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LOVE WORKS WONDERS.
A Novel.
by
BERTHA M. CLAY,
Author of
"Thrown on the World," Etc.
"O you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,
As in the Fields of Bliss above
He sits with flowerets fetter'd round;
Loose not a tie that round him clings,
Nor ever let him use his wings;
For even an hour, a minute's flight
Will rob the plumes of half their light."
MOORE.
New York:
G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers,
Street & Smith, New York Weekly.
MDCCCLXXVIII.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877,
By Street & Smith,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
Francis S. Street,} _Proprietors and Publishers_
Francis S. Smith, }
Of the
New York Weekly,
The Leading Story and Sketch Paper of the Age.
TO
THE READERS OF THE
NEW YORK WEEKLY,
WHO FOR NEARLY TWENTY YEARS, HAVE
STOOD FAITHFULLY BY US, CHEERING
US IN OUR LABORS,
AND BIDDING US
GOD-SPEED;
TO WHOM OUR
PET JOURNAL HAS BECOME
A HOUSEHOLD WORD, AND WITHOUT
WHOSE AID WE COULD HAVE ACCOMPLISHED
NOTHING, THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED
BY THE PUBLISHERS,
STREET & SMITH.
CONTENTS:
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I.--A GIRL WITH A CHARACTER 9
II.--"DARRELL COURT IS A PRISON TO ME!" 16
III.--"YOUR GOOD SOCIETY IS ALL DECEIT" 28
IV.--"YOU ARE GOING TO SPOIL MY LIFE" 35
V.--PAULINE'S GOOD POINTS 42
VI.--THE PROGRESS MADE BY THE PUPIL 47
VII.--CAPTAIN LANGTON 54
VIII.--THE INTRODUCTION 61
IX.--THE BROKEN LILY 67
X.--PAULINE STILL INCORRIGIBLE 74
XI.--HOW WILL IT END? 81
XII.--ELINOR ROCHEFORD 87
XIII.--SIR OSWALD THINKS OF MARRIAGE 94
XIV.--PAULINE'S LOVE FOR DARRELL COURT 103
XV.--BREACH BETWEEN UNCLE AND NIECE 108
XVI.--THE QUEEN OF THE BALL 115
XVII.--PAULINE'S BRIGHT FANCIES 122
XVIII.--REJECTED 128
XIX.--PAULINE THREATENS VENGEANCE 142
XX.--CAPTAIN LANGTON DESPERATE 148
XXI.--MYSTERIOUS ROBBERY 156
XXII.--FULFILLING THE CONTRACT 163
XXIII.--NO COMPROMISE WITH PAULINE 169
XXIV.--A RICH GIFT DECLINED 176
XXV.--A TRUE DARRELL 183
XXVI.--A PUZZLING QUESTION 189
XXVII.--SIR OSWALD'S DOUBTS 196
XXVIII.--READING OF THE WILL 203
XXIX.--WAITING FOR REVENGE 209
XXX.--WILL FATE AID PAULINE? 217
XXXI.--FATE FAVORS PAULINE 225
XXXII.--CAPTAIN LANGTON ACCEPTED 231
XXXIII.--"I HAVE HAD MY REVENGE!" 239
XXXIV.--THE STRANGER ON THE SANDS 247
XXXV.--THE STORY OF ELAINE 253
XXXVI.--REDEEMED BY LOVE 260
XXXVII.--PRIDE BROUGHT LOW 267
XXXVIII.--PAULINE AND LADY DARRELL 287
XXXIX.--FACE TO FACE 294
XL.--DYING IN SIN 303
XLI.--THE WORK OF ATONEMENT 308
XLII.--LOVE AND SORROW 314
XLIII.--LADY DARRELL'S WILL 321
XLIV.--SHADOW OF ABSENT LOVE 328
LOVE WORKS WONDERS.
CHAPTER I.
A GIRL WITH A CHARACTER.
It was a strange place for an intelligence office, yet Madame Selini
evidently knew what she was doing when she established her office in an
aristocratic neighborhood, and actually next door to the family mansion
of the Countess Dowager of Barewood. The worthy countess was shocked,
and, taking counsel of her hopes, predicted that Madame Selini's
institution would soon prove a failure. Notwithstanding this prediction,
the agency prospered, and among its patrons were many of the nobility.
One fine morning in May a carriage stopped before Madame Selini's door,
and from it descended a handsome, aristocratic gentleman, evidently of
the old school. There was some little commotion in the interior of the
building, and then a foot-page appeared to whom Sir Oswald Darrell--for
that was the gentleman's name--gave his card.
"I am here by appointment," he said, "to see Madame Selini."
He was ushered into a handsomely furnished room, where, in a few
minutes, he was joined by Madame Selini herself--a quick, bright
Frenchwoman, whose dark eyes seemed to embrace everything in their
comprehensive glance. Sir Oswald bowed with stately courtesy and quaint,
old-fashioned grace.
"Have you been so fortunate, madame, as to find that which I am in
search of?" he inquired.
"I think you will be pleased, Sir Oswald--nay, I am sure you will,"
answered the lady. "I have a lady waiting to see you now, who will
prove, I should say, a treasure."
Sir Oswald bowed, and madame continued:
"Miss Hastings--Miss Agnes Hastings--has been for the last six years
finishing governess at Lady Castledine's, and her two pupils make their
debut this year; so that there is no longer any occasion for her
services."
"And you think she would be fitted, madame, to occupy the position for
which I require a lady of talent and refinement?"
"I am quite sure of it," replied madame. "Miss Hastings is thirty years
of age. She is highly accomplished, and her manners are exceedingly
lady-like. She is a person of great refinement; moreover, she has had
great experience with young girls. I do not think, Sir Oswald, that you
could do better."
"Is the lady here? Can I see her?"
Madame Selini rang, and desired the little page to ask Miss Hastings to
come to her. In a few minutes an elegant, well-dressed lady entered the
room. She advanced with a quiet grace and dignity that seemed natural to
her; there was not the slightest trace of awkwardness or _mauvaise
honte_ in her manner.
Madame Selini introduced her to Sir Oswald Darrell.
"I will leave you," she said, "to discuss your private arrangements."
Madame quitted the room with gliding, subtle grace, and then Sir Oswald,
in his courtly fashion, placed a chair for Miss Hastings. He looked at
the pale, clear-cut face for a few minutes in silence, as though he were
at a loss what to say, and then he commenced suddenly:
"I suppose Madame Selini has told you what I want, Miss Hastings?"
"Yes," was the quiet reply; "your niece has been neglected--you want
some one to take the entire superintendence of her."
"Neglected!" exclaimed Sir Oswald. "My dear madame, that is a mild word,
which does not express the dreadful reality. I wish to disguise nothing
from you, I assure you--she literally horrifies me."
Miss Hastings smiled.
"Neglected!" he repeated--"the girl is a savage--a splendid
savage--nothing more nor less."
"Has she not received any kind of training, then, Sir Oswald?"
"Training! My dear madame, can you imagine what a wild vine is--a vine
that has never been cultivated or pruned, but allowed to grow wild in
all its natural beauty and strength, to cling where it would, to trail
on the ground and to twine round forest trees? Such a vine is a fit type
of my niece."
Miss Hastings looked slightly bewildered. Here was a very different
pupil from the elegant, graceful daughters of Lady Castledine.
"I should, perhaps," continued Sir Oswald, "explain to you the peculiar
position that my niece, Miss Pauline Darrell, has occupied."
His grand old face flushed, and his stately head was bowed, as though
some of the memories that swept over him were not free from shame; and
then, with a little gesture of his white hand, on which shone a large
diamond ring, he said:
"There is no need for me to tell you, Miss Hastings, that the Darrells
are one of the oldest families in England--ancient, honorable, and, I
must confess, proud--very proud. My father, the late Sir Hildebert
Darrell, was, I should say, one of the proudest and most reserved of
men. He had but two children, myself and a daughter twelve years
younger--my sister Felicia. I was educated abroad. It was one of my
father's fancies that I should see many lands, that I should study men
and women before settling down to my right position in the world; so
that I knew but little of my sister Felicia. She was a child when I left
home--the tragedy of her life had happened before I returned."
Again a great rush of color came over the pale, aristocratic face.
"I must apologize, Miss Hastings, for troubling you with these details,
but unless you understand them you will not understand my niece. I
cannot tell you how it happened, but it did so happen that while I was
away my sister disgraced herself; she left home with a French artist,
whom Sir Hildebert had engaged to renovate some choice and costly
pictures at Darrell Court. How it came about I cannot say--perhaps there
were excuses for her. She may have found home very dull--my father was
harsh and cold, and her mother was dead. It may be that when the young
artist told her of warm love in sunny lands she was tempted, poor child,
to leave the paternal roof.
"My father's wrath was terrible; he pursued Julian L'Estrange with
unrelenting fury. I believe the man would have been a successful artist
but for my father, who had vowed to ruin him, and who never rested until
he had done so--until he had reduced him to direst poverty--and then my
sister appealed for help, and my father refused to grant it. He would
not allow her name to be mentioned among us; her portrait was destroyed;
everything belonging to her was sent away from Darrell Court.
"When I returned--in an interview that I shall never forget--my father
threatened me not only with disinheritance, but with his curse, if I
made any attempt to hold the least communication with my sister. I do
not know that I should have obeyed him if I could have found her, but I
did not even know what part of the world she was in. She died, poor
girl, and I have no doubt that her death was greatly hastened by
privation. My father told me of her death, also that she had left one
daughter; he did more--he wrote to Julian L'Estrange, and offered to
adopt his daughter on the one condition that he would consent never to
see her or hold the least communication with her.
"The reply was, as you may imagine, a firm refusal and a fierce
denunciation. In the same letter came a note, written in a large,
childish hand:
"'I love my papa, and I do not love you. I will not come to live with
you. You are a cruel man, and you helped to kill my dear mamma.'
"It was a characteristic little note, and was signed 'Pauline
L'Estrange.' My father's anger on receiving it was very great. I confess
that I was more amused than angry.
"My father, Miss Hastings, lived to a good old age. I was not a young
man when I succeeded him. He left me all his property. You must
understand the Darrell and Audleigh Royal estates are not entailed. He
made no mention in his will of the only grandchild he had; but, after I
had arranged all my affairs, I resolved to find her. For ten years I
have been doing all I could--sending to France, Italy, Spain, and every
country where I thought it possible the artist might have sought refuge.
"Three months since I received a letter from him, written on his
death-bed, asking me to do something for Pauline, who had grown up into
a beautiful girl of seventeen. I found then that he had been living for
some years in the Rue d'Orme, Paris. I buried him, brought his daughter
to England, and made arrangements whereby she should assume the name of
Darrell. But I little knew what a task I had undertaken. Pauline ought
to be my heiress, Miss Hastings. She ought to succeed me at Darrell
Court. I have no other relatives. But--well, I will not despair; you
will see what can be done with her."
"What are her deficiencies?" asked Miss Hastings.
Sir Oswald raised his white hands with a gesture of despair.
"I will tell you briefly. She has lived among artists. She does not seem
to have ever known any of her own sex. She is--I am sorry to use the
word--a perfect Bohemian. Whether she can be transformed into anything
faintly resembling a lady, I cannot tell. Will you undertake the task,
Miss Hastings?"
She looked very thoughtful for some minutes, and then answered:
"I will do my best, Sir Oswald."
"I thank you very much. You must permit me to name liberal terms, for
your task will be no light one."
And the interview ended, to their mutual satisfaction.