The son of a physician, George Payne Rainsford James was born
in London on August 9, 1799. He began to write early, and,
according to his own account, the volume of short stories
published under the title of "A String of Pearls" was written
before he was seventeen. As a contributor to the magazines and
newspapers, his name came under the notice of Washington
Irving, who encouraged him to produce, in 1823, his "Life of
Edward the Black Prince." "Richelieu," his first novel,
brought him warm praises from Sir Walter Scott, and, thus
fortified, James, who had had ambitions for a political life,
determined to continue his career as a novelist. His output of
fiction was amazing--he was the author of upwards of a hundred
novels. Of all his works perhaps his most characteristic is
"Henry Masterton," which appeared in 1832. More solid and less
melodramatic than his other stories, it abounds in picturesque
scenes, and has that pleasant spice of adventure that makes
for good romance. He died on June 9, 1860.
_I.--When Charles the First Was King_
In the earlier years of the reign of King Charles I., when already there
were signs of those disorders which were the prelude to the Great
Rebellion, one of the most prominent gentlemen at his majesty's court
was a certain Lord Langleigh.
Bold and rash in the extreme, Lord Langleigh, though no man could doubt
his whole-hearted devotion to his majesty, fell under the suspicion of
the king's councillors. These suspicions were given a form and direction
by Lord Ashkirk, an impoverished nobleman, who secretly lodged certain
charges of treason against Lord Langleigh, and obtained, as the price of
this betrayal, the wealth and the estate of Penford-bourne, that had
belonged to his victim.
Tried by his peers, and found guilty on false evidence, Lord Langleigh
awaited his death upon the scaffold in the prison-house of the Tower.
While expecting his fate, he sent for his great friend, Lord Masterton,
of Masterton House, Devonshire, to settle with him such details as were
necessary for the future welfare of his motherless daughter. Lord
Masterton immediately hastened to London and exerted all his influence
in an endeavour to secure a pardon for his friend. But his efforts were
in vain. At a last interview, he promised to undertake the charge of
Lord Landleigh's infant daughter, Emily, and voluntarily pledged himself
to see her married to his eldest son.
Then, on the morning of the execution, Langleigh contrived to escape
from the Tower.
In the company of the captain of the Tower guard he reached a ship bound
for the continent. The vessel was beset by a storm, and the only one of
its occupants that was able to tell the tale of the terrible disaster
was the captain of the guard, who, after exonerating everyone from a
share in his prisoner's escape, died from exhaustion.
Meanwhile, Lord Ashkirk had secured the price of his treason, and was in
the full enjoyment of the estates of Penford-bourne. Not even certain
domestic troubles that occurred regarding the marriage of his daughter,
Lady Eleanor, disturbed the serenity of his content. Before his
accession to the property of Lord Langleigh, Lord Ashkirk had betrothed
his daughter to his nephew, Walter Dixon, the son of a wealthy attorney,
who had married the peer's sister. The arrival of two Popish gentlemen,
Sir Andrew Fleming and M. du Tillet, caused him to alter his decision.
Sir Andrew fell in love with the wonderful beauty of Lady Eleanor and
easily persuaded Lord Ashkirk, himself a Cavalier and a papist, to
cancel the marriage with Walter Dixon, who had joined the Parliamentary
party. Lady Eleanor was duly united to Sir Andrew, and Walter Dixon,
deprived of his bride and the succession to the Penford-bourne estate,
determined to be revenged.
He found a means ready to his hand. Lady Eleanor pretended no affection
for her husband, and took a special delight in exciting his angry
jealousy. She accepted Du Tillet as a lover, and when Dixon, wounded in
a duel with her husband, was carried into the house, she nursed him with
so much apparent affection and attention that her husband's wrath passed
all bounds. A separation became necessary, and Sir Andrew Fleming
consented to leave the woman whose love he could not win.
Walter Dixon, so far satisfied, was yet determined to exact his full
tale of vengeance, and secure the rich lands and estates of
Penford-bourne. The death of Lord Ashkirk and the successful growth of
the Parliamentary party appeared to give him the opportunity he so
eagerly desired.
_II.--A Web of Intrigue_
At Masterton House, in Devonshire, Lord Masterton remained in
retirement, though the Parliamentary party carried all before them. He
would doubtless have continued to refrain from drawing his sword on
behalf of his king, who had wronged and insulted him, had not
circumstances forced his hand.
His tenantry were secretly armed and drilled, and, under the command of
Frank, were marched eastwards to Kent, to join Lord Norwich and Hales,
who were preparing a rising to rescue the king.
Frank, before leaving Masterton House, bade farewell to Lady Emily with
that cold reserve and studied formality which was part of his character.
The fact that she was betrothed to him by the commands of his father had
failed to arose any passion in his breast. He was prepared, however, to
fulfil the commands of Lord Masterton, though his heart was untouched.
But the parting between his brother and Lady Emily was of a different
character. Though out of loyalty to his brother no word of love had ever
passed his lips, Henry was passionately devoted to the beautiful girl
who had grown up with him under his father's roof. And there was no
doubt as to which of the brothers it was to whom Lady Emily had given
her affections.
The arrival of the little force in Kent brought the two brothers into
the web of intrigue which was being spun by Walter Dixon. It was Dixon's
object to prevent the union of Frank's forces with Lord Norwich. He had
been promised the estates of Penford-bourne, should he succeed in his
object and prove Lady Eleanor a malignant. In pursuance of this plan, he
allowed himself to be taken prisoner by Henry Masterton, to whom he
declared that he was really a Royalist in disguise.
His next step was to obtain for the brothers an invitation from Lady
Eleanor to quarter themselves at Penford-bourne. Once he had settled
them there, he obtained, through Frank Masterton's valet, a puritanical
knave called Gabriel Jones, complete information as to their plans,
which he was thus able to thwart.
At Penford-bourne Frank came under the spell of Lady Eleanor's beauty;
all his duties were forgotten, and he lingered on by the side of the
woman he loved. In vain Henry protested against his dereliction of duty.
Frank refused to move, and it was not until his brother came in touch
with Lord Norwich that circumstances compelled him to act. Lord Norwich
was furious at Frank's conduct.
"I will give your brother one chance," he said to Henry. "If he refuses
that chance, I shall supersede him, and name you to the command. Here is
the commission. If you succeed in persuading him to join me at once, you
may burn it; if not, you must take the command, and march immediately."
Sadly, Henry returned to Penford-bourne. On the way, he overheard a
conversation between Walter Dixon and Gabriel Jones, which made it clear
that they were privy to a plot having for its object the ruin of Frank
Masterton. He at once placed them both under arrest, and hastened to his
brother's side. Frank obstinately determined not to move. Only the
intervention of Lady Eleanor induced him to promise to set out the next
day.
But on the morrow Frank had an affair of honour with a mysterious man in
black, with whom he had quarrelled the night before.
Henry found him bleeding from two severe wounds, and then having issued
instructions for him to be removed to the house, rejoined his regiment,
and at once gave the order to march.
He reached Lord Norwich to find all his trouble in vain. Disaster had
dissolved the forces of the Cavaliers, and Lord Norwich had reluctantly
decided to abandon the attempt, and, disbanding his men, made the best
of his way into Essex. In the excitement of these events Walter Dixon
effected his escape.
On his way back to Penford-bourne, Henry learned that Lady Eleanor's
husband was still alive. He at once used this information to induce
Frank to leave the side of Lady Eleanor, and, in spite of his wounds, to
accompany him back to Devonshire. As the lovers parted, Henry overheard
their last words.
"Then I rely on you," said Frank, in a hasty voice. "You will not,
surely you will not fail me?"
"By all I hold dear on earth and beyond the earth," she replied, in low,
thrilling tones.
_III.--Days of Gloom_
To Lord Masterton Frank related the story of how he had been wounded in
the early part of the campaign and had been compelled to hand over the
command of his regiment to his brother. This piece of fiction set all
awkward questions at rest, and the old lord, satisfied that his son and
heir had covered himself with honour, hastened to arrange for his
nuptials with Lady Emily.
Both to Henry and to the girl these were days of gloom, but Frank, on
the other hand, was strangely happy and content. His passion for Lady
Eleanor was still unabated, and though, to gratify his father, he had
consented to marry Lady Emily, he had already taken such steps to
prevent their union as would leave his share in the matter undiscovered.
Dixon, though he had carried out his part of the bargain, had been
disgusted to discover that the Council of State, on some specious
excuse, refused to grant him the estates of Penford-bourne.
The day of the wedding arrived. By some secret arrangement with the
officiating clergyman, the service was unduly protracted. But at last
those words were reached which, if uttered, would make Frank and Lady
Emily one. Then, suddenly, armed men burst into the chapel and, reading
their warrant, demanded the arrest of Frank Masterton, as a malignant
lately in arms in Kent. The bridegroom offered no resistance. But it was
different with Lord Masterton. He boldly called upon the guests present
to draw their swords. A scuffle took place. Suddenly, from the gallery
above, the voice of Gabriel Jones gave the order to fire. A volley rang
out, and Lord Masterton fell dead at the feet of his son.
In the confusion, Henry seized Lady Emily, and shooting down Gabriel
Jones, escaped through a secret passage into the grounds. There he lay
hidden for some days, and then, when the coast was clear, secured a
passage in a smuggling ship for himself and Lady Emily, and her aunt,
Lady Margaret. Arrived in France, he placed the ladies in a convent at
Dinan, and made his way to England again, under an assumed name as a
commercial traveller for a French house, to learn the fate of his
brother.
Arrived in London, he obtained some news of his brother from a goldsmith
who had acted as the family banker for years past. Through the
assistance of Lady Eleanor, Frank Masterton had been set at liberty and
had taken his departure in the company of that lady to Paris. Thither,
Henry determined to follow them.
Before setting out, he paid a business call at a merchant's house, where
he found a man of distinguished appearance, whom he discovered to be
General Ireton. Hearing that Henry was bound for France, Ireton asked
him whether he would deliver a letter for him to General St. Maur. It
was a most important communication, he declared, insomuch as it was the
payment of a debt to a man to whom he owed much.
Warned by a footstep on the stairs, Ireton requested Henry to retire
into the adjoining room, as he had some business to transact. Through
the door, Henry heard the well-known voice of General Dixon. He was
complaining bitterly that Ireton had not carried out his promise, and
handed him over the estates of Penford-bourne.
"We have no excuse for sequestrating the estates," replied Ireton.
Walter Dixon was furious, declared that he had been made a tool of, and,
threatening Ireton, announced his intention of going to France. As soon
as he had taken his departure, Henry was summoned from the other room,
and being bidden to hold his tongue if he had heard anything, was
informed by Ireton that he would visit him that night with the package
he had requested him to deliver to General St. Maur.
Some hours later, when it was dark, Henry received his visitor; but the
unexpected arrival of the goldsmith, who addressed Henry by his real
name, disclosed his identity. Finding, however, that he intended him no
ill, Ireton questioned him closely as to what had brought him to London.
"To see whether I might not render some aid to my brother," Henry
replied, "after having placed the Lady Emily in safety."
"She was never in danger," replied Ireton quietly. "I would take good
care of that. I will still trust you with my commission. The time may
come when you will thank me for so doing."
With that he turned and left the room.
_IV.--The Mysterious Monk_
Chance ordained it that Henry Masterton should cross the Channel on the
same boat which was carrying General Dixon to France. The latter, with
what General Ireton had called "his blunt hypocrisy," frankly related to
Henry the motives that had influenced him in the part that he had
played.
Arrived at Calais, the two men journeyed some part of the way together,
and before they separated Henry discovered something of the real
character of his companion by his familiarity with certain broken-down
Cavaliers, who, having lost all right to the title of gentlemen in their
own country, eked out a living by brigandage in France. After they had
separated, Henry lost his way, and arriving at night, drenched through
with the rain, at a certain chateau, begged its hospitality for a night.
He was led into the dining-room, and introduced to another guest who was
there--a Benedictine monk.
That night, while Henry lay in bed, he was startled to see the monk
standing by his side. He had come, he said, to ask him several
questions. In particular he wished to know whether his brother Frank had
married Lady Emily Langleigh. When Henry related how the marriage had
been prevented, the Benedictine suddenly sprang to his feet in a fury of
rage. When calmer, he asked Henry whether Frank had come to France
alone; but on this subject the young man preserved a discreet silence,
and after a few more questions, which proved the monk's extraordinary
familiarity with all Walter Dixon's intrigues at Penford-bourne, he left
the room.
The following day, Henry bade farewell to his courteous host, and made
his way to Dinan. There he found that the convent in which he had left
the two ladies had been burnt down; and he learnt that a strange
gentleman had called before this disaster, and had taken Lady Emily and
Lady Margaret away.
Bitterly disappointed, Henry made his way to Paris, where he found the
city in the throes of a civil war. Becoming unintentionally mixed up in
a petty skirmish between the court party and the Frondes, he was badly
wounded, and narrowly escaped hanging as an enemy of the Frondeurs.
Meanwhile, Frank Masterton, or Lord Masterton as he now was, was living
what he had fondly imagined would be the ideal life with the girl he
loved; but already he found it an illusion. His loss of honour, his
consciousness that his conduct was discreditable, plunged him into
bitter fits of remorse, from which he vainly sought relief by a round of
gaiety. Lady Eleanor saw these signs with terror and despair. Though she
had accomplished her desire, her life was unbearable; daily she grew
more miserable. At last she determined to end her earthly sufferings. In
her chamber she swallowed the fatal dose of poison with which, against
such a day, she had provided herself.
As she lay in the throes of death it chanced that Henry Masterton
arrived, having at length found his brother's place of residence. Henry
at once did everything possible to save Lady Eleanor's life, but, seeing
that the dark shadow deepened every moment, he hastened to fetch a
priest.
In the street he came upon the Benedictine, talking to Walter Dixon, and
bidding him follow, led him to the bedside of Lady Eleanor, and left him
alone with the dying woman.
Bending over her, the monk solemnly asked her if she had anything on her
mind which she wished to confess.
He pressed a cup to her lips; and in a slow, gasping voice she laid bare
the story of her life, and then went on to relate her feelings at her
first meeting with Frank Masterton.
"When we parted, and I thought of the man to whom I was bound for life,
what fearful feelings came across my bosom! Sir Andrew Fleming my
husband! Was it possible? I called to remembrance his look, his
harshness, his jealousy, and, oh, God! oh, God! how I did hate that
man!"
"Woman, woman!" exclaimed the monk, rising up from his seat, and casting
back the cowl from his head, "Oh, God! oh, God! how I did love you!"
Lady Eleanor's eyes fixed full upon his face. Before her stood, in the
garb of a Benedictine monk, Sir Andrew Fleming, her husband. For a
second she looked at him imploringly; then, with fearful strength, she
rose from her recumbent position, and clasping her hands as if in the
act of prayer, sank down upon her knees at his feet. A low moan escaped
from her lips. She fell forward on the ground, and the spirit departed
for ever from its clay.
The monk grasped his forehead with his hand, gazing at her with mingled
feelings of love, anger, sorrow, and despair; then, raising the body in
his arms, he placed it on the couch, and bending over it, three times
printed a long kiss upon the pale lips. Then, with his right hand thrust
into his robe, he rushed out of the room.
Outside in the hall there came towards him Lord Masterton, General
Dixon, and Henry. A look of deadly, concentrated hate came into Sir
Andrew Fleming's eyes. For a moment he paused; then, drawing a dagger
from his bosom, he flung himself on Lord Masterton, and, with one blow,
stretched him dead at his feet.
"Villain!" cried Walter Dixon. "Atrocious villain!"
With the rapidity of lightning he drew his sword, and at once passed it
through the body of the assassin.
To Walter Dixon, this scene of carnage, which he had planned with
elaborate care, seemed to ensure his long delayed possession of the
Penford-bourne estates. Lady Eleanor was dead; her husband, Sir Andrew
had fallen by his hand, and there were no lives now between him and his
rightful possession of the property. But once more he was doomed to
disappointment.
As soon as he had an opportunity Henry sought out General St. Maur, and
handed him the package he had received from Ireton. The general pressed
him to stay to dinner, and while the meal progressed, extracted from him
something of his story. When the meal was nearly over, the door suddenly
opened, and a dog rushed to him, barking joyously. It was his own
dog--the dog he had brought with him from Masterton House, and left with
Lady Emily! How had it come there? Amazed, he was about to ask for an
explanation, when Lady Emily herself stood before him. In another moment
the lovers were in one another's arms.
Henry, astonished as he was at these events, was still more surprised
when he learnt that General St. Maur was really Lord Langleigh, the
father of Emily. He had not, as all the world had thought, been drowned
in his escape from the Tower. In the wreck, he had succeeded in saving
not only his own life, but the life of a young man named Ireton. Ireton
had never forgotten the debt, and now, in the package which Henry had
brought over from England, had endeavoured to repay it. He had persuaded
the Council that the estates of Penford-bourne had been improperly
sequestrated by King Charles, and should be returned to their lawful
owner, Lord Langleigh; and the letter contained a decree of the Council
once more granting him his lands and title.
When Walter Dixon heard of these events, which again snatched the prize
for which he had attempted so much from his lips, he determined on yet
another effort to achieve his object. Bribing two men to assist him in
the deed, he lured Lord Langleigh into an ambush. Only the prompt
arrival of Henry Masterton prevented the success of this foul deed; and
it was Dixon himself who fell a victim.
Lord Langleigh, too good a Cavalier, courteously refused the offers of
the Council of State, and remained in France until the Restoration,
when, with Henry, now Lord Masterton, and his wife, Lady Emily, he
returned to Penford-bourne to spend the remainder of his days in his
native land.
* * * * *