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DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST.
" 1 C0I >1<1 Lave done it better,” he groaned.
'. fi* ere > a always a ghastly depression
dragging one back hero—ana then tho tirae is
“*> rt i J nst as one gets into the swing of it
too brraktast-bell rings and then comes “ He
, , -J rings and then comes—'
broke oil.
leouJjtr. il o.i,tho cua or tno oouujuce.
hoKcvcr. for I knew that then ckme .the slow
torture of u tete-a-tete with the major, stinging
fan-asms, humiliating scoldings, vexations and
difficulties innumerable.
I dr.-w him to the left, having no mind to go to
the top of the hill. Wo slackened our pace
•gain, and walked to and fro along tho broad,
"vd pavement of Lansdowne Crescent. We
bad it entirely to ourselves—not another crea
ture was in sight.
“I could bear it all,” he burst forth, “if only
mere was a chance of soeing Freda. Oh, you
are better off than I am—at least you know the
wer-t. Your hope is killed, but mine lives on a
tortured, starved lifel Would to God I had
B'-V'-r seen her 1”
t -wtainlv before that night I had never quite
realized the ir.^-ocableness of poor Derrick’s
l'lssiun. j had half hoped that time and separa-
mld gradually efface Freda Memfield
jr m his memoir; and I listened with dire fore
boding to the tluod of wretchedness which he
poim-d forth us wo paced up and down, thinking
bow ami then how little people gnessed at the
tremendous powers hidden under his usually
^uiot interior.
At last he paused, but his last heart-broken
words seemed to vibrate in the air and to force
ine to speak some kind of comfort.
" I'erriek,” I said, “ come back with me to
J.'-ndni -give tip this miserable life.”
1 b.'lt him start a little ; evidently no thought
vielding had come to him beforet We were
passing the house that used to belong to that
strange hook-lover andrecluse, Bockfora. I look-
( l * up at tho blank window*, and thought of that
curious, se|f-centerod life in the past, surround
ed hv every luxury, able to indulge every whim;
B»d then 1 looked at my companion’s pale, tor-
"" and thought of the life he had elected
hoalth steadily improved, under the joint influ-
once of total abstinence and Bath waters, and,
Uo better m P rOVeine nt 1118 temper became a liu
1 eud(Knly~fwent"‘to'*her
i, found a different state of thingB. In Orange dog’s life.
Grove I met Dr. Mackrill, the major’s medical
man; he used/now and then to play whist with
ns on Saturday nights, and I stopped vo speak
to him.
“Oh, you’ve come-down again 1 That’s all
right,” he saidst “ Your friend wants some one
to cheer him up. He’s got his arm broken.”
“How on earth did he manage that?” I
asked.
“ Well, that’s more than I can toll yon,” said
the doctor, with an odd look in his eyes, as if he
guessed more than he would put into words.
“ All I can get out of him was that it was done
accidentally. The major is not so well; no
whist for us to-night, I’m afraid.” Ho passed on,
and I made my way to Gay Street There was
an air of mystery about the quaint old landlady;
she looked brimful fit nows when she openejp
the door to me: but she managed to “ keep
herself to herself,” and showed me in upon the
major and Derrick, rather trinmphantly I
thought Tho major looked terribly ill—worse
than I had ever seen him; and as tor Derrick,
ho had the strangest look of shrinking and
shamefaeedness you ever saw. He said he was
glad to see me, but I knew that he lied. He
would have given anything to have kept me
away.
“Broken yonr arm?” I exclaimed, feeling
bound to take some notice of the sling.
“ Yes,” he replied, “ I met with an accident
to it Bnt luckily it is only the left one, so it
doesn’t hinder me much! I have finished
seven chapters of the last voume of ‘ Lynwood,’
and was just wanting to ask you a legal ques
tion.”
All this time his eyes bore my scrutiny defi-
Jok.-'i ip tj,o hopo of saving one whom duty
, him to honor. After all, which life was
*’> worth living—which was tho most to he
the
admired;
he walked on; down below us and up on the
nrrth.-r hi:: wo could soo the lights of Bath; tho
)‘!ace hi beautiful, by day, looked now like a
fairv
tie
and the abbey, looming up against
- liiuotilit sky, seemed.* like some great giant
Sj , ‘l'>BS watch over tho clustering roofs below.
A IH* V''ll-kiinum oliimoa veiwv Aiit inM flirt Dlfflll
l!-known chimes rang out into the night.
aa-i the ..lock struck ton.
I must go hack,” said Derrick, quietly. “ My
lather will want to go to bed."
1 couMn’t say a word: we turned, passed
•H-i-ktord's house once mare, walked briskly
, .'v'. 1 Hie hill, and reached the Gay Street
wifi-house. I remember the stifling heat of
jut-room as wo entered it, and its contrast to
'Be ,i :lr h, winter's night outside. lean
, I'U? recall, too, tho old major’s face as ho
I'H.k.-ii up with a sarcastic remark, but with a
-Bail - of anxiety in his blood-shot eyes. He
was leaning back in a green-cushioned chair,
, 1 Bis ghastly yellow complexion seemed to be
r° ore noticeable than usual—his scanty gray
Bair and whiskers, the lines of pain so plainly
Msthl" j„ iji a f ace> impressed me curiously. I
iBmk I lead novor bofore realized what a wreck
° , a man ho was—how utterly dependent on
others.
Lawrence, who, to do him justice, had a good
deal of tact, and who I believe cared for his
Brother as much as he was capable of caring
‘or any on° but himself, repeated a good story
with which ho had been enlivening the major,
BBd I did what I could to keep up the. talk,
r 'Tick meanwhile put away the chessmen, and
•‘gated tho major’s candle. He even managed
n P a laugh at Lawrence’s story, and, as
ae helped his father out of the room, I think I
'as tho only one who notioed the look of tired
endurance in his eyes.
antiy; they seemed to dare me to say one word
about the broken arm. I didn’t dare—indeed
to this day I have never mentioned the subject
to him.
But that evening, while he was helping'tho
major to bed, the old lady made some pretext
for toiling up to the top of the house, where I
sat smoking in Derrick’s room.
You’ll excuse my making bold to speak to
you, sir,” she said. I threw down my news
paper, and, looking up, saw that she was bub-
uling over with some story. •
Well ?” I said, encouragingly.
It’s about Mr. Yanghan, sir, I wanted to
speak to you. I really do think, sir, it’s not
safe he should he left alone with his father, sir,
any longer. Such doings as we had here the
other day, sir. Somehow or other—and none of
us can’t think how—tho major had managed to
t hold of a bottle of brand;
and, as for safetv why, the major is hardly
stmnpenough to do him any worse damage than
bhe was very fond of iferiick, and it
heart that he should i
i such a
f said what I could to comfort her, and she
went down again, fearful lest he should discover
her up-stairs and guess that she had opened her
heart to me. [J \
Poor Derrick 1 That he of all poopldpn earth
should be mixed up with such a police-court
story—with drunkards, and violence, and pokers
figuring in itl I layback in the camp-chair and
looked at Hoffman’s “ Christ,” and thought of
all the extraordinary problems that one is for-
ovei coming across in life. - And I wondered
if the people of Bath who saw toe tall, impas
sive-looking, hazel-eyed son and toe invalid
father in their daily pilgrimages to toe Pnmp
Boom, or in church on Sunday, or in the Pars
on sunny afternoons, had toe least notion of
toe tragedy that was going on. My reflections
were interrupted by his entrance. He had
forced np a cheerfulness that I am sure he did
not really feel, and seemed afraid of letting oar
talk flag for a moment. I remember, too, that
for toe first time he offered toread mo his novel,
instead of as usnal waiting for me to ask to hear
it. I can see him now, fetching^ho untidy port
folio and tnmin g over toe pages, adroitly enough,
as though anxious to show how immaterial was
the loss of a left arm. That night I listened to
the first half of toe third volume of “Lynwood’s
Heritage,” and couldn’t help reflecting that its
author seemed to thrive on misery; ana yet how
I grudged him to this deadly-lively place, and
this monotonous, cooped np life.
“How do you manage to write one-handed?”
I asked.
And he sat down to his desk,put a letter-
weight on toe left hand corner of toe sheet of
foolscap, and wrote that comical first paragraph
of toe eighth chapter over which we have all
laughed. I suppose tbf readers guessed the
author’s state or mind when he wrote it I
looked over his shoulder to see what he had
written, and couldn’t help laughing aloud; I
verily believe -that it was his way of turning off
attention from his arm, and leading me safely
from the region of awkward questions.
“ By the bye,” I exclaimed, •“ your writing of
garden parties reminds me. I wout to one at
Campden Hill toe other day, and had toe good
fortune to meet Mi3s Freda Merrifield.”
How his face lighted np, poor fellow, and
what a flood of questions he ponred out “ She
looked very well and very pretty,” I replied. “ I
played-two sets of tennis with her. She asked
ly. How he bad it I rather; bnt jnst then '
on’t know; bnt we none of us suspected him, range the game. She
and in the afternoon he says he was too poorly
to go for a drive or to go oat in his chair, and
settles off on toe parlor sofa for a nap while Mr.
Yanghan goes for a walk. Mr. Vaughan was out
a couple of hours. I heard him come in and go
into toe sitting-room; then there came sounds
of voices and a scuffling of feet and moving of
chairs, and I knew something was wrong and
harried np to toe door—and jnst then came a
crash like fire-irons, and I could hoar toe major
a-swearing fearful. Not hearing ft sign from
Mr. Vaughan, I got scared, sir, and opened toe
door, and there! saw toe major a-leamng up
against toe mantel-piece as drunk as a lord, and
his son seemed to have got toe bottle from him;
it was half empty, and when he saw me he just
handed it to me and ordered me to take it away.
Then between ns we got toe major to lie down
on the sola and left him there. When we got
out into the passage Mr. Yanghan bo leaned
against the wall lor a minute, looking as white
as a sheet, and then I noticed for toe first time
after yon directly she saw me, seeming to think
that we always hnnted in couples. 1 told her
yon wore living here, taking care of an invalid
np came toe others to ar-
i and I got the best cdurte,
and as we crossed over to them she told me she
had met your brother several times last au
tumn, when she had* been staying near Aider-
shot. Odd that ha never mentioned her here ;
bnt I don’t suppose she had much impression
on him. She is not at all his style.”
“Did you have much talk with her?” he
asked.
“ No, nothing to be called talk. She told me
they were leaving London next week, and she
was longing to get hack to toe country, to her
beloved animals—rabbits, noultry, an aviary,
and all that kind of thing. I should gather that
they had kept her in the background this sea
son, bnt 1 understand that toe eldest sister is
to be married in toe winter, and then no donbt
Miss Freda will be brought forward.”
He seemed wonderfully cheered by this op
portune meeting, and though there was so little
to'tell, he appeared to be quite content I left
him on Monday in fairly good spirits, and did
not come across him again till September, when
CHAPTER V.
„ /1 know
ijo w far high till are overtops the bounds
or low successes. Only suffering draws
rite loner heart of song, and can eltoit
The perfumes of the soul.—-Sjpie of Hades.
Next week, Lawrenoe went off like a hero to
tbe war- my friend—also I think like a hero
stayed on at Bath, enduring as best he could
•bo worst form of loneliness; for undoubtedly
•owe is no loneliness so frightful as constant
compantonahip with an uncongenial person. He
™ however, one coi
he went all at once as red as he had been pale
jnst bofore, and said he had got itdoneacci-
i.ll,? --1 Lnrlo ma ooxr nnflnnct ttVwiTlt it. ft Tin
consolation: toe major’s
t before, and said no naa go* i* uuuo ira-
dentall v. and bade me say nothing about it, and
walked off there and then to toe doctor’s, snd
had it set. Bnt, sir, given a man drunk as toe
major was, and given a scuffle to get away toe
drink that was poisoning him, snd given a crash
snch as I heard, and given a poker a-lymg in
the middle of the room where it stands to reason
no poker could get unless it was thrown—why^
-i- annsihlo woman who can pnt two and
sir. no sensible woman who can pnt
two together can -donbt that it waa all the ma-
l0 “Yea,”I' said, “that is de" enough; hut
for Mr. Vaughan’s sake we must’hush It np,
that bis left arm was hanging down at his side., his arm was well, and his novel finished and re-
• Lordl sir,’I cried,‘yonr arm’s broken.’ And vised. He never made two copies of his work,
and I fancy this was because he spent so short
a time each day in actual writing, mid lived so
continually in his work; moreover, as I said
before, he detested penmanship.
The last part of “Lynwood ” far exceeded my
expectations; perhaps—yet I really don’t think
so—I viewed it too favorably. Bnt I owed the
book a debt of gratitude, since it oertainly help
ed me through toe worst part of my life.
" Don’t you feel fiat now that it ia finished?” I
“I felt so miserable that I had to phmge into
another story three days after,” be replied;
and then ana there he gave me a sketch of his
seoond novel, “At Bight,” snd told me how he