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LOVE ETERNAL
by
H. RIDER HAGGARD
TO
THE REV. PHILIP T. BAINBRIDGE
Vicar of St. Thomas' Regent Street, London
You, whose privilege it is by instruction and example to strengthen the weak hands and confirm the feeble knees of many, may perhaps care to read of one whose human love led her from darkness into light and on to the gates of the Love Eternal.
CONTENTS
I HONEST JOHN II ISOBEL KISSES GODFREY III THE PLANTAGENET LADY IV THE GARDEN IN THE SQUARE V MADAME RIENNES VI EXPERIENCES VII MR. KNIGHT AND DUTY VIII THE PASTEUR TAKES THE FIELD IX THE PASTEUR CONQUERS X GODFREY BECOMES A HERO XI JULIETTE'S FAREWELL XII HOME XIII THE INTERVENING YEARS XIV TOGETHER XV FOR EVER XVI LOVE AND LOSS XVII INDIA XVIII FRANCE--AND AFTER XIX MARRIAGE XX ORDERS XXI LOVE ETERNAL
LOVE ETERNAL
CHAPTER I
HONEST JOHN
More than thirty years ago two atoms of the eternal Energy sped forthfrom the heart of it which we call God, and incarnated themselves inthe human shapes that were destined to hold them for a while, as vaseshold perfumes, or goblets wine, or as sparks of everlasting radiuminhabit the bowels of the rock. Perhaps these two atoms, or essences,or monads indestructible, did but repeat an adventure, or many, manyadventures. Perhaps again and again they had proceeded from that Homeaugust and imperishable on certain mornings of the days of Time, toreturn thither at noon or nightfall, laden with the fruits of gainedexperience. So at least one of them seemed to tell the other before allwas done and that other came to believe. If so, over what fields didthey roam throughout the aeons, they who having no end, could have nobeginning? Not those of this world only, we may be sure. It is so smalland there are so many others, millions upon millions of them, and suchan infinite variety of knowledge is needed to shape the soul of man,even though it remain as yet imperfect and but a shadow of what itshall be.
Godfrey Knight was born the first, six months later she followed (hername was Isobel Blake), as though to search for him, or because whitherhe went, thither she must come, that being her doom and his.
Their circumstances, or rather those of their parents, were verydifferent but, as it chanced, the houses in which they dwelt stoodscarcely three hundred yards apart.
Between the rivers Blackwater and Crouch in Essex, is a great stretchof land, flat for the most part and rather dreary, which, however, tojudge from what they have left us, our ancestors thought of muchimportance because of its situation, its trade and the corn it grew. Soit came about that they built great houses there and reared beautifulabbeys and churches for the welfare of their souls. Amongst these, notvery far from the coast, is that of Monk's Acre, still a beautiful fanethough they be but few that worship there to-day. The old Abbey houseadjacent is now the rectory. It has been greatly altered, and theoutbuildings are shut up or used as granaries and so forth byarrangement with a neighbouring farmer. Still its grey walls containsome fine but rather unfurnished chambers, reputed by the vulgar to behaunted. It was for this reason, so says tradition, that the son of theoriginal grantee of Monk's Acre Abbey, who bought it for a small sumfrom Henry VIII at the Dissolution of the Monasteries, turned the Abbeyhouse into a rectory and went himself to dwell in another known asHawk's Hall, situate on the bank of the little stream of that name,Hawk's Creek it is called, which finds its way to the Blackwater.
Parsons, he said, were better fitted to deal with ghosts than laymen,especially if the said laymen had dispossessed the originals of theghosts of their earthly heritage.
The ancient Hawk's Hall, a timber building of the sort common in Essexas some of its premises still show, has long since disappeared. Aboutthe beginning of the Victorian era a fish-merchant of the name ofBrown, erected on its site a commodious, comfortable, but particularlyhideous mansion of white brick, where he dwelt in affluence in themidst of the large estate that had once belonged to the monks. Anattempt to corner herrings, or something of the sort, brought thisworthy, or unworthy tradesman to disaster, and the Hall was leased to aHarwich smack-owner of the name of Blake, a shrewd person, whose originwas humble. He had one son named John, of whom he was determined to"make a gentleman." With this view John was sent to a good publicschool, and to college. But of him nothing could make a gentleman,because true gentility and his nature were far apart. He remained,notwithstanding all his advantages, a cunning, and in his way an ableman of business, like his father before him. For the rest, he was big,florid and presentable, with the bluff and hearty manner whichsometimes distinguishes a _faux bonhomme_. "Honest John" they calledhim in the neighbourhood, a soubriquet which was of service to him inmany ways.
Suddenly Honest John's father died, leaving him well off, though not sorich as he would have liked to be. At first he thought of leavingHawk's Hall and going to live at Harwich, where most of his businessinterests were. But, remembering that the occupation of it gave him acertain standing in the county, whereas in Harwich he would have beenonly a superior tradesman, he gave up the idea. It was replaced byanother--to marry well.
Now John Blake was not an idealist, nor in any sense romantic;therefore, from marriage he expected little. He did not even ask thathis wife should be good-looking, knowing that any aspirations which hehad towards beauty could be satisfied otherwise. Nor did he seek money,being well aware that he could make this for himself. What he desiredwere birth and associations. After a little waiting he found exactlywhat he wanted.
A certain Lord Lynfield from the South of England, who lived in London,and was a director of many Boards, took a pheasant-shooting in theneighbourhood of Hawk's Hall, and with it a house. Here he lived moreor less during the winter months, going up to town when necessary, toattend his Boards. Lord Lynfield was cursed with several extravagantsons, with whom John Blake, who was a good shot, soon became friendly.Also he made himself useful by lending one of them a considerable sumof money. When this came to Lord Lynfield's ears, as Honest John wascareful that it should, he was disturbed and offered repayment, thoughas a matter of fact he did not know where to turn for the cash. In hisbluffest and heartiest way Blake refused to hear of such a thing.
"No, no, my Lord, let it stand. Your son will repay me one day, and ifhe doesn't, what will a trifle like that matter?"
"He certainly shall repay you. But all the same, Mr. Blake, you havebehaved very well and I thank you much," replied his Lordshipcourteously.
Thus did John Blake become an intimate of that aristocratic family.
Now Lord Lynfield, who was a widower, had one unmarried daughter. Shewas an odd and timid little person, with strong religious views, whoadored secretly a high-church curate in London. This, indeed, was thereason why she had been brought to Essex when her infatuation wasdiscovered by one of her married sisters, who, like the rest of thefamily, was extremely "low." Lady Jane was small in body and shrinkingand delicate in character, somewhat mouselike indeed. Even her eyeswere large and timid as are those of a mouse. In her John Blakeperceived the exact _parti_ whom he desired for a wife.
It is not necessary to follow the pitiful story to its inevitable end,one, happily, more common at that time than it is to-day. Mr. Blakeplayed the earnest, ardent lover, and on all occasions proclaimed hisown unworthiness at the top of his loud voice. Also he hinted at largesettlements to the married sisters, who put the matter before Jane veryplainly indeed. In the end, after a few words with her father, whopointed out that the provision which could be made for her was butsmall, and that he would die more happily if he knew her to becomfortably settled in life with a really trustworthy and generous mansuch as Mr
. Blake had proved himself to be, she gave way, and in duecourse they were married.
In fact, the tragedy was complete, since Jane loathed her husband,whose real nature she had read from the beginning, as much as sheadored the high-church curate from whom in some terrible hour sheparted with broken words. Even when he died a few years later, shecontinued to adore him, so much that her one hope was that she mightmeet him again in the land where there is no marrying or giving inmarriage. But all of this she kept locked in her poor little heart, andmeanwhile did her duty by her husband with an untroubled brow, thoughthose mouse-like eyes of hers grew ever more piteous.
He, for his part, did not do his duty by her. Of one side of hisconduct she was careless, being totally indifferent as to whom headmired. Others she found it hard to bear. The man was by nature abully, one who found pleasure in oppressing the helpless, and wholoved, in the privacy of his home, to wreak the ill-temper which he wasforced to conceal abroad. In company, and especially before any of herpeople, he treated her with the greatest deference, and would even makeloud laudatory remarks concerning her; when they were alone there was adifferent tale to tell, particularly if she had in any way failed inpromoting that social advancement for which he had married her.
"What do you suppose I give you all those jewels and fine clothes for,to say nothing of the money you waste in keeping up the house?" hewould ask brutally.
Jane made no answer; silence was her only shield, but her heart burnedwithin her. It is probable, notwithstanding her somewhat exaggeratedideas of duty and wifely obedience, that she would have plucked up hercourage and left him, even if she must earn her own living as asempstress, had it not been for one circumstance. That circumstance wasthe arrival in the world of her daughter, Isobel. In some ways thisevent did not add to her happiness, if that can be added to which doesnot exist, for the reason that her husband never forgave her becausethis child, her only one, was not a boy. Nor did he lose anyopportunity of telling her this to her face, as though the matter wereone over which she had control. In others, however, for the first timein her battered little life, she drank deep of the cup of joy. Sheloved that infant, and from the first it loved her and her only, whileto the father it was indifferent, and at times antagonistic.
From the cradle Isobel showed herself to be an individual of character.Even as a little girl she knew what she wanted and formed her ownopinions quite independently of those of others. Moreover, in a certainway she was a good-looking child, but of a stamp totally different fromthat of either of her parents. Her eyes were not restless andprominent, like her father's, or dark and plaintive, like her mother's,but large, grey and steady, with long curved lashes. In fact, they werefine, but it was her only beauty, since the brow above them was almosttoo pronounced for that of a woman, the mouth was a little large, andthe nose somewhat irregular. Her hair, too, though long and thick, wasstraight and rather light-coloured. For the rest she was well-groundand vigorous, with a strong, full voice, and as she approached maturityshe developed a fine figure.
When she was not much more than ten Isobel had her first trouble withher father. Something had gone wrong with one of his shippingspeculations, and as usual, he vented it upon his wife. So cruelly didhe speak to her on a household matter for which she was not the leastto blame, that the poor woman at last rose and left the room to hideher tears. Isobel, however, remained behind, and walking up to herfather, who stood with his back to the fire, asked him why he treatedher mother thus.
"Mind your own business, you impertinent brat," he answered.
"Mummy is my business, and you are--a brute," she exclaimed, clenchingher little fists. He lifted his hand as though to strike her, thenchanged his mind and went away. She had conquered. Thenceforward Mr.Blake was careful not to maltreat his wife in Isobel's presence. Hecomplained to her, however, of the child's conduct, which, he said, wasdue to her bringing up and encouragement, and Lady Jane in turn,scolded her in her gentle fashion for her "wicked words."
Isobel listened, then asked, without attempting to defend herself,
"Were not father's words to you wicked also, Mummy? It was not yourfault if James forgot to bring round the dog-cart and made him miss thetrain to London. Ought you to be sworn at for that?"
"No, dear, but you see, he is my husband, and husbands can say whatthey wish to their wives."
"Then I will never have a husband; at least, not one like father,"Isobel announced with decision.
There the matter ended. Or rather it did not end, since from thatmoment Isobel began to reflect much on matrimony and other civilizedinstitutions, as to which at last she formed views that were not commonamong girls of her generation. In short, she took the first steptowards Radicalism, and entered on the road of rebellion against theExisting and Acknowledged.
During the governess era which followed this scene Isobel travelled farand fast along that road. The lady, or rather the ladies, hired by herfather, for his wife was allowed no voice in their selection, were ofthe other known as "determined"; disciplinarians of the first water.For one reason or another they did not stay. Isobel, though a quick andable child, very fond of reading moreover, proved unamenable underdiscipline as understood by those formidable females, and owing to herpossession of a curious tenacity of purpose, ended by wearing themdown. Also they did not care for the atmosphere of the house, which wasdepressing.
One of them once tried to strike Isobel. This was when she was nearlythirteen. Isobel replied with the schoolroom inkpot. She was an adeptat stone-throwing, and other athletic arts. It caught her instructressfair upon her gentle bosom, spoiled her dress, filled her mouth andeyes with ink, and nearly knocked her down.
"I shall tell your father to flog you," gasped the lady when sherecovered her breath.
"I should advise you not," said Isobel. "And what is more," she addedafter reflection, "if you do I shall advise him not to listen to you."
Then the governess thought better of it and gave notice instead. To bejust to John Blake he never attempted to resort to violence against hisdaughter. This may have been because he knew by instinct that it wouldnot be safe to do so or tend to his own comfort. Or perhaps, it was forthe reason that in his way he was fond of her, looking on her withpride not quite untouched by fear. Like all bullies he was a coward atheart, and respected anyone who dared to stand up to him, even althoughshe were but a girl, and his own daughter.
After the victim of the inkpot incident departed, threatening actionsat law and proclaiming that her pupil would come to a bad end,questions arose as to Isobel's future education. Evidently thegoverness experiment had broken down and was not worth repeating.Although she trembled at the idea of parting with her only joy andconsolation in life, Lady Jane suggested that she should be sent toschool. It was fortunate for her that she did so, since as the ideacame from his wife, Mr. Blake negatived it at once firmly and finally,a decision which she accepted with an outward sigh of resignation,having learned the necessity of guile, and inward delight. Indeed, forit that evening she thanked God upon her knees.
It may be also that her father did not wish that Isobel should go away.Lady Jane bored him to distraction, since kicking a cushion soonbecomes poor sport. So much did she bore him indeed that for this andother reasons he passed most of his time in London or at Harwich, inboth of which places he had offices where he transacted his shippingbusiness, only spending the week-ends at Hawk's Hall. It was his customto bring with him parties of friends, business men as a rule, to whom,for sundry purposes, he wished to appear in the character of a familyman and local magnate. Isobel, who was quick and vivacious even whileshe was still a child, helped to make these parties pass off well,whereas without her he felt that they would have been a failure. Alsoshe was useful during the shooting season. So it came about that shewas kept at home.
It was at this juncture that an idea came to Mr. Blake. A few yearsbefore, at the very depth of the terrible agricultural depression ofthe period, he had purchased at a forced sale by the mortgagees, thee
ntire Monk's Acre estate, at about L12 the acre, which was less thanthe cost of the buildings that stood upon the land. This, as heexplained to all and sundry, he had done at great personal loss in theinterest of the tenants and labourers, but as a matter of fact, even atthe existing rents, the investment paid him a fair rate of interest,and was one which, as a business man he knew must increase in valuewhen times changed. With the property went the advowson of Monk's Acre,and it chanced that a year later the living fell vacant through theresignation of the incumbent. Mr. Blake, now as always seekingpopularity, consulted the bishop, consulted the church-wardens,consulted the parishioners, and in the end consulted his own interestsby nominating the nephew of a wealthy baronet of his acquaintance whomhe was anxious to secure as a director upon the Board of a certaincompany in which he had large holdings.
"I have never seen this clerical gentleman and know nothing of hisviews, or anything about him. But if you recommend him, my dear SirSamuel, it is enough for me, since I always judge of a man by hisfriends. Perhaps you will furnish me, or rather my lawyers, with thenecessary particulars, and I will see that the matter is put through.Now, to come to more important business, as to this Board of which I amchairman," &c.
The end of it was that Sir Samuel, flattered by such deference, becamea member of the Board and Sir Samuel's nephew became rector of Monk'sAcre.
Such appointments, like marriages, are made in Heaven--at least thatseems to be the doctrine of the English Church, which is content to actthereon. In this particular instance the results were quite good. TheRev. Mr. Knight, the nephew of the opulent Sir Samuel, proved to be anexcellent and hard-working clergyman. He was low-church, and narrowalmost to the point of Calvinism, but intensely earnest andconscientious; one who looked upon the world as a place of sin and woethrough which we must labour and pass on, a difficult path beset withrocks and thorns, leading to the unmeasured plains of Heaven. Also hewas an educated man who had taken high degrees at college, and reallylearned in his way. While he was a curate, working very hard in a greatseaport town, he had married the daughter of another clergyman of thecity, who died in a sudden fashion as the result of an accident,leaving the girl an orphan. She was not pure English as her mother hadbeen a Dane, but on both sides her descent was high, as indeed was thatof Mr. Knight himself.
This union, contracted on the husband's part largely from motives thatmight be called charitable, since he had promised his deceasedcolleague on his death bed to befriend the daughter, was but moderatelysuccessful. The wife had the characteristics of her race; largeness andliberality of view, high aspirations for humanity, considerableintelligence, and a certain tendency towards mysticism of theSwedenborgian type, qualities that her husband neither shared nor couldappreciate. It was perhaps as well, therefore that she died at thebirth of her only son, Godfrey, three years after her marriage.
Mr. Knight never married again. Matrimony was not a state whichappealed to his somewhat shrunken nature. Although he admitted itsnecessity to the human race, of it in his heart he did not approve, norwould he ever have undertaken it at all had it not been for a sense ofobligation. This attitude, because it made for virtue as he understoodit, he set down to virtue, as we are all apt to do, a sacrifice of thethings of earth and of the flesh to the things of heaven, and of thespirit. In fact, it was nothing of the sort, but only the outcome ofindividual physical and mental conditions. Towards female society,however hallowed and approved its form, he had no leanings. Also thechild was a difficulty, so great indeed that at times almost heregretted that a wise Providence had not thought fit to take itstraight to the joys of heaven with its mother, though afterwards, asthe boy's intelligence unfolded, he developed interest in him. This,however, he was careful to keep in check, lest he should fall into thesin of inordinate affection, denounced by St. Paul in common with othererrors.
Finally, he found an elderly widow, named Parsons, who acted as hishousekeeper, and took charge of his son. Fortunately for Godfrey hersense of parenthood was more pronounced than that of his father, andshe, who had lost two children of her own, played the part of mother tohim with a warm and loyal heart. From the first she loved him, and heloved her; it was an affection that continued throughout their lives.
When Godfrey was about nine his father's health broke down. He wasstill a curate in his seaport town, for good, as goodness isunderstood, and hard-working as he was, no promotion had come his way.Perhaps this was because the bishop and his other superiors,recognising his lack of sympathy and his narrowness of outlook, did notthink him a suitable man to put in charge of a parish. At any rate, soit happened.
Thus arose his appeal to his wealthy and powerful relative, Sir Samuel,and his final nomination to a country benefice, for in the country thedoctor said that he must live--unless he wished to die. Convincedthough he was of the enormous advantages of Heaven over an earth whichhe knew to be extremely sinful, the Rev. Mr. Knight, like the rest ofthe world, shrank from the second alternative, which, as he stated in aletter of thanks to Sir Samuel, however much it might benefit himpersonally, would cut short his period of terrestrial usefulness toothers. So he accepted the rectorship of Monk's Acre with gratitude.
In one way there was not much for which to be grateful, seeing that inthose days of depreciated tithes the living was not worth more thanL250 a year and his own resources, which came from his wife's smallfortune, were very limited. It should have been valuable, but the greattithes were alienated with the landed property of the Abbey by HenryVIII, and now belonged to the lay rector, Mr. Blake, who showed nosigns of using them to increase the incumbent's stipend.
Still there was a good house with an excellent garden, too good indeed,with its beautiful and ancient rooms which a former rector ofarchaeological knowledge and means had in part restored to theirpristine state, while for the rest his tastes were simple and his needsfew, for, of course, he neither drank wine nor smoked. Therefore, ashas been said, he took the living with thankfulness and determined tomake the best of it on a total income of about L350 a year.