Carthew

“ In all his life he had thought but little of love for women, and now that the feeling overmastered him, he was inclined to question its authority, as well as to fly into paroxysms of jealousy without sufficient reason. He was not in the least conceited, and rather overrated Lord Carthew’s higher mental endowments, together with his eloquent tongue, high rank and wealth, when pitted against his own dower from nature of bone, and muscle, and manly beauty. He knew that Carthew loved Stella, and it would have seemed very natural to him that his passion should be returned. ”

“ But not the great sin, Harry Carthew—not the Unpardonable Sin.... God will have mercy. He will forgive. Have you not served Him well, and will you not do so, ever the more zealously? And will you not forever more guard your ways, that you fall not again into the pit? I trow that you will! Harry Carthew—Harry Carthew, we will pray together! You are too valuable—This very night I will come, and on our knees we will wrestle with Him as did Jacob of old—”
Joan and Aderhold stood hand in hand. ”

“ These were days that more than any hitherto enhanced for Michael the reverence he felt for the household of Cobble Place. These were days when Mrs. Carthew stepped wisely along her flowery enclosure, pondering the plums and peaches on the warm walls that in a transcendency of mellow sunlight almost took on the texture of living sunburnt flesh. These were days when Joan and May Carthew went down the village street with great bunches of Michaelmas daisies, of phloxes and Japanese anemones, or sat beneath the mulberry tree, sewing in the bee-drowsed air. ”

“ The identity of the girl had not suggested itself to either of them; but simultaneously within their hearts the sight of her had aroused a strange feeling of interest and excitement. About that small, pale face, shining dark eyes and lithe, girlish form, there clung a fascination which both men felt powerless to resist. And although he had not yet had time to realize it, Lord Carthew, for his part, had fallen in love at first sight with the beauty and the daring of the thoroughbred’s rider. ”

“ He was gazing at Carthew with something of his old imperious, indomitable spirit. "You owe—her—your very coronet, my new Lord Jura," said he.
"I'll pay all I owe," said Carthew, to humour him, "if she'll take any payment from me." And at that the Marquis of Ingoldsby scowled still more blackly.
The ex-Emir made a gruesome effort to laugh sardonically.
"She'll take it," said he, "if you're man enough, if you're man enough to master her," said he and sank back on his couch.
"And now—about Captain Dove," Carthew suggested as he brought paper and ink to the table from the desk in one corner. ”

“ The two stood on a level floor, with no conventional judgement bar between them. If in Carthew, beneath murk and tempest, there appeared for the moment something basic, justified, and ultimate, in Aderhold no less character unveiled its mass. He stood in chains, but they seemed ribbons of mist. It was he that was metal and real, and with a sudden loom and resistive force sent back, broken, doubts and fantastic violences of thought and ascription. ”

“ No human being could have leaped the distance, and Carthew had been further handicapped by his lameness. He shot, as if from a catapult, nearly as high as the arched rock-roof, his elbows close, chin on chest, head between his shoulders, knees at his temples and heels tucked back, and, on the downward curve, reached the lower lip of the chasm, landing on one shoulder, to hang there for the space of a couple of heart-beats, as if poised for the inevitable rebound.
Lord Ingoldsby heard the dull thud of his fall and Sallie's stifled, heart-broken cry. ”

“ Herself a brunette, she admired fair, florid skins and light hair in others. Lord Carthew was clean-shaved, and Stella’s conventional ideal invariably wore a golden mustache, similar to the one on the face of the wounded man upstairs. Lord Carthew’s upper lip was long, and his lower jaw slightly protruded. To a student of physiognomy, his mouth and chin clearly indicated an intense loyalty and fidelity in love and friendship, combined with a bull-dog obstinacy and tenacity of purpose, and his whole face denoted unusual intelligence, will, and power of loving. ”

“ Carthew and Wicks turned to each other.
“Perhaps you don't know how tired we are,” said Carthew.
“The tide's flowing!” cried the captain. “You wouldn't have me miss a rising tide?”
“Oh, gammon! there's tides to-morrow!” retorted Tommy.
“And I'll tell you what,” added Carthew, “the breeze is failing fast, and the sun will soon be down. We may get into all kinds of fresh mess in the dark and with nothing but light airs.” ”

“ Wicks sat on the fore hatch, raised the face of a man of seventy, and looked a wordless question. Carthew shook his head. With such composure as a man displays marching towards the gallows, Wicks arose, walked to the scuttle, and went down. Brown thought it was Carthew returning, and discovered himself, half crawling from his shelter, with another incoherent burst of pleading. Wicks emptied his revolver at the voice, which broke into mouse-like whimperings and groans. Silence succeeded, and the murderer ran on deck like one possessed. ”

“ Consequently when the spring came Carthew was summarily bidden to go to Scotland and fish. Without quite knowing why, he went to Cannes instead, where Nina Tallentyre, attended by a zealous but mutually distrustful guard-of-honour, was enjoying herself after her fashion under the inadequate wing of Lady Hilton. When the exodus to Algiers was mooted, Carthew labelled his portmanteau London. But he ultimately crossed the Mediterranean with the rest. He had never seen Africa, he explained to himself.
Daphne was of the party too. ”

“ Carthew was feeling anything but fit to cope with all the cares and responsibilities which had devolved upon him again, under circumstances so shocking, no less suddenly than he had been relieved of them all—along with that place in life to which they pertained—by the man now lying dead on the floor before him. As he watched the Duchess of Dawn leading Sallie gently out of the banquet-hall, he would have given a very great deal to have been free to follow them, for Sallie had looked back at him out of tear-dimmed eyes as she went, with an expression he could not quite understand. ”

“ Carthew’s voice quivered, and he struck one hand into the other. “Words are locked doors, but not the voice with which the words are uttered! ‘Piteous wronged souls’ that my gentleman born of no low condition feels grief for and would deliver if he might from gaol and judgement—and Joan Heron whom his voice only trembles not before, only caresses not because he would guard her from the ruin of his favour!—What good to loom there against me and thrust that, too, from you? You love her! You love her! ”

“ It was Amalu who volunteered, climbed to the very truck, swept the fading horizon, and announced nothing within sight.
“No odds,” said Wicks. “We can't sleep ...”
“Sleep!” echoed Carthew; and it seemed as if the whole of Shakespeare's Macbeth thundered at the gallop through his mind.
“Well, then, we can't sit and chitter here,” said Wicks, “till we've cleaned ship; and I can't turn to till I've had gin, and the gin's in the cabin, and who's to fetch it?”
“I will,” said Carthew, “if any one has matches.” ”

“ Lord Carthew knew nothing of the doctor’s musings. One thought alone possessed him. To see Stella as soon as possible, to talk to her, to draw her out of her reserve and gradually get her to confide in him. As if divining his wishes, Dr. Graham suggested an adjournment to the drawing-room, and proposed to Lady Cranstoun, who was reclining on a sofa, a game of chess. ”

“ Carthew has been misinformed—"
"He isn't a visitor, Sallie. He's the man in possession at present," whispered the smartly-dressed young-old man who had been studying Carthew with a most supercilious expression, "and you'd better leave Mr. Jobling to deal with him." He was obviously not at all pleased with her, and his whisper was perfectly audible. ”

“ I burned my ships, and pleading indisposition, requested to consult the doctor.
“There is nothing the matter with my body, Dr. Urquart,” said I, as soon as we were alone.
He hummed, his mouth worked, he regarded me steadily with his gray eyes, but resolutely held his peace.
“I want to talk to you about the Flying Scud and Mr. Carthew,” I resumed. “Come: you must have expected this. I am sure you know all; you are shrewd, and must have a guess that I know much. How are we to stand to one another? and how am I to stand to Mr. Carthew?” ”

“ They fell apart, Carthew reeling against the wall. The colour ebbed from his face. He felt the bleeding, and thrusting a scarf within his doublet, strove to stanch it. As he leaned there, he kept his eyes upon her. But with the suddenness of the lightning their expression had changed. Wrath and defeat and shame were written in them; desire still, but mixed now with something baleful, with something not unlike hate. The bleeding continued. He felt a singing in his ears and a mist before his eyes. ”

“ But Aderhold knew not that. He stood with folded arms and a steady face. It was now to summon the ancient virtue, to play truly the Republican, the free man, now to summon courage for others. Life! Life! And what men and women had suffered would be suffered again. And still the ether sprang clear and time stretched endlessly, and what was lost here might be found there. He looked at Harry Carthew with a steadfast face, and reckoned that the younger man was unhappier than he.
The door opened with a heavy sound and Master Clement reappeared. Carthew flung himself toward him, his face distorted. ”

“ I should never have made the mistake you did,” she continued, addressing her father, “of marrying a gypsy out of a caravan, and then thinking you could bring her daughter up and palm her off as a Duchess’ grandchild merely by stuffing her head full of book-learning. You and Carthew there are both a couple of fools. But I mean to lead you a pretty dance, and thoroughly enjoy myself. I’m not mad enough to be shut up, and not bad enough to be divorced; and I shall remain Sir Philip Cranstoun’s daughter and Lord Carthew’s wife for years to come. ”

“ This testimonial had its desired effect of reducing Carthew to silence, and Mrs Carfrae continued:—
"You have been with John Carr for some time now, have you not?"
"Yes; ever since I came down from Cambridge."
"How did you meet him? He does not take to young men readily as a rule, so I have heard."
"I had the luck," said Carthew, his eye kindling with historic reminiscence, "to meet him at dinner one night at the end of my third year, at my tutor's. Sir John was an old member of the College, staying there for the week-end. ”

“ In a blue envelope at the bottom of his private strong-box they would find his will, a primitive document composed in secrecy, and endorsed: "To be opened when I have gone out for good." In this he had bequeathed all he possessed to "my friend Miss Nina Tallentyre," be she maid, wife, or widow at the moment. Carthew was not a man who loved by halves. ”

“ They slept fitfully, but in the black darkness sleep seemed little removed from death, and time from eternity.
Jim Carthew lay with his head upon a friendly lump of coal, pondering with his accustomed detachment upon the sundry and manifold changes of this world. He thought of Death. Plainly he and his companions were about to solve the mystery of what lay hidden round that corner which our omniscience is pleased to consider the end of all things. What would they find there? Another life—a vista more glorious and sublime than man in his present state could conceive? ”

“ Here they were met by Lord Carthew’s valet, and Lady Northborough’s maid, lent by the Countess to her daughter-in-law for the honeymoon on account of her exceptional tact and cleverness. Lady Carthew’s bright eyes, glancing about beyond these persons, sought for Stephen Lee, and perceived him at length by the third-class portion of the train. ”

“ Well, miss, the fact is that Lord Carthew, one of the young gentleman as was staying up at the Chase, we think as he’d got a bit of fever over his wound, for about two o’clock this afternoon in he staggers to the inn-yard all alone, and pale as a co’pse. ‘Hullo, my lord, is it you?’ I begins, being the first to see him, when he cuts me short like, telling me it ain’t his name, and that he’s called plain Mr. Pritchard. Then he orders me to saddle Black Bess at once, and be quick about it. ”

“ CARTHEW, GEORGE ALFRED (1807–1882) , antiquary, was born on 20 June 1807, being the only son of George Carthew, solicitor, of Harleston, Norfolk, by his wife Elizabeth, daughter of Peter Isaack, gent., of Wighton in the same county. Owing to his father's straitened circumstances, Carthew had little school education. While yet a boy he was articled to his father, and from him he inherited not only the remarkable faculty for genealogical and historical research which he exhibited throughout a long life, but a rich collection of materials. ”

“ Lord Carthew returned, “he has not the slightest wish to settle down in matrimony for many years to come. He has the bad taste, indeed, not to think about women at all; which is, perhaps,” he added, with a laugh, “considering Hilary’s remarkable natural advantages, a very good thing for us plain little fellows.”
CHAPTER X.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
Lord Carthew spoke as he did of his friend’s prospects and intentions with perfect frankness and loyalty, never for one moment suspecting the effect which his words might produce in the mind of Stella Cranstoun. ”