The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vellenaux, by Edmund William Forrest

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Title: Vellenaux A Novel

Author: Edmund William Forrest

Release Date: May 31, 2005 [EBook #15956]

Language: English

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VELLENAUX

A NOVEL BY E.W. FORREST

AUTHOR OF THE "BLUE JACKET," "CRONOTONTOLLIENS," "NED FORTESQUE," ETC.

1874.

PREFACE

The consideration and favor accorded to the writer's former works by a generous reading public, has induced him to try his hand as a novelist, and the present effort "Vellenaux" is the result.

The Book, although essentially one of fiction, contains many episodes of an historical character. In fact, truth and imagination are so blended together, that the reader will scarcely discover where the one begins or the other ends. Scenes and occurrences are portrayed which took place during the Sheik Wars, the siege of Mooltan, the battle of Chillianwalla, and the never to be forgotten Sepoy Mutiny, with the simple alteration of names, dates and localities. On the shoulders of the hero has been grafted many of the adventures, exploits and escapes which in reality occurred either to the Author himself or some of his many military acquaintances, in doing which the reader may rest assured that no character or incident has been in any way overdrawn.

THE AUTHOR.

VELLENAUX.

CHAPTER I.

The bright rays of an Autumn sun fell upon the richly stained glass, sending a flood of soft, mellow rainbow tinted light through the quaintly curved and deeply mullioned windows which adorned a portion of the eastern wing of that grand old Baronial residence, Vellenaux, on a fine September morning, at the period during which our story opens. This handsome pile, now the property of Sir Jasper Coleman, had been erected by one of his ancestors, Reginald De Coleman, during the reign of the fifth Henry.

This gallant Knight had rendered that Monarch great service during his wars in France, especially at Agincourt, where his skill and bravery was so conspicuous, and used to so great advantage, that King Henry, on his return to England, rewarded his faithful follower with a grant of land in Devonshire, on which he was enabled, with the spoils he had acquired and the ransoms received from his French prisoners of note, to erect a magnificent chateaux, which he called Vellenaux, after Francois, Count De Vellenaux, a French noble, whose ransom contributed largely to its construction. Here he continued to reside until his death, which occurred several years after.

It was now an irregular edifice, having been partially destroyed and otherwise defaced during the contests which ensued between the cavaliers and roundheads at the time of the Commonwealth. Since then alterations and additions had been made by his successors, and, although of different styles of architecture, was now one of the handsomest and most picturesque structures that could be met with throughout the length and breadth of the shire.

A broad avenue of noble elms led from the lodge at the entrance of the domain and opened upon a beautiful carriage drive that wound round the velvet lawn, which formed a magnificent and spacious oval in front of the grand entrance.

Beneath the outspreading branches of the venerable oaks, with which the home park was studded, browsed the red and fallow deer, who, on the approach of any equestrian parties, or at the advance of some aristocratic vehicle bearing its freight of gay, laughing guests towards the hospitable mansion, would toss their antlered heads, or, startled, seek the cover of those green shady alleys leading to the beech woods which adjoined the park and stretched away towards the coast of Devon.

Sir Jasper, who was still a bachelor, and on the shady side of sixty, retained much of the fire and energy of his earlier years, although at times subject to an infirmity which the medical faculty describe as emanating from disease of the heart. He had served with great distinction during the Peninsular war, under the iron Duke, but, on succeeding to the Baronetcy, left the service and retired to his present estate, where he spent most of his time at this his favorite residence, as hunting, shooting and field sports generally had for him a charm that no allurements of city life could tempt him to forego; besides he had, in the earlier part of his military career, visited many of the gay capitals of Europe and engaged in the exciting pleasures always to be met with in such places, until he had become satiated and lost all taste for such scenes. His kind heartedness and benevolence won for him the esteem of the neighboring gentry.

On the morning in question the Baronet, who had but the evening previous returned from London, entered his study, and seating himself in an easy chair, drew towards him a small but elaborately carved antique escritoire, and for several moments was deeply engaged in the perusal of certain papers and memoranda; finally he drew from his pocket a sealed packet which, having opened carefully, he read over; then as if not quite satisfied with the contents, allowed the paper to slip from his hand to the table before him and was soon lost in thought. An English gentleman, unquestionably in the highest sense of the word, was Sir Jasper Coleman; a true type of that class who, from the time of the Norman conquest to the present day, whether beneath the Torrid or Frigid Zone's; on the bloody battlefield, or launching their thunders on the billows of the white-crested main, nobly upheld the honor of their country's flag, whose heroic deeds and honorable names have been handed down unsullied and untarnished for many generations. Since leaving the service the worthy Baronet had taken no part in the political events of the nation, but devoted himself entirely to the welfare of his numerous tenantry, and those residing in the neighborhood of his large estate, to whom assistance and advice was at all times needed, nor was it ever withheld or given grudgingly when any case of real distress came under his notice.

A fine subject fog poet's pen or artist's pencil was that aristocratic old warrior, as he sat there gazing upon the rich woodlands warmed by the glorious autumn sun, thinking over by-gone days—days when he had loitered by some fair one's side in many a brilliant assembly, or when his nerves were steady and his voice all powerful, leading the charge on many a well-fought field. How long he might have remained ruminating on things of the past it is impossible to say; the retrospect might have continued much longer had not his attention been arrested by a slight noise, when suddenly raising his head a smile of pleasure lit up his finely cut features as the door opened and a lovely girl, just merging into womanhood, stepped softly into the room. She was, indeed, very beautiful; hair of the darkest shade of brown hung in long and glossy curls from her perfectly shaped head, and rested on the exquisite white