Into the Highways & Hedges
BY F. F. Montrésor
SEVENTH EDITION
London 1896
HUTCHINSON & CO.
34 PATERNOSTER ROW
"Let a man contend to the uttermost for his life's set prize, beit what it will."
Dedicated
TO
MY MOTHER
PREFACE.
This is not meant to be a controversial novel. I by no means agree withall Barnabas Thorpe's opinions. Nevertheless I believe that the men whofight for their ideals have been, and always will be, the saving elementin a world which happily has never yet been left without them.
Before and since the days when Socrates found that it was "impossible tolive a quiet life, for that would be to disobey the deity," there havealways been some souls who have counted it worth while to lose all else,if haply in the losing they might get nearer to the light from whichthey came. Their failures, their apparently hopeless mistakes, are oftenevident enough, yet the mistakes die, and the spirit which animates themlives. It would be dark, indeed, if the torches of those eager runnerswere to go out.
F. F. M.
INTO THE HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES.
FIRST PART.
CHAPTER I.
The woman whose story is written here, was in the fulness of her youthsome fifty years ago.
She is dead now, and so are the two men who loved her best, who wouldeach, according to his lights, have given his life for her happiness.
Her name is inscribed in the family Bible, that holds on its flyleaf thegeneration of Deanes, but there is a thick stroke through it, whichalmost obliterates the delicate characters, and there is no recordeither of her marriage or of her death.
She made a great mistake; she was one of the people who blunder on alarge scale, who put all their eggs into one basket, and who are apt tobreak their hearts as well as their goods; but, in so far as her lifedid not end in pure tragedy, it seemed to me worth the telling.
One lifts one's cap to those who never go wrong, but Heaven knows it iseasy enough to stumble, and there are two sides to every ditch; let us,at least, cry "Hurrah!" when any one scrambles out on the right bank.
Margaret was the third daughter of Charles Deane—(so much we findchronicled); she was five years younger than her sister Katherine, andseven years younger than Laura, and she must have been barely six whenher father, then newly widowed, brought his children to London, and leftthem in charge of his sister.
The three little girls were heiresses, and plentifully provided for. TheDeanes and Russelthorpes have always been rich; money seems to haveclung to their fingers, though there was never a miser among them. Thefamilies had intermarried for two generations, before Mr. Deane's sisteraccepted Mr. Joseph Russelthorpe, and took possession of the house inBryanston Square. The marriage was not blessed with children, and "AuntRusselthorpe" had consequently plenty of spare energy to expend on thetraining of her nieces. She was still handsome, though past her youth,when little Margaret first made her acquaintance. A tall striking woman,with very erect carriage, a decided manner, and a hard voice. She was abrilliant talker, and her parties were the rage at one time, though shewas a shade too fond of monopolising attention to be a perfect hostess.
She wore her hair in little