Home › The Newcomes › The Newcomes: Ethel

The Newcomes: Ethel

Barnes Newcome, too, was at Baden, for he was to marry pretty little Lady Clara Pulleyn, free at last from that undesirable Jack Belsize, Lord Highgate's son. Lady Kew had plans which Clive's growing regard for his cousin Ethel put in jeopardy. "My good young man, I think it is time you were off," Lady Kew said to Clive with great good humor. "I have been to see that poor little creature to whom Captain Belsize behaved so cruelly. She does not care a fig for him--not one fig. She is engaged, as you know, to my grandson Barnes, in all respects a most eligible union; and Ethel's engagement to my grandson, Lord Kew, has long been settled. When we saw you in London, we heard that you, too, were engaged, to a young lady in your own rank of life--Miss Mackenzie." Clive's departure led to more flirtations by Ethel than old Lady Kew could countenance, but Ethel had found out how undesirable a man Lord Kew was, and broke the engagement so dear to her grandmother's heart. When Clive heard that the engagement was over between Kew and Ethel he set out in haste for London. I was installed as confidant, and to me Clive said: "Mrs. Mackenzie bothers me so I hardly know where to turn, and poor little Rosey is made to write me a note about something twice a day. Oh, Pen! I'm up another tree now!"

Clive met his cousin Ethel at a party or two in the ensuing weeks of the season, and at one of their meetings Ethel told him that her grandmother would not receive him. It was then that Clive thought Ethel worldly, although much of her attitude was due to the keen and unrelenting Lady Kew. The colonel and James Binnie during all this time put their two fond heads together, and Mrs. Mackenzie flattered both of them, and Clive as well. Meanwhile the Lady Clara was not happy with her Barnes. All the life and spirit had been crushed out of the girl, consigned to cruel usage, loneliness, and to bitter recollections of the past. Jack Belsize, now Lord Highgate, could stand the strain no longer, and took Lady Clara away from her bullying but cowardly husband. The elopement of Clara opened Ethel's eyes to the misery of loveless marriages, and the mamma of her new love, the Marquis of Farintosh, already distressed over the unpleasant notoriety of the proposed Newcome alliance, received a letter from Ethel which set her son free. Ethel then turned to the lonely, motherless children of her brother Barnes, and found comfort in devoting herself to them. Clive married his Rosey, and his father determined to become a member of Parliament in place of Sir Barnes. One night the colonel, returning from his electioneering, met Clive, candle in hand. As each saw each other's face, it was so very sad and worn and pale, that Colonel Newcome, with quite the tenderness of old days, cried: "God bless me! my boy, how ill you look! Come and warm yourself, Clivy!" "I have seen a ghost, father," Clive said, "the ghost of my youth, father, the ghost of my happiness, and the best days of my life. I saw Ethel to-day." "Nay, my boy, you mustn't talk to me so. You have the dearest little wife at home, a dear little wife and child." "You had a wife; but that doesn't prevent other--other thoughts. Do you know you never spoke twice in your life about my mother? You didn't care for her." "I--I did my duty by her," interposed the colonel. "I know, but your heart was with the other. So is mine. It's fatal, it runs in the family, father."

The shares of the Bundelcund Banking Company in which the colonel had made his fortune now declined steadily, and at last the crash came, wiping out all the colonel's money and with it all Rosey's fortune. The impoverished Newcomes settled down first at Boulogne, and then in London, the colonel weary, feeble, white-haired, Mrs. Mackenzie a perfect termagant, Rosey pale and ailing, and little Tommy, the baby, a comfort and a care to the hard-worked Clive. The colonel, no longer able to live under the same roof with Mrs. Mackenzie, found a home with the Grey Friars, and here I saw him. His dear old head was bent down over his prayer-book. He wore the black gown of the pensioners of the hospital of Grey Friars.

When the colonel's misfortunes were at their worst, Ethel, in reading an old book, found a letter from the colonel's stepmother between the covers. It was a memorandum of a proposed bequest to Clive. Ethel at once determined to carry out this intended bequest, and so she and I hastened to Clive's home; but not even good news could soften Mrs. Mackenzie's evil temper. That was a sad and wretched night, in which Mrs. Mackenzie stormed until the poor, delicate Rosey fell into the fever to which she owed her death. We soon repaired to the Grey Friars, where we found that the colonel was in his last illness. He talked loudly, he gave the word of command, spoke Hindustanee as if to his men. Then he spoke words in French rapidly, seizing a hand that was near him, crying, "Toujours! Toujours!" Ethel and Clive and the nurse were in the room with him. The old man talked on rapidly for a while; then again he would sigh and be still; once more I heard him say, hurriedly, "Take care of him when I'm in India"; and then with a heart-rending voice he called for the love of his youth, "Leonore! Leonore!" The patient's voice sank into faint murmurs; only a moan now and then announced that he was not asleep.

At the usual evening hour the chapel bell began to toll, and Thomas Newcome's hands outside the bed feebly beat a time. And just as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile shone over his face, and he lifted up his head a little, and quickly said, "Adsum," and fell back. It was the word we used at school, when names were called; and, lo! he whose heart was as that of a little child had answered to his name in the presence of The Master.