Sir Tom

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Oliphant Margaret. Sir Tom

CHAPTER I. HOW SIR TOM BECAME A GREAT PERSONAGE

CHAPTER II. HIS WIFE

CHAPTER III. OLD MR. TREVOR'S WILL

CHAPTER IV. YOUNG MR. TREVOR

CHAPTER V. CONSULTATIONS

CHAPTER VI. A SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS

CHAPTER VII. A WARNING

CHAPTER VIII. THE SHADOW OF DEATH

CHAPTER IX. A CHRISTMAS VISIT

CHAPTER X. LUCY'S ADVISERS

CHAPTER XI. AN INNOCENT CONSPIRACY

CHAPTER XII. THE FIRST STRUGGLE

CHAPTER XIII. AN IDLE MORNING

CHAPTER XIV. AN UNWILLING MARTYR

CHAPTER XV. ON BUSINESS

CHAPTER XVI. AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL

CHAPTER XVII. FOREWARNED

CHAPTER XVIII. THE VISITORS

CHAPTER XIX. THE OPENING OF THE DRAMA

CHAPTER XX. AN ANXIOUS CRITIC

CHAPTER XXI. AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

CHAPTER XXII. A PAIR OF FRIENDS

CHAPTER XXIII. THE BREAKFAST TABLE

CHAPTER XXIV. THE ORACLE SPEAKS

CHAPTER XXV. THE CONTESSA'S BOUDOIR

CHAPTER XXVI. THE TWO STRANGERS

CHAPTER XXVII. AN ADVENTURESS

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SERPENT AND THE DOVE

CHAPTER XXIX. THE CONTESSA'S TRIUMPH

CHAPTER XXX. DIFFERENT VIEWS

CHAPTER XXXI. TWO FRIENDS

CHAPTER XXXII. YOUTHFUL UNREST

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE CONTESSA PREPARES THE WAY

CHAPTER XXXIV. IN SUSPENSE

CHAPTER XXXV. THE DÉBUT

CHAPTER XXXVI. THE EVENING AFTER

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE CONTESSA'S TACTICS

CHAPTER XXXVIII. DISCOVERIES

CHAPTER XXXIX. LUCY'S DISCOVERY

CHAPTER XL. THE DOWAGER'S EXPLANATION

CHAPTER XLI. SEVERED

CHAPTER XLII. LADY RANDOLPH WINDS UP HER AFFAIRS

CHAPTER XLIII. THE LITTLE HOUSE IN MAYFAIR

CHAPTER XLIV. THE SIEGE OF LONDON

CHAPTER XLV. THE BALL

CHAPTER XLVI. THE BALL CONTINUED

CHAPTER XLVII. NEXT MORNING

CHAPTER XLVIII. THE LAST BLOW

CHAPTER XLIX. THE EXPERIENCES OF BICE

CHAPTER L. THE EVE OF SORROW

CHAPTER LI. THE LAST CRISIS

CHAPTER LII. THE END

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Young Lady Randolph had herself been much changed by the progress of these years. Marriage is always the great touchstone of character at least with women; but in her case the change from a troubled and premature independence, full of responsibilities and an extremely difficult and arduous duty, to the protection and calm of early married life, in which everything was done for her, and all her burdens taken from her shoulders, rather arrested than aided in the development of her character. She had lived six months with the Dowager Lady Randolph after her father's death; but those six months had been all she knew of the larger existence of the wealthy and great. All she knew – and even in that short period she had learned less than she might have been expected to learn; for Lucy had not been introduced into society, partly on account of her very youthful age, and partly because she was still in mourning, so that her acquaintance with life on the higher line consisted merely in a knowledge of certain simple luxuries, of larger rooms and prettier furniture, and more careful service than in her natural condition. And by birth she belonged to the class of small townsfolk who are nobody, and whose gentility is more appalling than their homeliness. So that when she came to be Sir Thomas Randolph's wife and a great lady, not merely the ward of an important personage, but herself occupying that position, the change was so wonderful that it required all Lucy's mental resources to encounter and accustom herself to it.

Sir Tom was the kindest of middle-aged husbands. If he did not adore his young wife with the fervour of passion, he had a sincere affection for her, and the warmest desire to make her happy. She had done a great deal for him, she had changed his position unspeakably, and he was fully determined that no lady in England should have more observance, more honour and luxury, and what was better, more happiness, than the little girl who had made a man of him. There had always been a sweet and serious simplicity about her, an air of good sense and reasonableness, which had attracted everybody whose opinion was worth having to Lucy; but she was neither beautiful nor clever. She had been so brought up that, though she was not badly educated, she had no accomplishments, and not more knowledge than falls to the lot of an ordinary schoolgirl. The farthest extent of her mild experiences was Sloane Street and Cadogan Place: and there were people who thought it impossible that Sir Tom, who had been everywhere, and run through the entire gamut of pleasures and adventures, should find anything interesting in this bread-and-butter girl, whom, of course, it was his duty to marry, and having married to be kind to. But when he found himself set down in an English country house with this little piece of simplicity opposite to him, what would he do, the sympathising spectators said? Even his kind aunt, who felt that she had brought about the marriage, and who, as a matter of fact, had fully intended it from the first, though she herself liked Lucy, had a little terror in her soul as she asked herself the same question. He would fill the house with company and get over it in that way, was what the most kind and moderate people thought. But Sir Tom laughed at all their prognostications. He said afterwards that he had never known before how pretty it was to know nothing, and to have seen nothing, when these defects were conjoined with intelligence and delightful curiosity and never-failing interest. He declared that he had never truly enjoyed his own adventures and experiences as he did when he told them over to his young wife. You may be sure there were some of them which were not adapted for Lucy's ears: but these Sir Tom left religiously away in the background. He had been a careless liver no doubt, like so many men, but he would rather have cut off his right hand, as the Scripture bids, than have soiled Lucy's white soul with an idea, or an image, that was unworthy of her. She knew him under all sorts of aspects, but not one that was evil. Their solitary evenings together were to her more delightful than any play, and to him nearly as delightful. When the dinner was over and the cold shut out, she would wait his appearance in the inner drawing-room, which she had chosen for her special abode, with some of the homely cares that had been natural to her former condition, drawing his chair to the fire, taking pride in making his coffee for him, and a hundred little attentions. "Now begin," she would say, recalling with a child's eager interest and earnest recollection the point at which he had left off. This was the greater part of Lucy's education. She travelled with him through very distant regions, and went through all kinds of adventure.

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In the following chapters the reader will discover what was the cause which made the Dowager shake her head when she got into the carriage to drive to the railway at the termination of her visit. It was all very pretty and very delightful, and thoroughly satisfactory; but still Lady Randolph, the elder, shook her experienced head.

This was on one of his last days, when they were walking together through the shrubbery. It was September by this time, and he might have been shooting partridges with Sir Tom, but Jock was not so much an out-door boy as he ought to have been, and he preferred walking with his sister, his arm thrust through hers, his head stooping over her. It was perhaps the last opportunity they would have of discussing their family secrets, a matter (they thought) which really concerned nobody else, which no one else would care to be troubled with. Perhaps in Lucy's mind there was a sense of unreality in the whole matter; but Jock was entirely in earnest, and quite convinced that in such an important business he was his sister's natural adviser, and might be of a great deal of use. It was towards evening when they went out, and a red autumnal sunset was accomplishing itself in the west, throwing a gleam as of the brilliant tints which were yet to come, on the still green and luxuriant foliage. The light was low, and came into Lucy's eyes, who shaded them with her hand. And the paths had a touch of autumnal damp, and a certain mistiness, mellow and golden by reason of the sunshine, was rising among the trees.

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