doing odd, out-of-the-way things; and a man
who moves in an eccentric circle of his own is never on other people's
plane, and therefore some allowance must be made for him.
Mrs. Harcourt could, however, have heartily endorsed Mrs. Carlyle's
opinion of her gifted son, and applied it to her cousin--'He was ill to
live with.' Somehow one loves this honest, shrewd criticism of the old
North-Country woman, the homely body who smoked short black pipes in the
chimney-corner, but whom Carlyle loved and venerated from the bottom of
his big heart. 'Ill to live with'--perhaps Michael Burnett, with his
injured health and Victoria Cross, and the purpose of his life all
marred and frustrated, was not the easiest person in the world.
Mrs. Harcourt was silent for an instant; but she never permitted herself
to be ruffled, so she went on in her smooth voice:
'I felt it was my duty to repeat to mother all that Edith--I mean Mrs.
Bryce--told me about the Blakes.'
'Please do not be so formal. I infinitely prefer that fine,
princess-like name of Edith,' remarked Michael, with a lazy twinkle in
his eyes; but Mrs. Harcourt would not condescend even to notice the
interruption.
'Mrs. Bryce,' with a pointed emphasis on the name, 'was much concerned
when she heard that my father had engaged Mr. Blake for his classical
master.'
'And why so?' demanded Captain Burnett a little sharply. 'He has taken a
good degree; Dr. Ross seems perfectly satisfied with him.'
'Oh, there is nothing against the young man; he is clever and pleasant,
and very good-looking. It is only the mother who is so objectionable.
Perhaps I am putting it too strongly--only Mrs. Bryce and her husband
did not like her. They say she is a very unsatisfactory person, and so
difficult to understand.'
'Poor Mrs. Blake,' ejaculated her cousin, 'to be judged before the Bryce
tribunal and found wanting!'
'Don't be ridiculous, Michael!' replied Mrs. Harcourt, in her
good-tempered way; 'of course you take her part simply because she is
accused: you are like Audrey in that.'
'You see we are both genial persons; but, seriously, Mrs. Blake's list
of misdemeanours seems absurdly trifling. She is very handsome; that is
misdemeanour number one, I believe.'
'My dear,' observed Mrs. Ross placidly at this point, for she had been
too busy counting her stitches to concern herself with the strife of
words, 'Geraldine only mentioned that as a fact: she remarked that Mrs.
Blake was a very prepossessing person, that she had rather an uncommon
type of beauty.'
'That makes her all the more interesting,' murmured Captain Burnett,
with his eyes half closed. 'I begin to feel quite excited about this
Mrs. Blake. I do delight in anything out of the common.'
'Oh, Edith never denied that she was fascinating. She is a clever woman,
too; only there were certain little solecisms committed that made her
think Mrs. Blake was not a thorough gentlewoman. They are undoubtedly
very poor; and though, of course, that is no objection, it is so absurd
for people in such a position to try and ignore their little shifts and
contrivances. Honest poverty is to be respected, but not when it is
allied to pretension.'
'My dear Gage, was it you or Mrs. Bryce who made that exceedingly clever
speech! It was really worthy of Dr. Johnson; it only wanted a "Sir" to
point the Doctor's style. "Sir, honest poverty is to be respected, but
not when it is allied to pretension"--a good, thorough Johnsonian
speech! And so the poor woman is poor?'
'Yes, but no one minds that,' returned Mrs. Harcourt, somewhat hastily.
'I hope you do not think that anything in her outward circumstances has
prejudiced my sister-in-law against her. As far as that goes, Mrs. Blake
deserves credit; she has denied herself comforts even to give her son a
good education. No, it is something contradictory in the woman herself
that made the Bryces say they would never get on with her. She is
impulsive, absurdly impulsive; and yet at the same time she is reserved.
She has a bad temper--at least, Edith declares she has heard her
scolding her servant in no measured terms; and then she is so
injudicious with her children. She absolutely adores her eldest son,
Cyril; but Edith will have it that she neglects her daughter. And there
is an invalid boy, too--a very interesting little fellow; at least, I
don't know how old he is--and she is not too attentive to him.
Housekeeping worries her, and she is fond of society; and I know the
Bryces think that she would marry again if she got the chance.'
'Let the younger widows marry. I hope you do not mean to contradict St.
Paul. Have we quite finished the indictment, Gage? Be it known unto the
inhabitants of Rutherford that a certain seditious and dangerous person
of the name of Blake is about to take up her residence in the town--the
list of her misdemeanours being as follows, to wit, as they say in old
chronicles: an uncommon style of beauty, an inclination to replace the
deceased Mr. Blake, imperfect temper, impulsiveness tempered with
reserve, unconventionality of habit, poverty combined with
pretentiousness, and a disposition to slight her maternal duties--really
a most interesting person!'
'Michael, of course you say that to provoke me; please don't listen to
him, mother. You understand me if no one else does; you know it is
Audrey of whom I am thinking. Yes,' turning to her cousin, 'you may
amuse yourself with turning all my speeches into ridicule, but in your
heart you agree with me. I have often heard you lecturing Audrey on her
impulsiveness and want of common-sense. It will be just like her to
strike up a violent friendship with Mrs. Blake--you know how she takes
these sudden fancies; and father is quite as bad. I daresay they will
both discover she is charming before twenty-four hours are over; that is
why I am begging mother to be very prudent, and keep the Blakes at a
distance.'
'You agree, of course, Cousin Emmeline?'
'Well, my dear, I don't quite like the account Geraldine gives me. Mrs.
Bryce is a very shrewd person; she is not likely to make mistakes. I
think I shall give Audrey a hint, unless you prefer to do so,
Geraldine.'
'I think it will come better from me, mother; you see, I shall just
retail Edith's words. Audrey is a little difficult to manage sometimes;
she likes to form her own notions of people. There is no time to be lost
if they are coming in to-morrow.'
'I thought your father said it was to-day that they were expected?'
'No; I am positive Percival said to-morrow. I know the old servant and
some of the furniture arrived at the Gray Cottage two days ago.'
Captain Burnett looked up quickly, as though he were about to speak, and
then changed his mind, and went on with his occupation, which was
teaching a small brown Dachs-hund the Gladstone trick.
'Now, Booty, when I say "Lord Salisbury," you are to eat the sugar, but
not before. Ah, here comes the bone of contention!' he went on in a
purposely loud tone, as a shadow darkened the window; and the next
minute a tall young lady stepped over the low sill into the room.
'Were you talking about me?' she asked in a clear voice, as she looked
round at them. 'How do you do, Gage? Have you been here all the
afternoon? How is Percival? No more tea, thank you; I have just had
some--at the Blakes'.'
'At the Blakes'?' exclaimed her sister, in a horror-stricken tone,
unable to believe her ears.
'Yes. I heard they had come in last night, so I thought it would be only
neighbourly to call and see if one could do anything for them. I met
father on the Hill, and he quite approved. Mrs. Blake sends her
compliments to you, mother;' and as only an awful silence answered her,
she continued innocently: 'I am sure you and Gage will like her. She is
charming--perfectly charming! the nicest person I have seen for a long
time!' finished Audrey, with delightful unconsciousness of the sensation
she was creating.