Chapter XII: In the Great Metropolis

"There are lonely hearts to cherish
While the days are going by,
There are weary souls who perish
While the days are going by.
If a smile we can renew,
As our journey we pursue,
Oh, the good we all may do
While the days are passing by!"

The London season was at its height, but though the pure sunshine was glistening on mountain-top and green meadow, and beginning to tinge the corn-fields with a golden tint in country places, where peace and quietness seemed to reign, and leafy greenery called on every one who loved nature to come and enjoy it in its summer flush of beauty, yet the great city was still filled not only by those who could not leave its crowded streets, but by hundreds who lingered there in the mere pursuit of pleasure, for whom the beauties of nature had no charm.

On one peculiarly fine day a group of people were gathered together in the drawing-room of a splendid mansion in one of the West End crescents.

There was evidently going to be a riding party, for horses held by grooms stood at the door, and two at least of the ladies in the drawing-room wore riding habits.

In conversation with one of these--a pretty fair-haired girl of some twenty years--stood Reginald Gower. "Will your sister ride to-day, do you know?" he was asking, in somewhat anxious tones.

"Gertie? No, I think not; she has a particular engagement this morning. I don't exactly know what it is, but she will not be one of the party. So, Mr. Gower, you and Arthur Barton will have to put up with only the company of myself and Cousin Mary."

Ere the young man could reply, the door opened, and a girl dressed in a dark summer serge and light straw hat entered. She carried a small leather bag in her hand, and was greeted with exclamations of dismay from more than one of the party.

"Are you going slumming to-day, Gertie? What a shame! And the sun so bright, and yet a cool air--just the most delightful sort of day for a ride; and we are going to call on your favourite aunt Mary."

"Give her my love then," replied Gertie, "and tell her I hope to ride over one of those days and see her. No, I cannot possibly go with you to-day, as I have an engagement elsewhere."

"An engagement in the slums! Who ever heard of such a thing?" said her sister and cousin together.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Lily dear, and my cousin also; but I had promised two or three poor people to see them to-day before I knew anything of this riding party, and I am sure I am right not to disappoint them.--And, Mr. Gower, I know your mother at least would not think I was wrong."

"That is true, Miss Warden. My mother thinks far more about giving pleasure to the poor than she does about the wishes of the rich. But could you not defer this slumming business till to-morrow, and give us the pleasure of your company to-day?"

But she shook her head, and assuring them they would get on very well without her, she turned to leave the room, saying as she did so, "O Lily, do find out if it is true that Aunt Mary's old governess, Miss Drechsler, of whom we have all heard so much, is coming to visit her soon, and is bringing with her the young violinist who lives with her, and who people say was a child found in the Black Forest. I do so want to know all about her. We must try and get her to come here some evening, and ask Dr. Heinz, who plays so well upon the violin, to meet her; and you also, Mr. Gower, for I know you dearly love music."

Had Lily not turned quickly away just then, she would have noticed the uneasy, startled look which crossed Reginald Gower's face at her words. Was this woodland child, he asked himself, to be always crossing his path?

He had hoped he had heard the last of her long ago, and some years had elapsed since he had seen her. The circumstance of the likeness to the picture in Harcourt Manor, and the coincidence of the necklace, had _almost_ (but as he had not yet quite killed his conscience), not _altogether_, escaped his memory; and still, as at times he marked the increasing sadness on Mrs. Willoughby's countenance, he felt a sharp pang of remorse; and since he had known and begun to care for Gertie Warden, her devoted Christian life and clear, truthful spirit were making him more conscious than ever of his own selfishness and sin.

True, he had no reason to suppose that she cared for him in any way except as the son of his mother, whom she dearly loved, but his vanity whispered that perhaps in time she might do so; and if that came to pass, and he found that his love was returned, _then_ he would tell her all, and consult with her as to what course he should follow.

Lately, however, he had become uneasy at the many references which Lily Warden made to a Dr. Heinz, who seemed to be often about the house, and of whom both sisters spoke in high terms as a Christian man and pleasant friend. What if he should gain the affection of Gertie? Heinz! something in the name haunted him. Surely he had heard it before, and in connection with the young violinist. And now was it possible that that beautiful girl was really coming amongst them, and that his own mother might meet her any day? for she was often at the house, not only of the Wardens, but also of their aunt Mary, with whom the girl was coming to stay.

No wonder that during the ride Lily Warden thought Mr. Gower strangely preoccupied and silent. She attributed it all to his disappointment at her sister's absence, and felt vexed that such should be the case, as well she knew that in the way he wished Gertie would never think of Reginald Gower; but she felt sorry for him, and tried to cheer him up.

Through that long ride, with summer sunshine and summer beauties around him, Reginald saw only one face, and it was not that of Gertie Warden, but that of the young girl whom he had heard play on the violin at the house of the Stanfords at Baden-Baden.

Oh, if he had only had courage then to write home and tell all that he had heard about her! And in vivid colours there rose before his mind all the disgrace that would attach to him when it became known that he knew of the girl's existence and kept silence. The reason of his so doing would be evident to many. And what, oh, what, he was asking himself, would his loved, high-souled mother think of her son? Surely the words of the Bible he heeded so little were true, "The way of transgressors is hard," and his sin was finding him out.

As soon as the first greetings were over, and the party were seated at the lunch-table in Miss Warden's pretty cottage situated on the banks of the Thames, Lily said, "O Aunt Mary, is it true what Gertie has heard--that Miss Drechsler and a beautiful young violinist with a romantic story are coming to visit you? Gertie is so anxious to know all about her, for neither she nor any of us can believe that she can excel Dr. Heinz in violin-playing; and, indeed, you know how beautifully Gertie herself plays, and she often does so now with Dr. Heinz himself."

"Yes, Lily dear, I am glad to say it is all true. I expect both Miss Drechsler and her young _protege_ next week to visit me for a short time, after which they propose to go to the Stanfords at Stanford Hall, who take a great interest in the young violinist--in fact, I believe she lived for three or four years with them, and was educated along with their own daughter.--By the way, Mr. Gower, you must tell your mother that her old friend Miss Drechsler is coming to me, and I hope she will spend a day with me when she is here."

"I am sure she will be delighted to do so, Miss Warden," replied the young man; but even as he spoke his cheek blanched as he thought of all that might come of his mother meeting the young violinist.

Reginald rode back with his friends to their house, but could not be induced to enter again, not even to hear how Gertie had got on with her slumming. "Not to-day," he said; "I find I must go home. I don't doubt your sister has been well employed--more usefully than we mere pleasure-seekers have been," he added, in such a grave tone that Lily turned her head to look at him, as she stood on the door-steps, and inquire if he were quite well. "Quite so, thanks," he replied, in his usual gay tone; "only sometimes one does think there is a resemblance between the lives the butterflies live and ours. Confess it now," he said laughingly; but Lily was in no thoughtful mood just then, so her only reply was,--

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Gower. I have plenty of useful things to do, just as much so as making a guy of myself and going a-slumming, only I am often too lazy to do them," and with a friendly nod she followed her cousin into the house.

Reginald rode slowly homeward, and, contrary to his usual custom, went to his own room to try to collect his thoughts and make out in what form he would deliver Miss Warden's message to his mother. It was very evident to him that the meshes into which his own sins had brought him were tightening around him. Turn which way he liked, there was no escape. At least only one that he could see, and that was, that if the secret came out, and the young violinist of the Black Forest were proved to be the grandchild of the Willoughbys, he should keep silence as to his ever having known anything of the matter.

The more he thought of it, the more that seemed his wisest course; and even if it should come out that he had heard her play, that would tell nothing. Yet his conscience was ill at ease. Suppose he did so, what of his own self-respect? Could he ever regain it? Fortune would be lost, and all ease of mind gone for ever. Then again, if he told his story now, it would only be because he knew that in any case it would be disclosed, and shame would await him.

How could he ever bear the reproaches of his kind friends the Willoughbys, and more than all, the deep grief such a disclosure would cause to his loved mother? In that hour Reginald Gower went through a conflict of mind which left a mark on his character for life. But, alas! once more evil won the day, and he resolved that not _yet_ would he tell all he knew; but some day _soon_ he might. But once again, as he rose to go downstairs, Bible words came into his mind: "_To-day_, while it is called to-day, harden not your hearts."

O happy mother, to have so carefully stored the young heart with the precious words of God! Long they may be as the seed under ground, apparently forgotten and useless, yet surely one day they will spring up and bear fruit. True even in this application are the words of the poet,--

"The vase in which roses have once been distilled
You may break, you may shiver the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will cling to it still."

Well may we thank God for all mothers who carefully teach the words of Holy Scripture to their children.

That day Reginald delivered Miss Warden's message to his mother, but did not mention the young girl who was to accompany her.

"Oh, I will be delighted to see Miss Drechsler again," said his mother. "I liked her so much when she was governess at the Wardens'. We all did; indeed, she was more companion than governess, and indeed was younger than I was, and just about Mary Warden's own age. I remember well going one day with Mrs. Willoughby's daughter, Hilda, to a musical party at the Wardens', and how charmed Miss Drechsler was at the way Hilda played the violin, which was not such a common thing then as it is now."

"The violin?" queried Reginald. "Did Miss Willoughby play on the violin?"

"Oh yes! she was very musical, and that was one of the great attractions to her in the man she married. He, too, was a wonderful violinist--Herr Heinz they called him. He was, I believe, a much-respected man and of good family connections, but poor, and even taught music to gain a livelihood."

"Heinz!" Reginald was repeating to himself. Then he had heard that name before first in connection with the child of the Black Forest; but he only said, "It is curious that I have lately heard that name from the young Wardens, who speak a great deal of a Dr. Heinz. He also is a good violinist. Can he be any relation, do you think, of the one you allude to?"

"Possibly he may; but the name is not at all an uncommon German one. By the way, I heard a report (probably a false one) that Gertie Warden is engaged to be married to a Dr. Heinz--a very good man, they say. Have you heard anything of it?"

"I never heard she was engaged, nor do I think it is likely; but I have heard both her and her sister speak of this Dr. Heinz, and I know it is only a Christian man that Gertie would marry."

Having said so much, he quickly changed the subject and talked of something else. The mother's eye, however, was quick to notice the shade on his brow as he spoke, and she was confirmed in the opinion she had formed for some time that the very idea of Gertie Warden's engagement was a pain to him. As he rose to go out he turned to say, "Remember, mother, that I have given you Miss Warden's message."