diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:26 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:26 -0700 |
| commit | c0512514cd470bf45d33cd29e9431c65a74f42c3 (patch) | |
| tree | b2e8e2fd4d1b99c5536942ac717610ee4ca7393c /10882-h/10882-h.htm | |
Diffstat (limited to '10882-h/10882-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 10882-h/10882-h.htm | 6346 |
1 files changed, 6346 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/10882-h/10882-h.htm b/10882-h/10882-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..da87f15 --- /dev/null +++ b/10882-h/10882-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6346 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/loose.dtd"> + + +<html> +<head> +<title>The Eagle's Shadow</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eagle's Shadow, by James Branch Cabell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Eagle's Shadow + +Author: James Branch Cabell + +Release Date: January 31, 2004 [EBook #10882] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S SHADOW *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + +<BR> +<img border="0" src="image002.jpg" alt="image002.jpg" width="229" height="382"/> +<BR> +<BR> +<span style='font-family:"Bookman Old Style"'>[Illustration: "Margaret"]<BR></span> +<BR> +<h1>THE</h1><BR> +<BR> +<h1>EAGLE'S SHADOW</h1><BR> +<BR> +By<BR> +<BR> +JAMES BRANCH CABELL<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +Illustrated by Will Grafé<BR> + +Decorated by Bianthe Ostortag<BR> + +<BR> +<img border="0" src="image004.jpg" alt="image004.jpg" width="160" height="150"/><BR> +1904<BR> +<BR> +Published, October, 1904<BR> +<img border="0" src="image008.jpg" alt="image008.jpg" width="160" height="150"/><BR> +To<BR> +<BR> +Martha Louise Branch<BR> +<BR> +<i>In trust that the enterprise may be judged <BR>less by the merits of its +factor than <BR>by those of its patron</i><BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<img border="0" src="image010.jpg" alt="image010.jpg" width="60" height="50"/>CONTENTS<img border="0" src="image012.jpg" alt="image012.jpg" width="60" height="50"/><BR> +<BR> +CHAPTER<BR> +<BR> +<a href="#I">I.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#II">II.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#III">III.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#IV">IV.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#V">V.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#VI">VI.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#VII">VII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#VIII">VIII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#IX">IX.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#X">X.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XI">XI.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XII">XII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XIII">XIII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XIV">XIV.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XV">XV.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XVI">XVI.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XVII">XVII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XVII">XVIII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XIX">XIX.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XX">XX.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXI">XXI.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXII">XXII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXIII">XXIII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXIV">XXIV.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXV">XXV.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXVI">XXVI.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXVII">XXVII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXIX">XXIX.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXX">XXX.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXXI">XXXI.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXXII">XXXII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<a href="#XXXIII">XXXIII.</a><BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +THE CHARACTERS<BR> +<BR> +Colonel Thomas Hugonin, formerly in the service of Her Majesty the<BR> +Empress of India, Margaret Hugonin's father.<BR> +<BR> +Frederick R. Woods, the founder of Selwoode, Margaret's uncle by<BR> +marriage.<BR> +<BR> +Billy Woods, his nephew, Margaret's quondam fiancé.<BR> +<BR> +Hugh Van Orden, a rather young young man, Margaret's adorer.<BR> +<BR> +Martin Jeal, M.D., of Fairhaven, Margaret's family physician.<BR> +<BR> +Cock-Eye Flinks, a gentleman of leisure, Margaret's chance<BR> +acquaintance.<BR> +<BR> +Petheridge Jukesbury, president of the Society for the Suppression of<BR> +Nicotine and the Nude, Margaret's almoner in furthering the cause of<BR> +education and temperance.<BR> +<BR> +Felix Kennaston, a minor poet, Margaret's almoner in furthering the<BR> +cause of literature and art.<BR> +<BR> +Sarah Ellen Haggage, Madame President of the Ladies' League for the<BR> +Edification of the Impecunious, Margaret's almoner in furthering the<BR> +cause of charity and philanthropy. Kathleen Eppes Saumarez, a lecturer<BR> +before women's clubs, Margaret's almoner in furthering the cause of<BR> +theosophy, nature study, and rational dress.<BR> +<BR> +Adèle Haggage, Mrs. Haggage's daughter, Margaret's rival with Hugh Van<BR> +Orden.<BR> +<BR> +And Margaret Hugonin.<BR> +<BR> +The other participants in the story are Wilkins, Célestine, The Spring<BR> +Moon and The Eagle.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS<BR> +<BR> +"Margaret"<BR> +<BR> +"'Altogether,' says Colonel Hugonin, 'they strike me as being the<BR> +most ungodly menagerie ever gotten together under one roof since Noah<BR> +landed on Ararat'"<BR> +<BR> +"Then, for no apparent reason, Margaret flushed, and Billy ... thought<BR> +it vastly becoming"<BR> +<BR> +"Billy Woods"<BR> +<BR> +"Billy unfolded it slowly, with a puzzled look growing in his<BR> +countenance"<BR> +<BR> +"'My lady,' he asked, very softly, 'haven't you any good news for me<BR> +on this wonderful morning?'"<BR> +<BR> +"Miss Hugonin pouted. 'You needn't, be such a grandfather,' she<BR> +suggested helpfully."<BR> +<BR> +"Regarded them with alert eyes"<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +THE EAGLE'S SHADOW<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="I">I</a><BR> +<BR> +This is the story of Margaret Hugonin and of the Eagle. And with your<BR> +permission, we will for the present defer all consideration of the<BR> +bird, and devote our unqualified attention to Margaret.<BR> +<BR> +I have always esteemed Margaret the obvious, sensible, most<BR> +appropriate name that can be bestowed upon a girl-child, for it is a<BR> +name that fits a woman--any woman--as neatly as her proper size in<BR> +gloves.<BR> +<BR> +Yes, the first point I wish to make is that a woman-child, once<BR> +baptised Margaret, is thereby insured of a suitable name. Be she grave<BR> +or gay in after-life, wanton or pious or sullen, comely or otherwise,<BR> +there will be no possible chance of incongruity; whether she develop a<BR> +taste for winter-gardens or the higher mathematics, whether she take<BR> +to golf or clinging organdies, the event is provided for. One has only<BR> +to consider for a moment, and if among a choice of Madge, Marjorie,<BR> +Meta, Maggie, Margherita, Peggy, and Gretchen, and countless<BR> +others--if among all these he cannot find a name that suits her to a<BR> +T--why, then, the case is indeed desperate and he may permissibly<BR> +fall back upon Madam or--if the cat jump propitiously, and at his own<BR> +peril--on Darling or Sweetheart.<BR> +<BR> +The second proof that this name must be the best of all possible names<BR> +is that Margaret Hugonin bore it. And so the murder is out. You may<BR> +suspect what you choose. I warn you in advance that I have no part<BR> +whatever in her story; and if my admiration for her given name appear<BR> +somewhat excessive, I can only protest that in this dissentient world<BR> +every one has a right to his own taste. I knew Margaret. I admired<BR> +her. And if in some unguarded moment I may have carried my admiration<BR> +to the point of indiscretion, her husband most assuredly knows all<BR> +about it, by this, and he and I are still the best of friends. So you<BR> +perceive that if I ever did so far forget myself it could scarcely<BR> +have amounted to a hanging matter.<BR> +<BR> +I am doubly sure that Margaret Hugonin was beautiful, for the reason<BR> +that I have never found a woman under forty-five who shared my<BR> +opinion. If you clap a Testament into my hand, I cannot affirm that<BR> +women are eager to recognise beauty in one another; at the utmost they<BR> +concede that this or that particular feature is well enough. But when<BR> +a woman is clean-eyed and straight-limbed, and has a cheery heart,<BR> +she really cannot help being beautiful; and when Nature accords her<BR> +a sufficiency of dimples and an infectious laugh, I protest she is<BR> +well-nigh irresistible. And all these Margaret Hugonin had.<BR> +<BR> +And surely that is enough.<BR> +<BR> +I shall not endeavour, then, to picture her features to you in any<BR> +nicely picked words. Her chief charm was that she was Margaret.<BR> +<BR> +And besides that, mere carnal vanities are trivial things; a gray<BR> +eye or so is not in the least to the purpose. Yet since it is the<BR> +immemorial custom of writer-folk to inventory such possessions of<BR> +their heroines, here you have a catalogue of her personal attractions.<BR> +Launce's method will serve our turn.<BR> +<BR> +Imprimis, there was not very much of her--five feet three, at the<BR> +most; and hers was the well-groomed modern type that implies a<BR> +grandfather or two and is in every respect the antithesis of that<BR> +hulking Venus of the Louvre whom people pretend to admire. Item, she<BR> +had blue eyes; and when she talked with you, her head drooped forward<BR> +a little. The frank, intent gaze of these eyes was very flattering<BR> +and, in its ultimate effect, perilous, since it led you fatuously to<BR> +believe that she had forgotten there were any other trousered beings<BR> +extant. Later on you found this a decided error. Item, she had a quite<BR> +incredible amount of yellow hair, that was not in the least like gold<BR> +or copper or bronze--I scorn the hackneyed similes of metallurgical<BR> +poets--but a straightforward yellow, darkening at the roots; and she<BR> +wore it low down on her neck in great coils that were held in place<BR> +by a multitude of little golden hair-pins and divers corpulent<BR> +tortoise-shell ones. Item, her nose was a tiny miracle of perfection;<BR> +and this was noteworthy, for you will observe that Nature, who is an<BR> +adept at eyes and hair and mouths, very rarely achieves a creditable<BR> +nose. Item, she had a mouth; and if you are a Gradgrindian with a<BR> +taste for hairsplitting, I cannot swear that it was a particularly<BR> +small mouth. The lips were rather full than otherwise; one saw in them<BR> +potentialities of heroic passion, and tenderness, and generosity, and,<BR> +if you will, temper. No, her mouth was not in the least like the pink<BR> +shoe-button of romance and sugared portraiture; it was manifestly<BR> +designed less for simpering out of a gilt frame or the dribbling of<BR> +stock phrases over three hundred pages than for gibes and laughter<BR> +and cheery gossip and honest, unromantic eating, as well as another<BR> +purpose, which, as a highly dangerous topic, I decline even to<BR> +mention.<BR> +<BR> +There you have the best description of Margaret Hugonin that I am<BR> +capable of giving you. No one realises its glaring inadequacy more<BR> +acutely than I.<BR> +<BR> +Furthermore, I stipulate that if in the progress of our comedy she<BR> +appear to act with an utter lack of reason or even common-sense--as<BR> +every woman worth the winning must do once or twice in a<BR> +lifetime--that I be permitted to record the fact, to set it down in<BR> +all its ugliness, nay, even to exaggerate it a little--all to the end<BR> +that I may eventually exasperate you and goad you into crying out,<BR> +"Come, come, you are not treating the girl with common justice!"<BR> +<BR> +For, if such a thing were possible, I should desire you to rival even<BR> +me in a liking for Margaret Hugonin. And speaking for myself, I can<BR> +assure you that I have come long ago to regard her faults with the<BR> +same leniency that I accord my own.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="II">II</a><BR> +<BR> +We begin on a fine May morning in Colonel Hugonin's rooms at Selwoode,<BR> +which is, as you may or may not know, the Hugonins' country-place.<BR> +And there we discover the Colonel dawdling over his breakfast, in an<BR> +intermediate stage of that careful toilet which enables him later in<BR> +the day to pass casual inspection as turning forty-nine.<BR> +<BR> +At present the old gentleman is discussing the members of his<BR> +daughter's house-party. We will omit, by your leave, a number of<BR> +picturesque descriptive passages--for the Colonel is, on occasion, a<BR> +man of unfettered speech--and come hastily to the conclusion, to the<BR> +summing-up of the whole matter.<BR> +<BR> +"Altogether," says Colonel Hugonin, "they strike me as being the most<BR> +ungodly menagerie ever gotten together under one roof since Noah<BR> +landed on Ararat."<BR> +<BR> +Now, I am sorry that veracity compels me to present the Colonel<BR> +in this particular state of mind, for ordinarily he was as<BR> +pleasant-spoken a gentleman as you will be apt to meet on the<BR> +longest summer day.<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image014.jpg" alt="image014.jpg" width="400" height="500"><BR> +[Illustration: "'Altogether,' says Colonel Hugonin, 'they strike me as<BR> +being the most ungodly menagerie ever gotten together under one roof<BR> +since Noah landed on Ararat.'"]<BR> +<BR> +You must make allowances for the fact that, on this especial morning,<BR> +he was still suffering from a recent twinge of the gout, and that his<BR> +toast was somewhat dryer than he liked it; and, most potent of all,<BR> +that the foreign mail, just in, had caused him to rebel anew against<BR> +the proprieties and his daughter's inclinations, which chained him to<BR> +Selwoode, in the height of the full London season, to preside over a<BR> +house-party every member of which he cordially disliked. Therefore,<BR> +the Colonel having glanced through the well-known names of those at<BR> +Lady Pevensey's last cotillion, groaned and glared at his daughter,<BR> +who sat opposite him, and reviled his daughter's friends with point<BR> +and fluency, and characterised them as above, for the reason that he<BR> +was hungered at heart for the shady side of Pall Mall, and that their<BR> +presence at Selwoode prevented his attaining this Elysium. For, I am<BR> +sorry to say that the Colonel loathed all things American, saving his<BR> +daughter, whom he worshipped.<BR> +<BR> +And, I think, no one who could have seen her preparing his second cup<BR> +of tea would have disputed that in making this exception he acted with<BR> +a show of reason. For Margaret Hugonin--but, as you know, she is<BR> +our heroine, and, as I fear you have already learned, words are very<BR> +paltry makeshifts when it comes to describing her. Let us simply say,<BR> +then, that Margaret, his daughter, began to make him a cup of tea, and<BR> +add that she laughed.<BR> +<BR> +Not unkindly; no, for at bottom she adored her father--a comely<BR> +Englishman of some sixty-odd, who had run through his wife's fortune<BR> +and his own, in the most gallant fashion--and she accorded his<BR> +opinions a conscientious, but at times, a sorely taxed, tolerance.<BR> +That very month she had reached twenty-three, the age of omniscience,<BR> +when the fallacies and general obtuseness of older people become<BR> +dishearteningly apparent.<BR> +<BR> +"It's nonsense," pursued the old gentleman, "utter, bedlamite<BR> +nonsense, filling Selwoode up with writing people! Never heard of such<BR> +a thing. Gad, I do remember, as a young man, meeting Thackeray at a<BR> +garden-party at Orleans House--gentlemanly fellow with a broken nose--<BR> +and Browning went about a bit, too, now I think of it. People had 'em<BR> +one at a time to lend flavour to a dinner--like an olive; we didn't<BR> +dine on olives, though. You have 'em for breakfast, luncheon, dinner,<BR> +and everything! I'm sick of olives, I tell you, Margaret!" Margaret<BR> +pouted.<BR> +<BR> +"They ain't even good olives. I looked into one of that fellow<BR> +Charteris's books the other day--that chap you had here last week.<BR> +It was bally rot--proverbs standing on their heads and grinning<BR> +like dwarfs in a condemned street-fair! Who wants to be told that<BR> +impropriety is the spice of life and that a roving eye gathers<BR> +remorse? <i>You</i> may call that sort of thing cleverness, if you like; I<BR> +call it damn' foolishness." And the emphasis with which he said this<BR> +left no doubt that the Colonel spoke his honest opinion.<BR> +<BR> +"Attractive," said his daughter patiently, "Mr. Charteris is very,<BR> +very clever. Mr. Kennaston says literature suffered a considerable<BR> +loss when he began to write for the magazines."<BR> +<BR> +And now that Margaret has spoken, permit me to call your attention to<BR> +her voice. Mellow and suave and of astonishing volume was Margaret's<BR> +voice; it came not from the back of her throat, as most of our women's<BR> +voices do, but from her chest; and I protest it had the timbre of a<BR> +violin. Men, hearing her voice for the first time, were wont to stare<BR> +at her a little and afterward to close their hands slowly, for always<BR> +its modulations had the tonic sadness of distant music, and it<BR> +thrilled you to much the same magnanimity and yearning, cloudily<BR> +conceived; and yet you could not but smile in spite of yourself at the<BR> +quaint emphasis fluttering through her speech and pouncing for the<BR> +most part on the unlikeliest word in the whole sentence.<BR> +<BR> +But I fancy the Colonel must have been tone-deaf. "Don't you make<BR> +phrases for me!" he snorted; "you keep 'em for your menagerie Think!<BR> +By gad, the world never thinks. I believe the world deliberately<BR> +reads the six bestselling books in order to incapacitate itself for<BR> +thinking." Then, his wrath gathering emphasis as he went on: "The<BR> +longer I live the plainer I see Shakespeare was right--what<BR> +fools these mortals be, and all that. There's that Haggage<BR> +woman--speech-making through the country like a hiatused politician.<BR> +It may be philanthropic, but it ain't ladylike--no, begad! What has<BR> +she got to do with Juvenile Courts and child-labour in the South, I'd<BR> +like to know? Why ain't she at home attending to that crippled boy<BR> +of hers--poor little beggar!--instead of flaunting through America<BR> +meddling with other folk's children?"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin put another lump of sugar into his cup and deigned no<BR> +reply.<BR> +<BR> +"By gad," cried the Colonel fervently, "if you're so anxious to spend<BR> +that money of yours in charity, why don't you found a Day Nursery for<BR> +the Children of Philanthropists--a place where advanced men and women<BR> +can leave their offspring in capable hands when they're busied with<BR> +Mothers' Meetings and Educational Conferences? It would do a thousand<BR> +times more good, I can tell you, than that fresh kindergarten scheme<BR> +of yours for teaching the children of the labouring classes to make a<BR> +new sort of mud-pie."<BR> +<BR> +"You don't understand these things, attractive," Margaret gently<BR> +pointed out. "You aren't in harmony with the trend of modern thought."<BR> +<BR> +"No, thank God!" said the Colonel, heartily.<BR> +<BR> +Ensued a silence during which he chipped at his egg-shell in an<BR> +absent-minded fashion.<BR> +<BR> +"That fellow Kennaston said anything to you yet?" he presently<BR> +queried.<BR> +<BR> +"I--I don't understand," she protested--oh, perfectly unconvincingly.<BR> +The tea-making, too, engrossed her at this point to an utterly<BR> +improbable extent.<BR> +<BR> +Thus it shortly befell that the Colonel, still regarding her under<BR> +intent brows, cleared his throat and made bold to question her<BR> +generosity in the matter of sugar; five lumps being, as he suggested,<BR> +a rather unusual allowance for one cup.<BR> +<BR> +Then, "Mr. Kennaston and I are very good friends," said she, with<BR> +dignity. And having spoiled the first cup in the making, she began on<BR> +another.<BR> +<BR> +"Glad to hear it," growled the old gentleman. "I hope you value his<BR> +friendship sufficiently not to marry him. The man's a fraud--a flimsy,<BR> +sickening fraud, like his poetry, begad, and that's made up of botany<BR> +and wide margins and indecency in about equal proportions. It ain't<BR> +fit for a woman to read--in fact, a woman ought not to read anything;<BR> +a comprehension of the Decalogue and the cookery-book is enough<BR> +learning for the best of 'em. Your mother never--never--"<BR> +<BR> +Colonel Hugonin paused and stared at the open window for a little. He<BR> +seemed to be interested in something a great way off.<BR> +<BR> +"We used to read Ouida's books together," he said, somewhat wistfully.<BR> +"Lord, Lord, how she revelled in Chandos and Bertie Cecil and those<BR> +dashing Life Guardsmen! And she used to toss that little head of hers<BR> +and say I was a finer figure of a man than any of 'em--thirty<BR> +years ago, good Lord! And I was then, but I ain't now. I'm only a<BR> +broken-down, cantankerous old fool," declared the Colonel, blowing<BR> +his nose violently, "and that's why I'm quarrelling with the dearest,<BR> +foolishest daughter man ever had. Ah, my dear, don't mind me--run your<BR> +menagerie as you like, and I'll stand it."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret adopted her usual tactics; she perched herself on the arm<BR> +of his chair and began to stroke his cheek very gently. She<BR> +often wondered as to what dear sort of a woman that tender-eyed,<BR> +pink-cheeked mother of the old miniature had been--the mother who had<BR> +died when she was two years old. She loved the idea of her, vague as<BR> +it was. And, just now, somehow, the notion of two grown people reading<BR> +Ouida did not strike her as being especially ridiculous.<BR> +<BR> +"Was she very beautiful?" she asked, softly.<BR> +<BR> +"My dear," said her father, "you are the picture of her."<BR> +<BR> +"You dangerous old man!" said she, laughing and rubbing her cheek<BR> +against his in a manner that must have been highly agreeable. "Dear,<BR> +do you know that is the nicest little compliment I've had for a long<BR> +time?"<BR> +<BR> +Thereupon the Colonel chuckled. "Pay me for it, then," said he, "by<BR> +driving the dog-cart over to meet Billy's train to-day. Eh?"<BR> +<BR> +"I--I can't," said Miss Hugonin, promptly.<BR> +<BR> +"Why?" demanded her father.<BR> +<BR> +"Because----" said Miss Hugonin; and after giving this really<BR> +excellent reason, reflected for a moment and strengthened it by<BR> +adding, "Because----"<BR> +<BR> +"See here," her father questioned, "what did you two quarrel about,<BR> +anyway?"<BR> +<BR> +"I--I really don't remember," said she, reflectively; then continued,<BR> +with hauteur and some inconsistency, "I am not aware that Mr. Woods<BR> +and I have ever quarrelled."<BR> +<BR> +"By gad, then," said the Colonel, "you may as well prepare to, for<BR> +I intend to marry you to Billy some day. Dear, dear, child," he<BR> +interpolated, with malice aforethought, "have you a fever?--your<BR> +cheek's like a coal. Billy's a man, I tell you--worth a dozen of your<BR> +Kennastons and Charterises. I like Billy. And besides, it's only right<BR> +he should have Selwoode--wasn't he brought up to expect it? It<BR> +ain't right he should lose it simply because he had a quarrel with<BR> +Frederick, for, by gad--not to speak unkindly of the dead, my<BR> +dear--Frederick quarrelled with every one he ever knew, from the woman<BR> +who nursed him to the doctor who gave him his last pill. He may have<BR> +gotten his genius for money-making from Heaven, but he certainly<BR> +got his temper from the devil. I really believe," said the Colonel,<BR> +reflectively, "it was worse than mine. Yes, not a doubt of it--I'm a<BR> +lamb in comparison. But he had his way, after all; and even now poor<BR> +Billy can't get Selwoode without taking you with it," and he caught<BR> +his daughter's face between his hands and turned it toward his for a<BR> +moment. "I wonder now," said he, in meditative wise, "if Billy will<BR> +consider that a drawback?"<BR> +<BR> +It seemed very improbable. Any number of marriageable males would have<BR> +sworn it was unthinkable.<BR> +<BR> +However, "Of course," Margaret began, in a crisp voice, "if you advise<BR> +Mr. Woods to marry me as a good speculation--"<BR> +<BR> +But her father caught her up, with a whistle. "Eh?" said he. "Love in<BR> +a cottage?--is it thus the poet turns his lay? That's damn' nonsense!<BR> +I tell you, even in a cottage the plumber's bill has to be paid, and<BR> +the grocer's little account settled every month. Yes, by gad, and<BR> +even if you elect to live on bread and cheese and kisses, you'll find<BR> +Camembert a bit more to your taste than Sweitzer."<BR> +<BR> +"But I don't want to marry anybody, you ridiculous old dear," said<BR> +Margaret.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, very well," said the old gentleman; "don't. Be an old maid, and<BR> +lecture before the Mothers' Club, if you like. I don't care. Anyhow,<BR> +you meet Billy to-day at twelve-forty-five. You will?--that's a good<BR> +child. Now run along and tell the menagerie I'll be down-stairs as<BR> +soon as I've finished dressing."<BR> +<BR> +And the Colonel rang for his man and proceeded to finish his toilet.<BR> +He seemed a thought absent-minded this morning.<BR> +<BR> +"I say, Wilkins," he questioned, after a little. "Ever read any of<BR> +Ouida's books?"<BR> +<BR> +"Ho, yes, sir," said Wilkins; "Miss 'Enderson--Mrs. 'Aggage's maid,<BR> +that his, sir--was reading haloud hout hof 'Hunder Two Flags' honly<BR> +last hevening, sir."<BR> +<BR> +"H'm--Wilkins--if you can run across one of them in the servants'<BR> +quarters--you might leave it--by my bed--to-night."<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, sir."<BR> +<BR> +"And--h'm, Wilkins--you can put it under that book of Herbert<BR> +Spencer's my daughter gave me yesterday. <i>Under</i> it, Wilkins--and,<BR> +h'm, Wilkins--you needn't mention it to anybody. Ouida ain't cultured,<BR> +Wilkins, but she's damn' good reading. I suppose that's why she ain't<BR> +cultured, Wilkins."<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="III">III</a><BR> +<BR> +And now let us go back a little. In a word, let us utilise the next<BR> +twenty minutes--during which Miss Hugonin drives to the neighbouring<BR> +railway station, in, if you press me, not the most pleasant state of<BR> +mind conceivable--by explaining a thought more fully the posture of<BR> +affairs at Selwoode on the May morning that starts our story.<BR> +<BR> +And to do this I must commence with the nature of the man who founded<BR> +Selwoode.<BR> +<BR> +It was when the nineteenth century was still a hearty octogenarian<BR> +that Frederick R. Woods caused Selwoode to be builded. I give you the<BR> +name by which he was known on "the Street." A mythology has grown<BR> +about the name since, and strange legends of its owner are still<BR> +narrated where brokers congregate. But with the lambs he sheared, and<BR> +the bulls he dragged to earth, and the bears he gored to financial<BR> +death, we have nothing to do; suffice it, that he performed these<BR> +operations with almost uniform success and in an unimpeachably<BR> +respectable manner.<BR> +<BR> +And if, in his time, he added materially to the lists of inmates in<BR> +various asylums and almshouses, it must be acknowledged that he bore<BR> +his victims no malice, and that on every Sunday morning he confessed<BR> +himself to be a miserable sinner, in a voice that was perfectly<BR> +audible three pews off. At bottom, I think he considered his relations<BR> +with Heaven on a purely business basis; he kept a species of running<BR> +account with Providence; and if on occasions he overdrew it somewhat,<BR> +he saw no incongruity in evening matters with a cheque for the church<BR> +fund.<BR> +<BR> +So that at his death it was said of him that he had, in his day, sent<BR> +more men into bankruptcy and more missionaries into Africa than any<BR> +other man in the country.<BR> +<BR> +In his sixty-fifth year, he caught Alfred Van Orden short in Lard,<BR> +erected a memorial window to his wife and became a country gentleman.<BR> +He never set foot in Wall Street again. He builded Selwoode--a<BR> +handsome Tudor manor which stands some seven miles from the village of<BR> +Fairhaven--where he dwelt in state, by turns affable and domineering<BR> +to the neighbouring farmers, and evincing a grave interest in the<BR> +condition of their crops. He no longer turned to the financial reports<BR> +in the papers; and the pedigree of the Woodses hung in the living-hall<BR> +for all men to see, beginning gloriously with Woden, the Scandinavian<BR> +god, and attaining a respectable culmination in the names of Frederick<BR> +R. Woods and of William, his brother.<BR> +<BR> +It is not to be supposed that he omitted to supply himself with a<BR> +coat-of-arms. Frederick R. Woods evinced an almost childlike pride in<BR> +his heraldic blazonings.<BR> +<BR> +"The Woods arms," he would inform you, with a relishing gusto, "are<BR> +vert, an eagle displayed, barry argent and gules. And the crest is<BR> +out of a ducal coronet, or, a demi-eagle proper. We have no motto,<BR> +sir--none of your ancient coats have mottoes."<BR> +<BR> +The Woods Eagle he gloried in. The bird was perched in every available<BR> +nook at Selwoode; it was carved in the woodwork, was set in the<BR> +mosaics, was chased in the tableware, was woven in the napery, was<BR> +glazed in the very china. Turn where you would, an eagle or two<BR> +confronted you; and Hunston Wyke, who is accounted something of a<BR> +wit, swore that Frederick R. Woods at Selwoode reminded him of "a<BR> +sore-headed bear who had taken up permanent quarters in an aviary."<BR> +<BR> +There was one, however, who found the bear no very untractable<BR> +monster. This was the son of his brother, dead now, who dwelt at<BR> +Selwoode as heir presumptive. Frederick R. Woods's wife had died long<BR> +ago, leaving him childless. His brother's boy was an orphan; and so,<BR> +for a time, he and the grim old man lived together peaceably enough.<BR> +Indeed, Billy Woods was in those days as fine a lad as you would wish<BR> +to see, with the eyes of an inquisitive cherub and a big tow-head,<BR> +which Frederick R. Woods fell into the habit of cuffing heartily, in<BR> +order to conceal the fact that he would have burned Selwoode to the<BR> +ground rather than allow any one else to injure a hair of it.<BR> +<BR> +In the consummation of time, Billy, having attained the ripe age of<BR> +eighteen, announced to his uncle that he intended to become a famous<BR> +painter. Frederick R. Woods exhorted him not to be a fool, and packed<BR> +him off to college.<BR> +<BR> +Billy Woods returned on his first vacation with a fragmentary mustache<BR> +and any quantity of paint-tubes, canvases, palettes, mahl-sticks, and<BR> +such-like paraphernalia. Frederick R. Woods passed over the mustache,<BR> +and had the painters' trappings burned by the second footman. Billy<BR> +promptly purchased another lot. His uncle came upon them one morning,<BR> +rubbed his chin meditatively for a moment, and laughed for the first<BR> +time, so far as known, in his lifetime; then he tiptoed to his own<BR> +apartments, lest Billy--the lazy young rascal was still abed in the<BR> +next room--should awaken and discover his knowledge of this act of<BR> +flat rebellion.<BR> +<BR> +I dare say the old gentleman was so completely accustomed to having<BR> +his own way that this unlooked-for opposition tickled him by its<BR> +novelty; or perhaps he recognised in Billy an obstinacy akin to his<BR> +own; or perhaps it was merely that he loved the boy. In any event, he<BR> +never again alluded to the subject; and it is a fact that when<BR> +Billy sent for carpenters to convert an upper room into an atelier,<BR> +Frederick R. Woods spent two long and dreary weeks in Boston in order<BR> +to remain in ignorance of the entire affair.<BR> +<BR> +Billy scrambled through college, somehow, in the allotted four years.<BR> +At the end of that time, he returned to find new inmates installed at<BR> +Selwoode.<BR> +<BR> +For the wife of Frederick R. Woods had been before her marriage one of<BR> +the beautiful Anstruther sisters, who, as certain New Yorkers still<BR> +remember--those grizzled, portly, rosy-gilled fellows who prattle<BR> +on provocation of Jenny Lind and Castle Garden, and remember<BR> +everything--created a pronounced furor at their début in the days of<BR> +crinoline and the Grecian bend; and Margaret Anstruther, as they<BR> +will tell you, was married to Thomas Hugonin, then a gallant cavalry<BR> +officer in the service of Her Majesty, the Empress of India.<BR> +<BR> +And she must have been the nicer of the two, because everybody who<BR> +knew her says that Margaret Hugonin is exactly like her.<BR> +<BR> +So it came about naturally enough, that Billy Woods, now an <i>Artium</i><BR> +<i>Baccalaureus</i>_, if you please, and not a little proud of it, found the<BR> +Colonel and his daughter, then on a visit to this country, installed<BR> +at Selwoode as guests and quasi-relatives. And Billy was twenty-two,<BR> +and Margaret was nineteen.<BR> +<BR> + * * * * *<BR> +<BR> +Precisely what happened I am unable to tell you. Billy Woods claims<BR> +it is none of my business; and Margaret says that it was a long, long<BR> +time ago and she really can't remember.<BR> +<BR> +But I fancy we can all form a very fair notion of what is most likely<BR> +to occur when two sensible, normal, healthy young people are thrown<BR> +together in this intimate fashion at a country-house where the<BR> +remaining company consists of two elderly gentlemen. Billy was forced<BR> +to be polite to his uncle's guest; and Margaret couldn't well be<BR> +discourteous to her host's nephew, could she? Of course not: so<BR> +it befell in the course of time that Frederick R. Woods and the<BR> +Colonel--who had quickly become a great favourite, by virtue of his<BR> +implicit faith in the Eagle and in Woden and Sir Percival de Wode of<BR> +Hastings, and such-like flights of heraldic fancy, and had augmented<BR> +his popularity by his really brilliant suggestion of Wynkyn de Worde,<BR> +the famous sixteenth-century printer, as a probable collateral<BR> +relation of the family--it came to pass, I say, that the two gentlemen<BR> +nodded over their port and chuckled, and winked at one another and<BR> +agreed that the thing would do.<BR> +<BR> +This was all very well; but they failed to make allowances for the<BR> +inevitable quarrel and the subsequent spectacle of the gentleman<BR> +contemplating suicide and the lady looking wistfully toward a nunnery.<BR> +In this case it arose, I believe, over Teddy Anstruther, who for a<BR> +cousin was undeniably very attentive to Margaret; and in the natural<BR> +course of events they would have made it up before the week was out<BR> +had not Frederick R. Woods selected this very moment to interfere in<BR> +the matter.<BR> +<BR> +Ah, <i>si vieillesse savait</i>!<BR> +<BR> +The blundering old man summoned Billy into his study and ordered him<BR> +to marry Margaret Hugonin, precisely as the Colonel might have ordered<BR> +a private to go on sentry-duty. Ten days earlier Billy would have<BR> +jumped at the chance; ten days later he would probably have suggested<BR> +it himself; but at that exact moment he would have as willingly<BR> +contemplated matrimony with Alecto or Medusa or any of the Furies.<BR> +Accordingly, he declined. Frederick R. Woods flew into a pyrotechnical<BR> +display of temper, and gave him his choice between obeying his<BR> +commands and leaving his house forever--the choice, in fact, which he<BR> +had been according Billy at very brief intervals ever since the boy<BR> +had had the measles, fifteen years before, and had refused to take the<BR> +proper medicines.<BR> +<BR> +It was merely his usual manner of expressing a request or a<BR> +suggestion. But this time, to his utter horror and amaze, the boy took<BR> +him at his word and left Selwoode within the hour.<BR> +<BR> +Billy's life, you see, was irrevocably blighted. It mattered very<BR> +little what became of him; personally, he didn't care in the least.<BR> +But as for that fair, false, fickle woman--perish the thought! Sooner<BR> +a thousand deaths! No, he would go to Paris and become a painter of<BR> +worldwide reputation; the money his father had left him would easily<BR> +suffice for his simple wants. And some day, the observed of all<BR> +observers in some bright hall of gaiety, he would pass her coldly by,<BR> +with a cynical smile upon his lips, and she would grow pale and totter<BR> +and fall into the arms of the bloated Silenus, for whose title she had<BR> +bartered her purely superficial charms.<BR> +<BR> +Yes, upon mature deliberation, that was precisely what Billy decided<BR> +to do.<BR> +<BR> +Followed dark days at Selwoode. Frederick R. Woods told Margaret of<BR> +what had occurred; and he added the information that, as his wife's<BR> +nearest relative, he intended to make her his heir.<BR> +<BR> +Then Margaret did what I would scarcely have expected of Margaret.<BR> +She turned upon him like a virago and informed Frederick R. Woods<BR> +precisely what she thought of him; she acquainted him with the fact<BR> +that he was a sordid, low-minded, grasping beast, and a miser, and<BR> +a tyrant, and (I think) a parricide; she notified him that he was<BR> +thoroughly unworthy to wipe the dust off his nephew's shoes--an<BR> +office toward which, to do him justice, he had never shown any marked<BR> +aspirations--and that Billy had acted throughout in a most noble and<BR> +sensible manner; and that, personally, she wouldn't marry Billy Woods<BR> +if he were the last man on earth, for she had always despised him; and<BR> +she added the information that she expected to die shortly, and she<BR> +hoped they would both be sorry <i>then</i>; and subsequently she clapped<BR> +the climax by throwing her arms about his neck and bursting into tears<BR> +and telling him he was the dearest old man in the world and that she<BR> +was thoroughly ashamed of herself.<BR> +<BR> +So they kissed and made it up. And after a little the Colonel and<BR> +Margaret went away from Selwoode, and Frederick R. Woods was left<BR> +alone to nourish his anger and indignation, if he could, and to hunger<BR> +for his boy, whether he would or not. He was too proud to seek him<BR> +out; indeed, he never thought of that; and so he waited alone in his<BR> +fine house, sick at heart, impotent, hoping against hope that the boy<BR> +would come back. The boy never came.<BR> +<BR> +No, the boy never came, because he was what the old man had made<BR> +him--headstrong, and wilful, and obstinate. Billy had been thoroughly<BR> +spoiled. The old man had nurtured his pride, had applauded it as a<BR> +mark of proper spirit; and now it was this same pride that had robbed<BR> +him of the one thing he loved in all the world.<BR> +<BR> +So, at last, the weak point in the armour of this sturdy old Pharisee<BR> +was found, and Fate had pierced it gaily. It was retribution, if you<BR> +will; and I think that none of his victims in "the Street," none of<BR> +the countless widows and orphans that he had made, suffered more<BR> +bitterly than he in those last days.<BR> +<BR> +It was almost two years after Billy's departure from Selwoode that his<BR> +body-servant, coming to rouse Frederick R. Woods one June morning,<BR> +found him dead in his rooms. He had been ailing for some time. It<BR> +was his heart, the doctors said; and I think that it was, though not<BR> +precisely in the sense which they meant.<BR> +<BR> +The man found him seated before his great carved desk, on which his<BR> +head and shoulders had fallen forward; they rested on a sheet of<BR> +legal-cap paper half-covered with a calculation in his crabbed old<BR> +hand as to the value of certain properties--the calculation which he<BR> +never finished; and underneath was a mass of miscellaneous papers,<BR> +among them his will, dated the day after Billy left Selwoode, in which<BR> +Frederick R. Woods bequeathed his millions unconditionally to Margaret<BR> +Hugonin when she should come of age.<BR> +<BR> +Her twenty-first birthday had fallen in the preceding month. So<BR> +Margaret was one of the richest women in America; and you may depend<BR> +upon it, that if many men had loved her before, they worshipped her<BR> +now--or, at least, said they did, and, after all, their protestations<BR> +were the only means she had of judging. She might have been a<BR> +countess--and it must be owned that the old Colonel, who had an honest<BR> +Anglo-Saxon reverence for a title, saw this chance lost wistfully--and<BR> +she might have married any number of grammarless gentlemen, personally<BR> +unknown to her, whose fervent proposals almost every mail brought in;<BR> +and besides these, there were many others, more orthodox in their<BR> +wooing, some of whom were genuinely in love with Margaret Hugonin, and<BR> +some--I grieve to admit it--who were genuinely in love with her money;<BR> +and she would have none of them.<BR> +<BR> +She refused them all with the utmost civility, as I happen to know.<BR> +How I learned it is no affair of yours.<BR> +<BR> +For Miss Hugonin had remarkably keen eyes, which she used to<BR> +advantage. In the world about her they discovered very little that she<BR> +could admire. She was none the happier for her wealth; the piled-up<BR> +millions overshadowed her personality; and it was not long before she<BR> +knew that most people regarded her simply as the heiress of the Woods<BR> +fortune--an unavoidable encumbrance attached to the property, which<BR> +divers thrifty-minded gentlemen were willing to put up with. To put up<BR> +with!--at the thought, her pride rose in a hot blush, and, it must be<BR> +confessed, she sought consolation in the looking-glass.<BR> +<BR> +She was an humble-minded young woman, as the sex goes, and she saw no<BR> +great reason there why a man should go mad over Margaret Hugonin. This<BR> +decision, I grant you, was preposterous, for there were any number of<BR> +reasons. Her final conclusion, however, was for the future to regard<BR> +all men as fortune-hunters and to do her hair differently.<BR> +<BR> +She carried out both resolutions. When a gentleman grew pressing in<BR> +his attentions, she more than suspected his motives; and when she<BR> +eventually declined him it was done with perfect, courtesy, but the<BR> +glow of her eyes was at such times accentuated to a marked degree.<BR> +<BR> +Meanwhile, the Eagle brooded undisturbed at Selwoode. Miss Hugonin<BR> +would allow nothing to be altered.<BR> +<BR> +"The place doesn't belong to me, attractive," she would tell her<BR> +father. "I belong to the place. Yes, I do--I'm exactly like a little<BR> +cow thrown in with a little farm when they sell it, and <i>all</i> my<BR> +little suitors think so, and they are very willing to take me on those<BR> +terms, too. But they shan't, attractive. I hate every single solitary<BR> +man in the whole wide world but you, beautiful, and I particularly<BR> +hate that horrid old Eagle; but we'll keep him because he's a constant<BR> +reminder to me that Solomon or Moses, or whoever it was that said all<BR> +men were liars, was a person of <i>very</i> great intelligence."<BR> +<BR> +So that I think we may fairly say the money did her no good.<BR> +<BR> +If it benefited no one else, it was not Margaret's fault. She had a<BR> +high sense of her responsibilities, and therefore, at various times,<BR> +endeavoured to further the spread of philanthropy and literature and<BR> +theosophy and art and temperance and education and other laudable<BR> +causes. Mr. Kennaston, in his laughing manner, was wont to jest at<BR> +her varied enterprises and term her Lady Bountiful; but, then, Mr.<BR> +Kennaston had no real conception of the proper uses of money. In<BR> +fact, he never thought of money. He admitted this to Margaret with a<BR> +whimsical sigh.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret grew very fond of Mr. Kennaston because he was not mercenary.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston was much at Selwoode. Many people came there<BR> +now--masculine women and muscleless men, for the most part. They had,<BR> +every one of them, some scheme for bettering the universe; and if<BR> +among them Margaret seemed somewhat out of place--a butterfly among<BR> +earnest-minded ants--her heart was in every plan they advocated, and<BR> +they found her purse-strings infinitely elastic. The girl was pitiably<BR> +anxious to be of some use in the world.<BR> +<BR> +So at Selwoode they gossiped of great causes and furthered the<BR> +millenium. And above them the Eagle brooded in silence.<BR> +<BR> +And Billy? All this time Billy was junketing abroad, where every<BR> +year he painted masterpieces for the Salon, which--on account of a<BR> +nefarious conspiracy among certain artists, jealous of his superior<BR> +merits--were invariably refused.<BR> +<BR> +Now Billy is back again in America, and the Colonel has insisted that<BR> +he come to Selwoode, and Margaret is waiting for him in the dog-cart.<BR> +The glow of her eyes is very, very bright. Her father's careless words<BR> +this morning, coupled with certain speeches of Mr. Kennaston's last<BR> +night, have given her food for reflection.<BR> +<BR> +"He wouldn't dare," says Margaret, to no one in particular. "Oh, no,<BR> +he wouldn't dare after what happened four years ago."<BR> +<BR> +And, Margaret-like, she has quite forgotten that what happened four<BR> +years ago was all caused by her having flirted outrageously with Teddy<BR> +Anstruther, in order to see what Billy would do.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="IV">IV</a><BR> +<BR> +The twelve forty-five, for a wonder, was on time; and there descended<BR> +from it a big, blond young man, who did not look in the least like a<BR> +fortune-hunter.<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin resented this. Manifestly, he looked clean and honest for<BR> +the deliberate purpose of deceiving her. Very well! She'd show him!<BR> +<BR> +He was quite unembarrassed. He shook hands cordially; then he shook<BR> +hands with the groom, who, you may believe it, was grinning in a most<BR> +unprofessional manner because Master Billy was back again at Selwoode.<BR> +Subsequently, in his old decisive way, he announced they would walk to<BR> +the house, as his legs needed stretching.<BR> +<BR> +The insolence of it!--quite as if he had something to say to Margaret<BR> +in private and couldn't wait a minute. Beyond doubt, this was a young<BR> +man who must be taken down a peg or two, and that at once. Of course,<BR> +she wasn't going to walk back with him!--a pretty figure they'd cut<BR> +strolling through the fields, like a house-girl and the milkman on a<BR> +Sunday afternoon! She would simply say she was too tired to walk, and<BR> +that would end the matter.<BR> +<BR> +So she said she thought the exercise would do them both good.<BR> +<BR> +They came presently with desultory chat to a meadow bravely decked in<BR> +all the gauds of Spring. About them the day was clear, the air bland.<BR> +Spring had revamped her ageless fripperies of tender leaves and<BR> +bird-cries and sweet, warm odours for the adornment of this meadow;<BR> +above it she had set a turkis sky splashed here and there with little<BR> +clouds that were like whipped cream; and upon it she had scattered<BR> +largesse, a Danaë's shower of buttercups. Altogether, she had made of<BR> +it a particularly dangerous meadow for a man and a maid to frequent.<BR> +<BR> +Yet there Mr. Woods paused under a burgeoning maple--paused<BR> +resolutely, with the lures of Spring thick about him, compassed with<BR> +every snare of scent and sound and colour that the witch is mistress<BR> +of.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret hoped he had a pleasant passage over. Her father, thank you,<BR> +was in the pink of condition. Oh, yes, she was quite well. She hoped<BR> +Mr. Woods would not find America--<BR> +<BR> +"Well, Peggy," said Mr. Woods, "then, we'll have it out right here."<BR> +<BR> +His insolence was so surprising that--in order to recover<BR> +herself--Margaret actually sat down under the maple-tree. Peggy,<BR> +indeed! Why, she hadn't been called Peggy for--no, not for four whole<BR> +years!<BR> +<BR> +"Because I intend to be friends, you know," said Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +And about them the maple-leaves made a little island of sombre green,<BR> +around which more vivid grasses rippled and dimpled under the fitful<BR> +spring breezes. And everywhere leaves lisped to one another, and birds<BR> +shrilled insistently. It was a perilous locality.<BR> +<BR> +I fancy Billy Woods was out of his head when he suggested being<BR> +friends in such a place. Friends, indeed!--you would have thought from<BR> +the airy confidence with which he spoke that Margaret had come safely<BR> +to forty year and wore steel-rimmed spectacles!<BR> +<BR> +But Miss Hugonin merely cast down her eyes and was aware of no reason<BR> +why they shouldn't be. She was sure he must be hungry, and she thought<BR> +luncheon must be ready by now.<BR> +<BR> +In his soul, Mr. Woods observed that her lashes were long--long beyond<BR> +all reason. Lacking the numbers that Petrarch flowed in, he did not<BR> +venture, even to himself, to characterise them further. But oh, how<BR> +queer it was they should be pure gold at the roots!--she must have<BR> +dipped them in the ink-pot. And oh, the strong, sudden, bewildering<BR> +curve of 'em! He could not recall at the present moment ever noticing<BR> +quite such lashes anywhere else. No, it was highly improbable that<BR> +there were such lashes anywhere else. Perhaps a few of the superior<BR> +angels might have such lashes. He resolved for the future to attend<BR> +church more regularly.<BR> +<BR> +Aloud, Mr. Woods observed that in that case they had better shake<BR> +hands.<BR> +<BR> +It would have been ridiculous to contest the point. The dignified<BR> +course was to shake hands, since he insisted on it, and then to return<BR> +at once to Selwoode.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret Hugonin had a pretty hand, and Mr. Woods, as an artist, could<BR> +not well fail to admire it. Still, he needn't have looked at it as<BR> +though he had never before seen anything quite like it; he needn't<BR> +have neglected to return it; and when Miss Hugonin reclaimed it, after<BR> +a decent interval, he needn't have laughed in a manner that compelled<BR> +her to laugh, too. These things were unnecessary and annoying, as they<BR> +caused Margaret to forget that she despised him.<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image016.jpg" alt="image016.jpg" width="400" height="500"><BR> +[Illustration: "Then, for no apparent reason, Margaret flushed, and<BR> +Billy ... thought it vastly becoming"]<BR> +<BR> +For the time being--will you believe it?--she actually thought he was<BR> +rather nice.<BR> +<BR> +"I acted like an ass," said Mr. Woods, tragically. "Oh, yes, I did,<BR> +you know. But if you'll forgive me for having been an ass I'll forgive<BR> +you for throwing me over for Teddy Anstruther, and at the wedding I'll<BR> +dance through any number of pairs of patent-leathers you choose to<BR> +mention."<BR> +<BR> +So that was the way he looked at it. Teddy Anstruther, indeed! Why,<BR> +Teddy was a dark little man with brown eyes--just the sort of man she<BR> +most objected to. How could any one ever possibly fancy a brown-eyed<BR> +man? Then, for no apparent reason, Margaret flushed, and Billy, who<BR> +had stretched his great length of limb on the grass beside her, noted<BR> +it with a pair of the bluest eyes in the world and thought it vastly<BR> +becoming.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy," said she, impulsively--and the name having slipped out once<BR> +by accident, it would have been absurd to call him anything else<BR> +afterward--"it was horrid of you to refuse to take any of that money."<BR> +<BR> +"But I didn't want it," he protested. "Good Lord, I'd only have done<BR> +something foolish with it. It was awfully square of you, Peggy, to<BR> +offer to divide, but I didn't want it, you see. I don't want to be a<BR> +millionaire, and give up the rest of my life to founding libraries and<BR> +explaining to people that if they never spend any money on amusements<BR> +they'll have a great deal by the time they're too old to enjoy it. I'd<BR> +rather paint pictures."<BR> +<BR> +So that I think Margaret must have endeavoured at some time to make<BR> +him accept part of Frederick R. Woods's money.<BR> +<BR> +"You make me feel--and look--like a thief," she reproved him.<BR> +<BR> +Then Billy laughed a little. "You don't look in the least like one,"<BR> +he reassured her. "You look like an uncommonly honest, straightforward<BR> +young woman," Mr. Woods added, handsomely, "and I don't believe you'd<BR> +purloin under the severest temptation."<BR> +<BR> +She thanked him for his testimonial, with all three dimples in<BR> +evidence.<BR> +<BR> +This was unsettling. He hedged.<BR> +<BR> +"Except, perhaps--" said he.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes?" queried Margaret, after a pause.<BR> +<BR> +However, she questioned him with her head drooped forward, her brows<BR> +raised; and as this gave him the full effect of her eyes, Mr. Woods<BR> +became quite certain that there was, at least, one thing she might be<BR> +expected to rob him of, and wisely declined to mention it.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret did not insist on knowing what it was. Perhaps she heard it<BR> +thumping under his waistcoat, where it was behaving very queerly.<BR> +<BR> +So they sat in silence for a while. Then Margaret fell a-humming to<BR> +herself; and the air--will you believe it?--chanced by the purest<BR> +accident to be that foolish, senseless old song they used to sing<BR> +together four years ago.<BR> +<BR> +Billy chuckled. "Let's!" he obscurely pleaded.<BR> +<BR> +Spring prompted her.<BR> +<BR> + "Oh, where have you been, Billy boy?"<BR> +queried Margaret's wonderful contralto,<BR> +<BR> + "Oh, where have you been, Billy boy, Billy boy?<BR> + Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +She sang it in a low, hushed voice, just over her breath. Not looking<BR> +at him, however. And oh, what a voice! thought Billy Woods. A voice<BR> +that was honey and gold and velvet and all that is most sweet and rich<BR> +and soft in the world! Find me another voice like that, you <i>prime</i><BR> +<i>donne</i>! Find me a simile for it, you uninventive poets! Indeed, I'd<BR> +like to see you do it.<BR> +<BR> +But he chimed in, nevertheless, with his pleasant throaty baritone,<BR> +and lilted his own part quite creditably.<BR> +<BR> + "I've been to seek a wife,<BR> + She's the joy of my life;<BR> + She's a young thing, and cannot leave her mother"--<BR> +<BR> +Only Billy sang it "father," just as they used to do.<BR> +<BR> +And then they sang it through, did Margaret and Billy--sang of the<BR> +dimple in her chin and the ringlets in her hair, and of the cherry<BR> +pies she achieved with such celerity--sang as they sat in the<BR> +spring-decked meadow every word of that inane old song that is so<BR> +utterly senseless and so utterly unforgettable.<BR> +<BR> +It was a quite idiotic performance. I set it down to the snares of<BR> +Spring--to her insidious, delightful snares of scent and sound and<BR> +colour that--for the moment, at least--had trapped these young people<BR> +into loving life infinitely.<BR> +<BR> +But I wonder who is responsible for that tatter of rhyme and melody<BR> +that had come to them from nowhere in particular? Mr. Woods, as he sat<BR> +up at the conclusion of the singing vigorously to applaud, would have<BR> +shared his last possession, his ultimate crust, with that unknown<BR> +benefactor of mankind. Indeed, though, the heart of Mr. Woods just now<BR> +was full of loving kindness and capable of any freakish magnanimity.<BR> +<BR> +For--will it be believed?--Mr. Woods, who four years ago had thrown<BR> +over a fortune and exiled himself from his native land, rather than<BR> +propose marriage to Margaret Hugonin, had no sooner come again into<BR> +her presence and looked once into her perfectly fathomless eyes than<BR> +he could no more have left her of his own accord than a moth can turn<BR> +his back to a lighted candle. He had fancied himself entirely cured<BR> +of that boy-and-girl nonsense; his broken heart, after the first few<BR> +months, had not interfered in the least with a naturally healthy<BR> +appetite; and, behold, here was the old malady raging again in his<BR> +veins and with renewed fervour.<BR> +<BR> +And all because the girl had a pretty face! I think you will agree<BR> +with me that in the conversation I have recorded Margaret had not<BR> +displayed any great wisdom or learning or tenderness or wit, nor,<BR> +in fine, any of the qualities a man might naturally look for in a<BR> +helpmate. Yet at the precise moment he handed his baggage-check to the<BR> +groom, Mr. Woods had made up his mind to marry her. In an instant he<BR> +had fallen head over ears in love; or to whittle accuracy to a point,<BR> +he had discovered that he had never fallen out of love; and if you had<BR> +offered him an empress or fetched Helen of Troy from the grave for his<BR> +delectation he would have laughed you to scorn.<BR> +<BR> +In his defense, I can only plead that Margaret was an unusually<BR> +beautiful woman. It is all very well to flourish a death's-head at the<BR> +feast, and bid my lady go paint herself an inch thick, for to this<BR> +favour she must come; and it is quite true that the reddest lips in<BR> +the universe may give vent to slander and lies, and the brightest eyes<BR> +be set in the dullest head, and the most roseate of complexions be<BR> +purchased at the corner drug-store; but, say what you will, a pretty<BR> +woman is a pretty woman, and while she continue so no amount of<BR> +common-sense or experience will prevent a man, on provocation, from<BR> +alluring, coaxing, even entreating her to make a fool of him. We like<BR> +it. And I think they like it, too.<BR> +<BR> +So Mr. Woods lost his heart on a fine spring morning and was<BR> +unreasonably elated over the fact.<BR> +<BR> +And Margaret? Margaret was content.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="V">V</a><BR> +<BR> +They talked for a matter of a half-hour in the fashion aforetime<BR> +recorded--not very wise nor witty talk, if you will, but very pleasant<BR> +to make. There were many pauses. There was much laughter over nothing<BR> +in particular. There were any number of sentences ambitiously begun<BR> +that ended nowhere. Altogether, it was just the sort of talk for a man<BR> +and a maid.<BR> +<BR> +Yet some twenty minutes later, Mr. Woods, preparing for luncheon in<BR> +the privacy of his chamber, gave a sudden exclamation. Then he sat<BR> +down and rumpled his hair thoroughly.<BR> +<BR> +"Good Lord!" he groaned; "I'd forgotten all about that damned money!<BR> +Oh, you ass!--you abject ass! Why, she's one of the richest women in<BR> +America, and you're only a fifth-rate painter with a paltry thousand<BR> +or so a year! <i>You</i> marry her!--why, I dare say she's refused a<BR> +hundred better men than you! She'd think you were mad! Why, she'd<BR> +think you were after her money! She--oh, she'd only think you a<BR> +precious cheeky ass, she would, and she'd be quite right. You <i>are</i> an<BR> +ass, Billy Woods! You ought to be locked up in some nice quiet stable,<BR> +where your heehawing wouldn't disturb people. You need a keeper, you<BR> +do!"<BR> +<BR> +He sat for some ten minutes, aghast. Afterward he rose and threw back<BR> +his shoulders and drew a deep breath.<BR> +<BR> +"No, we aren't an ass," he addressed his reflection in the mirror, as<BR> +he carefully knotted his tie. "We're only a poor chuckle-headed moth<BR> +who's been looking at a star too long. It's a bright star, Billy, but<BR> +it isn't for you. So we're going to be sensible now. We're going to<BR> +get a telegram to-morrow that will call us away from Selwoode. We<BR> +aren't coming back any more, either. We're simply going to continue<BR> +painting fifth-rate pictures, and hoping that some day she'll find the<BR> +right man and be very, very happy."<BR> +<BR> +Nevertheless, he decided that a blue tie would look better, and was<BR> +very particular in arranging it.<BR> +<BR> +At the same moment Margaret stood before her mirror and tidied her<BR> +hair for luncheon and assured her image in the glass that she was a<BR> +weak-minded fool. She pointed out to herself the undeniable fact that<BR> +Billy, having formerly refused to marry her--oh, ignominy!--seemed<BR> +pleasant-spoken enough, now that she had become an heiress. His<BR> +refusal to accept part of her fortune was a very flimsy device; it<BR> +simply meant he hoped to get all of it. Oh, he did, did he!<BR> +<BR> +Margaret powdered her nose viciously.<BR> +<BR> +<i>She</i> saw through him! His honest bearing she very plainly perceived<BR> +to be the result of consummate hypocrisy. In his laughter her keen ear<BR> +detected a hollow ring; and his courteous manner she found, at bottom,<BR> +mere servility. And finally she demonstrated--to her own satisfaction,<BR> +at least--that his charm of manner was of exactly the, same sort that<BR> +had been possessed by many other eminently distinguished criminals.<BR> +<BR> +How did she do this? My dear sir, you had best inquire of your mother<BR> +or your sister or your wife, or any other lady that your fancy<BR> +dictates. They know. I am sure I don't.<BR> +<BR> +And after it all--<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, dear, dear!" said Margaret; "I <i>do</i> wish he didn't have such nice<BR> +eyes!"<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="VI">VI</a><BR> +<BR> +On the way to luncheon Mr. Woods came upon Adèle Haggage and Hugh Van<BR> +Orden, both of whom he knew, very much engrossed in one another, in a<BR> +nook under the stairway. To Billy it seemed just now quite proper that<BR> +every one should be in love; wasn't it--after all--the most pleasant<BR> +condition in the world? So he greeted them with a semi-paternal smile<BR> +that caused Adèle to flush a little.<BR> +<BR> +For she was--let us say, interested--in Mr. Van Orden. That was<BR> +tolerably well known. In fact, Margaret--prompted by Mrs. Haggage,<BR> +it must be confessed--had invited him to Selwoode for the especial<BR> +purpose of entertaining Miss Adèle Haggage; for he was a good match,<BR> +and Mrs. Haggage, as an experienced chaperon, knew the value of<BR> +country houses. Very unexpectedly, however, the boy had developed a<BR> +disconcerting tendency to fall in love with Margaret, who snubbed him<BR> +promptly and unmercifully. He had accordingly fallen back on Adèle,<BR> +and Mrs. Haggage had regained both her trust in Providence and her<BR> +temper.<BR> +<BR> +In the breakfast-room, where luncheon was laid out, the Colonel<BR> +greeted Mr. Woods with the enthusiasm a sailor shipwrecked on a desert<BR> +island might conceivably display toward the boat-crew come to rescue<BR> +him. The Colonel liked Billy; and furthermore, the poor Colonel's<BR> +position at Selwoode just now was not utterly unlike that of the<BR> +suppositious mariner; were I minded to venture into metaphor, I should<BR> +picture him as clinging desperately to the rock of an old fogeyism<BR> +and surrounded by weltering seas of advanced thought. Colonel Hugonin<BR> +himself was not advanced in his ideas. Also, he had forceful opinions<BR> +as to the ultimate destination of those who were.<BR> +<BR> +Then Billy was presented to the men of the party--Mr. Felix Kennaston<BR> +and Mr. Petheridge Jukesbury. Mrs. Haggage he knew slightly; and<BR> +Kathleen Saumarez he had known very well indeed, some six years<BR> +previously, before she had ever heard of Miguel Saumarez, and when<BR> +Billy was still an undergraduate. She was a widow now, and not<BR> +well-to-do; and Mr. Woods's first thought on seeing her was that a man<BR> +was a fool to write verses, and that she looked like just the sort of<BR> +woman to preserve them.<BR> +<BR> +His second was that he had verged on imbecility when he fancied he<BR> +admired that slender, dark-haired type. A woman's hair ought to be an<BR> +enormous coronal of sunlight; a woman ought to have very large, candid<BR> +eyes of a colour between that of sapphires and that of the spring<BR> +heavens, only infinitely more beautiful than either; and all<BR> +petticoated persons differing from this description were manifestly<BR> +quite unworthy of any serious consideration.<BR> +<BR> +So his eyes turned to Margaret, who had no eyes for him. She had<BR> +forgotten his existence, with an utterness that verged on ostentation;<BR> +and if it had been any one else Billy would have surmised she was in a<BR> +temper. But that angel in a temper!--nonsense! And, oh, what eyes she<BR> +had! and what lashes! and what hair!--and altogether, how adorable she<BR> +was, and what a wonder the admiring gods hadn't snatched her up to<BR> +Olympus long ago!<BR> +<BR> +Thus far Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +But if Miss Hugonin was somewhat taciturn, her counsellors in divers<BR> +schemes for benefiting the universe were in opulent vein. Billy heard<BR> +them silently.<BR> +<BR> +"I have spent the entire morning by the lake," Mr. Kennaston informed<BR> +the party at large, "in company with a mocking-bird who was practising<BR> +a new aria. It was a wonderful place; the trees were lisping verses to<BR> +themselves, and the sky overhead was like a robin's egg in colour,<BR> +and a faint wind was making tucks and ruches and pleats all over<BR> +the water, quite as if the breezes had set up in business as<BR> +mantua-makers. I fancy they thought they were working on a great sheet<BR> +of blue silk, for it was very like that. And every once in a while a<BR> +fish would leap and leave a splurge of bubble and foam behind that you<BR> +would have sworn was an inserted lace medallion."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston, as you are doubtless aware, is the author of "The<BR> +King's Quest" and other volumes of verse. He is a full-bodied young<BR> +man, with hair of no particular shade; and if his green eyes are a<BR> +little aged, his manner is very youthful. His voice in speaking is<BR> +wonderfully pleasing, and he has a habit of cocking his head on one<BR> +side, in a bird-like fashion.<BR> +<BR> +"Indeed," Mr. Petheridge Jukesbury observed, "it is very true that God<BR> +made the country and man made the town. A little more wine, please."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Jukesbury is a prominent worker in the cause of philanthropy<BR> +and temperance. He is ponderous and bland; and for the rest, he is<BR> +president of the Society for the Suppression of Nicotine and the<BR> +Nude, vice-president of the Anti-Inebriation League, secretary of the<BR> +Incorporated Brotherhood of Benevolence, and the bearer of divers<BR> +similar honours.<BR> +<BR> +"I am never really happy in the country," Mrs. Saumarez dissented; "it<BR> +reminds me so constantly of our rural drama. I am always afraid the<BR> +quartette may come on and sing something."<BR> +<BR> +Kathleen Eppes Saumarez, as I hope you do not need to be told, is<BR> +the well-known lecturer before women's clubs, and the author of many<BR> +sympathetic stories of Nature and animal life of the kind that have<BR> +had such a vogue of late. There was always an indefinable air of<BR> +pathos about her; as Hunston Wyke put it, one felt, somehow, that her<BR> +mother had been of a domineering disposition, and that she took after<BR> +her father.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, dear lady," Mr. Kennaston cried, playfully, "you, like many of<BR> +us, have become an alien to Nature in your quest of a mere Earthly<BR> +Paradox. Epigrams are all very well, but I fancy there is more<BR> +happiness to be derived from a single impulse from a vernal wood than<BR> +from a whole problem-play of smart sayings. So few of us are<BR> +natural," Mr. Kennaston complained, with a dulcet sigh; "we are too<BR> +sophisticated. Our very speech lacks the tang of outdoor life.<BR> +Why should we not love Nature--the great mother, who is, I grant you,<BR> +the necessity of various useful inventions, in her angry moods, but<BR> +who, in her kindly moments--" He paused, with a wry face. "I beg your<BR> +pardon," said he, "but I believe I've caught rheumatism lying by that<BR> +confounded pond."<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez rallied the poet, with a pale smile. "That comes of<BR> +communing with Nature," she reminded him; "and it serves you rightly,<BR> +for natural communications corrupt good epigrams. I prefer Nature<BR> +with wide margins and uncut leaves," she spoke, in her best platform<BR> +manner. "Art should be an expurgated edition of Nature, with all<BR> +the unpleasant parts left out. And I am sure," Mrs. Saumarez added,<BR> +handsomely, and clinching her argument, "that Mr. Kennaston gives us<BR> +much better sunsets in his poems than I have ever seen in the west."<BR> +<BR> +He acknowledged this with a bow.<BR> +<BR> +"Not sherry--claret, if you please," said Mr. Jukesbury. "Art should<BR> +be an expurgated edition of Nature," he repeated, with a suave<BR> +chuckle. "Do you know, I consider that admirably put, Mrs.<BR> +Saumarez--admirably, upon my word. Ah, if our latter-day writers would<BR> +only take that saying to heart! We do not need to be told of the vice<BR> +and corruption prevalent, I am sorry to say, among the very best<BR> +people; what we really need is continually to be reminded of the fact<BR> +that pure hearts and homes and happy faces are to be found to-day<BR> +alike in the palatial residences of the wealthy and in the humbler<BR> +homes of those less abundantly favoured by Fortune, and yet dwelling<BR> +together in harmony and Christian resignation and--er--comparatively<BR> +moderate circumstances."<BR> +<BR> +"Surely," Mrs. Saumarez protested, "art has nothing to do with<BR> +morality. Art is a process. You see a thing in a certain way; you make<BR> +your reader see it in the same way--or try to. If you succeed, the<BR> +result is art. If you fail, it may be the book of the year."<BR> +<BR> +"Enduring immortality and--ah--the patronage of the reading public,"<BR> +Mr. Jukesbury placidly insisted, "will be awarded, in the end, only<BR> +to those who dwell upon the true, the beautiful, and the--er<BR> +--respectable. Art must cheer; it must be optimistic and<BR> +edifying and--ah--suitable for young persons; it must have an uplift,<BR> +a leaven of righteousness, a--er--a sort of moral baking-powder. It<BR> +must utterly eschew the--ah--unpleasant and repugnant details of life.<BR> +It is, if I may so express myself, not at home in the ménage à trois<BR> +or--er--the representation of the nude. Yes, another glass of claret,<BR> +if you please."<BR> +<BR> +"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Haggage, in her deep voice. Sarah<BR> +Ellen Haggage is, of course, the well-known author of "Child-Labour in<BR> +the South," and "The Down-Trodden Afro-American," and other notable<BR> +contributions to literature. She is, also, the "Madame President" both<BR> +of the Society for the Betterment of Civic Government and Sewerage,<BR> +and of the Ladies' League for the Edification of the Impecunious.<BR> +<BR> +"And I am glad to see," Mrs. Haggage presently went on, "that the<BR> +literature of the day is so largely beginning to chronicle the sayings<BR> +and doings of the labouring classes. The virtues of the humble must be<BR> +admitted in spite of their dissolute and unhygienic tendencies. Yes,"<BR> +Mrs. Haggage added, meditatively, "our literature is undoubtedly<BR> +acquiring a more elevated tone; at last we are shaking off the<BR> +scintillant and unwholesome influence of the French."<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, the French!" sighed Mr. Kennaston; "a people who think depravity<BR> +the soul of wit! Their art is mere artfulness. They care nothing for<BR> +Nature."<BR> +<BR> +"No," Mrs. Haggage assented; "they prefer nastiness. <i>All</i> French<BR> +books are immoral. I ran across one the other day that was simply<BR> +hideously indecent--unfit for a modest woman to read. And I can assure<BR> +you that none of its author's other books are any better. I purchased<BR> +the entire set at once and read them carefully, in order to make sure<BR> +that I was perfectly justified in warning my working-girls' classes<BR> +against them. I wish to misjudge no man--not even a member of a nation<BR> +notoriously devoted to absinthe and illicit relations."<BR> +<BR> +She breathed heavily, and looked at Mr. Woods as if, somehow, he<BR> +was responsible. Then she gave the name of the book to Petheridge<BR> +Jukesbury. He wished to have it placed on the <i>Index Expurgatorius</i> of<BR> +the Brotherhood of Benevolence, he said.<BR> +<BR> +"Dear, dear," Felix Kennaston sighed, as Mr. Jukesbury made a note of<BR> +it; "you are all so practical. You perceive an evil and proceed at<BR> +once, in your common-sense way, to crush it, to stamp it out. Now,<BR> +I can merely lament certain unfortunate tendencies of the age; I am<BR> +quite unable to contend against them. Do you know," Mr. Kenneston<BR> +continued gaily, as he trifled with a bunch of grapes, "I feel<BR> +horribly out-of-place among you? Here is Mrs. Saumarez creating an<BR> +epidemic of useful and improving knowledge throughout the country, by<BR> +means of her charming lectures. Here is Mrs. Haggage, the mainspring,<BR> +if I may say so, of any number of educational and philanthropic<BR> +alarm clocks which will some day rouse the sleeping public from its<BR> +lethargy. And here is my friend Jukesbury, whose eloquent pleas for a<BR> +higher life have turned so many workmen from gin and improvidence, and<BR> +which in a printed form are disseminated even in such remote regions<BR> +as Africa, where I am told they have produced the most satisfactory<BR> +results upon the unsophisticated but polygamous monarchs of that<BR> +continent. And here, above all, is Miss Hugonin, utilising the vast<BR> +power of money--which I am credibly informed is a very good thing to<BR> +have, though I cannot pretend to speak from experience--and casting<BR> +whole bakeryfuls of bread upon the waters of charity. And here am<BR> +I, the idle singer of an empty day--a mere drone in this hive of<BR> +philanthropic bees! Dear, dear," said Mr. Kennaston, enviously, "what<BR> +a thing it is to be practical!" And he laughed toward Margaret, in his<BR> +whimsical way.<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin had been strangely silent; but she returned Mr.<BR> +Kennaston's smile, and began to take part in the conversation.<BR> +<BR> +"You're only an ignorant child," she rebuked him, "and a very naughty<BR> +child, too, to make fun of us in this fashion."<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," Mr. Kennaston assented, "I am wilfully ignorant. The world<BR> +adores ignorance; and where ignorance is kissed it is folly to be<BR> +wise. To-morrow I shall read you a chapter from my 'Defense of<BR> +Ignorance,' which my confiding publisher is going to bring out in the<BR> +autumn."<BR> +<BR> +So the table-talk went on, and now Margaret bore a part therein.<BR> +<BR> + * * * * *<BR> +<BR> +However, I do not think we need record it further.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods listened in a sort of a daze. Adèle Haggage and Hugh Van<BR> +Orden were conversing in low tones at one end of the table; the<BR> +Colonel was eating his luncheon, silently and with a certain air of<BR> +resignation; and so Billy Woods was left alone to attend and marvel.<BR> +<BR> +The ideas they advanced seemed to him, for the most part, sensible.<BR> +What puzzled him was the uniform gravity which they accorded<BR> +equally--as it appeared to him--to the discussion of the most pompous<BR> +platitudes and of the most arrant nonsense. They were always serious;<BR> +and the general tone of infallibility, Billy thought, could be<BR> +warranted only by a vast fund of inexperience.<BR> +<BR> +But, in the main, they advocated theories he had always<BR> +held--excellent theories, he considered. And he was seized with an<BR> +unreasonable desire to repudiate every one of them.<BR> +<BR> +For it seemed to him that every one of them was aimed at Margaret's<BR> +approval. It did not matter to whom a remark was ostensibly<BR> +addressed--always at its conclusion the speaker glanced more or<BR> +less openly toward Miss Hugonin. She was the audience to which they<BR> +zealously played, thought Billy; and he wondered.<BR> +<BR> +I think I have said that, owing to the smallness of the house-party,<BR> +luncheon was served in the breakfast-room. The dining-room at Selwoode<BR> +is very rarely used, because Margaret declares its size makes a meal<BR> +there equivalent to eating out-of-doors.<BR> +<BR> +And I must confess that the breakfast-room is far cosier. The room, in<BR> +the first place, is of reasonable dimensions; it is hung with Flemish<BR> +tapestries from designs by Van Eyck representing the Four Seasons, but<BR> +the walls and ceiling are panelled in oak, and over the mantel carved<BR> +in bas-relief the inevitable Eagle is displayed.<BR> +<BR> +The mantel stood behind Margaret's chair; and over her golden head,<BR> +half-protectingly, half-threateningly, with his wings outstretched to<BR> +the uttermost, the Eagle brooded as he had once brooded over Frederick<BR> +R. Woods. The old man sat contentedly beneath that symbol of what<BR> +he had achieved in life. He had started (as the phrase runs) from<BR> +nothing; he had made himself a power. To him, the Eagle meant that<BR> +crude, incalculable power of wealth he gloried in. And to Billy Woods,<BR> +the Eagle meant identically the same thing, and--I am sorry to say--he<BR> +began to suspect that the Eagle was really the audience to whom Miss<BR> +Hugonin's friends so zealously played.<BR> +<BR> +Perhaps the misanthropy of Mr. Woods was not wholly unconnected with<BR> +the fact that Margaret never looked at him. <i>She'd</i> show him!--the<BR> +fortune-hunter!<BR> +<BR> +So her eyes never strayed toward him; and her attention never left<BR> +him. At the end of luncheon she could have enumerated for you every<BR> +morsel he had eaten, every glare he had directed toward Kennaston,<BR> +every beseeching look he had turned to her. Of course, he had taken<BR> +sherry--dry sherry. Hadn't he told her four years ago--it was the<BR> +first day she had ever worn the white organdie dotted with purple<BR> +sprigs, and they sat by the lake so late that afternoon that Frederick<BR> +R. Woods finally sent for them to come to dinner--hadn't he told her<BR> +then that only women and children cared for sweet wines? Of course he<BR> +had--the villain!<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image018.jpg" alt="image018.jpg" width="148" height="400"><BR> +[Illustration: "Billy Woods"]<BR> +<BR> +Billy, too, had his emotions. To hear that paragon, that queen among<BR> +women, descant of work done in the slums and of the mysteries of<BR> +sweat-shops; to hear her state off-hand that there were seventeen<BR> +hundred and fifty thousand children between the ages of ten and<BR> +fifteen years employed in the mines and factories of the United<BR> +States; to hear her discourse of foreign missions as glibly as though<BR> +she had been born and nurtured in Zambesi Land: all these things<BR> +filled him with an odd sense of alienation. He wasn't worthy of her,<BR> +and that was a fact. He was only a dumb idiot, and half the words that<BR> +were falling thick and fast from philanthropic lips about him might as<BR> +well have been hailstones, for all the benefit he was deriving from<BR> +them. He couldn't understand half she said.<BR> +<BR> +In consequence, he very cordially detested the people who<BR> +could--especially that grimacing ass, Kennaston.<BR> +<BR> +Altogether, neither Mr. Woods nor Miss Hugonin got much comfort from<BR> +their luncheon.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="VII">VII</a><BR> +<BR> +After luncheon Billy had a quiet half-hour with the Colonel in the<BR> +smoking-room.<BR> +<BR> +Said Billy, between puffs of a cigar:<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy's changed a bit."<BR> +<BR> +The Colonel grunted. Perhaps he dared not trust to words.<BR> +<BR> +"Seems to have made some new friends."<BR> +<BR> +A more vigorous grunt.<BR> +<BR> +"Cultured lot, they seem?" said Mr. Woods. "Anxious to do good in the<BR> +world, too--philanthropic set, eh?"<BR> +<BR> +A snort this time.<BR> +<BR> +"Eh?" said Mr. Woods. There was dawning suspicion in his tone.<BR> +<BR> +The Colonel looked about him. "My boy," said he, "you thank your stars<BR> +you didn't get that money; and, depend upon it, there never was a<BR> +gold-ship yet that wasn't followed."<BR> +<BR> +"Pirates?" Billy Woods suggested, helpfully.<BR> +<BR> +"Pirates are human beings," said Colonel Hugonin, with dignity.<BR> +"Sharks, my boy; sharks!"<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="VIII">VIII</a><BR> +That evening, after proper deliberation, "Célestine," Miss Hugonin<BR> +commanded, "get out that little yellow dress with the little red<BR> +bandanna handkerchiefs on it; and for heaven's sake, stop pulling<BR> +my hair out by the roots, unless you want a <i>raving</i> maniac on your<BR> +hands, Célestine!"<BR> +<BR> +Whereby she had landed me in a quandary. For how, pray, is it possible<BR> +for me, a simple-minded male, fittingly to depict for you the clothes<BR> +of Margaret?--the innumerable vanities, the quaint devices, the<BR> +pleasing conceits with which she delighted to enhance her comeliness?<BR> +The thing is beyond me. Let us keep discreetly out of her wardrobe,<BR> +you and I.<BR> +<BR> +Otherwise, I should have to prattle of an infinity of mysteries--of<BR> +her scarfs, feathers, laces, gloves, girdles, knots, hats, shoes,<BR> +fans, and slippers--of her embroideries, rings, pins, pendants,<BR> +ribbons, spangles, bracelets, and chains--in fine, there would be no<BR> +end to the list of gewgaws that went to make Margaret Hugonin even<BR> +more adorable than Nature had fashioned her. For when you come to<BR> +think of it, it takes the craft and skill and life-work of a thousand<BR> +men to dress one girl properly; and in Margaret's case, I protest that<BR> +every one of them, could he have beheld the result of their united<BR> +labours, would have so gloried in his own part therein that there<BR> +would have been no putting up with any of the lot.<BR> +<BR> +Yet when I think of the tiny shoes she affected--patent-leather ones<BR> +mostly, with a seam running straight up the middle (and you may guess<BR> +the exact date of our comedy by knowing in what year these shoes were<BR> +modish); the string of fat pearls she so often wore about her round,<BR> +full throat; the white frock, say, with arabesques of blue all over<BR> +it, that Felix Kennaston said reminded him of Ruskin's tombstone; or<BR> +that other white-and-blue one--<i>décolleté</i>, that was--which I swear<BR> +seraphic mantua-makers had woven out of mists and the skies of June:<BR> +when I remember these things, I repeat, almost am I tempted to become<BR> +a boot-maker and a lapidary and a milliner and, in fine, an adept<BR> +in all the other arts and trades and sciences that go to make a<BR> +well-groomed American girl what she is--the incredible fruit<BR> +of grafted centuries, the period after the list of Time's<BR> +achievements--just that I might describe Margaret to you properly.<BR> +<BR> +But the thing is beyond me. I leave such considerations, then, to<BR> +Célestine, and resolve for the future rigorously to eschew all such<BR> +gauds. Meanwhile, if an untutored masculine description will content<BR> +you--<BR> +<BR> +Margaret, I have on reliable feminine authority, was one of the very<BR> +few blondes whose complexions can carry off reds and yellows.<BR> +This particular gown--I remember it perfectly--was of a dim, dull<BR> +yellow--flounciful (if I may coin a word), diaphanous, expansive. I<BR> +have not the least notion what fabric composed it; but scattered about<BR> +it, in unexpected places, were diamond-shaped red things that I am<BR> +credibly informed are called medallions. The general effect of it may<BR> +be briefly characterised as grateful to the eye and dangerous to the<BR> +heart, and to a rational train of thought quite fatal.<BR> +<BR> +For it was cut low in the neck; and Margaret's neck and shoulders<BR> +would have drawn madrigals from a bench of bishops.<BR> +<BR> +And in consequence, Billy Woods ate absolutely no dinner that evening.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="IX">IX</a><BR> +<BR> +It was an hour or two later when the moon, drifting tardily up from<BR> +the south, found Miss Hugonin and Mr. Kennaston chatting amicably<BR> +together in the court at Selwoode. They were discussing the deplorable<BR> +tendencies of the modern drama.<BR> +<BR> +The court at Selwoode lies in the angle of the building, the ground<BR> +plan of which is L-shaped. Its two outer sides are formed by covered<BR> +cloisters leading to the palm-garden, and by moonlight--the night<BR> +bland and sweet with the odour of growing things, vocal with plashing<BR> +fountains, spangled with fire-flies that flicker indolently among a<BR> +glimmering concourse of nymphs and fauns eternally postured in flight<BR> +or in pursuit--by moonlight, I say, the court at Selwoode is perhaps<BR> +as satisfactory a spot for a <i>tête-à-tête</i> as this transitory world<BR> +affords.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston was in vein to-night; he scintillated; he was also a<BR> +little nervous. This was probably owing to the fact that Margaret,<BR> +leaning against the back of the stone bench on which they both sat,<BR> +her chin propped by her hand, was gazing at him in that peculiar,<BR> +intent fashion of hers which--as I think I have mentioned--caused you<BR> +fatuously to believe she had forgotten there were any other trousered<BR> +beings extant.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston, however, stuck to apt phrases and nice distinctions.<BR> +The moon found it edifying, but rather dull.<BR> +<BR> +After a little Mr. Kennaston paused in his boyish, ebullient speech,<BR> +and they sat in silence. The lisping of the fountains was very<BR> +audible. In the heavens, the moon climbed a little further and<BR> +registered a manifestly impossible hour on the sun-dial. It also<BR> +brightened.<BR> +<BR> +It was a companionable sort of a moon. It invited talk of a<BR> +confidential nature.<BR> +<BR> +"Bless my soul," it was signalling to any number of gentlemen at that<BR> +moment, "there's only you and I and the girl here. Speak out, man!<BR> +She'll have you now, if she ever will. You'll never have a chance like<BR> +this again, I can tell you. Come, now, my dear boy, I'm shining full<BR> +in your face, and you've no idea how becoming it is. I'm not like that<BR> +garish, blundering sun, who doesn't know any better than to let her<BR> +see how red and fidgetty you get when you're excited; I'm an old hand<BR> +at such matters. I've presided over these little affairs since Babylon<BR> +was a paltry village. <i>I'll</i> never tell. And--and if anything should<BR> +happen, I'm always ready to go behind a cloud, you know. So, speak<BR> +out!--speak out, man, if you've the heart of a mouse!"<BR> +<BR> +Thus far the conscienceless spring moon.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston sighed. The moon took this as a promising sign and<BR> +brightened over it perceptibly, and thereby afforded him an excellent<BR> +gambit.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes?" said Margaret. "What is it, beautiful?"<BR> +<BR> +That, in privacy, was her fantastic name for him.<BR> +<BR> +The poet laughed a little. "Beautiful child," said he--and that, under<BR> +similar circumstances, was his perfectly reasonable name for<BR> +her--"I have been discourteous. To be frank, I have been sulking as<BR> +irrationally as a baby who clamours for the moon yonder."<BR> +<BR> +"You aren't really anything but a baby, you know." Indeed, Margaret<BR> +almost thought of him as such. He was so delightfully naïf.<BR> +<BR> +He bent toward her. A faint tremor woke in his speech. "And so," said<BR> +he, softly, "I cry for the moon--the unattainable, exquisite moon. It<BR> +is very ridiculous, is it not?"<BR> +<BR> +But he did not look at the moon. He looked toward Margaret--past<BR> +Margaret, toward the gleaming windows of Selwoode, where the Eagle<BR> +brooded:<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, I really can't say," Margaret cried, in haste. "She was kind to<BR> +Endymion, you know. We will hope for the best. I think we'd better go<BR> +into the house now."<BR> +<BR> +"You bid me hope?" said he.<BR> +<BR> +"Beautiful, if you really want the moon, I don't see the <i>least</i><BR> +objection to your continuing to hope. They make so many little<BR> +airships and things nowadays, you know, and you'll probably find it<BR> +only green cheese, after all. What <i>is</i> green cheese, I wonder?--it<BR> +sounds horribly indigestible and unattractive, doesn't it?" Miss<BR> +Hugonin babbled, in a tumult of fear and disappointment. He was about<BR> +to spoil their friendship now; men were so utterly inconsiderate. "I'm<BR> +a little cold," said she, mendaciously, "I really must go in."<BR> +<BR> +He detained her. "Surely," he breathed, "you must know what I have so<BR> +long wanted to tell you--"<BR> +<BR> +"I haven't the <i>least</i> idea," she protested, promptly. "You can tell<BR> +me all about it in the morning. I have some accounts to cast up<BR> +to-night. Besides, I'm not a good person to tell secrets to.<BR> +You--you'd much better not tell me. Oh, really, Mr. Kennaston," she<BR> +cried, earnestly, "you'd much better not tell me!"<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, Margaret, Margaret," he pleaded, "I am not adamant. I am only a<BR> +man, with a man's heart that hungers for you, cries for you, clamours<BR> +for you day by day! I love you, beautiful child--love you with a<BR> +poet's love that is alien to these sordid days, with a love that is<BR> +half worship. I love you as Leander loved his Hero, as Pyramus loved<BR> +Thisbe. Ah, child, child, how beautiful you are! You are fairest of<BR> +created women, child--fair as those long-dead queens for whose smiles<BR> +old cities burned and kingdoms were lightly lost. I am mad for love of<BR> +you! Ah, have pity upon me, Margaret, for I love you very tenderly!"<BR> +<BR> +He delivered these observations with appropriate fervour.<BR> +<BR> +"Mr. Kennaston," said she, "I am sorry. We got along so nicely before,<BR> +and I was <i>so</i> proud of your friendship. We've had such good times<BR> +together, you and I, and I've liked your verses so, and I've liked<BR> +you--Oh, please, <i>please</i>, let's keep on being just friends!" Margaret<BR> +wailed, piteously.<BR> +<BR> +"Friends!" he cried, and gave a bitter laugh. "I was never friends<BR> +with you, Margaret. Why, even as I read my verses to you--those<BR> +pallid, ineffectual verses that praised you timorously under varied<BR> +names--even then there pulsed in my veins the riotous pæan of love,<BR> +the great mad song of love that shamed my paltry rhymes. I cannot be<BR> +friends with you, child! I must have all or nothing. Bid me hope or<BR> +go!"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin meditated for a moment and did neither.<BR> +<BR> +"Beautiful," she presently queried, "would you be very, very much<BR> +shocked if I descended to slang?"<BR> +<BR> +"I think," said he, with an uncertain smile, "that I could endure it."<BR> +<BR> +"Why, then--cut it out, beautiful! Cut it out! I don't believe a word<BR> +you've said, in the first place; and, anyhow, it annoys me to have you<BR> +talk to me like that. I don't like it, and it simply makes me awfully,<BR> +awfully tired."<BR> +<BR> +With which characteristic speech, Miss Hugonin leaned back and sat up<BR> +very rigidly and smiled at him like a cherub.<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston groaned.<BR> +<BR> +"It shall be as you will," he assured her, with a little quaver in his<BR> +speech that was decidedly effective. "And in any event, I am not sorry<BR> +that I have loved you, beautiful child. You have always been a power<BR> +for good in my life. You have gladdened me with the vision of a beauty<BR> +that is more than human, you have heartened me for this petty business<BR> +of living, you have praised my verses, you have even accorded me<BR> +certain pecuniary assistance as to their publication--though I must<BR> +admit that to accept it of you was very distasteful to me. Ah!" Felix<BR> +Kennaston cried, with a quick lift of speech, "impractical child that<BR> +I am, I had not thought of that! My love had caused me to forget the<BR> +great barrier that stands between us."<BR> +<BR> +He gasped and took a short turn about the court.<BR> +<BR> +"Pardon me, Miss Hugonin," he entreated, when his emotions were under<BR> +a little better control, "for having spoken as I did. I had forgotten.<BR> +Think of me, if you will, as no better than the others--think of me as<BR> +a mere fortune-hunter. My presumption will be justly punished."<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, no, no, it isn't that," she cried; "it isn't that, is it?<BR> +You--you would care just as much about me if I were poor, wouldn't<BR> +you, beautiful? I don't want you to care for me, of course," Margaret<BR> +added, with haste. "I want to go on being friends. Oh, that money,<BR> +that <i>nasty</i> money!" she cried, in a sudden gust of petulance. "It<BR> +makes me so distrustful, and I can't help it!"<BR> +<BR> +He smiled at her wistfully. "My dear," said he, "are there no mirrors<BR> +at Selwoode to remove your doubts?"<BR> +<BR> +"I--yes, I do believe in you," she said, at length. "But I don't want<BR> +to marry you. You see, I'm not a bit in love with you," Margaret<BR> +explained, candidly.<BR> +<BR> +Ensued a silence. Mr. Kennaston bowed his head.<BR> +<BR> +"You bid me go?" said he.<BR> +<BR> +"No--not exactly," said she.<BR> +<BR> +He indicated a movement toward her.<BR> +<BR> +"Now, you needn't attempt to take any liberties with me," Miss Hugonin<BR> +announced, decisively, "because if you do I'll never speak to you<BR> +again. You must let me go now. You--you must let me think."<BR> +<BR> +Then Felix Kennaston acted very wisely. He rose and stood aside, with<BR> +a little bow.<BR> +<BR> +"I can wait, child," he said, sadly. "I have already waited a long<BR> +time."<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin escaped into the house without further delay. It was very<BR> +flattering, of course; he had spoken beautifully, she thought, and<BR> +nobly and poetically and considerately, and altogether there was<BR> +absolutely no excuse for her being in a temper. Still, she was.<BR> +<BR> +The moon, however, considered the affair as arranged.<BR> +<BR> +For she had been no whit more resolute in her refusal, you see, than<BR> +becomes any self-respecting maid. In fact, she had not refused him;<BR> +and the experienced moon had seen the hopes of many a wooer thrive,<BR> +chameleon-like, on answers far less encouraging than that which<BR> +Margaret had given Felix Kennaston.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret was very fond of him. All women like a man who can do a<BR> +picturesque thing without bothering to consider whether or not he be<BR> +making himself ridiculous; and more than once in thinking of him she<BR> +had wondered if--perhaps--possibly--some day--? And always these vague<BR> +flights of fancy had ended at this precise point--incinerated, if you<BR> +will grant me the simile, by the sudden flaming of her cheeks.<BR> +<BR> +The thing is common enough. You may remember that Romeo was not the<BR> +only gentleman that Juliet noticed at her début: there was the young<BR> +Petruchio; and the son and heir of old Tiberio; and I do not question<BR> +that she had a kind glance or so for County Paris. Beyond doubt, there<BR> +were many with whom my lady had danced; with whom she had laughed a<BR> +little; with whom she had exchanged a few perfectly affable words and<BR> +looks--when of a sudden her heart speaks: "Who's he that would not<BR> +dance? If he be married, my grave is like to prove my marriage-bed."<BR> +In any event, Paris and Petruchio and Tiberio's young hopeful can go<BR> +hang; Romeo has come.<BR> +<BR> +Romeo is seldom the first. Pray you, what was there to prevent Juliet<BR> +from admiring So-and-so's dancing? or from observing that Signor<BR> +Such-an-one had remarkably expressive eyes? or from thinking of Tybalt<BR> +as a dear, reckless fellow whom it was the duty of some good woman to<BR> +rescue from perdition? If no one blames the young Montague for sending<BR> +Rosaline to the right-about--Rosaline for whom he was weeping and<BR> +rhyming an hour before--why, pray, should not Signorina Capulet have<BR> +had a few previous <i>affaires du coeur</i>? Depend upon it, she had; for<BR> +was she not already past thirteen?<BR> +<BR> +In like manner, I dare say that a deal passed between Desdemona and<BR> +Cassio that the honest Moor never knew of; and that Lucrece was<BR> +probably very pleasant and agreeable to Tarquin, as a well-bred<BR> +hostess should be; and that Helen had that little affair with Theseus<BR> +before she ever thought of Paris; and that if Cleopatra died for love<BR> +of Antony it was not until she had previously lived a great while with<BR> +Cæsar.<BR> +<BR> +So Felix Kennaston had his hour. Now Margaret has gone into Selwoode,<BR> +flame-faced and quite unconscious that she is humming under her breath<BR> +the words of a certain inane old song:<BR> +<BR> + "Oh, she sat for me a chair;<BR> + She has ringlets in her hair;<BR> + She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother"--<BR> +<BR> +Only she sang it "father." And afterward, she suddenly frowned and<BR> +stamped her foot, did Margaret.<BR> +<BR> +"I <i>hate</i> him!" said she; but she looked very guilty.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="X">X</a><BR> +<BR> +In the living-hall of Selwoode Miss Hugonin paused. Undeniably there<BR> +were the accounts of the Ladies' League for the Edification of the<BR> +Impecunious to be put in order; her monthly report as treasurer<BR> +was due in a few days, and Margaret was in such matters a careful,<BR> +painstaking body, and not wholly dependent upon her secretary; but she<BR> +was entirely too much out of temper to attend to that now.<BR> +<BR> +It was really all Mr. Kennaston's fault, she assured a pricking<BR> +conscience, as she went out on the terrace before Selwoode. He had<BR> +bothered her dreadfully.<BR> +<BR> +There she found Petheridge Jukesbury smoking placidly in the<BR> +effulgence of the moonlight; and the rotund, pasty countenance he<BR> +turned toward her was ludicrously like the moon's counterfeit in muddy<BR> +water. I am sorry to admit it, but Mr. Jukesbury had dined somewhat<BR> +injudiciously. You are not to stretch the phrase; he was merely<BR> +prepared to accord the universe his approval, to pat Destiny upon<BR> +the head, and his thoughts ran clear enough, but with Aprilian<BR> +counter-changes of the jovial and the lachrymose.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, Miss Hugonin," he greeted her, with a genial smile, "I am indeed<BR> +fortunate. You find me deep in meditation, and also, I am sorry to<BR> +say, in the practise of a most pernicious habit. You do not object?<BR> +Ah, that is so like you. You are always kind, Miss Hugonin. Your<BR> +kindness, which falls, if I may so express myself, as the gentle rain<BR> +from Heaven upon all deserving charitable institutions, and daily<BR> +comforts the destitute with good advice and consoles the sorrowing<BR> +with blankets, would now induce you to tolerate an odour which I am<BR> +sure is personally distasteful to you."<BR> +<BR> +"But <i>really</i> I don't mind," was Margaret's protest.<BR> +<BR> +"I cannot permit it," Mr. Jukesbury insisted, and waved a pudgy hand<BR> +in the moonlight. "No, really, I cannot permit it. We will throw<BR> +it away, if you please, and say no more about it," and his glance<BR> +followed the glowing flight of his cigar-end somewhat wistfully. "Your<BR> +father's cigars are such as it is seldom my privilege to encounter;<BR> +but, then, my personal habits are not luxurious, nor my private<BR> +income precisely what my childish imaginings had pictured it at this<BR> +comparatively advanced period of life. Ah, youth, youth!--as the poet<BR> +admirably says, Miss Hugonin, the thoughts of youth are long, long<BR> +thoughts, but its visions of existence are rose-tinged and free from<BR> +care, and its conception of the responsibilities of manhood--such<BR> +as taxes and the water-rate--I may safely characterise as extremely<BR> +sketchy. But pray be seated, Miss Hugonin," Petheridge Jukesbury<BR> +blandly urged.<BR> +<BR> +Common courtesy forced her to comply. So Margaret seated herself on<BR> +a little red rustic bench. In the moonlight--but I think I have<BR> +mentioned how Margaret looked in the moonlight; and above her golden<BR> +head the Eagle, sculptured over the door-way, stretched his wings to<BR> +the uttermost, half-protectingly, half-threateningly, and seemed to<BR> +view Mr. Jukesbury with a certain air of expectation.<BR> +<BR> +"A beautiful evening," Petheridge Jukesbury suggested, after a little<BR> +cogitation.<BR> +<BR> +She conceded that this was undeniable.<BR> +<BR> +"Where Nature smiles, and only the conduct of man is vile and<BR> +altogether what it ought not to be," he continued, with unction--"ah,<BR> +how true that is and how consoling! It is a good thing to meditate<BR> +upon our own vileness, Miss Hugonin--to reflect that we are but worms<BR> +with naturally the most vicious inclinations. It is most salutary.<BR> +Even I am but a worm, Miss Hugonin, though the press has been pleased<BR> +to speak most kindly of me. Even you--ah, no!" cried Mr. Jukesbury,<BR> +kissing his finger-tips, with gallantry; "let us say a worm who has<BR> +burst its cocoon and become a butterfly--a butterfly with a charming<BR> +face and a most charitable disposition and considerable property!"<BR> +<BR> +Margaret thanked him with a smile, and began to think wistfully of the<BR> +Ladies' League accounts. Still, he was a good man; and she endeavoured<BR> +to persuade herself that she considered his goodness to atone for his<BR> +flabbiness and his fleshiness and his interminable verbosity--which<BR> +she didn't.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Jukesbury sighed.<BR> +<BR> +"A naughty world," said he, with pathos--"a very naughty world, which<BR> +really does not deserve the honour of including you in its census<BR> +reports. Yet I dare say it has the effrontery to put you down in the<BR> +tax-lists; it even puts me down--me, an humble worker in the vineyard,<BR> +with both hands set to the plough. And if I don't pay up it sells<BR> +me out. A very naughty world, indeed! I dare say," Mr. Jukesbury<BR> +observed, raising his eyes--not toward heaven, but toward the Eagle,<BR> +"that its conduct, as the poet says, creates considerable distress<BR> +among the angels. I don't know. I am not acquainted with many angels.<BR> +My wife was an angel, but she is now a lifeless form. She has been for<BR> +five years. I erected a tomb to her at considerable personal expense,<BR> +but I don't begrudge it--no, I don't begrudge it, Miss Hugonin. She<BR> +was very hard to live with. But she was an angel, and angels are rare.<BR> +Miss Hugonin," said Petheridge Jukesbury, with emphasis, "<i>you</i> are an<BR> +angel."<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, dear, <i>dear</i>!" said Margaret, to herself; "I do wish I'd gone to<BR> +bed directly after dinner!"<BR> +<BR> +Above them the Eagle brooded.<BR> +<BR> +"Surely," he breathed, "you must know what I have so long wanted to<BR> +tell you--"<BR> +<BR> +"No," said Margaret, "and I don't want to know, please. You make me<BR> +awfully tired, and I don't care for you in the <i>least</i>. Now, you let<BR> +go my hand--let go at once!"<BR> +<BR> +He detained her. "You are an angel," he insisted--"an angel with a<BR> +large property. I love you, Margaret! Be mine!--be my blushing bride,<BR> +I entreat you! Your property is far too large for an angel to look<BR> +after. You need a man of affairs. I am a man of affairs. I am<BR> +forty-five, and have no bad habits. My press-notices are, as a rule,<BR> +favourable, my eloquence is accounted considerable, and my dearest<BR> +aspiration is that you will comfort my declining years. I might add<BR> +that I adore you, but I think I mentioned that before. Margaret, will<BR> +you be my blushing bride?"<BR> +<BR> +"No!" said Miss Hugonin emphatically. "No, you tipsy old beast--no!"<BR> +<BR> +There was a rustle of skirts. The door slammed, and the philanthropist<BR> +was left alone on the terrace.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XI">XI</a><BR> +<BR> +In the living-hall Margaret came upon Hugh Van Orden, who was<BR> +searching in one of the alcoves for a piece of music that Adèle<BR> +Haggage wanted and had misplaced.<BR> +<BR> +The boy greeted her miserably.<BR> +<BR> +"Miss Hugonin," he lamented, "you're awfully hard on me."<BR> +<BR> +"I am sorry," said Margaret, "that you consider me discourteous to a<BR> +guest in my own house." Oh, I grant you Margaret was in a temper now.<BR> +<BR> +"It isn't that," he protested; "but I never see you alone. And I've<BR> +had something to tell you."<BR> +<BR> +"Yes?" said she, coldly.<BR> +<BR> +He drew near to her. "Surely," he breathed, "you must know what I have<BR> +long wanted to tell you--"<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, I should think I <i>did</i>!" said Margaret, "and if you dare tell<BR> +me a word of it I'll never speak to you again. It's getting a little<BR> +monotonous. Good-night, Mr. Van Orden."<BR> +<BR> +Half way up the stairs she paused and ran lightly back.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, Hugh, Hugh!" she said, contritely, "I was unpardonably rude. I'm<BR> +sorry, dear, but it's quite impossible. You are a dear, cute little<BR> +boy, and I love you--but not that way. So let's shake hands, Hugh, and<BR> +be friends! And then you can go and play with Adèle." He raised her<BR> +hand to his lips. He really was a nice boy.<BR> +<BR> +"But, oh, dear!" said Margaret, when he had gone; "what horrid<BR> +creatures men are, and what a temper I'm in, and what a vexatious<BR> +place the world is! I wish I were a pauper! I wish I had never been<BR> +born! And I wish--and I wish I had those League papers fixed! I'll<BR> +do it to-night! I'm sure I need something tranquillising, like<BR> +assessments and decimal places and unpaid dues, to keep me from<BR> +<i>screaming</i>. I hate them all--all three of them--as badly as I do<BR> +<i>him!</i>"<BR> +<BR> +Thereupon she blushed, for no apparent reason, and went to her own<BR> +rooms in a frame of mind that was inexcusable, but very becoming. Her<BR> +cheeks burned, her eyes flashed with a brighter glow that was gem-like<BR> +and a little cruel, and her chin tilted up defiantly. Margaret had a<BR> +resolute chin, a masculine chin. I fancy that it was only at the last<BR> +moment that Nature found it a thought too boyish and modified it with<BR> +a dimple--a very creditable dimple, by the way, that she must have<BR> +been really proud of. That ridiculous little dint saved it, feminised<BR> +it.<BR> +<BR> +Altogether, then, she swept down upon the papers of the Ladies' League<BR> +for the Edification of the Impecunious with very much the look of a<BR> +diminutive Valkyrie--a Valkyrie of unusual personal attractions, you<BR> +understand--<i>en route</i> for the battle-field and a little, a very<BR> +little eager and expectant of the strife.<BR> +<BR> +Subsequently, "Oh, dear, <i>dear</i>!" said she, amid a feverish rustling<BR> +of papers; "the whole world is out of sorts to-night! I never <i>did</i><BR> +know how much seven times eight is, and I hate everybody, and I've<BR> +left that list of unpaid dues in Uncle Fred's room, and I've got to go<BR> +after it, and I don't want to! Bother those little suitors of mine!"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin rose, and went out from her own rooms, carrying a bunch<BR> +of keys, across the hallway to the room in which Frederick R. Woods<BR> +had died. It was his study, you may remember. It had been little<BR> +used since his death, but Margaret kept her less important papers<BR> +there--the overflow, the flotsam of her vast philanthropic and<BR> +educational correspondence.<BR> +<BR> +And there she found Billy Woods.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XII">XII</a><BR> +<BR> +His back was turned to the door as she entered. He was staring at a<BR> +picture beside the mantel--a portrait of Frederick R. Woods--and his<BR> +eyes when he wheeled about were wistful.<BR> +<BR> +Then, on a sudden, they lighted up as if they had caught fire from<BR> +hers, and his adoration flaunted crimson banners in his cheeks, and<BR> +his heart, I dare say, was a great blaze of happiness. He loved her,<BR> +you see; when she entered a room it really made a difference to this<BR> +absurd young man. He saw a great many lights, for instance, and heard<BR> +music. And accordingly, he laughed now in a very contented fashion.<BR> +<BR> +"I wasn't burglarising," said he--"that is, not exactly. I ought to<BR> +have asked your permission, I suppose, before coming here, but I<BR> +couldn't find you, and--and it was rather important. You see," Mr.<BR> +Woods continued, pointing to the great carved desk. "I happened to<BR> +speak of this desk to the Colonel to-night. We--we were talking of<BR> +Uncle Fred's death, and I found out, quite by accident, that it hadn't<BR> +been searched since then--that is, not thoroughly. There are secret<BR> +drawers, you see; one here," and he touched the spring that threw<BR> +it open, "and the other on this side. There is--there is nothing of<BR> +importance in them; only receipted bills and such. The other drawer is<BR> +inside that centre compartment, which is locked. The Colonel wouldn't<BR> +come. He said it was all foolishness, and that he had a book he wanted<BR> +to read. So he sent me after what he called my mare's nest. It isn't,<BR> +you see--no, not quite, not quite," Mr. Woods murmured, with an odd<BR> +smile, and then laughed and added, lamely: "I--I suppose I'm the only<BR> +person who knew about it."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods's manner was a thought strange. He stammered a little in<BR> +speaking; he laughed unnecessarily; and Margaret could see that his<BR> +hands trembled. Taking him all in all, you would have sworn he was<BR> +repressing some vital emotion. But he did not seem unhappy--no, not<BR> +exactly unhappy. He was with Margaret, you see.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, you beauty!" his meditations ran.<BR> +<BR> +He had some excuse. In the soft, rosy twilight of the room--the study<BR> +at Selwoode is panelled in very dark oak, and the doors and windows<BR> +are screened with crimson hangings--her parti-coloured red-and-yellow<BR> +gown might have been a scrap of afterglow left over from an unusually<BR> +fine sunset. In a word, Miss Hugonin was a very quaint and colourful<BR> +and delectable figure as she came a little further into the room. Her<BR> +eyes shone like blue stars, and her hair shone--there must be pounds<BR> +of it, Billy thought--and her very shoulders, plump, flawless,<BR> +ineffable, shone with the glow of an errant cloud-tatter that is just<BR> +past the track of dawn, and is therefore neither pink nor white, but<BR> +manages somehow to combine the best points of both colours.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, indeed?" said Miss Hugonin. Her tone imparted a surprising degree<BR> +of chilliness to this simple remark.<BR> +<BR> +"No," she went on, very formally, "this is not a private room; you owe<BR> +me no apology for being here. Indeed, I am rather obliged to you, Mr.<BR> +Woods, for none of us knew of these secret drawers. Here is the key to<BR> +the central compartment, if you will be kind enough to point out the<BR> +other one. Dear, dear!" Margaret concluded, languidly, "all this is<BR> +quite like a third-rate melodrama. I haven't the least doubt you will<BR> +discover a will in there in your favour, and be reinstated as the<BR> +long-lost heir and all that sort of thing. How tiresome that will be<BR> +for me, though."<BR> +<BR> +She was in a mood to be cruel to-night. She held out the keys to<BR> +him, in a disinterested fashion, and dropped them daintily into his<BR> +outstretched palm, just as she might have given a coin to an unusually<BR> +grimy mendicant. But the tips of her fingers grazed his hand.<BR> +<BR> +That did the mischief. Her least touch was enough to set every nerve<BR> +in his body a-tingle. "Peggy!" he said hoarsely, as the keys jangled<BR> +to the floor. Then Mr. Woods drew a little nearer to her and said<BR> +"Peggy, Peggy!" in a voice that trembled curiously, and appeared to<BR> +have no intention of saying anything further.<BR> +<BR> +Indeed, words would have seemed mere tautology to any one who could<BR> +have seen his eyes. Margaret looked into them for a minute, and her<BR> +own eyes fell before their blaze, and her heart--very foolishly--stood<BR> +still for a breathing-space. Subsequently she recalled the fact<BR> +that he was a fortune-hunter, and that she despised him, and also<BR> +observed--to her surprise and indignation--that he was holding her<BR> +hand and had apparently been doing so for some time. You may believe<BR> +it, that she withdrew that pink-and-white trifle angrily enough.<BR> +<BR> +"Pray don't be absurd, Mr. Woods," said she.<BR> +<BR> +Billy caught up the word. "Absurd!" he echoed--"yes, that describes<BR> +what I've been pretty well, doesn't it, Peggy? I <i>was</i> absurd when I<BR> +let you send me to the right-about four years ago. I realised that<BR> +to-day the moment I saw you. I should have held on like the very<BR> +grimmest death; I should have bullied you into marrying me, if<BR> +necessary, and in spite of fifty Anstruthers. Oh, yes, I know that<BR> +now. But I was only a boy then, Peggy, and so I let a boy's pride come<BR> +between us. I know now there isn't any question of pride where you<BR> +are concerned--not any question of pride nor of any silly<BR> +misunderstandings, nor of any uncle's wishes, nor of anything but just<BR> +you, Peggy. It's just you that I care for now--just you."<BR> +<BR> +"Ah!" Margaret cried, with a swift intake of the breath that was<BR> +almost a sob. He had dared, after all; oh, it was shameless, sordid!<BR> +And yet (she thought dimly), how dear that little quiver in his voice<BR> +had been were it unplanned!--and how she could have loved this big,<BR> +eager boy were he not the hypocrite she knew him!<BR> +<BR> +<i>She'd</i> show him! But somehow--though it was manifestly what he<BR> +deserved--she found she couldn't look him in the face while she did<BR> +it.<BR> +<BR> +So she dropped her eyes to the floor and waited for a moment of tense<BR> +silence. Then, "Am I to consider this a proposal, Mr. Woods?" she<BR> +asked, in muffled tones.<BR> +<BR> +Billy stared. "Yes," said he, very gravely, after an interval.<BR> +<BR> +"You see," she explained, still in the same dull voice, "you phrased<BR> +it so vaguely I couldn't well be certain. You don't propose very well,<BR> +Mr. Woods. I--I've had opportunities to become an authority on such<BR> +matters, you see, since I've been rich. That makes a difference,<BR> +doesn't it? A great many men are willing to marry me now who wouldn't<BR> +have thought of such a thing, say--say, four years ago. So I've had<BR> +some experience. Oh, yes, three--three <i>persons</i> have offered to marry<BR> +me for my money earlier in this very evening--before you did, Mr.<BR> +Woods. And, really, I can't compliment you on your methods, Mr. Woods;<BR> +they are a little vague, a little abrupt, a little transparent, don't<BR> +you think?"<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy!" he cried, in a frightened whisper. He could not believe, you<BR> +see, that it was the woman he loved who was speaking.<BR> +<BR> +And for my part, I admit frankly that at this very point, if ever in<BR> +her life, Margaret deserved a thorough shaking.<BR> +<BR> +"Dear me," she airily observed, "I'm sure I've said nothing out of the<BR> +way. I think it speaks very well for you that you're so fond of your<BR> +old home--so anxious to regain it at <i>any</i> cost. It's quite touching,<BR> +Mr. Woods."<BR> +<BR> +She raised her eyes toward his. I dare say she was suffering as much<BR> +as he. But women consider it a point of honour to smile when they<BR> +stab; Margaret smiled with an innocence that would have seemed<BR> +overdone in an angel.<BR> +<BR> +Then, in an instant, she had the grace to be abjectly ashamed of<BR> +herself. Billy's face had gone white. His mouth was set, mask-like,<BR> +and his breathing was a little perfunctory. It stung her, though, that<BR> +he was not angry. He was sorry.<BR> +<BR> +"I--I see," he said, very carefully. "You think I--want the money.<BR> +Yes--I see."<BR> +<BR> +"And why not?" she queried, pleasantly. "Dear me, money's a very<BR> +sensible thing to want, I'm sure. It makes a great difference, you<BR> +know."<BR> +<BR> +He looked down into her face for a moment. One might have sworn this<BR> +detected fortune-hunter pitied her.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," he assented, slowly, "it makes a difference--not a difference<BR> +for the better, I'm afraid, Peggy."<BR> +<BR> +Ensued a silence.<BR> +<BR> +Then Margaret tossed her head. She was fast losing her composure.<BR> +She would have given the world to retract what she had said, and<BR> +accordingly she resolved to brazen it out.<BR> +<BR> +"You needn't look at me as if I were a convicted criminal," she said,<BR> +sharply. "I won't marry you, and there's an end of it."<BR> +<BR> +"It isn't that I'm thinking of," said Mr. Woods, with a grave smile.<BR> +"You see, it takes me a little time to realise your honest opinion<BR> +of me. I believe I understand now. You think me a very hopeless<BR> +cad--that's about your real opinion, isn't it, Peggy? I didn't know<BR> +that, you see. I thought you knew me better than that. You did once,<BR> +Peggy--once, a long time ago, and--and I hoped you hadn't quite<BR> +forgotten that time."<BR> +<BR> +The allusion was ill chosen.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, oh, <i>oh</i>!" she cried, gasping. "<i>You</i> to remind me of that<BR> +time!--you of all men. Haven't you a vestige of shame? Haven't you<BR> +a rag of honour left? Oh, I didn't know there were such men in the<BR> +world! And to think--to think--" Margaret's glorious voice broke, and<BR> +she wrung her hands helplessly.<BR> +<BR> +Then, after a little, she raised her eyes to his, and spoke without<BR> +a trace of emotion. "To think," she said, and her voice was toneless<BR> +now, "to think that I loved you! It's that that hurts, you know. For I<BR> +loved you very dearly, Billy Woods--yes, I think I loved you quite as<BR> +much as any woman can ever love a man. You were the first, you see,<BR> +and girls--girls are very foolish about such things. I thought you<BR> +were brave, and strong, and clean, and honest, and beautiful, and<BR> +dear--oh, quite the best and dearest man in the world, I thought you,<BR> +Billy Woods! That--that was queer, wasn't it?" she asked, with a<BR> +listless little shiver. "Yes, it was very queer. You didn't think of<BR> +me in quite that way, did you? No, you--you thought I was well enough<BR> +to amuse you for a while. I was well enough for a summer flirtation,<BR> +wasn't I, Billy? But marriage--ah, no, you never thought of marriage<BR> +then. You ran away when Uncle Fred suggested that. You refused<BR> +point-blank--refused in this very room--didn't you, Billy? Ah,<BR> +that--that hurt," Margaret ended, with a faint smile. "Yes, it--hurt."<BR> +<BR> +Billy Woods raised a protesting hand, as though to speak, but<BR> +afterward he drew a deep, tremulous breath and bit his lip and was<BR> +silent.<BR> +<BR> +She had spoken very quietly, very simply, very like a tired child;<BR> +now her voice lifted. "But you've hurt me more to-night," she said,<BR> +equably--"to-night, when you've come cringing back to me--to me, whom<BR> +you'd have none of when I was poor. I'm rich now, though. That makes<BR> +a difference, doesn't it, Billy? You're willing to whistle back the<BR> +girl's love you flung away once--yes, quite willing. But can't you<BR> +understand how much it must hurt me to think I ever loved you?"<BR> +Margaret asked, very gently.<BR> +<BR> +She wanted him to understand. She wanted him to be ashamed. She prayed<BR> +God that he might be just a little, little bit ashamed, so that she<BR> +might be able to forgive him.<BR> +<BR> +But he stood silent, bending puzzled brows toward her.<BR> +<BR> +"Can't you understand, Billy?" she pleaded, softly. "I can't help<BR> +seeing what a cur you are. I must hate you, Billy--of course, I must,"<BR> +she insisted, very gently, as though arguing the matter with herself;<BR> +then suddenly she sobbed and wrung her hands in anguish. "Oh, I can't,<BR> +I can't!" she wailed. "God help me, I can't hate you, even though I<BR> +know you for what you are!"<BR> +<BR> +His arms lifted a little; and in a flash Margaret knew that what she<BR> +most wanted in all the world was to have them close about her, and<BR> +then to lay her head upon his shoulder and cry contentedly.<BR> +<BR> +Oh, she did want to forgive him! If he had lost all sense of shame,<BR> +why could he not lie to her? Surely, he could at least lie? And,<BR> +oh, how gladly she would believe!--only the tiniest, the flimsiest<BR> +fiction, her eyes craved of him.<BR> +<BR> +But he merely said "I see--I see," very slowly, and then smiled.<BR> +"We'll put the money aside just now," he said. "Perhaps, after a<BR> +little, we--we'll came back to that. I think you've forgotten, though,<BR> +that when--when Uncle Fred and I had our difference you had just<BR> +thrown me over--had just ordered me never to speak to you again?<BR> +I couldn't very well ask you to marry me, could I, under those<BR> +circumstances?"<BR> +<BR> +"I spoke in a moment of irritation," a very dignified Margaret pointed<BR> +out; "you would have paid no attention whatever to it if you had<BR> +really--cared."<BR> +<BR> +Billy laughed, rather sadly. "Oh, I cared right enough," he said. "I<BR> +still care. The question is--do you?"<BR> +<BR> +"No," said Margaret, with decision, "I don't--not in the <i>least</i>."<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy," Mr. Woods commanded, "look at me!"<BR> +<BR> +"You have had your answer, I think," Miss Hugonin indifferently<BR> +observed.<BR> +<BR> +Billy caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. "Peggy,<BR> +do you--care?" he asked, softly.<BR> +<BR> +And Margaret looked into his honest-seeming eyes and, in a panic, knew<BR> +that her traitor lips were forming "yes."<BR> +<BR> +"That would be rather unfortunate, wouldn't it?" she asked, with a<BR> +smile. "You see, it was only an hour ago I promised to marry Mr.<BR> +Kennaston."<BR> +<BR> +"Kennaston!" Billy gasped. "You--you don't mean that you care for<BR> +<i>him</i>, Peggy?"<BR> +<BR> +"I really can't see why it should concern you," said Margaret,<BR> +sweetly, "but since you ask--I do. You couldn't expect me to remain<BR> +inconsolable forever, you know."<BR> +<BR> +Then the room blurred before her eyes. She stood rigid, defiant.<BR> +She was dimly aware that Billy was speaking, speaking from a great<BR> +distance, it seemed, and then after a century or two his face came<BR> +back to her out of the whirl of things. And, though she did not know<BR> +it, they were smiling bravely at one another.<BR> +<BR> +"--and so," Mr. Woods was stating, "I've been an even greater ass than<BR> +usual, and I hope you'll be very, very happy."<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image020.jpg" alt="image020.jpg" width="400" height="480"><BR> +[Illustration: "Billy unfolded it slowly, with a puzzled look growing<BR> +in his countenance."]<BR> +<BR> +"Thank you," she returned, mechanically, "I--I hope so."<BR> +<BR> +After an interval, "Good-night, Peggy," said Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh--? Good-night," said she, with a start.<BR> +<BR> +He turned to go. Then, "By Jove!" said he, grimly, "I've been so busy<BR> +making an ass of myself I'd forgotten all about more--more important<BR> +things."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods picked up the keys and, going to the desk, unlocked the<BR> +centre compartment with a jerk. Afterward he gave a sharp exclamation.<BR> +He had found a paper in the secret drawer at the back which appeared<BR> +to startle him.<BR> +<BR> +Billy unfolded it slowly, with a puzzled look growing in his<BR> +countenance. Then for a moment Margaret's golden head drew close to<BR> +his yellow curls and they read it through together. And in the most<BR> +melodramatic and improbable fashion in the world they found it to be<BR> +the last will and testament of Frederick R. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +"But--but I don't understand," was Miss Hugonin's awed comment. "It's<BR> +exactly like the other will, only--why, it's dated the seventeenth<BR> +of June, the day before he died! And it's witnessed by Hodges and<BR> +Burton--the butler and the first footman, you know--and they've never<BR> +said anything about such a paper. And, then, why should he have made<BR> +another will just like the first?"<BR> +<BR> +Billy pondered.<BR> +<BR> +By and bye, "I think I can explain that," he said, in a rather<BR> +peculiar voice. "You see, Hodges and Burton witnessed all his papers,<BR> +half the time without knowing what they were about. They would hardly<BR> +have thought of this particular one after his death. And it isn't<BR> +quite the same will as the other; it leaves you practically<BR> +everything, but it doesn't appoint any trustees, as the other did,<BR> +because this will was drawn up after you were of age. Moreover, it<BR> +contains these four bequests to colleges, to establish a Woods chair<BR> +of ethnology, which the other will didn't provide for. Of course, it<BR> +would have been simpler merely to add a codicil to the first will,<BR> +but Uncle Fred was always very methodical. I--I think he was probably<BR> +going through the desk the night he died, destroying various papers.<BR> +He must have taken the other will out to destroy it just--just before<BR> +he died. Perhaps--perhaps--" Billy paused for a little and then<BR> +laughed, unmirthfully. "It scarcely matters," said he. "Here is the<BR> +will. It is undoubtedly genuine and undoubtedly the last he made.<BR> +You'll have to have it probated, Peggy, and settle with the colleges.<BR> +It--it won't make much of a hole in the Woods millions."<BR> +<BR> +There was a half-humorous bitterness in his voice that Margaret noted<BR> +silently. So (she thought) he had hoped for a moment that at the last<BR> +Frederick R. Woods had relented toward him. It grieved her, in a dull<BR> +fashion, to see him so mercenary. It grieved her--though she would<BR> +have denied it emphatically--to see him so disappointed. Since he<BR> +wanted the money so much, she would have liked for him to have had it,<BR> +worthless as he was, for the sake of the boy he had been.<BR> +<BR> +"Thank you," she said, coldly, as she took the paper; "I will give it<BR> +to my father. He will do what is necessary. Good-night, Mr. Woods."<BR> +<BR> +Then she locked up the desk in a businesslike fashion and turned to<BR> +him, and held out her hand.<BR> +<BR> +"Good-night, Billy," said this perfectly inconsistent young woman.<BR> +"For a moment I thought Uncle Fred had altered his will in your<BR> +favour. I almost wish he had."<BR> +<BR> +Billy smiled a little.<BR> +<BR> +"That would never have done," he said, gravely, as he shook<BR> +hands; "you forget what a sordid, and heartless, and generally<BR> +good-for-nothing chap I am, Peggy. It's much better as it is."<BR> +<BR> +Only the tiniest, the flimsiest fiction, her eyes craved of him. Even<BR> +now, at the eleventh hour, lie to me, Billy Woods, and, oh, how gladly<BR> +I will believe!<BR> +<BR> +But he merely said "Good-night, Peggy," and went out of the room. His<BR> +broad shoulders had a pathetic droop, a listlessness.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret was glad. Of course, she was glad. At last, she had told him<BR> +exactly what she thought of him. Why shouldn't she be glad? She was<BR> +delighted.<BR> +<BR> +So, by way of expressing this delight, she sat down at the desk and<BR> +began to cry very softly.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XIII">XIII</a><BR> +<BR> +Having duly considered the emptiness of existence, the unworthiness of<BR> +men, the dreary future that awaited her--though this did not trouble<BR> +her greatly, as she confidently expected to die soon--and many other<BR> +such dolorous topics, Miss Hugonin decided to retire for the night.<BR> +She rose, filled with speculations as to the paltriness of life and<BR> +the probability of her eyes being red in the morning.<BR> +<BR> +"It will be all his fault if they are," she consoled herself.<BR> +"Doubtless he'll be very much pleased. After robbing me of all faith<BR> +in humanity, I dare say the one thing needed to complete his happiness<BR> +is to make me look like a fright. I hate him! After making me<BR> +miserable, now, I suppose he'll go off and make some other woman<BR> +miserable. Oh, of course, he'll make love to the first woman he meets<BR> +who has any money. I'm sure she's welcome to him. I only pity any<BR> +woman who has to put up with <i>him</i>. No, I don't," Margaret decided,<BR> +after reflection; "I hate her, too!"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin went to the door leading to the hallway and paused.<BR> +Then--I grieve to relate it--she shook a little pink-tipped fist in<BR> +the air.<BR> +<BR> +"I detest you!" she commented, between her teeth; "oh, how <i>dare</i> you<BR> +make me feel so ashamed of the way I've treated you!"<BR> +<BR> +The query--as possibly you may have divined--was addressed to Mr.<BR> +Woods. He was standing by the fireplace in the hallway, and his tall<BR> +figure was outlined sharply against the flame of the gas-logs that<BR> +burned there. His shoulders had a pathetic droop, a listlessness.<BR> +<BR> +Billy was reading a paper of some kind by the firelight, and the black<BR> +outline of his face smiled grimly over it. Then he laughed and threw<BR> +it into the fire.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy!" a voice observed--a voice that was honey and gold and velvet<BR> +and all that is most sweet and rich and soft in the world.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods was aware of a light step, a swishing, sibilant, delightful<BR> +rustling--the caress of sound is the rustling of a well-groomed<BR> +woman's skirts--and of an afterthought of violets, of a mere<BR> +reminiscence of orris, all of which came toward him through the<BR> +dimness of the hall. He started, noticeably.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy," Miss Hugonin stated, "I'm sorry for what I said to you. I'm<BR> +not sure it isn't true, you know, but I'm sorry I said it."<BR> +<BR> +"Bless your heart!" said Billy; "don't you worry over that, Peggy.<BR> +That's all right. Incidentally, the things you've said to me and about<BR> +me aren't true, of course, but we won't discuss that just now. I--I<BR> +fancy we're both feeling a bit fagged. Go to bed, Peggy! We'll both<BR> +go to bed, and the night will bring counsel, and we'll sleep off all<BR> +unkindliness. Go to bed, little sister!--get all the beauty-sleep you<BR> +aren't in the least in need of, and dream of how happy you're going to<BR> +be with the man you love. And--and in the morning I may have something<BR> +to say to you. Good-night, dear."<BR> +<BR> +And this time he really went. And when he had come to the bend in the<BR> +stairs his eyes turned back to hers, slowly and irresistibly, drawn<BR> +toward them, as it seemed, just as the sunflower is drawn toward the<BR> +sun, or the needle toward the pole, or, in fine, as the eyes of young<BR> +gentlemen ordinarily are drawn toward the eyes of the one woman in the<BR> +world. Then he disappeared.<BR> +<BR> +The mummery of it vexed Margaret. There was no excuse for his looking<BR> +at her in that way. It irritated her. She was almost as angry with him<BR> +for doing it as she would have been for not doing it.<BR> +<BR> +Therefore, she bent an angry face toward the fire, her mouth pouting<BR> +in a rather inviting fashion. Then it rounded slowly into a sanguine<BR> +O, which of itself suggested osculation, but in reality stood for<BR> +"observe!" For the paper Billy had thrown into the fire had fallen<BR> +under the gas-logs, and she remembered his guilty start.<BR> +<BR> +"After all," said Margaret, "it's none of my business."<BR> +<BR> +So she eyed it wistfully.<BR> +<BR> +"It may be important," she considerately remembered. "It ought not to<BR> +be left there."<BR> +<BR> +So she fished it out with a big paper-cutter.<BR> +<BR> +"But it can't be very important," she dissented afterward, "or he<BR> +wouldn't have thrown it away."<BR> +<BR> +So she looked at the superscripture on the back of it.<BR> +<BR> +Then she gave a little gasp and tore it open and read it by the<BR> +firelight.<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin subsequently took credit to herself for not going into<BR> +hysterics. And I think she had some reason to; for she found the paper<BR> +a duplicate of the one Billy had taken out of the secret drawer, with<BR> +his name set in the place of hers. At the last Frederick R. Woods had<BR> +relented toward his nephew.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret laughed a little; then she cried a little; then she did both<BR> +together. Afterward she sat in the firelight, very puzzled and very<BR> +excited and very penitent and very beautiful, and was happier than she<BR> +had ever been in her life.<BR> +<BR> +"He had it in his pocket," her dear voice quavered; "he had it in his<BR> +pocket, my brave, strong, beautiful Billy did, when he asked me to<BR> +marry him. It was King Cophetua wooing the beggar-maid--and the beggar<BR> +was an impudent, ungrateful, idiotic little <i>piece</i>!" Margaret hissed,<BR> +in her most shrewish manner. "She ought to be spanked. She ought to go<BR> +down on her knees to him in sackcloth, and tears, and ashes, and all<BR> +sorts of penitential things. She will, too. Oh, it's such a beautiful<BR> +world--<i>such</i> a beautiful world! Billy loves me--really! Billy's a<BR> +millionaire, and I'm a pauper. Oh, I'm glad, glad, <i>glad</i>!"<BR> +<BR> +She caressed the paper that had rendered the world such a goodly place<BR> +to live in--caressed it tenderly and rubbed her check against it. That<BR> +was Margaret's way of showing affection, you know; and I protest it<BR> +must have been very pleasant for the paper. The only wonder was that<BR> +the ink it was written in didn't turn red with delight.<BR> +<BR> +Then she read it through again, for sheer enjoyment of those<BR> +beautiful, incomprehensible words that disinherited her. How <i>lovely</i><BR> +of Uncle Fred! she thought. Of course, he'd forgiven Billy; who<BR> +wouldn't? What beautiful language Uncle Fred used! quite prayer-booky,<BR> +she termed it. Then she gasped.<BR> +<BR> +The will in Billy's favour was dated a week earlier than the one they<BR> +had found in the secret drawer. It was worthless, mere waste paper. At<BR> +the last Frederick R. Woods's pride had conquered his love.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, the horrid old man!" Margaret wailed; "he's left me everything he<BR> +had! How <i>dare</i> he disinherit Billy! I call it rank impertinence in<BR> +him. Oh, boy dear, dear, <i>dear</i> boy!" Miss Hugonin crooned, in an<BR> +ecstacy of tenderness and woe. "He found this first will in one of the<BR> +other drawers, and thought <i>he</i> was the rich one, and came in a great<BR> +whirl of joy to ask me to marry him, and I was horrid to him! Oh, what<BR> +a mess I've made of it! I've called him a fortune-hunter, and I've<BR> +told him I love another man, and he'll never, never ask me to marry<BR> +him now. And I love him, I worship him, I adore him! And if only<BR> +I were poor--"<BR> +<BR> +Ensued a silence. Margaret lifted the two wills, scrutinised them<BR> +closely, and then looked at the fire, interrogatively.<BR> +<BR> +"It's penal servitude for quite a number of years," she said. "But,<BR> +then, he really <i>couldn't</i> tell any one, you know. No gentleman would<BR> +allow a lady to be locked up in jail. And if he knew--if he knew I<BR> +didn't and couldn't consider him a fortune-hunter, I really believe he<BR> +would--"<BR> +<BR> +Whatever she believed he would do, the probability of his doing it<BR> +seemed highly agreeable to Miss Hugonin. She smiled at the fire in the<BR> +most friendly fashion, and held out one of the folded papers to it.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," said Margaret, "I'm quite sure he will."<BR> +<BR> +There I think we may leave her. For I have dredged the dictionary,<BR> +and I confess I have found no fitting words wherewith to picture this<BR> +inconsistent, impulsive, adorable young woman, dreaming brave dreams<BR> +in the firelight of her lover and of their united future. I should<BR> +only bungle it. You must imagine it for yourself.<BR> +<BR> +It is a pretty picture, is it not?--with its laughable side, perhaps;<BR> +under the circumstances, whimsical, if you will; but very, very<BR> +sacred. For she loved him with a clean heart, loved him infinitely.<BR> +<BR> +Let us smile at it--tenderly--and pass on.<BR> +<BR> +But upon my word, when I think of how unreasonably, how outrageously<BR> +Margaret had behaved during the entire evening, I am tempted to<BR> +depose her as our heroine. I begin to regret I had not selected Adèle<BR> +Haggage.<BR> +<BR> +She would have done admirably. For, depend upon it, she, too, had<BR> +her trepidations, her white nights, her occult battles over Hugh Van<BR> +Orden. Also, she was a pretty girl--if you care for brunettes--and<BR> +accomplished. She was versed in I forget how many foreign languages,<BR> +both Continental and dead, and could discourse sensibly in any one of<BR> +them. She was perfectly reasonable, perfectly consistent, perfectly<BR> +unimpulsive, and never expressed an opinion that was not countenanced<BR> +by at least two competent authorities. I don't know a man living,<BR> +prepared to dispute that Miss Haggage excelled Miss Hugonin in all<BR> +these desirable qualities.<BR> +<BR> +Yet with pleasing unanimity they went mad for Margaret and had the<BR> +greatest possible respect for Adèle.<BR> +<BR> +And, my dear Mrs. Grundy, I grant you cheerfully that this was all<BR> +wrong. A sensible man, as you very justly observe, will seek in a<BR> +woman something more enduring than mere personal attractions; he will<BR> +value her for some sensible reason--say, for her wit, or her learning,<BR> +or her skill in cookery, or her proficiency in Greek. A sensible man<BR> +will look for a sensible woman; he will not concern his sensible head<BR> +over such trumperies as a pair of bright eyes, or a red lip or so, or<BR> +a satisfactory suit of hair. These are fleeting vanities.<BR> +<BR> +However--<BR> +<BR> +You have doubtless heard ere this, my dear madam, that had Cleopatra's<BR> +nose been an inch shorter the destiny of the world would have been<BR> +changed; had she been the woman you describe--perfectly reasonable,<BR> +perfectly consistent, perfectly sensible in all she said and<BR> +did--confess, dear lady, wouldn't Antony have taken to his heels and<BR> +have fled from such a monster?<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XIV">XIV</a><BR> +<BR> +I regret to admit that Mr. Woods did not toss feverishly about his bed<BR> +all through the silent watches of the night. He was very miserable,<BR> +but he was also twenty-six. That is an age when the blind bow-god<BR> +deals no fatal wounds. It is an age to suffer poignantly, if you will;<BR> +an age wherein to aspire to the dearest woman on earth, to write her<BR> +halting verses, to lose her, to affect the <i>clichés</i> of cynicism, to<BR> +hear the chimes at midnight--and after it all, to sleep like a top.<BR> +<BR> +So Billy slept. And kind Hypnos loosed a dream through the gates of<BR> +ivory that lifted him to a delectable land where Peggy was nineteen,<BR> +and had never heard of Kennaston, and was unbelievably sweet and dear<BR> +and beautiful. But presently they and the Colonel put forth to sea--on<BR> +a great carved writing-desk--fishing for sharks, which the Colonel<BR> +said were very plentiful in those waters; and Frederick R. Woods<BR> +climbed up out of the sea, and said Billy was a fool and must go to<BR> +college; and Peggy said that was impossible, as seventeen hundred and<BR> +fifty thousand children had to be given an education apiece, and they<BR> +couldn't spare one for Billy; and a missionary from Zambesi Land came<BR> +out of one of the secret drawers and said Billy must give him both<BR> +of his feet as he needed them for his working-girls' classes; and<BR> +thereupon the sharks poked their heads out of the water and began, in<BR> +a deafening chorus, to cry, "Feet, feet, feet!" And Billy then woke<BR> +with a start, and found it was only the birds chattering in the dawn<BR> +outside.<BR> +<BR> +Then he was miserable.<BR> +<BR> +He tossed, and groaned, and dozed, and smoked cigarettes until he<BR> +could stand it no longer. He got up and dressed, in sheer desperation,<BR> +and went for a walk in the gardens.<BR> +<BR> +The day was clear as a new-minted coin. It was not yet wholly aired,<BR> +not wholly free from the damp savour of night, but low in the east the<BR> +sun was taking heart. A mile-long shadow footed it with Billy Woods<BR> +in his pacings through the amber-chequered gardens. Actaeon-like, he<BR> +surprised the world at its toilet, and its fleeting grace somewhat<BR> +fortified his spirits.<BR> +<BR> +But his thoughts pestered him like gnats. The things he said to the<BR> +roses it is not necessary to set down.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XV">XV</a><BR> +<BR> +After a vituperative half-hour or so Mr. Woods was hungry. He came<BR> +back toward Selwoode; and upon the terrace in front of the house he<BR> +found Kathleen Saumarez.<BR> +<BR> +During the warm weather, one corner of the terrace had been converted,<BR> +by means of gay red-and-white awnings, into a sort of living-room.<BR> +There were chairs, tables, sofa-cushions, bowls of roses, and any<BR> +number of bright-coloured rugs. Altogether, it was a cosy place,<BR> +and the glowing hues of its furnishings were very becoming to Mrs.<BR> +Saumarez, who sat there writing industriously.<BR> +<BR> +It was a thought embarrassing. They had avoided one another<BR> +yesterday--rather obviously--both striving to put off a necessarily<BR> +awkward meeting. Now it had come. And now, somehow, their eyes met for<BR> +a moment, and they laughed frankly, and the awkwardness was gone.<BR> +<BR> +"Kathleen," said Mr. Woods, with conviction, "you're a dear."<BR> +<BR> +"You broke my heart," said she, demurely, "but I'm going to forgive<BR> +you."<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez was not striving to be clever now. And, heavens (thought<BR> +Billy), how much nicer she was like this! It wasn't the same woman:<BR> +her thin cheeks flushed arbutus-like, and her rather metallic voice<BR> +was grown low and gentle. Billy brought memories with him, you see;<BR> +and for the moment, she was Kathleen Eppes again--Kathleen Eppes in<BR> +the first flush of youth, eager, trustful, and joyous-hearted, as he<BR> +had known her long ago. Since then, the poor woman had eaten of the<BR> +bread of dependence and had found it salt enough; she had paid for it<BR> +daily, enduring a thousand petty slights, a thousand petty insults,<BR> +and smiling under them as only women can. But she had forgotten now<BR> +that shrewd Kathleen Saumarez who must earn her livelihood as best she<BR> +might. She smiled frankly--a purely unprofessional smile.<BR> +<BR> +"I was sorry when I heard you were coming," she said, irrelevantly,<BR> +"but I'm glad now."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods--I grieve to relate--was still holding her hand in his.<BR> +There stirred in his pulses the thrill Kathleen Eppes had always<BR> +wakened--a thrill of memory now, a mere wraith of emotion. He was<BR> +thinking of a certain pink-cheeked girl with crinkly black-brown<BR> +hair and eyes that he had likened to chrysoberyls--and he wondered<BR> +whimsically what had become of her. This was not she. This was<BR> +assuredly not Kathleen, for this woman had a large mouth--a humorous<BR> +and kindly mouth it was true, but undeniably a large one--whereas,<BR> +Kathleen's mouth had been quite perfect and rather diminutive than<BR> +otherwise. Hadn't he rhymed of it often enough to know?<BR> +<BR> +They stood gazing at one another for a long time; and in the back of<BR> +Billy's brain lines of his old verses sang themselves to a sad little<BR> +tune--the verses that reproved the idiocy of all other poets, who had<BR> +very foolishly written their sonnets to other women: and yet, as the<BR> +jingle pointed out,<BR> +<BR> + Had these poets ever strayed<BR> + In thy path, they had not made<BR> + Random rhymes of Arabella,<BR> + Songs of Dolly, hymns of Stella,<BR> + Lays of Lalage or Chloris--<BR> + Not of Daphne nor of Doris,<BR> + Florimel nor Amaryllis,<BR> + Nor of Phyllida nor Phyllis,<BR> + Were their wanton melodies:<BR> + But all of these--<BR> + All their melodies had been<BR> + Of thee, Kathleen.<BR> +<BR> +Would they have been? Billy thought it improbable. The verses were<BR> +very silly; and, recalling the big, blundering boy who had written<BR> +them, Billy began to wonder--somewhat forlornly--whither he, too,<BR> +had vanished. He and the girl he had gone mad for both seemed rather<BR> +mythical--legendary as King Pepin.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," said Mrs. Saumarez--and oh, she startled him; "I fancy they're<BR> +both quite dead by now. Billy," she cried, earnestly, "don't laugh<BR> +at them!--don't laugh at those dear, foolish children! I--somehow, I<BR> +couldn't bear that, Billy."<BR> +<BR> +"Kathleen," said Mr. Woods, in admiration, "you're a witch. I wasn't<BR> +laughing, though, my dear. I was developing quite a twilight mood over<BR> +them--a plaintive, old-lettery sort of mood, you know."<BR> +<BR> +She sighed a little. "Yes--I know." Then her eyelids flickered in a<BR> +parody of Kathleen's glance that Billy noted with a queer tenderness.<BR> +"Come and talk to me, Billy," she commanded. "I'm an early bird this<BR> +morning, and entitled to the very biggest and best-looking worm I can<BR> +find. You're only a worm, you know--we're all worms. Mr. Jukesbury<BR> +told me so last night, making an exception in my favour, for it<BR> +appears I'm an angel. He was amorously inclined last night, the tipsy<BR> +old fraud! It's shameless, Billy, the amount of money he gets out of<BR> +Miss Hugonin--for the deserving poor. Do you know, I rather fancy he<BR> +classes himself under that head? And I grant you he's poor enough--but<BR> +deserving!" Mrs. Saumarez snapped her fingers eloquently.<BR> +<BR> +"Eh? Shark, eh?" queried Mr. Woods, in some discomfort.<BR> +<BR> +She nodded. "He is as bad as Sarah Haggage," she informed him, "and<BR> +everybody knows what a bloodsucker she is. The Haggage is a disease,<BR> +Billy, that all rich women are exposed to--'more easily caught than<BR> +the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad.' Depend upon it,<BR> +Billy, those two will have every penny they can get out of your<BR> +uncle's money."<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy's so generous," he pleaded. "She wants to make everybody<BR> +happy--bring about a general millenium, you know."<BR> +<BR> +"She pays dearly enough for her fancies," said Mrs. Saumarez, in a<BR> +hard voice. Then, after a little, she cried, suddenly: "Oh, Billy,<BR> +Billy, it shames me to think of how we lie to her, and toady to her,<BR> +and lead her on from one mad scheme to another!--all for the sake of<BR> +the money we can pilfer incidentally! We're all arrant hypocrites, you<BR> +know; I'm no better than the others, Billy--not a bit better. But<BR> +my husband left me so poor, and I had always been accustomed to the<BR> +pretty things of life, and I couldn't--I couldn't give them up, Billy.<BR> +I love them too dearly. So I lie, and toady, and write drivelling<BR> +talks about things I don't understand, for drivelling women to<BR> +listen to, and I still have the creature comforts of life. I pawn my<BR> +self-respect for them--that's all. Such a little price to pay, isn't<BR> +it, Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +She spoke in a sort of frenzy. I dare say that at the outset she<BR> +wanted Mr. Woods to know the worst of her, knowing he could not fail<BR> +to discover it in time. Billy brought memories with him, you see; and<BR> +this shrewd, hard woman wanted, somehow, more than anything else in<BR> +the world, that he should think well of her. So she babbled out the<BR> +whole pitiful story, waiting in a kind of terror to see contempt and<BR> +disgust awaken in his eyes.<BR> +<BR> +But he merely said "I see--I see," very slowly, and his eyes were<BR> +kindly. He couldn't be angry with her, somehow; that pink-cheeked,<BR> +crinkly haired girl stood between them and shielded her. He was only<BR> +very, very sorry.<BR> +<BR> +"And Kennaston?" he asked, after a little.<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez flushed. "Mr. Kennaston is a man of great genius," she<BR> +said, quickly. "Of course, Miss Hugonin is glad to assist him in<BR> +publishing his books--it's an honour to her that he permits it. They<BR> +have to be published privately, you know, as the general public isn't<BR> +capable of appreciating such dainty little masterpieces. Oh, don't<BR> +make any mistake, Billy--Mr. Kennaston is a very wonderful and very<BR> +admirable man."<BR> +<BR> +"H'm, yes; he struck me as being an unusually nice chap," said Mr.<BR> +Woods, untruthfully. "I dare say they'll be very happy."<BR> +<BR> +"Who?" Mrs. Saumarez demanded.<BR> +<BR> +"Why--er--I don't suppose they'll make any secret of it," Billy<BR> +stammered, in tardy repentance of his hasty speaking. "Peggy told me<BR> +last night she had accepted him."<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez turned to rearrange a bowl of roses. She seemed to have<BR> +some difficulty over it.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy," she spoke, inconsequently, and with averted head, "an honest<BR> +man is the noblest work of God--and the rarest."<BR> +<BR> +Billy groaned.<BR> +<BR> +"Do you know," said he, "I've just been telling the roses in the<BR> +gardens yonder the same thing about women? I'm a misogynist this<BR> +morning. I've decided no woman is worthy of being loved."<BR> +<BR> +"That is quite true," she assented, "but, on the other hand, no man is<BR> +worthy of loving."<BR> +<BR> +Billy smiled.<BR> +<BR> +"I've likewise come to the conclusion," said he, "that a man's love is<BR> +like his hat, in that any peg will do to hang it on; also, in that the<BR> +proper and best place for it is on his own head. Oh, I assure you,<BR> +I vented any number of cheap cynicisms on the helpless roses! And<BR> +yet--will you believe it, Kathleen?--it doesn't seem to make me feel a<BR> +bit better--no, not a bit."<BR> +<BR> +"It's very like his hat," she declared, "in that he has a new one<BR> +every year." Then she rested her hand on his, in a half-maternal<BR> +fashion. "What's the matter, boy?" she asked, softly. "You're always<BR> +so fresh and wholesome. I don't like to see you like this. Better<BR> +leave phrase-making to us phrase-mongers."<BR> +<BR> +Her voice rang true--true, and compassionate, and tender, and all that<BR> +a woman's voice should be. Billy could not but trust her.<BR> +<BR> +"I've been an ass," said he, rather tragically. "Oh, not an unusual<BR> +ass, Kathleen--just the sort men are always making of themselves. You<BR> +see, before I went to France, there was a girl I--cared for. And I let<BR> +a quarrel come between us--a foolish, trifling, idle little quarrel,<BR> +Kathleen, that we might have made up in a half-hour. But I was too<BR> +proud, you see. No, I wasn't proud, either," Mr. Woods amended,<BR> +bitterly; "I was simply pig-headed and mulish. So I went away. And<BR> +yesterday I saw her again and realised that I--still cared. That's<BR> +all, Kathleen. It isn't an unusual story." And Mr. Woods laughed,<BR> +mirthlessly, and took a turn on the terrace.<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez was regarding him intently. Her cheeks were of a deeper,<BR> +more attractive pink, and her breath came and went quickly.<BR> +<BR> +"I--I don't understand," she said, in a rather queer voice.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, it's simple enough," Billy assured her. "You see, she--well, I<BR> +think she would have married me once. Yes, she cared for me once. And<BR> +I quarreled with her--I, conceited young ass that I was, actually<BR> +presumed to dictate to the dearest, sweetest, most lovable woman on<BR> +earth, and tell her what she must do and what she mustn't. I!--good<BR> +Lord, I, who wasn't worthy to sweep a crossing clean for her!--who<BR> +wasn't worthy to breathe the same air with her!--who wasn't worthy to<BR> +exist in the same world she honoured by living in! Oh, I <i>was</i> an ass!<BR> +But I've paid for it!--oh, yes, Kathleen, I've paid dearly for it,<BR> +and I'll pay more dearly yet before I've done. I tried to avoid her<BR> +yesterday--you must have seen that. And I couldn't--I give you my<BR> +word, I could no more have kept away from her than I could have spread<BR> +a pair of wings and flown away. She doesn't care a bit for me now; but<BR> +I can no more give up loving her than I can give up eating my dinner.<BR> +That isn't a pretty simile, Kathleen, but it expresses the way I feel<BR> +toward her. It isn't merely that I want her; it's more than that--oh,<BR> +far more than that. I simply can't do without her. Don't you<BR> +understand, Kathleen?" he asked, desperately.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes--I think I understand," she said, when he had ended. "I--oh,<BR> +Billy, I am almost sorry. It's dear of you--dear of you, Billy, to<BR> +care for me still, but--but I'm almost sorry you care so much. I'm not<BR> +worth it, boy dear. And I--I really don't know what to say. You must<BR> +let me think."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods gave an inarticulate sound. The face she turned to him<BR> +was perplexed, half-sad, fond, a little pleased, and strangely<BR> +compassionate. It was Kathleen Eppes who sat beside him; the six years<BR> +were as utterly forgotten as the name of Magdalen's first lover. She<BR> +was a girl again, listening--with a heart that fluttered, I dare<BR> +say--to the wild talk, the mad dithyrambics of a big, blundering boy.<BR> +<BR> +The ludicrous horror of it stunned Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +He could no more have told her of her mistake than he could have<BR> +struck her in the face.<BR> +<BR> +"Kathleen--!" said he, vaguely.<BR> +<BR> +"Let me think!--ah, let me think, Billy!" she pleaded, in a flutter of<BR> +joy and amazement. "Go away, boy dear!--Go away for a little and<BR> +let me think! I'm not an emotional woman, but I'm on the verge of<BR> +hysterics now, for--for several reasons. Go in to breakfast, Billy!<BR> +I--I want to be alone. You've made me very proud and--and sorry, I<BR> +think, and glad, and--and--oh, I don't know, boy dear. But please go<BR> +now--please!"<BR> +<BR> +Billy went.<BR> +<BR> +In the living-hall he paused to inspect a picture with peculiar<BR> +interest. Since Kathleen cared for him (he thought, rather forlornly),<BR> +he must perjure himself in as plausible a manner as might be possible;<BR> +please God, having done what he had done, he would lie to her like a<BR> +gentleman and try to make her happy.<BR> +<BR> +A vision in incredible violet ruffles, coming down to breakfast, saw<BR> +him, and paused on the stairway, and flushed and laughed deliciously.<BR> +<BR> +Poor Billy stared at her; and his heart gave a great bound and then<BR> +appeared to stop for an indefinite time.<BR> +<BR> +"Good Lord!" said Mr. Woods, in his soul. "And I thought I was an ass<BR> +last night! Why, last night, in comparison, I displayed intelligence<BR> +that was almost human! Oh, Peggy, Peggy! if I only dared tell you what<BR> +I think of you, I believe I would gladly die afterward--yes, I'm sure<BR> +I would. You really haven't any right to be so beautiful!--it isn't<BR> +fair to us, Peggy!"<BR> +<BR> +But the vision was peeping over the bannisters at him, and the<BR> +vision's eyes were sparkling with a lucent mischief and a wonderful,<BR> +half-hushed contralto was demanding of him:<BR> +<BR> + "Oh, where have you been, Billy boy, Billy boy?<BR> + Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +And Billy's baritone answered her:<BR> +<BR> + "I've been to seek a wife--"<BR> +<BR> +and broke off in a groan.<BR> +<BR> +"Good Lord!" said Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +It was a ludicrous business, if you will. Indeed, it was vastly<BR> +humorous--was it not?--this woman's thinking a man's love might by any<BR> +chance endure through six whole years. But their love endures, you<BR> +see; and the silly creatures have a superstition among them that love<BR> +is a sacred thing, stronger than time, victorious over death itself.<BR> +Let us laugh, then, at Kathleen Saumarez--those of us who have learned<BR> +that love is only a tinkling cymbal and faith a sounding brass and<BR> +fidelity an obsolete affectation: but for my part, I honour and<BR> +think better of the woman who through all her struggles with the<BR> +world--through all those sordid, grim, merciless, secret battles where<BR> +the vanquished may not even cry for succour--I honour her, I say, for<BR> +that she had yet cherished the memory of that first love which is the<BR> +best and purest and most unselfish and most excellent thing in life.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XVI">XVI</a><BR> +<BR> +Breakfast Margaret enjoyed hugely. I regret to confess that the fact<BR> +that every one of her guests was more or less miserable moved this<BR> +hard-hearted young woman to untimely and excessive mirth. Only Mrs.<BR> +Saumarez puzzled her, for she could think of no reason for that lady's<BR> +manifest agitation when Kathleen eventually joined the others.<BR> +<BR> +But for the rest, the hopeless glances that Hugh Van Orden cast toward<BR> +her caused Adèle to flush, and Mrs. Haggage to become despondent and<BR> +speechless and astonishingly rigid; and Petheridge Jukesbury's vaguely<BR> +apologetic attitude toward the world struck Miss Hugonin as infinitely<BR> +diverting. Kennaston she pitied a little; but his bearing toward<BR> +her ranged ludicrously from that of proprietorship to that of<BR> +supplication, and, moreover, she was furious with him for having<BR> +hinted at various times that Billy was a fortune-hunter.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret was quite confident by this that she had never believed<BR> +him--"not really, you know"--having argued the point out at some<BR> +length the night before, and reaching her conclusion by a course of<BR> +reasoning peculiar to herself.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods, as you may readily conceive, was sunk in the Slough of<BR> +Despond deeper than ever plummet sounded. Margaret thought this very<BR> +nice of him; it was a delicate tribute to her that he ate nothing;<BR> +and the fact that Hugh Van Orden and Petheridge Jukesbury--as she<BR> +believed--acted in precisely the same way for precisely the same<BR> +reason, merely demonstrated, of course, their overwhelming conceit and<BR> +presumption.<BR> +<BR> +So sitting in the great Eagle's shadow, she ate a quantity of<BR> +marmalade--she was wont to begin the day in this ungodly English<BR> +fashion--and gossiped like a brook trotting over sunlit pebbles. She<BR> +had planned a pulverising surprise for the house-party; and in due<BR> +time, she intended to explode it, and subsequently Billy was to<BR> +apologise for his conduct, and then they were to live happily ever<BR> +afterward.<BR> +<BR> +She had not yet decided what he was to apologise for; that was his<BR> +affair. His conscience ought to have told him, by this, wherein he had<BR> +offended; and if his conscience hadn't, why then, of course, he would<BR> +have to apologise for his lack of proper sensibility.<BR> +<BR> +After breakfast she went, according to her usual custom, to her<BR> +father's rooms, for, as I think I have told you, the old gentleman was<BR> +never visible until noon. She had astonishing news for him.<BR> +<BR> +What time she divulged it, the others sat on the terrace, and Mr.<BR> +Kennaston read to them, as he had promised, from his "Defense of<BR> +Ignorance." It proved a welcome diversion to more than one of the<BR> +party. Mr. Woods, especially, esteemed it a godsend; it staved off<BR> +misfortune for at least a little; so he sat at Kathleen's side in<BR> +silence, trying desperately to be happy, trying desperately not to see<BR> +the tiny wrinkles, the faint crow's feet Time had sketched in her face<BR> +as a memorandum of the work he meant to do shortly.<BR> +<BR> +Billy consoled himself with the reflection that he was very fond of<BR> +her; but, oh (he thought), what worship, what adoration he could<BR> +accord this woman if she would only decline--positively--to have<BR> +anything whatever to do with him!<BR> +<BR> +I think we ought not to miss hearing Mr. Kennaston's discourse. It is<BR> +generally conceded that his style is wonderfully clever; and I have<BR> +no doubt that his detractors--who complain that his style is mere<BR> +word-twisting, a mere inversion of the most ancient truisms--are<BR> +actuated by the very basest jealousy. Let us listen, then, and be duly<BR> +edified as he reads in a low, sweet voice, and the birds twitter about<BR> +him in the clear morning.<BR> +<BR> +"It has been for many years," Mr. Kennaston began, "the custom of<BR> +patriotic gentlemen in quest of office to point with pride to the fact<BR> +that the schoolmaster is abroad in the land, in whose defense they<BR> +stand pledged to draw their salaries and fight to the last gasp<BR> +for reelection. These lofty platitudes, while trying to the lungs,<BR> +doubtless appeal to a certain class of minds. But, indeed, the<BR> +schoolmaster is not abroad; he is domesticated in every village in<BR> +America, where each hamlet has its would-be Shakespeare, and each<BR> +would-be Shakespeare has his 'Hamlet' by heart. Learning is rampant in<BR> +the land, and valuable information is pasted up in the streetcars so<BR> +that he who rides may read.<BR> +<BR> +"And Ignorance--beautiful, divine Ignorance--is forsaken by a<BR> +generation that clamours for the truth. And what value, pray, has this<BR> +Truth that we should lust after it?"<BR> +<BR> +He glanced up, in an inquiring fashion. Mr. Jukesbury, meeting his<BR> +eye, smiled and shook his head and said "Fie, fie!" very placidly.<BR> +<BR> +To do him justice, he had not the least idea what Kennaston was<BR> +talking about.<BR> +<BR> +"I am aware," the poet continued, with an air of generosity, "that<BR> +many pleasant things have been said of it. In fact, our decade has<BR> +turned its back relentlessly upon the decayed, and we no longer read<BR> +the lament over the lost art of lying issued many magazines ago by<BR> +a once prominent British author. Still, without advancing any Wilde<BR> +theories, one may fairly claim that truth is a jewel--a jewel with<BR> +many facets, differing in appearance from each point of view.<BR> +<BR> +"And while 'Tell the truth and shame the Devil' is a very pretty<BR> +sentiment, it need not necessarily mean anything. The Devil, if there<BR> +be a personal devil--and it has been pointed out, with some show of<BR> +reason, that an impersonal one could scarcely carry out such enormous<BR> +contracts--would, in all probability, rather approve than otherwise of<BR> +indiscriminate truth-telling. Irritation is the root of all evil; and<BR> +there is nothing more irritating than to hear the truth about one's<BR> +self. It is bad enough, in all conscience, to be insulted, but the<BR> +truth of an insult is the barb that prevents its retraction. 'Truth<BR> +hurts' has all the pathos of understatement. It not only hurts, but<BR> +infuriates. It has no more right to go naked in public than any one<BR> +else. Indeed, it has less right; for truth-telling is natural to<BR> +mankind--as is shown by its prevalence among the younger sort, such as<BR> +children and cynics--and, as Shakespeare long ago forgot to tell us, a<BR> +touch of nature makes the whole world embarrassed."<BR> +<BR> +At this point Mrs. Haggage sniffed. She considered he was growing<BR> +improper. She distrusted Nature.<BR> +<BR> +"Truth-telling, then, may safely be regarded as an unamiable<BR> +indiscretion. In art, the bare truth must, in common gallantry, be<BR> +awarded a print petticoat or one of canvas, as the case may be, to<BR> +hide her nakedness; and in life, it is a disastrous virtue that we<BR> +have united to commend and avoid. Nor is the decision an unwise one;<BR> +for man is a gregarious animal, knowing that friendship is, at best,<BR> +but a feeble passion and therefore to be treated with the care due an<BR> +invalid. It is impossible to be quite candid in conversation with a<BR> +man; and with a woman it is absolutely necessary that your speech<BR> +should be candied.<BR> +<BR> +"Truth, then, is the least desirable of acquaintances.<BR> +<BR> +"But even if one wished to know the truth, the desire could scarcely<BR> +be fulfilled. Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, a prominent lawyer of<BR> +Elizabeth's time, who would have written Shakespeare's plays had his<BR> +other occupations not prevented it, quotes Pilate as inquiring, 'What<BR> +is Truth?'--and then not staying for an answer. Pilate deserves all<BR> +the praise he has never received. Nothing is quite true. Even Truth<BR> +lies at the bottom of a well and not infrequently in other places. No<BR> +assertion is one whit truer than its opposite."<BR> +<BR> +A mild buzz of protest rose about him. Kennaston smiled and cocked his<BR> +head on one side.<BR> +<BR> +"We have, for example," he pointed out, "a large number of proverbs,<BR> +the small coin of conversation, received everywhere, whose value no<BR> +one disputes. They are rapped forth, like an oath, with an air of<BR> +settling the question once and forever. Well! there is safety in<BR> +quotations. But even the Devil can cite Shakespeare for his purpose.<BR> +'Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day' agrees ill with<BR> +'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof'; and it is somewhat<BR> +difficult to reconcile 'Take care of the pence, and the pounds will<BR> +take care of themselves' with the equally familiar 'Penny-wise,<BR> +pound-foolish.' Yet the sayings are equally untrue; any maxim is,<BR> +perforce, a general statement, and therefore fallacious, and therefore<BR> +universally accepted. Art is long, and life is short, but the<BR> +platitudes concerning them are both insufferable and eternal. We must<BR> +remember that a general statement is merely a snap-shot at flying<BR> +truth, an instantaneous photograph of a moving body. It may be the way<BR> +that a thing is; but it is never the way in which any one ever saw<BR> +that thing, or ever will. This is, of course, a general statement.<BR> +<BR> +"As to present events, then, it may be assumed that no one is either<BR> +capable or desirous of speaking the truth; why, then, make such<BR> +a pother about it as to the past? There we have carried the<BR> +investigation of truth to such an extreme that nowadays very few of us<BR> +dare believe anything. Opinions are difficult to secure when a quarter<BR> +of an hour in the library will prove either side of any question.<BR> +Formerly, people had a few opinions, which, if erroneous, were at<BR> +least universal. Nero was not considered an immaculate man. The Flood<BR> +was currently believed to have caused the death of quite a number of<BR> +persons. And George Washington, it was widely stated, once cut down<BR> +a cherry-tree. But now all these comfortable illusions have been<BR> +destroyed by 'the least little men who spend their time and lose their<BR> +wits in chasing nimble and retiring truth, to the extreme perturbation<BR> +and drying up of the moistures.'"<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston looked up for a moment, and Billy Woods, who had counted<BR> +seven wrinkles and was dropping into a forlorn doze, started<BR> +violently. His interest then became abnormal.<BR> +<BR> +"There are," Mr. Kennaston complained, rather reproachfully, "too many<BR> +inquiries, doubts, investigations, discoveries, and apologies. There<BR> +are palliations of Tiberius, eulogies of Henry VIII., rehabilitations<BR> +of Aaron Burr. Lucretia Borgia, it appears, was a grievously<BR> +misunderstood woman, and Heliogabalus a most exemplary monarch; even<BR> +the dog in the manger may have been a nervous animal in search of<BR> +rest and quiet. As for Shakespeare, he was an atheist, a syndicate, a<BR> +lawyer's clerk, an inferior writer, a Puritan, a scholar, a <i>nom de<BR> +plume</i>, a doctor of medicine, a fool, a poacher, and another man of<BR> +the same name. Information of this sort crops up on every side. Even<BR> +the newspapers are infected; truth lurks in the patent-medicine<BR> +advertisements, and sometimes creeps stealthily into the very<BR> +editorials. We must all learn the true facts of history, whether we<BR> +will or no; eventually, the writers of historical romance will not<BR> +escape.<BR> +<BR> +"So the sad tale goes. Ignorance--beautiful, divine Ignorance--is<BR> +forsaken by a generation that clamours for the truth. The<BR> +earnest-minded person has plucked Zeus out of Heaven, and driven the<BR> +Maenad from the wood, and dragged Poseidon out of his deep-sea palace.<BR> +The conclaves of Olympus, it appears, are merely nature-myths;<BR> +the stately legends clustering about them turn out to be a rather<BR> +elaborate method of expressing the fact that it occasionally rains.<BR> +The heroes who endured their angers and jests and tragic loves are<BR> +delicately veiled allusions to the sun--surely, a very harmless topic<BR> +of conversation, even in Greece; and the monsters, 'Gorgons and Hydras<BR> +and Chimæras dire,' their grisly offspring, their futile opponents,<BR> +are but personified frosts. Mythology--the poet's necessity, the<BR> +fertile mother of his inventions--has become a series of atmospheric<BR> +phenomena, and the labours of Hercules prove to be a dozen weather<BR> +bulletins.<BR> +<BR> +"Is it any cause for wonder, that under this cheerless influence our<BR> +poetry is either silent or unsold? The true poet must be ignorant, for<BR> +information is the thief of rhyme. And it is only in dealing with--"<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston paused. Margaret had appeared in the vestibule, and behind<BR> +her stood her father, looking very grave.<BR> +<BR> +"We have made a most interesting discovery," Miss Hugonin airily<BR> +announced to the world at large. "It appears that Uncle Fred left all<BR> +his property to Mr. Woods here. We found the will only last night. I'm<BR> +sure you'll all be interested to learn I'm a pauper now, and intend to<BR> +support myself by plain sewing. Any work of this nature you may<BR> +choose to favour me with, ladies and gentlemen, will receive my most<BR> +<i>earnest</i> attention."<BR> +<BR> +She dropped a courtesy. The scene appealed to her taste for the<BR> +dramatic.<BR> +<BR> +Billy came toward her quickly.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy," he demanded of her, in the semi-privacy of the vestibule,<BR> +"will you kindly elucidate the meaning of this da--this idiotic<BR> +foolishness?"<BR> +<BR> +"Why, this," she explained, easily, and exhibited a folded paper. "I<BR> +found it in the grate last night."<BR> +<BR> +He inspected it with large eyes. "That's absurd," he said, at length.<BR> +"You know perfectly well this will isn't worth the paper it's written<BR> +on."<BR> +<BR> +"My dear sir," she informed him, coldly, "you are vastly mistaken. You<BR> +see, I've burned the other one." She pushed by him. "Mr. Kennaston,<BR> +are you ready for our walk? We'll finish the paper some other time.<BR> +Wasn't it the strangest thing in the world--?" Her dear, deep, mellow<BR> +voice died away as she and Kennaston disappeared in the gardens.<BR> +<BR> +Billy gasped.<BR> +<BR> +But meanwhile, Colonel Hugonin had given the members of his daughter's<BR> +house-party some inkling as to the present posture of affairs. They<BR> +were gazing at Billy Woods rather curiously. He stood in the vestibule<BR> +of Selwoode, staring after Margaret Hugonin; but they stared at him,<BR> +and over his curly head, sculptured above the door-way, they saw the<BR> +Eagle--the symbol of the crude, incalculable power of wealth.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods stood in the vestibule of his own house.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XVII">XVII</a><BR> +<BR> +"By gad!" said Colonel Hugonin, very grimly, "anybody would think<BR> +you'd just lost a fortune instead of inheriting one! Wish you joy of<BR> +it, Billy. I ain't saying, you know, we shan't miss it, my daughter<BR> +and I--no, begad, for it's a nice pot of money, and we'll miss it<BR> +damnably. But since somebody had to have it, I'd much rather it was<BR> +you, my boy, than a set of infernal, hypocritical, philanthropic<BR> +sharks, and I'm damn' glad Frederick has done the square thing by<BR> +you--yes, begad!"<BR> +<BR> +The old gentleman was standing beside Mr. Woods in the vestibule of<BR> +Selwoode, some distance from the other members of the house-party,<BR> +and was speaking in confidence. He was sincere; I don't say that<BR> +the thought of facing the world at sixty-five with practically<BR> +no resources save his half-pay--I think I have told you that the<BR> +Colonel's diversions had drunk up his wife's fortune and his own like<BR> +a glass of water--I don't say that this thought moved him to hilarity.<BR> +Over it, indeed, he pulled a frankly grave face.<BR> +<BR> +But he cared a deal for Billy; and even now there was balm--soothing,<BR> +priceless balm--to be had of the reflection that this change in<BR> +his prospects affected materially the prospects of those cultured,<BR> +broad-minded, philanthropic persons who had aforetime set his daughter<BR> +to requiring of him a perusal of Herbert Spencer.<BR> +<BR> +Billy was pretty well aware how monetary matters stood with the old<BR> +wastrel; and the sincerity of the man affected him far more than the<BR> +most disinterested sentiments would have done. Mr. Woods accordingly<BR> +shook hands, with entirely unnecessary violence.<BR> +<BR> +"You're a trump, that's what you are!" he declared; "oh, yes, you are,<BR> +Colonel! You're an incorrigible, incurable old ace of trumps--the<BR> +very best there is in the pack--and it's entirely useless for you to<BR> +attempt to conceal it."<BR> +<BR> +"Gad----!" said the Colonel.<BR> +<BR> +"And don't you worry about that will," Mr. Woods advised. "I--I can't<BR> +explain things just now, but it's all right. You just wait--just wait<BR> +till I've seen Peggy," Billy urged, in desperation, "and I'll explain<BR> +everything."<BR> +<BR> +"By gad----!" said the Colonel. But Mr. Woods was half-way out of the<BR> +vestibule.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods was in an unenviable state of perturbation.<BR> +<BR> +He could not quite believe that Peggy had destroyed the will; the<BR> +thing out-Heroded Herod, out-Margareted Margaret. But if she had,<BR> +it struck him as a high-handed proceeding, entailing certain<BR> +vague penalties made and provided by the law to cover just such<BR> +cases--penalties of whose nature he was entirely ignorant and didn't<BR> +care to think. Heavens! for all he knew, that angel might have let<BR> +herself in for a jail sentence.<BR> +<BR> +Billy pictured that queen among women! that paragon! with her glorious<BR> +hair cropped and her pink-tipped little hands set to beating hemp--he<BR> +had a shadowy notion that the lives of all female convicts were<BR> +devoted to this pursuit--and groaned in horror.<BR> +<BR> +"In the name of Heaven!" Mr. Woods demanded of his soul, "what<BR> +<i>possible</i> reason could she have had for this new insanity? And in the<BR> +name of Heaven, why couldn't she have put off her <i>tête-à-tête</i> with<BR> +Kennaston long enough to explain? And in the name of Heaven, what does<BR> +she see to admire in that putty-faced, grimacing ass, any way! And in<BR> +the name of Heaven, what am I to say to this poor, old man here? I<BR> +can't explain that his daughter isn't in any danger of being poor, but<BR> +merely of being locked up in jail! And in the name of Heaven, how<BR> +long does that outrageous angel expect me to remain in this state of<BR> +suspense!"<BR> +<BR> +Billy groaned again and paced the vestibule. Then he retraced his<BR> +steps, shook hands with Colonel Hugonin once more, and, Kennaston or<BR> +no Kennaston, set out to find her.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XVIII">XVIII</a><BR> +<BR> +But when he came out upon the terrace, Sarah Ellen Haggage stopped<BR> +him--stopped him with a queer blending of diffidence and resolve in<BR> +her manner.<BR> +<BR> +The others, by this, had disappeared in various directions, puzzled<BR> +and exceedingly uncertain what to do. Indeed, to congratulate Billy<BR> +in the Colonel's presence would have been tactless; and, on the other<BR> +hand, to condole with the Colonel without seeming to affront the<BR> +wealthy Mr. Woods was almost impossible. So they temporised and<BR> +fled--all save Mrs. Haggage.<BR> +<BR> +She, alone, remained to view Mr. Woods with newly opened eyes; for<BR> +as he paused impatiently--the sculptured Eagle above his head--she<BR> +perceived that he was a remarkably handsome and intelligent young man.<BR> +Her motherly heart opened toward this lonely, wealthy orphan.<BR> +<BR> +"My dear Billy," she cooed, with asthmatic gentleness, "as an old,<BR> +old friend of your mother's, aren't you going to let me tell you how<BR> +rejoiced Adèle and I are over your good fortune? It isn't polite, you<BR> +naughty boy, for you to run away from your friends as soon as they've<BR> +heard this wonderful news. Ah, such news it was--such a manifest<BR> +intervention of Providence! My heart has been fluttering, fluttering<BR> +like a little bird, Billy, ever since I heard it."<BR> +<BR> +In testimony to this fact, Mrs. Haggage clasped a stodgy hand to an<BR> +exceedingly capacious bosom, and exhibited the whites of her eyes<BR> +freely. Her smile, however, remained unchanged and ample.<BR> +<BR> +"Er--ah--oh, yes! Very kind of you, I'm sure!" said Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +"I never in my life saw Adèle so deeply affected by <i>anything</i>," Mrs.<BR> +Haggage continued, with a certain large archness. "The sweet child<BR> +was always so fond of you, you know, Billy. Ah, I remember distinctly<BR> +hearing her speak of you many and many a time when you were in that<BR> +dear, delightful, wicked Paris, and wonder when you would come back<BR> +to your friends--not very grand and influential friends, Billy, but<BR> +sincere, I trust, for all that."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods said he had no doubt of it.<BR> +<BR> +"So many people," she informed him, confidentially, "will pursue you<BR> +with adulation now that you are wealthy. Oh, yes, you will find that<BR> +wealth makes a great difference, Billy. But not with Adèle and<BR> +me--no, dear boy, despise us if you will, but my child and I are not<BR> +mercenary. Money makes no difference with us; we shall be the same to<BR> +you that we always were--sincerely interested in your true welfare,<BR> +overjoyed at your present good fortune, prayerful as to your brilliant<BR> +future, and delighted to have you drop in any evening to dinner. We do<BR> +not consider money the chief blessing of life; no, don't tell me that<BR> +most people are different, Billy, for I know it very well, and many is<BR> +the tear that thought has cost me. We live in a very mercenary world,<BR> +my dear boy; but <i>our</i> thoughts, at least, are set on higher things,<BR> +and I trust we can afford to despise the merely temporal blessings of<BR> +life, and I entreat you to remember that our humble dwelling is always<BR> +open to the son of my old, old friend, and that there is always a jug<BR> +of good whiskey in the cupboard."<BR> +<BR> +Thus in the shadow of the Eagle babbled the woman whom--for all her<BR> +absurdities--Margaret had loved as a mother.<BR> +<BR> +Billy thanked her with an angry heart.<BR> +<BR> +"And this"--I give you the gist of his meditations--"this is Peggy's<BR> +dearest friend! Oh, Philanthropy, are thy protestations, then, all<BR> +void and empty, and are thy noblest sentiments--every one of 'em--so<BR> +full of sound and rhetoric, so specious, so delectable--are these,<BR> +then, but dicers' oaths!"<BR> +<BR> +Aloud, "I'm rather surprised, you know," he said, slowly, "that you<BR> +take it just this way, Mrs. Haggage. I should have thought you'd have<BR> +been sorry on--on Miss Hugonin's account. It's awfully jolly of you,<BR> +of course--oh, awfully jolly, and I appreciate it at its true worth, I<BR> +assure you. But it's a bit awkward, isn't it, that the poor girl will<BR> +be practically penniless? I really don't know whom she'll turn to<BR> +now."<BR> +<BR> +Then Billy, the diplomatist, received a surprise.<BR> +<BR> +"She'll come with me, of course," said Mrs. Haggage.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods made an--unfortunately--inaudible observation.<BR> +<BR> +"I beg your pardon?" she queried. Then, obtaining no response, she<BR> +continued, with perfect simplicity: "Margaret's quite like a daughter<BR> +to me, you know. Of course, she and the Colonel will come with us--at<BR> +least, until affairs are a bit more settled. Even afterward--well, we<BR> +have a large house, Billy, and I don't see that they'd be any better<BR> +off anywhere else."<BR> +<BR> +Billy's emotions were complex.<BR> +<BR> +"You big-hearted old parasite," his own heart was singing. "If you<BR> +could only keep that ring of truth that's in your voice for your<BR> +platform utterances--why, in less than no time you could afford to<BR> +feed your Afro-Americans on nightingales' tongues and clothe every<BR> +working-girl in the land in cloth of gold! You've been pilfering from<BR> +Peggy for years--pilfering right and left with both hands! But you've<BR> +loved her all the time, God bless you; and now the moment she's in<BR> +trouble you're ready to take both her and the Colonel--whom, by the<BR> +way, you must very cordially detest--and share your pitiful, pilfered<BR> +little crusts with 'em and--having two more mouths to feed--probably<BR> +pilfer a little more outrageously in the future! You're a<BR> +sanctimonious old hypocrite, you are, and a pious fraud, and a<BR> +delusion, and a snare, and you and Adèle have nefarious designs on me<BR> +at this very moment, but I think I'd like to kiss you!"<BR> +<BR> +Indeed, I believe Mr. Woods came very near doing so. She loved Peggy,<BR> +you see; and he loved every one who loved her.<BR> +<BR> +But he compromised by shaking hands energetically, for a matter of<BR> +five minutes, and entreating to be allowed to subscribe to some of her<BR> +deserving charitable enterprises--any one she might mention--and so<BR> +left the old lady a little bewildered, but very much pleased.<BR> +<BR> +She decided that for the future Adèle must not see so much of Mr.<BR> +Van Orden. She began to fear that gentleman's views of life were not<BR> +sufficiently serious.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XIX">XIX</a><BR> +<BR> +Billy went into the gardens in pursuit of Margaret. He was almost<BR> +happy now and felt vaguely ashamed of himself. Then he came upon<BR> +Kathleen Saumarez, who, indeed, was waiting for him there; and his<BR> +heart went down into his boots.<BR> +<BR> +He realised on a sudden that he was one of the richest men in America.<BR> +It was a staggering thought. Also, Mr. Woods's views, at this moment,<BR> +as to the advantages of wealth, might have been interesting.<BR> +<BR> +Kathleen stood silent for an instant, eyes downcast, face flushed. She<BR> +was trembling.<BR> +<BR> +Then, "Billy," she asked, almost inaudibly, "do--do you still<BR> +want--your answer?"<BR> +<BR> +The birds sang about them. Spring triumphed in the gardens. She looked<BR> +very womanly and very pretty.<BR> +<BR> +To all appearances, it might easily have been a lover and his lass met<BR> +in the springtide, shamefaced after last night's kissing. But Billy,<BR> +somehow, lacked much of the elation and the perfect content and the<BR> +disposition to burst into melody that is currently supposed to seize<BR> +upon rustic swains at such moments. He merely wanted to know if at<BR> +any time in the remote future his heart would be likely to resume the<BR> +discharge of its proper functions. It was standing still now.<BR> +<BR> +However, "Can you ask--dear?" His words, at least, lied gallantly.<BR> +<BR> +The poor woman looked up into Billy's face. After years of battling<BR> +with the world, here for the asking was peace and luxury and wealth<BR> +incalculable, and--as Kathleen thought--a love that had endured since<BR> +they were boy and girl together. Yet she shrunk from him a little and<BR> +clinched her hands before she spoke.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," Kathleen faltered, and afterward she shuddered.<BR> +<BR> +And here, if for the moment I may prefigure the Eagle as a sentient<BR> +being, I can imagine his chuckle.<BR> +<BR> +"Please God," thought poor Billy, "I will make her happy. Yes, please<BR> +God, I can at least do that, since she cares for me."<BR> +<BR> +Then he kissed her.<BR> +<BR> +"My dear," said he, aloud, "I'll try to make you happy. And--and you<BR> +don't mind, do you, if I leave you now?" queried this ardent lover.<BR> +"You see, it's absolutely necessary I should see--see Miss Hugonin<BR> +about this will business. You don't mind very much, do you--darling?"<BR> +Mr. Woods inquired of her, the last word being rather obviously an<BR> +afterthought.<BR> +<BR> +"No," said she. "Not if you must--dear."<BR> +<BR> +Billy went away, lugging a heart of lead in his breast.<BR> +<BR> +Kathleen stared after him and gave a hard, wringing motion of her<BR> +hands. She had done what many women do daily; the thing is common and<BR> +sensible and universally commended; but in her own eyes, the draggled<BR> +trollop of the pavements was neither better nor worse than she.<BR> +<BR> +At the entrance of the next walkway Billy encountered Felix<BR> +Kennaston--alone and in the most ebulliently mirthful of humours.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XX">XX</a><BR> +<BR> +But we had left Mr. Kennaston, I think, in company with Miss Hugonin,<BR> +at the precise moment she inquired of him whether it were not the<BR> +strangest thing in the world--referring thereby to the sudden manner<BR> +in which she had been disinherited.<BR> +<BR> +The poet laughed and assented. Afterward, turning north from the front<BR> +court, they descended past the shield-bearing griffins--and you may<BR> +depend upon it that each shield is adorned with a bas-relief of the<BR> +Eagle--that guard the broad stairway leading to the formal gardens<BR> +of Selwoode. The gardens stretch northward to the confines of Peter<BR> +Blagden's estate of Gridlington; and for my part--unless it were that<BR> +primitive garden that Adam lost--I can imagine no goodlier place.<BR> +<BR> +On this particular forenoon, however, neither Miss Hugonin nor Felix<BR> +Kennaston had eyes for its comeliness; silently they braved the<BR> +griffins, and in silence they skirted the fish-pond--silver-crinkling<BR> +in the May morning--and passed through cloistral ilex-shadowed walks,<BR> +and amphitheatres of green velvet, and terraces ample and mellow<BR> +in the sunlight, silently. The trees pelted them with blossoms;<BR> +pedestaled in leafy recesses, Satyrs grinned at them apishly, and the<BR> +arrows of divers pot-bellied Cupids threatened them, and Fauns piped<BR> +for them ditties of no tone; the birds were about shrill avocations<BR> +overhead, and everywhere the heatless, odourful air was a caress; but<BR> +for all this, Miss Hugonin and Mr. Kennaston were silent and very<BR> +fidgetty.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret was hatless--and the glory of the eminently sensible spring<BR> +sun appeared to centre in her hair--and violet-clad; and the gown,<BR> +like most of her gowns, was all tiny tucks and frills and flounces,<BR> +diapered with semi-transparencies--unsubstantial, foam-like, mere<BR> +violet froth. As she came starry-eyed through the gardens, the<BR> +impudent wind trifling with her hair, I protest she might have been<BR> +some lady of Oberon's court stolen out of Elfland to bedevil us poor<BR> +mortals, with only a moonbeam for the changeable heart of her, and<BR> +for raiment a violet shadow spirited from the under side of some big,<BR> +fleecy cloud.<BR> +<BR> +They came presently through a trim, yew-hedged walkway to a<BR> +summer-house covered with vines, into which Margaret peeped and<BR> +declined to enter, on the ground that it was entirely too chilly<BR> +and gloomy and <i>exactly</i> like a mausoleum; but nearby they found a<BR> +semi-circular marble bench about which a group of elm-trees made a<BR> +pleasant shadow splashed at just the proper intervals with sunlight.<BR> +<BR> +On this Margaret seated herself; and then pensively moved to the other<BR> +end of the bench, because a slanting sunbeam fell there. Since it<BR> +was absolutely necessary to blast Mr. Kennaston's dearest hopes,<BR> +she thoughtfully endeavoured to distract his attention from his own<BR> +miseries--as far as might be possible--by showing him how exactly like<BR> +an aureole her hair was in the sunlight. Margaret always had a kind<BR> +heart.<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston stood before her, smiling a little. He was the sort of man<BR> +to appreciate the manoeuver.<BR> +<BR> +"My lady," he asked, very softly, "haven't you any good news for me on<BR> +this wonderful morning?"<BR> +<BR> +"Excellent news," Margaret assented, with a cheerfulness that was<BR> +not utterly free from trepidation. "I've decided not to marry you,<BR> +beautiful, and I trust you're properly grateful. You see, you're very<BR> +nice, of course, but I'm going to marry somebody else, and bigamy is<BR> +a crime, you know; and, anyhow, I'm only a pauper, and you'd never be<BR> +able to put up with my temper--now, beautiful, I'm quite sure you<BR> +couldn't, so there's not a bit of use in arguing it. Some day you'd<BR> +end by strangling me, which would be horribly disagreeable for me, and<BR> +then they'd hang you for it, you know, and that would be equally<BR> +disagreeable for you. Fancy, though, what a good advertisement it would<BR> +be for your poems!"<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image022.jpg" alt="image022.jpg" width="400" height="500"><BR> +[Illustration: "'My lady,' he asked, very softly, 'haven't you any<BR> +good news for me on this wonderful morning?'"]<BR> +<BR> +She was not looking at him now--oh, no, Margaret was far too busily<BR> +employed getting the will (which she had carried all this time) into<BR> +an absurd little silver chain-bag hanging at her waist. She had no<BR> +time to look at Felix Kennaston. There was such scant room in the bag;<BR> +her purse took up so much space there was scarcely any left for the<BR> +folded paper; the affair really required her closest, undivided<BR> +attention. Besides, she had not the least desire to look at Kennaston<BR> +just now.<BR> +<BR> +"Beautiful child," he pleaded, "look at me!"<BR> +<BR> +But she didn't.<BR> +<BR> +She felt that at that moment she could have looked at a gorgon, say,<BR> +or a cockatrice, or any other trifle of that nature with infinitely<BR> +greater composure. The pause that followed Margaret accordingly<BR> +devoted to a scrutiny of his shoes and sincere regret that their owner<BR> +was not a mercenary man who would be glad to be rid of her.<BR> +<BR> +"Beautiful child," spoke the poet's voice, sadly, "you aren't--surely,<BR> +you aren't saying this in mistaken kindness to me? Surely, you aren't<BR> +saying this because of what has happened in regard to your money<BR> +affairs? Believe me, my dear, that makes no difference to me. It<BR> +is you I love--you, the woman of my heart--and not a certain, and<BR> +doubtless desirable, amount of metal disks and dirty paper."<BR> +<BR> +"Now I suppose you're going to be very noble and very nasty about it,"<BR> +observed Miss Hugonin, resentfully. "That's my main objection to<BR> +you, you know, that you haven't any faults I can recognise and feel<BR> +familiar and friendly with."<BR> +<BR> +"My dear," he protested, "I assure you I am not intentionally<BR> +disagreeable."<BR> +<BR> +At that, she raised velvet eyes to his--with a visible effort,<BR> +though--and smiled.<BR> +<BR> +"I know you far too well to think that," she said, wistfully. "I<BR> +know I'm not worthy of you. I'm tremendously fond of you, beautiful,<BR> +but--but, you see, I love somebody else," Margaret concluded, with<BR> +admirable candour.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah!" said he, in a rather curious voice. "The painter chap, eh?"<BR> +<BR> +Then Margaret's face flamed in a wonderful glow of shame and happiness<BR> +and pride that must have made the surrounding roses very hopelessly<BR> +jealous. A quaint mothering look, sacred, divine, Madonna-like,<BR> +woke in her great eyes as she thought--remorsefully--of<BR> +how unhappy Billy must be at that very moment and of how big he was<BR> +and of his general niceness; and she desired, very heartily, that this<BR> +fleshy young man would make his scene and have done with it. Who was<BR> +he, forsooth, to keep her from Billy? She wished she had never heard<BR> +of Felix Kennaston.<BR> +<BR> +<i>Souvent femme varie</i>, my brothers.<BR> +<BR> +However, "Yes," said Margaret..<BR> +<BR> +"You are a dear," said Mr. Kennaston, with conviction in his voice.<BR> +<BR> +I dare say Margaret was surprised.<BR> +<BR> +But the poet had taken her hand and had kissed it reverently, and then<BR> +sat down beside her, twisting one foot under him in a fashion he had.<BR> +He was frankly grateful to her for refusing him; and, the mask of<BR> +affectation slipped, she saw in him another man.<BR> +<BR> +"I am an out-and-out fraud," he confessed, with the gayest of smiles.<BR> +"I am not in love with you, and I am inexpressibly glad that you are<BR> +not in love with me. Oh, Margaret, Margaret--you don't mind if I call<BR> +you that, do you? I shall have to, in any event, because I like you so<BR> +tremendously now that we are not going to be married--you have no idea<BR> +what a night I spent."<BR> +<BR> +"I consider it most peculiar and unsympathetic of my hair not to have<BR> +turned gray. I thought you were going to have me, you see."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret was far to much astonished to be angry.<BR> +<BR> +"But last night!" she presently echoed, in candid surprise. "Why, last<BR> +night you didn't know I was poor!"<BR> +<BR> +He wagged a protesting forefinger. "That made no earthly difference,"<BR> +he assured her. "Of course, it was the money--and in some degree the<BR> +moon--that induced me to make love to you. I acted on the impulse of<BR> +the moment; just for an instant, the novelty of doing a perfectly<BR> +sensible thing--and marrying money is universally conceded to come<BR> +under that head--appealed to me. So I did it. But all the time I was<BR> +in love with Kathleen Saumarez. Why, the moment I left you, I began to<BR> +realise that not even you--and you are quite the most fascinating and<BR> +generally adorable woman I ever knew, Margaret--I began to realise, I<BR> +say, that not even you could ever make me forget that fact. And I<BR> +was very properly miserable. It is extremely queer," Mr. Kennaston<BR> +continued, after an interval of meditation, "but falling in love<BR> +appears to be the one utterly inexplicable, utterly reasonless thing<BR> +one ever does in one's life. You can usually think of some more or<BR> +less plausible palliation for embezzlement, say, or for robbing a<BR> +cathedral or even for committing suicide--but no man can ever explain<BR> +how he happened to fall in love. He simply did it."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret nodded sagely. She knew.<BR> +<BR> +"Now you," Mr. Kennaston was pleased to say, "are infinitely more<BR> +beautiful, younger, more clever, and in every way more attractive than<BR> +Kathleen. I recognise these things clearly, but it does not appear,<BR> +somehow, to alter the fact that I am in love with her. I think I have<BR> +been in love with her all my life. We were boy and girl together,<BR> +Margaret, and--and I give you my word," Kennaston cried, with his<BR> +boyish flush, "I worship her! I simply cannot explain the perfectly<BR> +unreasonable way in which I worship her!"<BR> +<BR> +He was sincere. He loved Kathleen Saumarez as much as he was capable<BR> +of loving any one--almost as much as he loved to dilate on his own<BR> +peculiarities and emotions.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret's gaze was intent upon him. "Yet," she marvelled, "you made<BR> +love to me very tropically."<BR> +<BR> +With unconcealed pride, Mr. Kennaston assented. "Didn't I?" he said.<BR> +"I was in rather good form last night, I thought."<BR> +<BR> +"And you were actually prepared to marry me?" she asked--"even after<BR> +you knew I was poor?"<BR> +<BR> +"I couldn't very well back out," he submitted, and then cocked<BR> +his head on one side. "You see," he added, whimsically, "I was<BR> +sufficiently a conceited ass to fancy you cared a little for me. So,<BR> +of course, I was going to marry you and try to make you happy. But how<BR> +dear--oh, how unutterably dear it was of you, Margaret, to decline<BR> +to be made happy in any such fashion!" And Mr. Kennaston paused to<BR> +chuckle and to regard her with genuine esteem and affection.<BR> +<BR> +But still her candid eyes weighed him, and transparently found him<BR> +wanting.<BR> +<BR> +"You are thinking, perhaps, what an unutterable cad I have been?" he<BR> +suggested.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes--you are rather by way of being a cad, beautiful. But I can't<BR> +help liking you, somehow. I dare say it's because you're honest<BR> +with me. Nobody--nobody," Miss Hugonin lamented, a forlorn little<BR> +quiver in her voice, "<i>ever</i> seemed to be honest with me except you,<BR> +and now I know you weren't. Oh, beautiful, aren't I ever to have any<BR> +real friends?" she pleaded, wistfully.<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston had meant a deal to her, you see; he had been the one<BR> +man she trusted. She had gloried in his fustian rhetoric, his glib<BR> +artlessness, his airy scorn of money; and now all this proved mere<BR> +pinchbeck. On a sudden, too, there woke in some bycorner of her heart<BR> +a queasy realisation of how near she had come to loving Kennaston. The<BR> +thought nauseated her.<BR> +<BR> +"My dear," he answered, kindly, "you will have any number of friends<BR> +now that you are poor. It was merely your money that kept you from<BR> +having any. You see," Mr. Kennaston went on, with somewhat the air of<BR> +one climbing upon his favourite hobby, "money is the only thing<BR> +that counts nowadays. In America, the rich are necessarily our only<BR> +aristocracy. It is quite natural. One cannot hope for an aristocracy<BR> +of intellect, if only for the reason that not one person in a thousand<BR> +has any; and birth does not count for much. Of course, it is quite<BR> +true that all of our remote ancestors came over with William the<BR> +Conqueror--I have sometimes thought that the number of steerage<BR> +passengers his ships would accommodate must have been little short of<BR> +marvellous--but it is equally true that the grandfathers of most of<BR> +our leisure class were either deserving or dishonest persons--who<BR> +either started life on a farm, and studied Euclid by the firelight and<BR> +did all the other priggish things they thought would look well in a<BR> +biography, or else met with marked success in embezzlement. So money,<BR> +after all, is our only standard; and when a woman is as rich as you<BR> +were yesterday she cannot hope for friends any more than the Queen<BR> +of England can. You could have plenty of flatterers, toadies,<BR> +sycophants--anything, in fine, but friends."<BR> +<BR> +"I don't believe it," said Margaret, half angrily--"not a word of it.<BR> +There <i>must</i> be some honest people in the world who don't consider<BR> +that money is everything. You know there must be, beautiful!"<BR> +<BR> +The poet laughed. "That," said he, affably, "is poppycock. You are<BR> +repeating the sort of thing I said to you yesterday. I am honest now.<BR> +The best of us, Margaret, cannot help being impressed by the power of<BR> +money. It is the greatest power in the world, and we cannot--cannot<BR> +possibly--look upon rich people as being quite like us. We must<BR> +toady to them a bit, Margaret, whether we want to or not. The Eagle<BR> +intimidates us all."<BR> +<BR> +"I <i>hate</i> him!" Miss Hugonin announced, with vehemence.<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston searched his pockets. After a moment he produced a dollar<BR> +bill and showed her the Eagle on it.<BR> +<BR> +"There," he said, gravely, "is the original of the Woods Eagle--the<BR> +Eagle that intimidates us all. Do you remember what Shakespeare--one<BR> +always harks back to Shakespeare to clinch an argument, because not<BR> +even our foremost actors have been able to conceal the fact that he<BR> +was, as somebody in Dickens acutely points out, 'a dayvilish clever<BR> +fellow'--do you remember. I say, what Shakespeare observes as to this<BR> +very Eagle?"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin shook her little head till it glittered in the sunlight<BR> +like a topaz. She cared no more for Shakespeare than the average woman<BR> +does, and she was never quite comfortable when he was alluded to.<BR> +<BR> + "He says," Mr. Kennaston quoted, solemnly:<BR> + "The Eagle suffers little birds to sing,<BR> + And is not careful what they mean thereby,<BR> + Knowing that with the shadow of his wing<BR> + He can at pleasure still their melody."<BR> +<BR> +"That's nonsense," said Margaret, calmly. "I haven't the <i>least</i> idea<BR> +what you're talking about, and I don't believe you have either."<BR> +<BR> +He waved the dollar bill with a heroical gesture. "Here," he asserted,<BR> +"is the Eagle. And by the little birds, I have not a doubt he meant<BR> +charity and independence and kindliness and truth and the rest of the<BR> +standard virtues. That is quite as plausible as the interpretation of<BR> +the average commentator. The presence of money chills these little<BR> +birds--ah, it is lamentable, no doubt, but it is true."<BR> +<BR> +"I don't believe it," said Margaret--quite as if that settled the<BR> +question.<BR> +<BR> +But now his hobby, rowelled by opposition, was spurred to loftier<BR> +flights.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, the power of these great fortunes America has bred is monstrous,"<BR> +he suddenly cried. "And always they work for evil. If I were ever to<BR> +write a melodrama, Margaret, I could wish for no more thorough-paced<BR> +villain than a large fortune." Kennaston paused and laughed grimly.<BR> +"We cringe to the Eagle!" said he. "Eh, well, why not? The Eagle is<BR> +very powerful and very cruel. In the South yonder, the Eagle has<BR> +penned over a million children in his factories, where day by day he<BR> +drains the youth and health and very life out of their tired bodies;<BR> +in sweat-shops, men and women are toiling for the Eagle, giving their<BR> +lives for the pittance that he grudges them; in countless mines and<BR> +mills, the Eagle is trading human lives for coal and flour; in<BR> +Wall Street yonder, the Eagle is juggling as he will with life's<BR> +necessities--thieving from the farmer, thieving from the consumer,<BR> +thieving from the poor fools who try to play the Eagle's game, and<BR> +driving them at will to despair and ruin and death: look whither you<BR> +may, men die that the Eagle may grow fat. So the Eagle thrives, and<BR> +daily the rich grow richer and the poor grow poorer, and the end----"<BR> +Kennaston paused, staring into vacancy. "Eh, well," said he, with a<BR> +smile and a snap of his fingers, "the end rests upon the knees of<BR> +the gods. But there must need be an end some day. And meanwhile, you<BR> +cannot blame us if we cringe to the Eagle that is master of the world.<BR> +It is human nature to cringe to its master; and while human nature<BR> +is not always an admirable thing, it is, I believe, rather widely<BR> +distributed."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret did not return the smile. Like any sensible woman, she never<BR> +tolerated opinions that differed from her own.<BR> +<BR> +So she waved his preachment aside. "You're trying to be eloquent," was<BR> +her observation, "and you've only succeeded in being very silly and<BR> +tiresome. Go away, beautiful. You make me awfully tired, and I don't<BR> +care for you in the least. Go and talk to Kathleen. I shall be<BR> +here--on this very spot," Margaret added, with commendable precision<BR> +and an unaccountable increase of colour, "if--if any one should happen<BR> +to ask."<BR> +<BR> +Then Kennaston rose and laughed merrily.<BR> +<BR> +"You are quite delicious," he commented. "It will always be a<BR> +grief and a puzzle to me that I am not mad for love of you. It is<BR> +unreasonable of me," he complained, sadly, and shook his head, "but I<BR> +prefer Kathleen. And I am quite certain that somebody will ask where<BR> +you are. I shall describe to him the exact spot--"<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston paused, with a slight air of apology.<BR> +<BR> +"If I were you," he suggested, pleasantly, "I would move a<BR> +little--just a little--to the left. That will enable you to obtain to<BR> +a fuller extent the benefit of the sunbeam which is falling--quite<BR> +by accident, of course--upon your hair. You are perfectly right,<BR> +Margaret, in selecting that hedge as a background. Its sombre green<BR> +sets you off to perfection."<BR> +<BR> +He went away chuckling. He felt that Margaret must think him a devil<BR> +of a fellow.<BR> +<BR> +She didn't, though.<BR> +<BR> +"The <i>idea</i> of his suspecting me of such unconscionable vanity!" she<BR> +said, properly offended. Then, "Anyhow, a man has no business to know<BR> +about such things," she continued, with rising indignation. "I believe<BR> +Felix Kennaston is as good a judge of chiffons as any woman. That's<BR> +effeminate, I think, and catty and absurd. I don't believe I ever<BR> +liked him--not really, that is. Now, what would Billy care about<BR> +sunbeams and backgrounds, I'd like to know! He'd never even notice<BR> +them. Billy is a <i>man</i>. Why, that's just what father said yesterday!"<BR> +Margaret cried, and afterward laughed happily. "I suppose old people<BR> +are right sometimes--but, dear, dear, they're terribly unreasonable at<BR> +others!"<BR> +<BR> +Having thus uttered the ancient, undying plaint of youth, Miss Hugonin<BR> +moved a matter of two inches to the left, and smiled, and waited<BR> +contentedly. It was barely possible some one might come that way; and<BR> +it is always a comfort to know that one is not exactly repulsive in<BR> +appearance.<BR> +<BR> +Also, there was the spring about her; and, chief of all, there was a<BR> +queer fluttering in her heart that was yet not unpleasant. In fine,<BR> +she was unreasonably happy for no reason at all.<BR> +<BR> +I believe the foolish poets call this feeling love and swear it<BR> +is divine; however, they will say anything for the sake of an<BR> +ear-tickling jingle. And while it is true that scientists have any<BR> +number of plausible and interesting explanations for this same<BR> +feeling, I am sorry to say I have forgotten them.<BR> +<BR> +I am compelled, then, to fall back upon those same unreliable,<BR> +irresponsible rhymesters, and to insist with them that a maid waiting<BR> +in the springtide for the man she loves is necessarily happy and very<BR> +rarely puzzles her head over the scientific reason for it.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXI">XXI</a><BR> +<BR> +But ten minutes later she saw Mr. Woods in the distance striding<BR> +across the sunlit terraces, and was seized with a conviction that<BR> +their interview was likely to prove a stormy one. There was an ominous<BR> +stiffness in his gait.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, dear, dear!" Miss Hugonin wailed; "he's in a temper now, and<BR> +he'll probably be just as disagreeable as it's possible for any one<BR> +to be. I do wish men weren't so unreasonable! He looks exactly like a<BR> +big, blue-eyed thunder-cloud just now--just now, when I'm sure he has<BR> +every cause in the <i>world</i> to be very much pleased--after all<BR> +I've done for him. He makes me awfully tired. I think he's <i>very<BR> +ungrateful</i>. I--I think I'm rather afraid."<BR> +<BR> +In fact, she was. Now that the meeting she had anticipated these<BR> +twelve hours past was actually at hand, there woke in her breast an<BR> +unreasoning panic. Miss Hugonin considered, and caught up her skirts,<BR> +and whisked into the summer-house, and there sat down in the darkest<BR> +corner and devoutly wished Mr. Woods in Crim Tartary, or Jericho, or,<BR> +in a word, any region other than the gardens of Selwoode.<BR> +<BR> +Billy came presently to the opening in the hedge and stared at the<BR> +deserted bench. He was undeniably in a temper. But, then, how becoming<BR> +it was! thought someone.<BR> +<BR> +"Miss Hugonin!" he said, coldly.<BR> +<BR> +Evidently (thought someone) he intends to be just as nasty as<BR> +possible.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy!" said Mr. Woods, after a little.<BR> +<BR> +Perhaps (thought someone) he won't be <i>very</i> nasty.<BR> +<BR> +"Dear Peggy!" said Mr. Woods, in his most conciliatory tone.<BR> +<BR> +Someone rearranged her hair complacently.<BR> +<BR> +But there was no answer, save the irresponsible chattering of the<BR> +birds, and with a sigh Billy turned upon his heel.<BR> +<BR> +Then, by the oddest chance in the world, Margaret coughed.<BR> +<BR> +I dare say it was damp in the summer-house; or perhaps it was caused<BR> +by some passing bronchial irritation; or perhaps, incredible as it may<BR> +seem, she coughed to show him where she was. But I scarcely think so,<BR> +because Margaret insisted afterward--very positively, too--that she<BR> +didn't cough at all.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXII">XXII</a><BR> +<BR> +"Well!" Mr. Woods observed, lengthening the word somewhat.<BR> +<BR> +In the intimate half-light of the summer-house, he loomed prodigiously<BR> +big. He was gazing downward in careful consideration of three fat<BR> +tortoise-shell pins and a surprising quantity of gold hair, which was<BR> +practically all that he could see of Miss Hugonin's person; for that<BR> +young lady had suddenly become a limp mass of abashed violet ruffles,<BR> +and had discovered new and irresistible attractions in the mosaics<BR> +about her feet.<BR> +<BR> +Billy's arms were crossed on his breast and his right hand caressed<BR> +his chin meditatively. By and bye, "I wonder, now," he reflected,<BR> +aloud, "if you can give any reason--any possible reason--why you<BR> +shouldn't be locked up in the nearest sanatorium?"<BR> +<BR> +"You needn't be rude, you know," a voice observed from the<BR> +neighbourhood of the ruffles, "because there isn't anything you can do<BR> +about it."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods ventured a series of inarticulate observations. "But why?"<BR> +he concluded, desperately. "But why, Peggy?--in Heaven's name, what's<BR> +the meaning of all this?"<BR> +<BR> +She looked up. Billy was aware of two large blue stars; his heart<BR> +leapt; and then he recalled a pair of gray-green eyes that had<BR> +regarded him in much the same fashion not long ago, and he groaned.<BR> +<BR> +"I was unfair to you last night," she said, and the ring of her odd,<BR> +deep voice, and the richness and sweetness of it, moved him to faint<BR> +longing, to a sick heart-hunger. It was tremulous, too, and very<BR> +tender. "Yes, I was unutterably unfair, Billy. You asked me to marry<BR> +you when you thought I was a beggar, and--and Uncle Fred <i>ought</i> to<BR> +have left you the money. It was on account of me that he didn't, you<BR> +know. I really owed it to you. And after the way I talked to you--so<BR> +long as I had the money--I--and, anyhow, its very disagreeable and<BR> +eccentric and <i>horrid</i> of you to object to being rich!" Margaret<BR> +concluded, somewhat incoherently.<BR> +<BR> +She had not thought it would be like this. He seemed so stern.<BR> +<BR> +But, "Isn't that exactly like her?" Mr. Woods was demanding of his<BR> +soul. "She thinks she has been unfair to me--to me, whom she doesn't<BR> +care a button for, mind you. So she hands over a fortune to make up<BR> +for it, simply because that's the first means that comes to hand! Now,<BR> +isn't that perfectly unreasonable, and fantastic, and magnificent, and<BR> +incredible?--in short, isn't that Peggy all over? Why, God bless her,<BR> +her heart's bigger than a barn-door! Oh, it's no wonder that fellow<BR> +Kennaston was grinning just now when he sent me to her! He can afford<BR> +to grin."<BR> +<BR> +Aloud, he stated, "You're an angel, Peggy that's what you are. I've<BR> +always suspected it, and I'm glad to know it now for a fact. But in<BR> +this prosaic world not even angels are allowed to burn up wills for<BR> +recreation. Why, bless my soul, child, you--why, there's no telling<BR> +what trouble you might have gotten into!"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin pouted. "You needn't be such a grandfather," she<BR> +suggested, helpfully.<BR> +<BR> +"But it's a serious business," he insisted. At this point Billy began<BR> +to object to her pouting as distracting one's mind from the subject<BR> +under discussion. "It--why, it's----"<BR> +<BR> +"It's what?" she pouted, even more rebelliously.<BR> +<BR> +"Crimson," said Mr. Woods, considering--"oh, the very deepest,<BR> +duskiest crimson such as you can't get in tubes. It's a colour was<BR> +never mixed on any palette. It's--eh? Oh, I beg your pardon."<BR> +<BR> +"I think you ought to," said Margaret, primly. Nevertheless, she had<BR> +brightened considerably.<BR> +<BR> +"Of course," Mr. Woods continued with a fine colour, "I can't take the<BR> +money. That's absurd."<BR> +<BR> +"Is it?" she queried, idly. "Now, I wonder how you're going to help<BR> +yourself?"<BR> +<BR> +"Simplest thing in the world," he assured her. "You see this match,<BR> +don't you, Peggy? Well, now you're going to give me that paper I see<BR> +in that bag-thing at your waist, and I'm going to burn it till it's<BR> +all nice, soft, feathery ashes that can't ever be probated. And then<BR> +the first will, which is practically the same as the last, will be<BR> +allowed to stand, and I'll tell your father all about the affair,<BR> +because he ought to know, and you'll have to settle with those<BR> +colleges. And in that way," Mr. Woods submitted, "Uncle Fred's last<BR> +wishes will be carried out just as he expressed them, and there<BR> +needn't be any trouble--none at all. So give me the will, Peggy?"<BR> +<BR> +It is curious what a trivial matter love makes of felony.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret's heart sank.<BR> +<BR> +However, "Yes?" said she, encouragingly; "and what do you intend doing<BR> +afterward?--"<BR> +<BR> +"I--I shall probably live abroad," said Billy. "Cheaper, you know."<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image024.jpg" alt="image024.jpg" width="340" height="500"><BR> +[Illustration: "Miss Hugonin pouted. 'You needn't be such a<BR> +grandfather,' she suggested, helpfully"]<BR> +<BR> +And here (he thought) was an excellent, an undreamed-of opportunity to<BR> +inform her of his engagement. He had much better tell her now and have<BR> +done. Mr. Woods opened his mouth and looked at Margaret, and closed<BR> +it. Again she was pouting in a fashion that distracted one's mind.<BR> +<BR> +"That would be most unattractive," said Miss Hugonin, calmly. "You're<BR> +very stupid, Billy, to think of living abroad. Billy, I think you're<BR> +almost as stupid as I am. I've been very stupid, Billy. I thought I<BR> +liked Mr. Kennaston. I don't, Billy--not that way. I've just told him<BR> +so. I'm not--I'm not engaged to anybody now, Billy. But wasn't it<BR> +stupid of me to make such a mistake, Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +That was a very interesting mosaic there in the summer-house.<BR> +<BR> +"I don't understand," said Mr. Woods. His voice shook, and his hands<BR> +lifted a little toward her and trembled.<BR> +<BR> +Poor Billy dared not understand. Her eyes downcast, her foot tapping<BR> +the floor gently, Margaret was all one blush. She, too, was trembling<BR> +a little, and she was a little afraid and quite unutterably happy; and<BR> +outwardly she was very much the tiny lady of Oberon's court, very much<BR> +the coquette quintessentialised.<BR> +<BR> +It is pitiable that our proud Margaret should come to such a pass. Ah,<BR> +the men that you have flouted and scorned and bedeviled and mocked at,<BR> +Margaret--could they see you now, I think the basest of them could<BR> +not but pity and worship you. This man is bound in honour to another<BR> +woman; yet a little, and his lips will open--very dry, parched lips<BR> +they are now--and he will tell you, and your pride will drive you mad,<BR> +and your heart come near to breaking.<BR> +<BR> +"Don't you understand--oh, you silly Billy!" She was peeping at him<BR> +meltingly from under her lashes.<BR> +<BR> +"I--I'm imagining vain things," said Mr. Woods. "I--oh, Peggy, Peggy,<BR> +I think I must be going mad!"<BR> +<BR> +He stared hungrily at the pink, startled face that lifted toward his.<BR> +Ah, no, no, it could not be possible, this thing he had imagined for a<BR> +moment. He had misunderstood.<BR> +<BR> +And now just for a little (thought poor Billy) let my eyes drink in<BR> +those dear felicities of colour and curve, and meet just for a little<BR> +the splendour of those eyes that have the April in them, and rest just<BR> +for a little upon that sanguine, close-grained, petulant mouth; and<BR> +then I will tell her, and then I think that I must die.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy----" he began, in a flattish voice.<BR> +<BR> +"They have evidently gone," said the voice of Mr. Kennaston; "yes,<BR> +those beautiful, happy young people have foolishly deserted the very<BR> +prettiest spot in the gardens. Let us sit here, Kathleen."<BR> +<BR> +"But I'm not an eavesdropper," Mr. Woods protested, half angrily.<BR> +<BR> +I fear Margaret was not properly impressed.<BR> +<BR> +"Please, Billy," she pleaded, in a shrill whisper, "please let's<BR> +listen. He's going to propose to her now, and you've no idea how<BR> +funny he is when he proposes. Oh, don't be so pokey, Billy--do let's<BR> +listen!"<BR> +<BR> +But Mr. Woods had risen with a strange celerity and was about to leave<BR> +the summer-house.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret pouted. Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston were seated not<BR> +twenty feet from the summer-house, on the bench which Miss Hugonin had<BR> +just left. And when that unprincipled young woman finally rose to her<BR> +feet, it must be confessed that it was with a toss of the head and<BR> +with the reflection that while to listen wasn't honourable, it would<BR> +at least be very amusing. I grieve to admit it, but with Billy's<BR> +scruples she hadn't the slightest sympathy.<BR> +<BR> +Then Kennaston cried, suddenly: "Why, you're mad, Kathleen! Woods<BR> +wants to marry <i>you</i>! Why, he's heels over head in love with Miss<BR> +Hugonin!"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin turned to Mr. Woods with a little intake of the breath.<BR> +<BR> +No, I shall not attempt to tell you what Billy saw in her countenance.<BR> +Timanthes-like, I drape before it the vines of the summer-house. For<BR> +a brief space I think we had best betake ourselves outside,<BR> +leaving Margaret in a very pitiable state of anger, and shame, and<BR> +humiliation, and heartbreak--leaving poor Billy with a heart that<BR> +ached, seeing the horror of him in her face.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXIII">XXIII</a><BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez laughed bitterly.<BR> +<BR> +"No," she said, "Billy cared for me, you know, a long time ago. And<BR> +this morning he told me he still cared. Billy doesn't pretend to be<BR> +a clever man, you see, and so he can afford to practice some of the<BR> +brute virtues, such as constancy and fidelity."<BR> +<BR> +There was a challenging flame in her eyes, but Kennaston let the stab<BR> +pass unnoticed. To do him justice, he was thinking less of himself,<BR> +just now, than of how this news would affect Margaret; and his face<BR> +was very grave and strangely tender, for in his own fashion he loved<BR> +Margaret.<BR> +<BR> +"It's nasty, very nasty," he said, at length, in a voice that was<BR> +puzzled. "Yet I could have sworn yesterday----" Kennaston paused and<BR> +laughed lightly. "She was an heiress yesterday, and to-day she is<BR> +nobody. And Mr. Woods, being wealthy, can afford to gratify the<BR> +virtues you commend so highly and, with a fidelity that is most<BR> +edifying, return again to his old love. And she welcomes him--and the<BR> +Woods millions--with open arms. It is quite affecting, is it not,<BR> +Kathleen?"<BR> +<BR> +"You needn't be disagreeable," she observed.<BR> +<BR> +"My dear Kathleen, I assure you I am not angry. I am merely a little<BR> +sorry for human nature. I could have sworn Woods was honest. But<BR> +rogues all, rogues all, Kathleen! Money rules us in the end; and now<BR> +the parable is fulfilled, and Love the prodigal returns to make merry<BR> +over the calf of gold. Confess," Mr. Kennaston queried, with a smile,<BR> +"is it not strange an all-wise Creator should have been at pains to<BR> +fashion this brave world about us for little men and women such as<BR> +we to lie and pilfer in? Was it worth while, think you, to arch the<BR> +firmament above our rogueries, and light the ageless stars as candles<BR> +to display our antics? Let us be frank, Kathleen, and confess that<BR> +life is but a trivial farce ignobly played in a very stately temple."<BR> +And Mr. Kennaston laughed again.<BR> +<BR> +"Let us be frank!" Kathleen cried, with a little catch in her voice.<BR> +"Why, it isn't in you to be frank, Felix Kennaston! Your life is<BR> +nothing but a succession of poses--shallow, foolish poses meant<BR> +to hoodwink the world and at times yourself. For you do hoodwink<BR> +yourself, don't you, Felix?" she asked, eagerly, and gave him no time<BR> +to answer. She feared, you see, lest his answer might dilapidate the<BR> +one fortress she had been able to build about his honour.<BR> +<BR> +"And now," she went on, quickly, "you're trying to make me think you a<BR> +devil of a fellow, aren't you? And you're hinting that I've accepted<BR> +Billy because of his money, aren't you? Well, it is true that I<BR> +wouldn't marry him if he were poor. But he's very far from being poor.<BR> +And he cares for me. And I am fond of him. And so I shall marry him<BR> +and make him as good a wife as I can. So there!"<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez faced him with an uneasy defiance. He was smiling oddly.<BR> +<BR> +"I have heard it rumoured in many foolish tales and jingling verses,"<BR> +said Kennaston, after a little, "that a thing called love exists in<BR> +the world. And I have also heard, Kathleen, that it sometimes enters<BR> +into the question of marriage. It appears that I was misinformed."<BR> +<BR> +"No," she answered, slowly, "there is a thing called love. I think<BR> +women are none the better for knowing it. To a woman, it means to take<BR> +some man--some utterly commonplace man, perhaps--perhaps, only an idle<BR> +<i>poseur</i> such as you are, Felix--and to set him up on a pedestal, and<BR> +to bow down and worship him; and to protest loudly, both to the world<BR> +and to herself, that in spite of all appearances her idol really<BR> +hasn't feet of clay, or that, at any rate, it is the very nicest clay<BR> +in the world. For a time she deceives herself, Felix. Then the idol<BR> +topples from the pedestal and is broken, and she sees that it is all<BR> +clay, Felix--clay through and through--and her heart breaks with it."<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston bowed his head. "It is true," said he; "that is the love of<BR> +women."<BR> +<BR> +"To a man," she went on, dully, "it means to take some woman--the<BR> +nearest woman who isn't actually deformed--and to make pretty speeches<BR> +to her and to make her love him. And after a while--" Kathleen<BR> +shrugged her shoulders drearily. "Why, after a while," said she, "he<BR> +grows tired and looks for some other woman."<BR> +<BR> +"It is true," said Kennaston--"yes, very true that some men love in<BR> +that fashion."<BR> +<BR> +There ensued a silence. It was a long silence, and under the tension<BR> +of it Kathleen's composure snapped like a cord that has been stretched<BR> +to the breaking point.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, suddenly; "that is how I have loved you<BR> +and that is how you've loved me, Felix Kennaston! Ah, Billy told me<BR> +what happened last night! And that--that was why I--" Mrs. Saumarez<BR> +paused and regarded him curiously. "You don't make a very noble<BR> +figure, just now, do you?" she asked, with careful deliberation. "You<BR> +were ready to sell yourself for Miss Hugonin's money, weren't you? And<BR> +now you must take her without the money. Poor Felix! Ah, you poor,<BR> +petty liar, who've over-reached yourself so utterly!" And again<BR> +Kathleen began to laugh, but somewhat shrilly, somewhat hysterically.<BR> +<BR> +"You are wrong," he said, with a flush. "It is true that I asked Miss<BR> +Hugonin to marry me. But she--very wisely, I dare say--declined."<BR> +<BR> +"Ah!" Kathleen said, slowly. Then--and it will not do to inquire too<BR> +closely into her logic--she spoke with considerable sharpness: "She's<BR> +a conceited little cat! I never in all my life knew a girl to be quite<BR> +so conceited as she is. Positively, I don't believe she thinks there's<BR> +a man breathing who's good enough for her!"<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston grinned. "Oh, Kathleen, Kathleen!" he said; "you are simply<BR> +delicious."<BR> +<BR> +And Mrs. Saumarez coloured prettily and tried to look severe and<BR> +could not, for the simple reason that, while she knew Kennaston to be<BR> +flippant and weak and unstable as water and generally worthless, yet<BR> +for some occult cause she loved him as tenderly as though he had been<BR> +a paragon of all the manly virtues. And I dare say that for many of us<BR> +it is by a very kindly provision of Nature that all women are created<BR> +capable of doing this illogical thing and that most of them do it<BR> +daily.<BR> +<BR> +"It is true," the poet said, at length, "that I have played no heroic<BR> +part. And I don't question, Kathleen, that I am all you think me. Yet,<BR> +such as I am, I love you. And such as I am, you love me, and it is I<BR> +that you are going to marry, and not that Woods person."<BR> +<BR> +"He's worth ten of you!" she cried, scornfully.<BR> +<BR> +"Twenty of me, perhaps," Mr. Kennaston assented, "but that isn't the<BR> +question. You don't love him, Kathleen. You are about to marry him for<BR> +his money. You are about to do what I thought to do yesterday. But you<BR> +won't, Kathleen. You know that I need you, my dear, and--unreasonably<BR> +enough, God knows--you love me."<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez regarded him intently for a considerable space, and<BR> +during that space the Eagle warred in her heart with the one foe<BR> +he can never conquer. Love had a worthless ally; but Love fought<BR> +staunchly.<BR> +<BR> +By and bye, "Yes," she said, and her voice was almost sullen; "I love<BR> +you. I ought to love Billy, but I don't. I shall ask him to release me<BR> +from my engagement. And yes, I will marry you if you like."<BR> +<BR> +He raised her hand to his lips. "You are an angel," Mr. Kennaston was<BR> +pleased to say.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +"No," Mrs. Saumarez dissented, rather forlornly; "I'm simply a fool.<BR> +Otherwise, I wouldn't be about to marry you, knowing you as I do for<BR> +what you are--knowing that I haven't one chance in a hundred of any<BR> +happiness."<BR> +<BR> +"My dear," he said, and his voice was earnest, "you know at least that<BR> +what there is of good in me is at its best with you."<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, yes!" Kathleen cried, quickly. "That is so, isn't it, Felix?<BR> +And you do care for me, don't you? Felix, are you sure you care for<BR> +me--quite sure? And are you quite certain, Felix, that you never cared<BR> +so much for any one else?"<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Kennaston was quite certain. He proceeded to explain his feelings<BR> +toward her at some length.<BR> +<BR> +Kathleen listened with downcast eyes and almost cheated herself into<BR> +the belief that the man she loved was all that he should be. But at<BR> +the bottom of her heart she knew he wasn't.<BR> +<BR> +I think we may fairly pity her.<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston and Mrs. Saumarez chatted very amicably for some ten<BR> +minutes. At the end of that period, the twelve forty-five express<BR> +bellowing faintly in the distance recalled the fact that the morning<BR> +mail was in, and thereupon, in the very best of humours, they set<BR> +out for the house. I grieve to admit it, but Kathleen had utterly<BR> +forgotten Billy by this, and was no more thinking of him than she was<BR> +of the Man in the Iron Mask.<BR> +<BR> +She was with Kennaston, you see; and her thoughts, and glances, and<BR> +lips, and adoration were all given to his pleasuring, just as her life<BR> +would have been if its loss could have saved him from a toothache. He<BR> +strutted a little, and was a little grateful to her, and--to do<BR> +him justice--received the tribute she accorded him with perfect<BR> +satisfaction and equanimity.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXIV">XXIV</a><BR> +<BR> +Margaret came out of the summer-house, Billy Woods followed her, in a<BR> +very moist state of perturbation.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy----" said Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +But Miss Hugonin was laughing. Clear as a bird-call, she poured forth<BR> +her rippling mimicry of mirth. They train women well in these matters.<BR> +To Margaret, just now, her heart seemed dead within her. Her lover was<BR> +proved unworthy. Her pride was shattered. She had loved this clumsy<BR> +liar yonder, had given up a fortune for him, dared all for him, had<BR> +(as the phrase runs) flung herself at his head. The shame of it was a<BR> +physical sickness, a nausea. But now, in this jumble of miseries, in<BR> +this breaking-up of the earth and the void heavens that surged about<BR> +her and would not be mastered, the girl laughed; and her laughter was<BR> +care-free and half-languid like that of a child who is thinking of<BR> +something else. Ah, yes, they train women well in these matters.<BR> +<BR> +At length Margaret said, in high, crisp accents: "Pardon me, but I<BR> +can't help being amused, Mr. Woods, by the way in which hard luck<BR> +dogs your footsteps. I think Fate must have some grudge against you,<BR> +Mr. Woods."<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy----" said Mr. Woods.<BR> +<BR> +"Pardon me," she interrupted him, her masculine little chin high in<BR> +the air, "but I wish you wouldn't call me that. It was well enough<BR> +when we were boy and girl together, Mr. Woods. But you've developed<BR> +since--ah, yes, you've developed into such a splendid actor, such a<BR> +consummate liar, such a clever scoundrel, Mr. Woods, that I scarcely<BR> +recognise you now."<BR> +<BR> +And there was not a spark of anger in the very darkest corner of<BR> +Billy's big, brave heart, but only pity--pity all through and through,<BR> +that sent little icy ticklings up and down his spine and turned his<BR> +breathing to great sobs. For she had turned full face to him and he<BR> +could see the look in her eyes.<BR> +<BR> +I think he has never forgotten it. Years after the memory of it would<BR> +come upon him suddenly and set hot drenching waves of shame and<BR> +remorse surging about his body--remorse unutterable that he ever hurt<BR> +his Peggy so deeply. For they were tragic eyes. Beneath them her<BR> +twitching mouth smiled bravely, but the mirth of her eyes was<BR> +monstrous. It was the mirth of a beaten woman, of a woman who has<BR> +known the last extreme of shame and misery and has learned to laugh at<BR> +it. Even now Billy Woods cannot quite forget.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy," said he, brokenly, "ah, dear, dear Peggy, listen to me!"<BR> +<BR> +"Why, have you thought of a plausible lie so soon?" she queried,<BR> +sweetly. "Dear me, Mr. Woods, what is the use of explaining things? It<BR> +is very simple. You wanted to marry me last night because I was rich.<BR> +And when I declined the honour, you went back to your old love. Oh,<BR> +it's very simple, Mr. Woods! It's a pity, though--isn't it?--that all<BR> +your promptness went for nothing. Why, dear me, you actually managed<BR> +to propose before breakfast, didn't you? I should have thought that<BR> +such eagerness would have made an impression on Kathleen--oh, a most<BR> +favourable impression. Too bad it hasn't!"<BR> +<BR> +"Listen!" said Billy. "Ah, you're forcing me to talk like a cad,<BR> +Peggy, but I can't see you suffer--I can't! Kathleen misunderstood<BR> +what I said to her. I--I didn't mean to propose to her, Peggy. It was<BR> +a mistake, I tell you. It's you I love--just you. And when I asked you<BR> +to marry me last night--why, I thought the money was mine, Peggy.<BR> +I'd never have asked you if I hadn't thought that. I--ah, you don't<BR> +believe me, you don't believe me, Peggy, and before God, I'm telling<BR> +you the simple truth! Why, I hadn't ever seen that last will, Peggy!<BR> +It was locked up in that centre place in the desk, you remember.<BR> +Why--why, you yourself had the keys to it, Peggy. Surely, you<BR> +remember, dear?" And Billy's voice shook and skipped whole octaves as<BR> +he pleaded with her, for he knew she did not believe him and he could<BR> +not endure the horror of her eyes.<BR> +<BR> +But Margaret shook her head; and as aforetime the twitching lips<BR> +continued to laugh beneath those tragic eyes. Ah, poor little lady of<BR> +Elfland! poor little Undine, with a soul wakened to suffering!<BR> +<BR> +"Clumsy, very clumsy!" she rebuked him. "I see that you are accustomed<BR> +to prepare your lies in advance, Mr. Woods. As an extemporaneous liar<BR> +you are very clumsy. Men don't propose by mistake except in farces.<BR> +And while we are speaking of farces, don't you think it time to drop<BR> +that one of your not knowing about that last will?"<BR> +<BR> +"The farce!" Billy stammered. "You--why, you saw me when I found it!"<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, yes, I saw you when you pretended to find it. I saw you when you<BR> +pretended to unlock that centre place. But now, of course, I know it<BR> +never was locked. I'm very careless about locking things, Mr. Woods.<BR> +Ah, yes, that gave you a beautiful opportunity, didn't it? So, when<BR> +you were rummaging through my desk--without my permission, by the way,<BR> +but that's a detail--you found both wills and concocted your little<BR> +comedy? That was very clever. Oh, you think you're awfully smooth,<BR> +don't you, Billy Woods? But if you had been a bit more daring, don't<BR> +you see, you could have suppressed the last one and taken the money<BR> +without being encumbered by me? That was rather clumsy of you, wasn't<BR> +it?" Suave, gentle, sweet as honey was the speech of Margaret as she<BR> +lifted her face to his, but her eyes were tragedies.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah!" said Billy. "Ah--yes--you think--that." He was very careful in<BR> +articulating his words, was Billy, and afterward he nodded his head<BR> +gravely. The universe had somehow suffered an airy dissolution like<BR> +that of Prospero's masque--Selwoode and its gardens, the great globe<BR> +itself, "the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn<BR> +temples" were all as vanished wraiths. There was only Peggy left--<BR> +Peggy with that unimaginable misery in her eyes that he must drive<BR> +away somehow. If that was what she thought, there was no way for him<BR> +to prove it wasn't so.<BR> +<BR> +"Why, dear me, Mr. Woods," she retorted, carelessly, "what else could<BR> +I think?"<BR> +<BR> +Here Mr. Woods blundered.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, think what you will, Peggy!" he cried, his big voice cracking and<BR> +sobbing and resonant with pain. "Ah, my dear, think what you will, but<BR> +don't grieve for it, Peggy! Why, if I'm all you say I am, that's no<BR> +reason you should suffer for it! Ah, don't, Peggy! In God's name,<BR> +don't! I can't bear it, dear," he pleaded with her, helplessly.<BR> +<BR> +Billy was suffering, too. But her sorrow was the chief of his, and<BR> +what stung him now to impotent anger was that she must suffer and he<BR> +be unable to help her--for, ah, how willingly, how gladly, he would<BR> +have borne all poor Peggy's woes upon his own broad shoulders.<BR> +<BR> +But none the less, he had lost an invaluable opportunity to hold his<BR> +tongue.<BR> +<BR> +"Suffer! I suffer!" she mocked him, languidly; and then, like a<BR> +banjo-string, the tension snapped, and she gave a long, angry gasp,<BR> +and her wrath flamed.<BR> +<BR> +"Upon my word, you're the most conceited man I ever knew in my life!<BR> +You think I'm in love with you! With you! Billy Woods, I wouldn't wipe<BR> +my feet on you if you were the last man left on earth! I hate you, I<BR> +loathe you, I detest you, I despise you! Do you hear me?--I hate you.<BR> +What do I care if you <i>are</i> a snob, and a cad, and a fortune-hunter,<BR> +and a forger, and--well, I don't care! Perhaps you haven't ever<BR> +forged anything yet, but I'm quite sure you would if you ever got an<BR> +opportunity. You'd be delighted to do it. Yes, you would--you're just<BR> +the sort of man who <i>revels</i> in crime. I love you! Why, that's the<BR> +best joke I've heard for a long time. I'm only sorry for you, Billy<BR> +Woods--<i>sorry</i> because Kathleen has thrown you over--sorry, do you<BR> +understand? Yes, since you're so fond of skinny women, I think it's a<BR> +great pity she wouldn't have you. Don't talk to me!--she <i>is</i> skinny.<BR> +I guess I know. She's as skinny as a beanpole. She's skinnier than I<BR> +ever imagined it possible for anybody--<i>anybody</i>--to be. And she<BR> +pads and rouges till I think it's disgusting, and not half--not<BR> +<i>one-half</i>--of her hair belongs to her, and that half is dyed. But,<BR> +of course, if you like that sort of thing, there's no accounting for<BR> +tastes, and I'm sure I'm very sorry for you, even though personally I<BR> +<i>don't</i> care for skinny women. I hate 'em! And I hate you, too, Billy<BR> +Woods!"<BR> +<BR> +She stamped her foot, did Margaret. You must bear with her, for her<BR> +heart is breaking now, and if she has become a termagant it is because<BR> +her shamed pride has driven her mad. Bear with her, then, a little<BR> +longer.<BR> +<BR> +Billy tried to bear with her, for in part he understood.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy," said he, very gently, "you're wrong."<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, I dare say!" she snapped at him.<BR> +<BR> +"We won't discuss Kathleen, if you please. But you're wrong about the<BR> +will. I've told you the whole truth about that, but I don't blame you<BR> +for not believing me, Peggy--ah, no, not I. There seems to be a curse<BR> +upon Uncle Fred's money. It brings out the worst of all of us. It has<BR> +changed even you, Peggy--and not for the better, Peggy. You've become<BR> +distrustful. You--ah, well, we won't discuss that now. Give me the<BR> +will, my dear, and I'll burn it before your eyes. That ought to show<BR> +you, Peggy, that you're wrong." Billy was very white-lipped as he<BR> +ended, for the Woods temper is a short one.<BR> +<BR> +But she had an arrow left for him. "Give it to you! And do you think<BR> +I'd trust you with it, Billy Woods?"<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy!--ah, Peggy, I hadn't deserved that. Be just, at least, to me,"<BR> +poor Billy begged of her.<BR> +<BR> +Which was an absurd thing to ask of an angry woman.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, I <i>do</i> know what you'd do with it! You'd take it right off and<BR> +have it probated or executed or whatever it is they do to wills, and<BR> +turn me straight out in the gutter. That's just what you're <i>longing</i><BR> +to do this very moment. Oh, I know, Billy Woods--I know what a temper<BR> +you've got, and I know you're keeping quiet now simply because you<BR> +know that's the most exasperating thing you can possibly do. I<BR> +wouldn't have such a disposition as you've got for the world. You've<BR> +absolutely <i>no</i> control over your temper--not a bit of it. You're<BR> +<i>vile</i>, Billy Woods! Oh, I <i>hate</i> you! Yes, you've made me cry, and I<BR> +suppose you're very proud of yourself. <i>Aren't</i> you proud? Don't stand<BR> +staring at me like a stuck pig, but answer me when I talk to you!<BR> +Aren't you <i>proud</i> of making me cry? Aren't you? Ah, don't talk to<BR> +me--don't talk to <i>me</i>, I tell you! I don't wish to hear a word you've<BR> +got to say. I <i>hate</i> you. And you shan't have the money, that's flat."<BR> +<BR> +"I don't want it," said Billy. "I've been trying to tell you for the<BR> +last, half-hour I don't want it. In God's name, why can't you talk<BR> +like a sensible woman, Peggy?" I am afraid that Mr. Woods, too, was<BR> +beginning to lose his temper.<BR> +<BR> +"That's right--swear at me! It only needed that. You do want the<BR> +money, and when you say you don't you're lying--lying--<i>lying</i>, do you<BR> +understand? You all want my money. Oh, dear, <i>dear</i>!" Margaret wailed,<BR> +and her great voice was shaken to its depths and its sobbing was the<BR> +long, hopeless sobbing of a violin, as she flung back her tear-stained<BR> +face, and clenched her little hands tight at her sides; "why <i>can't</i><BR> +you let me alone? You're all after my money--you, and Mr. Kennaston,<BR> +and Mr. Jukesbury, and all of you! Why <i>can't</i> you let me alone? Ever<BR> +since I've had it you've hunted me as if I'd been a wild beast. God<BR> +help me, I haven't had a moment's peace, a moment's rest, a, moment's<BR> +quiet, since Uncle Fred died. They all want my money--everybody wants<BR> +my money! Oh, Billy, Billy, why <i>can't</i> they let me alone?"<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy----" said he.<BR> +<BR> +But she interrupted him. "Don't talk to <i>me</i>, Billy Woods! Don't you<BR> +<i>dare</i> talk to me. I told you I didn't wish to hear a word you had to<BR> +say, didn't I? Yes, you all want my money. And you shan't have it.<BR> +It's mine. Uncle Fred left it to me. It's mine, I tell you. I've got<BR> +the greatest thing in the world--money! And I'll keep it. Ah, I hate<BR> +you all--every one of you--but I'll make you cringe to me. I'll make<BR> +you <i>all</i> cringe, do you hear, because I've got the money you're ready<BR> +to sell your paltry souls for! Oh, I'll make you cringe most of all,<BR> +Billy Woods! I'm rich, do you hear?--rich--<i>rich</i>! Wouldn't you be<BR> +glad to marry the rich Margaret Hugonin, Billy? Ah, haven't you<BR> +schemed hard for that? You'd be glad to do it, wouldn't you? You'd<BR> +give your dirty little soul for that, wouldn't you, Billy? Ah, what a<BR> +cur you are! Well, some day perhaps I'll buy you just as I would any<BR> +other cur. Wouldn't you be glad if I did, Billy? Beg for it, Billy!<BR> +Beg, sir! Beg!" And Margaret flung back her head again, and laughed<BR> +shrilly, and held up her hand before him as one holds a lump of sugar<BR> +before a pug-dog.<BR> +<BR> +In Selwoode I can fancy how the Eagle screamed his triumph.<BR> +<BR> +But Billy's face was ashen.<BR> +<BR> +"Before God!" he said, between his teeth, "loving you as I do, I<BR> +wouldn't marry you now for all the wealth in the world! The money has<BR> +ruined you--ruined you, Peggy."<BR> +<BR> +For a little she stared at him. By and bye, "I dare say it has," she<BR> +said, in a strangely sober tone. "I've been scolding like a fishwife.<BR> +I beg your pardon, Mr. Woods--not for what I've said, because I meant<BR> +every <i>word</i> of it, but I beg your pardon for saying it. Don't come<BR> +with me, please."<BR> +<BR> +Blindly she turned from him. Her shoulders had the droop of an old<BR> +woman's. Margaret was wearied now, weary with the weariness of death.<BR> +<BR> +For a while Mr. Woods stared after the tired little figure that<BR> +trudged straight onward in the sunlight, stumbling as she went. Then a<BR> +pleached walk swallowed her, and Mr. Woods groaned.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, Peggy, Peggy!" he said, in bottomless compassion; "oh, my poor<BR> +little Peggy! How changed you are!"<BR> +<BR> +Afterward Mr. Woods sank down upon the bench and buried his face in<BR> +his hands. He sat there for a long time. I don't believe he thought<BR> +of anything very clearly. His mind was a turgid chaos of misery; and<BR> +about him the birds shrilled and quavered and carolled till the air<BR> +was vibrant with their trilling. One might have thought they choired<BR> +in honour of the Eagle's triumph, in mockery of poor Billy.<BR> +<BR> +Then Mr. Woods raised his head with a queer, alert look. Surely he had<BR> +heard a voice--the dearest of all voices.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy!" it wailed; "oh, Billy, <i>Billy</i>!"<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXV">XXV</a><BR> +<BR> +For at the height of this particularly mischancy posture of affairs<BR> +the meddlesome Fates had elected to dispatch Cock-eye Flinks to serve<BR> +as our <i>deus ex machina</i>. And just as in the comedy the police turn<BR> +up in the nick of time to fetch Tartuffe to prison, or in the tragedy<BR> +Friar John manages to be detained on his journey to Mantua and thus<BR> +bring about that lamentable business in the tomb of the Capulets, so<BR> +Mr. Flinks now happens inopportunely to arrive upon our lesser stage.<BR> +<BR> +Faithfully to narrate how Cock-eye Flinks chanced to be at Selwoode<BR> +were a task of magnitude. That gentleman travelled very quietly; and<BR> +for the most part, he journeyed incognito under a variety of aliases<BR> +suggested partly by a fertile imagination and in part by prudential<BR> +motives. For his notions of proprietary rights were deplorably vague,<BR> +and his acquaintance with the police, in consequence, extensive. And<BR> +finally, that he was now at Selwoode was not in the least his fault,<BR> +but all the doing of an N. and O. brakesman, who had in uncultured<BR> +argument, reinforced by a coupling-pin, persuaded Mr. Flinks to<BR> +disembark from the northern freight on the night previous.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Flinks, then, sat leaning against a tree in the gardens of<BR> +Selwoode, some thirty feet from the wall that stands between Selwoode<BR> +and Gridlington, and nursed his pride and foot, both injured in that<BR> +high debate of last evening, and with a jackknife rounded off the top<BR> +of a substantial staff designed to alleviate his present lameness.<BR> +Meanwhile, he tempered his solitude with music, whistling melodiously<BR> +the air of a song that pertained to the sacredness of home and of a<BR> +white-haired mother.<BR> +<BR> +Subsequently to Cock-eye Flinks (as the playbill has it), enter a<BR> +vision in violet ruffles.<BR> +<BR> +Wide-eyed, she came upon him in her misery, steadily trudging toward<BR> +an unknown goal. I think he startled her a bit. Indeed, it must be<BR> +admitted that Mr. Flinks, while a man of undoubted talent in his<BR> +particular line of business, was, like many of your great geniuses, in<BR> +outward aspect unprepossessing and misleading; for whereas he looked<BR> +like a very shiftless and very dirty tramp, he was as a matter of fact<BR> +as vile a rascal as ever pawned a swinish soul for whiskey.<BR> +<BR> +"What are you doing here?" said Margaret, sharply. "Don't you know<BR> +this is private property?"<BR> +<BR> +To his feet rose Cock-eye Flinks. "Lady," said he, with humbleness,<BR> +"you wouldn't be hard on a poor workingman, would you? It ain't my<BR> +fault I'm here, lady--at least, it ain't rightly my fault. I just<BR> +climbed over the wall to rest a minute--just a minute, lady, in the<BR> +shade of these beautiful trees. I ain't a-hurting nobody by that,<BR> +lady, I hope."<BR> +<BR> +"Well, you had no business to do it," Miss Hugonin pointed out, "and<BR> +you can just climb right back." Then she regarded him more intently,<BR> +and her face softened somewhat. "What's the matter with your foot?"<BR> +she demanded.<BR> +<BR> +"Brakesman," said Mr. Flinks, briefly. "Threw me off a train. He<BR> +struck me cruel hard, he did, and me a poor workingman trying to make<BR> +my way to New York, lady, where my poor old mother's dying, lady, and<BR> +me out of a job. Ah, it's a hard, hard world, lady--and me her only<BR> +son--and he struck me cruel, cruel hard, he did, but I forgive him for<BR> +it, lady. Ah, lady, you're so beautiful I know you're got a kind, good<BR> +heart, lady. Can't you do something for a poor workingman, lady, with<BR> +a poor dying mother--and a poor, sick wife," Mr. Flinks added as a<BR> +dolorous afterthought; and drew nearer to her and held out one hand<BR> +appealingly.<BR> +<BR> +Petheridge Jukesbury had at divers times pointed out to her the evils<BR> +of promiscuous charity, and these dicta Margaret parroted glibly<BR> +enough, to do her justice, so long as there was no immediate question<BR> +of dispensing alms. But for all that the next whining beggar would<BR> +move her tender heart, his glib inventions playing upon it like a<BR> +fiddle, and she would give as recklessly as though there were no<BR> +such things in the whole wide world as soup-kitchens and organised<BR> +charities and common-sense. "Because, you know," she would afterward<BR> +salve her conscience, "I <i>couldn't</i> be sure he didn't need it, whereas<BR> +I was <i>quite</i> sure I didn't."<BR> +<BR> +Now she wavered for a moment. "You didn't say you had a wife before,"<BR> +she suggested.<BR> +<BR> +"An invalid," sighed Mr. Flinks--"a helpless invalid, lady. And six<BR> +small children probably crying for bread at this very moment. Ah,<BR> +lady, think what my feelings must be to hear 'em cry in vain--think<BR> +what I must suffer to know that I summoned them cherubs out of Heaven<BR> +into this here hard, hard world, lady, and now can't do by 'em<BR> +properly!" And Cock-eye Flinks brushed away a tear which I, for one,<BR> +am inclined to regard as a particularly ambitious flight of his<BR> +imagination.<BR> +<BR> +Promptly Margaret opened the bag at her waist and took out her purse.<BR> +"Don't!" she pleaded. "Please don't! I--I'm upset already. Take this,<BR> +and please--oh, <i>please</i>, don't spend it in getting drunk or gambling<BR> +or anything horrid," Miss Hugonin implored him. "You all do, and it's<BR> +so selfish of you and so discouraging."<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Flinks eyed the purse hungrily. Such a fat purse! thought Cock-eye<BR> +Plinks. And there ain't nobody within a mile of here, neither. You are<BR> +not to imagine that Mr. Flinks was totally abandoned; his vices were<BR> +parochial, restrained for the most part by a lively apprehension of<BR> +the law. But now the spell of the Eagle was strong upon him.<BR> +<BR> +"Lady," said Mr. Flinks, twisting in his grimy hand the bill she had<BR> +given him--and there, too, the Eagle flaunted in his vigour and<BR> +heartened him, "lady, that ain't much for you to give. Can't you do a<BR> +little better than that by a poor workingman, lady?"<BR> +<BR> +A very unpleasant-looking person, Mr. Cock-eye Flinks. Oh, a<BR> +peculiarly unpleasant-looking person to be a model son and a loving<BR> +husband and a tender father. Margaret was filled with a vague alarm.<BR> +<BR> +But she was brave, was Margaret. "No," said she, very decidedly, "I<BR> +shan't give you another cent. So you climb right over that wall and go<BR> +straight back where you belong."<BR> +<BR> +The methods of Mr. Flinks, I regret to say, were somewhat more crude<BR> +than those of Mesdames Haggage and Saumarez and Messieurs Kennaston<BR> +and Jukesbury.<BR> +<BR> +"Cheese it!" said Mr. Flinks, and flung away his staff and drew very<BR> +near to her. "Gimme that money, do you hear!"<BR> +<BR> +"Don't you dare touch me!" she panted; "ah, don't you <i>dare</i>!"<BR> +<BR> +"Aw, hell!" said Mr. Flinks, disgustedly, and his dirty hands were<BR> +upon her, and his foul breath reeked in her face.<BR> +<BR> +In her hour of need Margaret's heart spoke.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy!" she wailed; "oh, Billy, <i>Billy</i>!"<BR> +<BR> + * * * * *<BR> +<BR> +He came to her--just as he would have scaled Heaven to come to her,<BR> +just as he would have come to her in the nethermost pit of Hell if she<BR> +had called. Ah, yes, Billy Woods came to her now in her peril, and<BR> +I don't think that Mr. Flinks particularly relished the look upon<BR> +Billy's face as he ran through the gardens, for Billy was furiously<BR> +moved.<BR> +<BR> +Cock-eye Flinks glanced back at the wall behind him. Ten feet high,<BR> +and the fellow ain't far off. Cock-eye Flinks caught up his staff, and<BR> +as Billy closed upon him, struck him full on the head. Again and again<BR> +he struck him. It was a sickening business.<BR> +<BR> +Billy had stopped short. For an instant he stood swaying on his feet,<BR> +a puzzled face showing under the trickling blood. Then he flung out<BR> +his hands a little, and they flapped loosely at the wrists, like<BR> +wet clothes hung in the wind to dry, and Billy seemed to crumple up<BR> +suddenly, and slid down upon the grass in an untidy heap.<BR> +<BR> +"Ah-h-h!" said Mr. Flinks. He drew back and stared stupidly at that<BR> +sprawling flesh which just now had been a man, and was seized with<BR> +uncontrollable shuddering. "Ah-h-h!" said Mr. Flinks, very quietly.<BR> +<BR> +And Margaret went mad. The earth and the sky dissolved in many<BR> +floating specks and then went red--red like that heap yonder. The<BR> +veneer of civilisation peeled, fell from her like snow from a shaken<BR> +garment. The primal beast woke and flicked aside the centuries' work.<BR> +She was the Cave-woman who had seen the death of her mate--the brute<BR> +who had been robbed of her mate.<BR> +<BR> +"Damn you! <i>Damn</i> you!" she screamed, her voice high, flat, quite<BR> +unhuman; "ah, God in Heaven damn you!" With inarticulate bestial cries<BR> +she fell upon the man who had killed Billy, and her violet fripperies<BR> +fluttered, her impotent little hands beat at him, tore at him. She was<BR> +fearless, shameless, insane. She only knew that Billy was dead.<BR> +<BR> +With an oath the man flung her from him and turned on his heel. She<BR> +fell to coaxing the heap in the grass to tell her that he forgave<BR> +her--to open his eyes--to stop bloodying her dress--to come to<BR> +luncheon...<BR> +<BR> +A fly settled on Billy's face and came in his zig-zag course to the<BR> +red stream trickling from his nostrils, and stopped short. She brushed<BR> +the carrion thing away, but it crawled back drunkenly. She touched it<BR> +with her finger, and the fly would not move. On a sudden, every nerve<BR> +in her body began to shake and jerk like a flag snapping in the wind.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXVI">XXVI</a><BR> +<BR> +Some ten minutes afterward, as the members of the house-party sat<BR> +chatting on the terrace before Selwoode, there came among them a mad<BR> +woman in violet trappings that were splotched with blood.<BR> +<BR> +"Did you know that Billy was dead?" she queried, smilingly. "Oh, yes,<BR> +a man killed Billy just now. Wasn't it too bad? Billy was such a nice<BR> +boy, you know. I--I think it's very sad. I think it's the saddest<BR> +thing I ever knew of in my life."<BR> +<BR> +Kathleen Saumarez was the first to reach her. But she drew back<BR> +quickly.<BR> +<BR> +"No, ah, no!" she said, with a little shudder. "You didn't love Billy.<BR> +He loved you, and you didn't love him. Oh, Kathleen, Kathleen, how<BR> +<i>could</i> you help loving Billy? He was such a nice boy. I--I'm rather<BR> +sorry he's dead."<BR> +<BR> +Then she stood silent, picking at her dress thoughtfully and still<BR> +smiling. Afterward, for the first and only time in history, Miss<BR> +Hugonin fainted--fainted with an anxious smile.<BR> +<BR> +Petheridge Jukesbury caught her as she fell, and began to blubber like<BR> +a whipped schoolboy as he stood there holding her in his arms.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXVII">XXVII</a><BR> +<BR> +But Billy was not dead. There was still a feeble, jerky fluttering in<BR> +his big chest when Colonel Hugonin found him. His heart still moved,<BR> +but under the Colonel's hand its stirrings were vague and aimless as<BR> +those of a captive butterfly.<BR> +<BR> +The Colonel had seen dead men and dying men before this; and as he<BR> +bent over the boy he loved he gave a convulsive sob, and afterward<BR> +buried his face in his hands.<BR> +<BR> +Then--of all unlikely persons in the world--it was Petheridge<BR> +Jukesbury who rose to meet the occasion.<BR> +<BR> +His suavity and blandness forgotten in the presence of death, he<BR> +mounted with confident alacrity to heights of greatness. Masterfully,<BR> +he overrode them all. He poured brandy between Billy's teeth. Then he<BR> +ordered the ladies off to bed, and recommended to Mr. Kennaston--when<BR> +that gentleman spoke of a clergyman--a far more startling destination.<BR> +<BR> +For, "It is far from my intention," said Mr.<BR> +<BR> +Jukesbury, "to appear lacking in respect to the cloth, but--er--just<BR> +at present I am inclined to think we are in somewhat greater need of a<BR> +mattress and a doctor and--ah--the exercise of a little common-sense.<BR> +The gentleman is--er--let us hope, in no immediate danger."<BR> +<BR> +"How dare you suggest such a thing, sir?" thundered Petheridge<BR> +Jukesbury. "Didn't you see that poor girl's face? I tell you I'll be<BR> +damned if he dies, sir!"<BR> +<BR> +And I fancy the recording angel heard him, and against a list of wordy<BR> +cheats registered that oath to his credit.<BR> +<BR> +It was Petheridge Jukesbury, then, who stalked into Mrs. Haggage's<BR> +apartments and appropriated her mattress as the first at hand, and<BR> +afterward waddled through the gardens bearing it on his fat shoulders,<BR> +and still later lifted Billy upon it as gently as a woman could have.<BR> +But it was the hatless Colonel on his favourite Black Bess ("Damn your<BR> +motor-cars!" the Colonel was wont to say; "I consider my appearance<BR> +sufficiently unprepossessing already, sir, without my arriving in<BR> +Heaven in fragments and stinking of gasoline!") who in Fairhaven town,<BR> +some quarter of an hour afterward, leaped Dr. Jeal's garden fence, and<BR> +subsequently bundled the doctor into his gig; and again yet later it<BR> +was the Colonel who stood fuming upon the terrace with Dr. Jeal on his<BR> +way to Selwoode indeed, but still some four miles from the mansion<BR> +toward which he was urging his staid horse at its liveliest gait.<BR> +<BR> +Kennaston tried to soothe him. But the Colonel clamoured to the<BR> +heavens. Kennaston he qualified in various ways. And as for Dr. Jeal,<BR> +he would hold him responsible--"personally, sir"--for the consequences<BR> +of his dawdling in this fashion--"Damme, sir, like a damn' snail with<BR> +a wooden leg!"<BR> +<BR> +"I am afraid," said Kennaston, gravely, "that the doctor will be of<BR> +very little use when he does arrive."<BR> +<BR> +There was that in his face which made the Colonel pause in his<BR> +objurgations.<BR> +<BR> +"Sir," said the Colonel, "what--do--you--mean?" He found articulation<BR> +somewhat difficult.<BR> +<BR> +"In your absence," Kennaston answered, "Mr. Jukesbury, who it<BR> +appears knows something of medicine, has subjected Mr. Woods to an<BR> +examination. It--it would be unkind to deceive you----"<BR> +<BR> +"Come to the point, sir," the Colonel interrupted him. "What--do<BR> +you--mean?"<BR> +<BR> +"I mean," said Felix Kennaston, sadly, "that--he is afraid--Mr. Woods<BR> +will never recover consciousness."<BR> +<BR> +Colonel Hugonin stared at him. The skin of his flabby, wrinkled old<BR> +throat was working convulsively.<BR> +<BR> +Then, "You're wrong, sir," the Colonel said. "Billy <i>shan't</i> die. Damn<BR> +Jukesbury! Damn all doctors, too, sir! I put my trust in my God, sir,<BR> +and not in a box of damn' sugar-pills, sir. And I tell you, sir, <i>that<BR> +boy is not going to die</i>."<BR> +<BR> +Afterward he turned and went into Selwoode defiantly.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXVIII">XXVIII</a><BR> +<BR> +In the living-hall the Colonel found Margaret, white as paper, with<BR> +purple lips that timidly smiled at him.<BR> +<BR> +"Why ain't you in bed?" the old gentleman demanded, with as great an<BR> +affectation of sternness as he could muster. To say the truth, it was<BR> +not much; for Colonel Hugonin, for all his blustering optimism, was<BR> +sadly shaken now.<BR> +<BR> +"Attractive," said Margaret, "I was, but I couldn't stay there. My--my<BR> +brain won't stop working, you see," she complained, wearily. "There's<BR> +a thin little whisper in the back of it that keeps telling me about<BR> +Billy, and what a liar he is, and what nice eyes he has, and how<BR> +poor Billy is dead. It keeps telling me that, over and over again,<BR> +attractive. It's such a tiresome, silly little whisper. But he is<BR> +dead, isn't he? Didn't Mr. Kennaston tell me just now that he was<BR> +dead?--or was it the whisper, attractive?"<BR> +<BR> +The Colonel coughed. "Kennaston--er--Kennaston's a fool," he declared,<BR> +helplessly. "Always said he was a fool. We'll have Jeal in presently."<BR> +<BR> +"No--I remember now--Mr. Kennaston said Billy would die very soon. You<BR> +don't like people to disagree with you, do you, attractive? Of course,<BR> +he will die, for the man hit him very, <i>very</i> hard. I'm sorry Billy is<BR> +going to die, though, even if he is such a liar!"<BR> +<BR> +"Don't!" said the Colonel, hoarsely; "don't, daughter! I don't know<BR> +what there is between you and Billy, but you're wrong. Oh, you're very<BR> +hopelessly wrong! Billy's the finest boy I know."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret shook her head in dissent.<BR> +<BR> +"No, he's a very contemptible liar," she said, disinterestedly, "and<BR> +that is what makes it so queer that I should care for him more than I<BR> +do for anything else in the world. Yes, it's very queer."<BR> +<BR> +Then Margaret went into the room opening into the living-hall, where<BR> +Billy Woods lay unconscious, pallid, breathing stertorously. And the<BR> +Colonel stared after her.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh, my God, my God!" groaned the poor Colonel; "why couldn't it have<BR> +been I? Why couldn't it have been I that ain't wanted any longer?<BR> +She'd never have grieved like that for me!"<BR> +<BR> +And indeed, I don't think she would have.<BR> +<BR> +For to Margaret there had come, as, God willing, there comes to every<BR> +clean-souled woman, the time to put away all childish things, and all<BR> +childish memories, and all childish ties, if need be, to follow one<BR> +man only, and cleave to him, and know his life and hers to be knit up<BR> +together, past severance, in a love that death itself may not affright<BR> +nor slay.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXIX">XXIX</a><BR> +<BR> +She sat silent in one corner of the darkened room. It was the bedroom<BR> +that Frederick R. Woods formerly occupied--on the ground floor of<BR> +Selwoode, opening into the living-hall--to which they had carried<BR> +Billy.<BR> +<BR> +Jukesbury had done what he could. In the bed lay Billy Woods, swathed<BR> +in hot blankets, with bottles of hot water set to his feet. Jukesbury<BR> +had washed his face clean of that awful red, and had wrapped bandages<BR> +of cracked ice about his head and propped it high with pillows. It<BR> +was little short of marvellous to see the pursy old hypocrite going<BR> +cat-footed about the room on his stealthy ministrations, replenishing<BR> +the bandages, forcing spirits of ammonia between Billy's teeth,<BR> +fighting deftly and confidently with death.<BR> +<BR> +Billy still breathed.<BR> +<BR> +The Colonel came and went uneasily. The clock on the mantel ticked.<BR> +Margaret brooded in a silence that was only accentuated by that<BR> +horrible wheezing, gurgling, tremulous breathing in the bed yonder.<BR> +Would the doctor never come!<BR> +<BR> +She was curiously conscious of her absolute lack of emotion.<BR> +<BR> +But always the interminable thin whispering in the back of her head<BR> +went on and on. "Oh, if he had only died four years ago! Oh, if he had<BR> +only died the dear, clean-minded, honest boy I used to know! When that<BR> +noise stops he will be dead. And then, perhaps, I shall be able to<BR> +cry. Oh, if he had only died four years ago!"<BR> +<BR> +And then <i>da capo</i>. On and on ran the interminable thin whispering as<BR> +Margaret waited for death to come to Billy. Billy looked so old now,<BR> +under his many bandages. Surely he must be very, very near death.<BR> +<BR> +Suddenly, as Jukesbury wrapped new bandages about his forehead, Billy<BR> +opened his eyes and, without further movement, smiled placidly up at<BR> +him.<BR> +<BR> +"Hello, Jukesbury," said Billy Woods, "where's my armour?"<BR> +<BR> +Jukesbury, too, smiled. "The man is bringing it downstairs now," he<BR> +answered, quietly.<BR> +<BR> +"Because," Billy went on, fretfully, "I don't propose to miss the<BR> +Trojan war. The princes orgulous with high blood chafed, you know, are<BR> +all going to be there, and I don't propose to miss it."<BR> +<BR> +Behind his fat back, Petheridge Jukesbury waved a cautioning hand at<BR> +Margaret, who had risen from her chair.<BR> +<BR> +"But it is very absurd," Billy murmured, in the mere ghost of a voice,<BR> +"because men don't propose by mistake except in farces. Somebody told<BR> +me that, but I can't remember who, because I am a misogynist. That is<BR> +a Greek word, and I would explain it to Peggy, if she would only give<BR> +me a chance, but she can't because she has those seventeen hundred<BR> +and fifty thousand children to look after. There must be some way to<BR> +explain to her, though, because where there's a will there is always<BR> +a way, and there were three wills. Uncle Fred should not have left so<BR> +many wills--who would have thought the old man had so much ink in him?<BR> +But I will be a very great painter, Uncle Fred, and make her sorry for<BR> +the way she has treated me, and <i>then</i> Kathleen will understand I was<BR> +talking about Peggy."<BR> +<BR> +His voice died away, and Margaret sat with wide eyes listening for it<BR> +again. Would the doctor never come!<BR> +<BR> +Billy was smiling and picking at the sheets.<BR> +<BR> +"But Peggy is so rich," the faint voice presently complained--"so<BR> +beastly rich! There is gold in her hair, and if you will look very<BR> +closely you will see that her lashes were pure gold until she dipped<BR> +them in the ink-pot. Besides, she expects me to sit up and beg for<BR> +lumps of sugar, and I <i>never</i> take sugar in my coffee. And Peggy<BR> +doesn't drink coffee at all, so I think it is very unfair, especially<BR> +as Teddy Anstruther drinks like a fish and she is going to marry him.<BR> +Peggy, why won't you marry me? You know I've always loved you, Peggy,<BR> +and now I can tell you so because Uncle Fred has left me all his<BR> +money. You think a great deal about money, Peggy. You said it was the<BR> +greatest thing in the world. And it must be, because it is the only<BR> +thing--the <i>only</i> thing, Peggy--that has been strong enough to keep<BR> +us apart. A part is never greater than the whole, Peggy, but I will<BR> +explain about that when you open that desk. There are sharks in it.<BR> +Aren't there, Peggy?--<i>aren't</i> there?"<BR> +<BR> +His voice had risen to a querulous tone. Gently the fat old man<BR> +restrained him.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," said Petheridge Jukesbury; "dear me, yes. Why, dear me, of<BR> +course."<BR> +<BR> +But his warning hand held Margaret back--Margaret, who stood with big<BR> +tears trickling down her cheeks.<BR> +<BR> +"Dearer than life itself," Billy assented, wearily, "but before God,<BR> +loving you as I do, I wouldn't marry you now for all the wealth in the<BR> +world. I forget why, but all the world is a stage, you know, and they<BR> +don't use stages now, but only railroads. Is that why you rail at me<BR> +so, Peggy? That is a joke. You ought to laugh at my jokes, because I<BR> +love you, but I can't ever, ever tell you so because you are rich. A<BR> +rich man cannot pass through a needle's eye. Oh, Peggy, Peggy, I love<BR> +your eyes, but they're so <i>big</i>, Peggy!"<BR> +<BR> +So Billy Woods lay still and babbled ceaselessly. But through all his<BR> +irrelevant talk, as you may see a tributary stream pulse unsullied<BR> +in a muddied river, ran the thought of Peggy--of Peggy, and of her<BR> +cruelty, and of her beauty, and of the money that stood between them.<BR> +<BR> +And Margaret, who could never have believed him in his senses,<BR> +listened and knew that in his delirium, the rudder of his thoughts<BR> +snapped, he could not but speak truth. As she crouched in the corner<BR> +of the room, her face buried in an arm-chair, her gold hair half<BR> +loosened, her shoulders monotonously heaving, she wept gently,<BR> +inaudibly, almost happily.<BR> +<BR> +Almost happily. Billy was dying, but she knew now, past any doubting,<BR> +that he loved her. The dear, clean-minded, honest boy had come<BR> +back to her, and she could love him now without shame, and there was<BR> +only herself to be loathed.<BR> +<BR> +<img src="image026.jpg" alt="image026.jpg" width="340" height="500"><BR> +[Illustration: "Regarded them with alert eyes."]<BR> +<BR> +Then the door opened. Then, with Colonel Hugonin, came Martin Jeal--a<BR> +wisp of a man like a November leaf--and regarded them from under his<BR> +shaggy white hair with alert eyes.<BR> +<BR> +"Hey, what's this?" said Dr. Jeal. "Eh, yes! Eh--yes!" he meditated,<BR> +slowly. "Most irregular. You must let us have the room, Miss Hugonin."<BR> +<BR> +In the hall she waited. Hope! ah, of course, there was no hope! the<BR> +thin little whisper told her.<BR> +<BR> +By and bye, though--after centuries of waiting--the three men came<BR> +into the hall.<BR> +<BR> +"Miss Hugonin," said Dr. Jeal, with a strange kindness in his voice,<BR> +"I don't think we shall need you again. I am happy to tell you,<BR> +though, that the patient is doing nicely--very nicely indeed."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret clutched his arm. "You--you mean----"<BR> +<BR> +"I mean," said Dr. Jeal, "that there is no fracture. A slight<BR> +concussion of the brain, madam, and--so far as I can see--no signs of<BR> +inflammation. Barring accidents, I think we'll have that young man out<BR> +of bed in a week. Thanks," he added, "to Mr.--er--Jukesbury here whose<BR> +prompt action was, under Heaven, undoubtedly the means of staving off<BR> +meningitis and probably--indeed, more than probably--the means<BR> +of saving Mr. Woods's life. It was splendid, sir, splendid! No<BR> +doctor--why, God bless my soul!"<BR> +<BR> +For Miss Hugonin had thrown her arms about Petheridge Jukesbury's neck<BR> +and had kissed him vigorously.<BR> +<BR> +"You beautiful child!" said Miss Hugonin.<BR> +<BR> +"Er--Jukesbury," said the Colonel, mysteriously, "there's a little<BR> +cognac in the cellar that--er--" The Colonel jerked his thumb across<BR> +the hallway with the air of a conspirator. "Eh?" said the Colonel.<BR> +<BR> +"Why--er--yes," said Mr. Jukesbury. "Why--ah--yes, I think I might."<BR> +<BR> +They went across the hall together. The Colonel's hand rested<BR> +fraternally on Petheridge Jukesbury's shoulder.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXX">XXX</a><BR> +<BR> +The next day there was a general exodus from Selwoode, and Margaret's<BR> +satellites dispersed upon their divers ways. Selwoode, as they<BR> +understood it, was no longer hers; and they knew Billy Woods well<BR> +enough to recognise that from Selwoode's new master there were no<BR> +desirable pickings to be had such as the philanthropic crew had<BR> +fattened on these four years past. So there came to them, one and all,<BR> +urgent telegrams or insistent letters or some equally unanswerable<BR> +demand for their presence elsewhere, such as are usually prevalent<BR> +among our guests in very dull or very troublous times.<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin smiled a little bitterly. She considered that the scales<BR> +had fallen from her eyes, and flattered herself that she was by way of<BR> +becoming a bit of a misanthrope; also, I believe, there was a note<BR> +concerning the hollowness of life and the worthlessness of society in<BR> +general. In a word, Margaret fell back upon the extreme cynicism and<BR> +world-weariness of twenty-three, and assured herself that she despised<BR> +everybody, whereas, as a matter of fact, she never in her life<BR> +succeeded in disliking anything except mice and piano-practice, and,<BR> +for a very little while, Billy Woods; and this for the very excellent<BR> +reason that the gods had fashioned her solely to the end that she<BR> +might love all mankind, and in return be loved by humanity in general<BR> +and adored by that portion of it which inhabits trousers.<BR> +<BR> +But, "The rats always desert a sinking ship," said Miss Hugonin, with<BR> +the air of one delivering a particularly original sentiment. "They<BR> +make me awfully tired, and I don't care for them in the least. But<BR> +Petheridge Jukesbury is a <i>dear</i>, and I may be poor now, but I <i>did</i><BR> +try to do good with the money when I had it, and <i>anyhow</i>, Billy is<BR> +going to get well."<BR> +<BR> +And, after all, that was the one thing that really mattered, though of<BR> +course Billy would always despise her. He would be quite right, too,<BR> +the girl thought humbly.<BR> +<BR> +But the conventionalities of life are more powerful than even youthful<BR> +cynicism and youthful heart-break. Prior to devoting herself to a<BR> +loveless life and the commonplaces of the stoic's tub, Miss Hugonin<BR> +was compelled by the barest decency to bid her guests Godspeed.<BR> +<BR> +And Adèle Haggage kissed her for the first time in her life. She had<BR> +been a little awed by Miss Hugonin, the famous heiress--a little<BR> +jealous of her, I dare say, on account of Hugh Van Orden--but now she<BR> +kissed her very heartily in farewell, and said, "Don't forget you are<BR> +to come to us as soon as <i>possible</i>," and was beyond any question<BR> +perfectly sincere in saying it.<BR> +<BR> +And Hugh Van Orden almost dragged Margaret under the main stairway,<BR> +and, far from showing any marked abhorrence to her in her present<BR> +state of destitution, implored her with tears in his eyes to marry him<BR> +at once, and to bring the Colonel to live with them for the rest of<BR> +his natural existence.<BR> +<BR> +For, "It's damned impertinent of me, of course," Mr. Van Orden readily<BR> +conceded, "and I suppose I ought to beg your pardon for mentioning it,<BR> +but I <i>do</i> love you to a perfectly unlimited extent. It's playing the<BR> +very deuce with my polo, Miss Hugonin, and as for my appetite--why,<BR> +if you won't have me," cried Hugh, in desperation, "I--I really, you<BR> +know, I don't believe I'll <i>ever</i> be able to eat anything!"<BR> +<BR> +When Margaret refused him--for the sixth time, I think--I won't swear<BR> +that she didn't kiss him under the dark stairway. And if she did, he<BR> +was a nice boy, and he deserved it.<BR> +<BR> +And as for Sarah Ellen Haggage, that unreverend old parasite brought<BR> +her a blank cheque signed with her name, and mentioned quite a goodly<BR> +sum as the extent to which Margaret might go for necessary expenses.<BR> +<BR> +"For you'll need it," she said, and rubbed her nose reflectively.<BR> +"Moving is the very deuce for wasting money, because so many little<BR> +things keep cropping up. Now, remember, a quarter is quite enough to<BR> +give <i>any</i> man for moving a trunk. And there's no earthly sense in<BR> +your taking a cab, Margaret--the street-car will bring you within a<BR> +block of our door. These little trifles count, dear. And don't let<BR> +Célestine pack your things, because she's abominably careless. Let<BR> +Marie do it--and don't tip her. Give her an old hat. And if I were<BR> +you, I would certainly consult a lawyer about the legality of that<BR> +idiotic will. I remember distinctly hearing that Mr. Woods was very<BR> +eccentric in his last days, and I haven't a doubt he was raving mad<BR> +when, he left all his money to a great, strapping, long-legged young<BR> +fellow, who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Getting<BR> +better, is he? Well, I suppose I'm glad to hear it, but he'd much<BR> +better have stayed in Paris--where, I remember distinctly hearing, he<BR> +led the most dissipated and immoral life, my dear--instead of coming<BR> +over here and upsetting everything." And again Mrs. Haggage rubbed her<BR> +nose--indignantly.<BR> +<BR> +"He <i>didn't</i>!" said Margaret. "And I <i>can't</i> take your money,<BR> +beautiful! And I don't see how we can possibly come to stay with you."<BR> +<BR> +"Don't you argue with me!" Mrs. Haggage exhorted her. "I'm not in any<BR> +temper to be argued with. I've spent the morning sewing bias<BR> +stripes in a bias skirt--something which from a moral-ruining and<BR> +resolution-overthrowing standpoint simply knocks the spots off Job.<BR> +You'll take that money, and you'll come to me as soon as you can,<BR> +and--God bless you, my dear!"<BR> +<BR> +And again Margaret was kissed. Altogether, it was a very osculatory<BR> +morning for Miss Hugonin.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Jukesbury's adieus, however, were more formal; and--I am sorry to<BR> +say it--the old fellow went away wondering if the rich Mr. Woods might<BR> +not conceivably be very grateful to the man who had saved his life and<BR> +evince his gratitude in some agreeable and substantial form.<BR> +<BR> +Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston, also, were somewhat unenthusiastic in<BR> +their parting. Kennaston could not feel quite at ease with Margaret,<BR> +brazen it as he might with devil-may-carish flippancy; and Kathleen<BR> +had by this an inkling as to how matters stood between Margaret and<BR> +Billy, and was somewhat puzzled thereat, and loved the former in<BR> +consequence no more than any Christian female is compelled to love the<BR> +woman who, either unconsciously or with deliberation, purloins her<BR> +ancient lover. A woman rarely forgives the man who has ceased to care<BR> +for her; and rarelier still can she pardon the woman who has dared<BR> +succeed her in his affections.<BR> +<BR> +And besides, they were utterly engrossed with one another, and utterly<BR> +happy, and utterly selfish with the immemorial selfishness of lovers,<BR> +who cannot for a moment conceive that the whole world is not somehow<BR> +benefited by their happiness and does not await with breathless<BR> +interest the outcome of their bickerings with the blind bow-god, and<BR> +from this providential delusion derive a meritorious and comfortable<BR> +glow. So Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston parted from Margaret with<BR> +kindness, it is true, but not without awkwardness.<BR> +<BR> +And that was the man that almost she had loved! thought Margaret, as<BR> +she gazed on the whirl of dust left by their carriage-wheels. Gone<BR> +with a few perfunctory words of sympathy!<BR> +<BR> +And for my part, I think that the base Indian who threw a pearl away<BR> +worth more than all his tribe was, in comparison with Felix Kennaston,<BR> +a shrewd and long-headed man. If you had given <i>me</i> his chances,<BR> +Margaret ... but this, however, is highly digressive.<BR> +<BR> +The Colonel, standing beside her, used language that was unrefined.<BR> +His aspirations as to the future of Mr. Kennaston and Mr. Jukesbury,<BR> +it appeared, were both lurid and unfriendly.<BR> +<BR> +"But why, attractive?" queried his daughter.<BR> +<BR> +"May they be qualified with such and such adjectives!" desired the<BR> +Colonel, fervently. "They tried to lend me money--wouldn't hear of<BR> +my not taking it! In case of necessity.' Bah!" said the Colonel, and<BR> +shook his fist after the retreating carriages. "May they be qualified<BR> +with such and such adjectives!"<BR> +<BR> +How happily she laughed! "And you're swearing at them!" she pouted.<BR> +"Oh, my dear, my dear, how hard you are on all my little friends!"<BR> +<BR> +"Of course I am," said the Colonel, stoutly. "They've deprived me of<BR> +the pleasure of despising 'em. It was worth double the money, I tell<BR> +you! I never objected to any men quite so much. And now they've gone<BR> +and behaved decently with the deliberate purpose of annoying me! Oh!"<BR> +cried the Colonel, and shook an immaculate, withered old hand toward<BR> +the spring sky, "may they be qualified with such and such adjectives!"<BR> +<BR> +And that, so far as we are concerned, was the end of Margaret's<BR> +satellites.<BR> +<BR> +My dear Mrs. Grundy, may one point the somewhat obvious moral? I thank<BR> +you, madam, for your long-suffering kindness. Permit me, then, to<BR> +vault toward my moral over the shoulders of a greater man.<BR> +<BR> +Among the papers left by one Charles Dickens--a novelist who is<BR> +obsolete now because he "wallows naked in the pathetic" and was<BR> +frequently guilty of a very vulgar sort of humour that actually made<BR> +people laugh, which, as we now know, is not the purpose of humour--a<BR> +novelist who incessantly "caricatured Nature" and by these inartistic<BR> +and underhand methods created characters that are more real to us than<BR> +the folk we jostle in the street and (God knows!) far more vital and<BR> +worthy of attention than the folk who "cannot read Dickens"--you will<BR> +find, I say, a note of an idea which he never afterward developed,<BR> +running to this effect: "Full length portrait of his lordship,<BR> +surrounded by worshippers. Sensible men enough, agreeable men enough,<BR> +independent men enough in a certain way; but the moment they begin<BR> +to circle round my lord, and to shine with a borrowed light from<BR> +his lordship, heaven and earth, how mean and subservient! What a<BR> +competition and outbidding of each other in servility!"<BR> +<BR> +And this, with "my lord" and "his lordship" erased to make way for the<BR> +word "money," is my moral. The folk who have just left Selwoode were<BR> +honest enough as honesty goes nowadays; kindly as any of us dare<BR> +be who have our own way to make among very stalwart and determined<BR> +rivals; generous as any man may venture to be in a world where<BR> +the first of every month finds the butcher and the baker and the<BR> +candlestick-maker rapping at the door with their little bills: but<BR> +they cringed to money. It was very wrong of them, my dear lady, and in<BR> +extenuation I can only plead that they could no more help cringing to<BR> +money than you or I can help it.<BR> +<BR> +This is very crude and very cynical, but unfortunately it is true.<BR> +<BR> +We always cringe to money; which is humiliating. And the sun always<BR> +rises at an hour when sensible people are abed and have not the least<BR> +need for its services; which is foolish. And what you and I, my dear<BR> +madam, are to do about rectifying either one of these vexatious<BR> +circumstances, I am sure I don't know.<BR> +<BR> +We can, at least, be honest. Let us, then, console ourselves at will<BR> +with moral observations concerning the number of pockets in a shroud<BR> +and the difficulty of a rich man's entering into the kingdom of<BR> +Heaven; but with an humble and reverent heart, let us admit that, in<BR> +the world we know, money rules. Its presence awes us. And if we are<BR> +quite candid we must concede that we very unfeignedly envy and admire<BR> +the rich; we must grant that money confers a certain distinction on a<BR> +man, be he the veriest ass that ever heehawed a platitude, and that we<BR> +cannot but treat him accordingly, you and I.<BR> +<BR> +You are friendly, of course, with your poor cousins; you are delighted<BR> +to have them drop in to dinner, and liberal enough with the claret<BR> +when they do; but when the magnate comes, there is a magnum of<BR> +champagne, and an extra lamp in the drawing-room, and--I blush to<BR> +write it--a far more agreeable hostess at the head of the table. Dives<BR> +is such good company, you see. And speaking for my own sex, I defy any<BR> +honest fellow to lay his hand upon his waistcoat and swear that it<BR> +doesn't give him a distinct thrill of pleasure to be seen in public<BR> +with a millionaire. Daily we truckle in the Eagle's shadow--the shadow<BR> +that lay so heavily across Selwoode. With the Eagle himself and with<BR> +the Eagle's work in the world--the grim, implacable, ruthless work<BR> +that hourly he goes about--our little comedy has naught to do;<BR> +Schlemihl-like, we deal but in shadows. Even the shadow of the Eagle<BR> +is a terrible thing--a shadow that, as Felix Kennaston has told you,<BR> +chills faith, and charity, and independence, and kindliness, and<BR> +truth, and--alas--even common honesty.<BR> +<BR> +But this is both cynical and digressive.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXXI">XXXI</a><BR> +<BR> +Dr. Jeal, better than his word, had Billy Woods out of bed in five<BR> +days. To Billy they were very long and very dreary days, and to<BR> +Margaret very long and penitential ones. But Colonel Hugonin enjoyed<BR> +them thoroughly; for, as he feelingly and frequently observed, it is<BR> +an immense consolation to any man to reflect that his home no longer<BR> +contains "more damn' foolishness to the square inch than any other<BR> +house in the United States."<BR> +<BR> +On all sides they sought for Cock-eye Flinks. But they never found<BR> +him, and to this day they have never found him. The Fates having<BR> +played their pawn, swept it from the board, and Cock-eye Flinks<BR> +disappeared in Clotho's capacious pocket.<BR> +<BR> +All this time the young people saw nothing of one another. On this<BR> +point Jeal was adamantean.<BR> +<BR> +"In a sick-room," he vehemently declared, "a woman is well enough, but<BR> +<i>the</i> woman is the devil and all. I've told that young man plainly,<BR> +sir, that he doesn't see your daughter till he gets well--and, by<BR> +George, sir, he'll get well now just in order to see her. Nature is<BR> +the only doctor who ever cures anybody, Colonel; we humans, for<BR> +all our pill-boxes and lancets, can only prompt her--and devilish<BR> +demoralising advice we generally give her, too," he added, with a<BR> +chuckle.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy!"<BR> +<BR> +This was the first observation of Mr. Woods when he came to his<BR> +senses. He swore feebly when Peggy was denied to him. He pleaded. He<BR> +scolded. He even threatened, as a last resort, to get out of bed and<BR> +go in immediate search of her; and in return, Jeal told him very<BR> +affably that it was far less difficult to manage a patient in a<BR> +straight-jacket than one out of it, and that personally nothing would<BR> +please him so much as a plausible pretext for clapping Mr. Woods into<BR> +one of 'em. Jeal had his own methods in dealing with the fractious.<BR> +<BR> +Then Billy clamoured for Colonel Hugonin, and subsequently the Colonel<BR> +came in some bewilderment to his daughter's rooms.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy says that will ain't to be probated," he informed her, testily.<BR> +"I'm to make sure it ain't probated till he gets well. You're to give<BR> +me your word you'll do nothing further in the matter till Billy gets<BR> +well. That's his message, and I'd like to know what the devil this<BR> +infernal nonsense means. I ain't a Fenian nor yet a Guy Fawkes,<BR> +daughter, and in consequence I'm free to confess I don't care for all<BR> +this damn mystery and shilly-shallying. But that's the message."<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin debated with herself. "That I will do nothing further in<BR> +the matter till Billy gets well," she repeated, reflectively. "Yes, I<BR> +suppose I'll have to promise it, but you can tell him for me that I<BR> +consider he is <i>horrid</i>, and just as obstinate and selfish as he can<BR> +<i>possibly</i> be. Can you remember that, attractive?"<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, thank you," said the Colonel. "I can remember it, but I ain't<BR> +going to. Nice sort of message to send a sick man, ain't it? I don't<BR> +know what's gotten into you, Margaret--no, begad, I don't! I think<BR> +you're possessed of seventeen devils. And now," the old gentleman<BR> +demanded, after an awkward pause, "are you or are you not going to<BR> +tell me what all this mystery is about?"<BR> +<BR> +"I can't," Miss Hugonin protested. "It--it's a secret, attractive."<BR> +<BR> +"It ain't," said the Colonel, flatly--"it's some more damn<BR> +foolishness." And he went away in a fret and using language.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXXII">XXXII</a><BR> +<BR> +Left to herself, Miss Hugonin meditated.<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin was in her kimono.<BR> +<BR> +And oh, Madame Chrysastheme! oh, Madame Butterfly! Oh, Mimosa San, and<BR> +Pitti Sing, and Yum Yum, and all ye vaunted beauties of Japan! if you<BR> +could have seen her in that garb! Poor little ladies of the Orient,<BR> +how hopelessly you would have wrung your henna-stained fingers! Poor<BR> +little Ichabods of the East, whose glory departed irretrievably when<BR> +she adopted this garment, I tremble to think of the heart-burnings and<BR> +palpitations and hari-karis that would have ensued.<BR> +<BR> +It was pink--the pink of her cheeks to a shade. And scattered about it<BR> +were birds, and butterflies, and snaky, emaciated dragons, with backs<BR> +like saw-teeth, and prodigious fangs, and claws, and very curly tails,<BR> +such as they breed in Nankeen plates and used to breed on packages of<BR> +fire-crackers--all done in gold, the gold of her hair. Moreover, one<BR> +might catch a glimpse of her neck--which was a manifest favour of the<BR> +gods--and about it mysterious, lacy white things intermingling with<BR> +divers tiny blue ribbons. I saw her in it once--by accident.<BR> +<BR> +And now I fancy, as she stood rigid with indignation, her cheeks<BR> +flushed, it must have been a heady spectacle to note how their<BR> +shell-pink repeated the pink of her fantastic garment like a chromatic<BR> +echo; and how her sunny hair, a thought loosened, a shade dishevelled,<BR> +clung heavily about her face, a golden snare for eye and heart; and<BR> +how her own eyes, enormous, cerulean--twin sapphires such as in the<BR> +old days might have ransomed a brace of emperors--grew wistful like a<BR> +child's who has been punished and does not know exactly why; and how<BR> +her petulant mouth quivered and the long black lashes, golden at the<BR> +roots, quivered, too--ah, yes, it must have been a heady spectacle.<BR> +<BR> +"<i>Now</i>," she announced, "I see plainly what he intends doing. He is<BR> +going to destroy that will, and burden me once more with a large and<BR> +influential fortune. I don't want it, and I won't take it, and he<BR> +might just as well understand that in the very beginning. I don't care<BR> +if Uncle Fred did leave it to me--I didn't ask him to, did I? Besides,<BR> +he was a very foolish old man--if he had left the money to Billy<BR> +<i>everything</i> would have been all right. That's always the way--my<BR> +dolls are invariably stuffed with sawdust, and I <i>never</i> have a dear<BR> +gazelle to glad me with his dappled hide, but when he comes to know me<BR> +well he falls upon the buttered side--or something to that effect. I<BR> +hate poetry, anyhow--it's so mushy!"<BR> +<BR> +And this from the Miss Hugonin who a week ago was interested in the<BR> +French <i>decadents</i> and partial to folk-songs from the Romaic! I think<BR> +we may fairly deduce that the reign of Felix Kennaston is over. The<BR> +king is dead; and Margaret's thoughts and affections and her very<BR> +dreams have fallen loyally to crying, Long live the king--his Majesty<BR> +Billy the First.<BR> +<BR> +"Oh!" said Margaret, with an indignant gasp, what time her eyebrows<BR> +gesticulated, "I think Billy Woods is a meddlesome <i>piece</i>!--that's<BR> +what I think! Does he suppose that after waiting all this time for the<BR> +only man in the world who can keep me interested for four hours on<BR> +a stretch and send my pulse up to a hundred and make me feel those<BR> +thrilly thrills I've always longed for--does he suppose that now<BR> +I'm going to pay any attention to his silly notions about wills and<BR> +things? He's abominably selfish! I shan't!"<BR> +<BR> +Margaret moved across the room, shimmering, rustling, glittering like<BR> +a fairy in a pantomime. Then, to consider matters at greater ease, she<BR> +curled up on a divan in much the attitude of a tiny Cleopatra riding<BR> +at anchor on a carpeted Cydnus.<BR> +<BR> +"Billy thinks I want the money--bless his boots! He thinks I'm a<BR> +stuck-up, grasping, purse-proud little pig, and he has every right<BR> +to think so after the way I talked to him, though he ought to have<BR> +realised I was in a temper about Kathleen Saumarez and have paid no<BR> +attention to what I said. And he actually attempted to reason with<BR> +me! If he'd had <i>any</i> consideration for my feelings, he'd have simply<BR> +smacked me and made me behave--however, he's a man, and all men are<BR> +selfish, and <i>she's</i> a skinny old thing, and I <i>never</i> had any use for<BR> +her. Bother her lectures! I never understood a word of them, and I<BR> +don't believe she does, either. Women's clubs are <i>all</i> silly, and I<BR> +think the women who belong to them are <i>all</i> bold-faced jigs! If<BR> +they had any sense, they'd stay at home and take care of the babies,<BR> +instead of messing with philanthropy, and education, and theosophy,<BR> +and anything else that they can't make head or tail of. And they call<BR> +that being cultured! Culture!--I hate the word! I don't want to be<BR> +cultured--I want to be happy."<BR> +<BR> +This, you will observe, was, in effect, a sweeping recantation of<BR> +every ideal Margaret had ever boasted. But Love is a canny pedagogue,<BR> +and of late he had instructed Miss Hugonin in a variety of matters.<BR> +<BR> +"Before God, loving you as I do, I wouldn't marry you for all the<BR> +wealth in the world," she repeated, with a little shiver. "Even in his<BR> +delirium he said that. But I <i>know</i> now that he loves me. And I know<BR> +that I adore him. And if this were a sensible world, I'd walk right in<BR> +there and explain things and ask him to marry me, and then it wouldn't<BR> +matter in the least who had the money. But I can't, because it<BR> +wouldn't be proper. Bother propriety!--but bothering it doesn't do<BR> +any good. As long as I have the money, Billy will never come near me,<BR> +because of the idiotic way I talked to him. And he's bent on my taking<BR> +the money simply because it happens to belong to me. I consider that<BR> +a very silly reason. I'll <i>make</i> Billy Woods take the money, and<BR> +I'll make him see that I'm <i>not</i> a little pig, and that I trust him<BR> +implicitly. And I think I'm quite justified in using a little--we'll<BR> +call it diplomacy--because otherwise he'd go back to France or some<BR> +other objectionable place, and we'd both be <i>very</i> unhappy."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret began to laugh softly. "I've given him my word that I'll<BR> +do nothing further in the matter till he gets well. And I won't.<BR> +<i>But</i>----"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin rose from the divan with a gesture of sweeping back her<BR> +hair. And then--oh, treachery of tortoise-shell! oh, the villainy of<BR> +those little gold hair-pins!--the fat twisted coils tumbled loose<BR> +and slowly unravelled themselves, and her pink-and-white face,<BR> +half-eclipsed, showed a delectable wedge between big, odourful,<BR> +crinkly, ponderous masses of hair. It clung about her, a heavy cloak,<BR> +all shimmering gold like the path of sunset over the June sea. And<BR> +Margaret, looking at herself in the mirror, laughed, and appeared<BR> +perfectly content with what she saw there.<BR> +<BR> +"But," said she, "if the Fates are kind to me--and I sometimes think<BR> +I <i>have</i> a pull with the gods--I'll make you happy, Billy Woods, in<BR> +spite of yourself."<BR> +<BR> +The mirror flashed back a smile. Margaret was strangely interested in<BR> +the mirror.<BR> +<BR> +"She has ringlets in her hair," sang Margaret happily--a low,<BR> +half-hushed little song. She held up a strand of it to demonstrate<BR> +this fact.<BR> +<BR> +"There's a dimple in her chin"--and, indeed, there was. And a dimple<BR> +in either cheek, too.<BR> +<BR> +For a long time afterward she continued to smile at the mirror. I am<BR> +afraid Kathleen Saumarez was right. She was a vain little cat, was<BR> +Margaret.<BR> +<BR> +But, barring a rearrangement of the cosmic scheme, I dare say maids<BR> +will continue to delight in their own comeliness so long as mirrors<BR> +speak truth. Let us, then, leave Miss Hugonin to this innocent<BR> +diversion. The staidest of us are conscious of a brisk elation at<BR> +sight of a pretty face; and surely no considerate person will deny its<BR> +owner a portion of the pleasure that daily she accords the beggar at<BR> +the street-corner.<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<a name="XXXIII">XXXIII</a><BR> +<BR> +We are credibly informed that Time travels in divers paces with divers<BR> +persons--the statement being made by a lady who may be considered to<BR> +speak with some authority, having triumphantly withstood the ravages<BR> +of Chronos for a matter of three centuries. But I doubt if even the<BR> +insolent sweet wit of Rosalind could have devised a fitting simile for<BR> +Time's gait at Selwoode those five days that Billy lay abed. Margaret<BR> +could not but marvel at the flourishing proportion attained by the<BR> +hours in those sunlit spring days; and at dinner, say, her thoughts<BR> +harking back to luncheon, recalled it by a vigorous effort as an<BR> +affair of the dim yester-years--a mere blurred memory, faint and vague<BR> +as a Druidical tenet or a Merovingian squabble.<BR> +<BR> +But the time passed for all that; and eventually--it was just before<BR> +dusk--she came, with Martin Jeal's permission, into the room where<BR> +Billy was. And beside the big open fireplace, where a wood fire<BR> +chattered companionably, sat a very pallid Billy, a rather thin Billy,<BR> +with a great many bandages about his head.<BR> +<BR> +You may depend upon it, Margaret was not looking her worst that<BR> +afternoon. By actual count, Célestine had done her hair six times<BR> +before reaching an acceptable result.<BR> +<BR> +And, "Yes, Célestine, you may get out that pale yellow dress. No,<BR> +beautiful, the one with the black satin stripes on the bodice--because<BR> +I don't want my hair cast completely in the shade, do I? Now, let me<BR> +see--black feather, gloves, large pompadour, <i>and</i> a sweet smile. No,<BR> +I don't want a fan--that's a Lydia Languish trade-mark. And <i>two</i> silk<BR> +skirts rustling like the deadest leaves imaginable. Yes, I think that<BR> +will do. And if you can't hook up my dress without pecking and pecking<BR> +at me like that, I'll probably go stark, <i>staring</i> crazy, Célestine,<BR> +and then you'll be sorry. No, it isn't a bit tight--are you perfectly<BR> +certain there's no powder behind my ears, Célestine? Now, <i>please</i> try<BR> +to fasten the collar without pulling all my hair down. Ye-es, I think<BR> +that will do, Célestine. Well, it's very nice of you to say so, but I<BR> +don't believe I much fancy myself in yellow, after all."<BR> +<BR> +Equipped and armed for conquest, then, she came into the room with a<BR> +very tolerable affectation of unconcern. Altogether, it was a quite<BR> +effective entrance.<BR> +<BR> +"I've been for a little drive, Billy," she mendaciously informed him.<BR> +"That's how you happen to have the opportunity of seeing me in all my<BR> +nice new store-clothes. Aren't you pleased, Billy? No, don't you dare<BR> +get up!" Margaret stood across the room, peeling off her gloves and<BR> +regarding him on the whole with disapproval. "They've been starving<BR> +you," she pensively reflected. "As soon as that Jeal person goes away,<BR> +I shall have six little beefsteaks cooked and see to it personally<BR> +that you eat every one of them. And I'll cook a cherry pie--quick as<BR> +a cat can wink her eye--won't I, Billy? That Jeal person is a decided<BR> +nuisance," said Miss Hugonin, as she stabbed her hat rather viciously<BR> +with two hat-pins and then laid it aside on a table.<BR> +<BR> +Billy Woods was looking up at her forlornly. It hurt her to see the<BR> +love and sorrow in his face. But oh, how avidly his soul drank in the<BR> +modulations of that longed-for voice--a voice that was honey and gold<BR> +and velvet and all that is most sweet and rich and soft in the world.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy," said he, plunging at the heart of things, "where's that<BR> +will?"<BR> +<BR> +Miss Hugonin kicked forward a little foot-stool to the other side of<BR> +the fire, and sat down and complacently smoothed out her skirts.<BR> +<BR> +"I knew it!" said she. "I never saw such a one-idea'd person in my<BR> +life. I knew that would be the very first thing you would ask for,<BR> +Billy Woods, because you're such an obstinate, stiffnecked <i>donkey</i>.<BR> +Very well!"--and Margaret tossed her head--"here's Uncle Fred's will,<BR> +then, and you can do <i>exactly</i> as you like with it, and <i>now</i> I hope<BR> +you're satisfied!" And Margaret handed him the long envelope which lay<BR> +in her lap.<BR> +<BR> +Mr. Woods promptly opened it.<BR> +<BR> +"That," Miss Hugonin commented, "is what I term very unladylike<BR> +behaviour on your part."<BR> +<BR> +"You evidently don't trust me, Billy Woods. Very well! I don't care!<BR> +Read it carefully--very carefully, and make quite sure I haven't been<BR> +dabbling in forgery of late--besides, it's so good for your eyes, you<BR> +know, after being hit over the head," Margaret suggested, cheerfully.<BR> +<BR> +Billy chuckled. "That's true," said he, "but I know Uncle Fred's fist<BR> +well enough without having to read it all. Candidly, Peggy, I <i>had</i> to<BR> +look at it, because I--well, I didn't quite trust you, Peggy. And<BR> +now we're going to burn this interesting paper, you and I." "Wait!"<BR> +Margaret cried. "Ah, wait, just a moment, Billy!"<BR> +<BR> +He glanced up at her in surprise, the paper still poised in his hand.<BR> +<BR> +She sat with head drooped forward, her masculine little chin thrust<BR> +out eagerly, her candid eyes transparently appraising him.<BR> +<BR> +"Why are you going to burn it, Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +"Why?" Mr. Woods, repeated, thoughtfully. "Well, for a variety of<BR> +reasons. First is, that Uncle Fred really did leave his money to you,<BR> +and burning this is the only way of making sure you get it. Why, I<BR> +thought you wanted me to burn it! Last time I saw you--"<BR> +<BR> +"I was in a temper," said Margaret, haughtily. "You ought to have seen<BR> +that."<BR> +<BR> +"Yes, I--er--noticed it," Mr. Woods admitted, with some dryness; "but<BR> +it wasn't only temper. You've grown accustomed to the money. You'd<BR> +miss it now--miss the pleasure it gives you, miss the power it gives<BR> +you. You'd never be content to go back to the old life now. Why,<BR> +Peggy, you yourself told me you thought money the greatest thing in<BR> +the world! It has changed you, Peggy, this--ah, well!" said Billy, "we<BR> +won't talk about that. I'm going to burn it because that's the only<BR> +honourable thing to do. Ready, Peggy?"<BR> +<BR> +"It may be honourable, but it's <i>extremely</i> silly," Margaret<BR> +temporised, "and for my part, I'm very, very glad God had run out of a<BR> +sense of honour when He created the woman."<BR> +<BR> +"Phrases don't alter matters. Ready, Peggy?"<BR> +<BR> +"Ah, no, phrases don't alter matters!" she assented, with a quick lift<BR> +of speech. "You're going to destroy that will, Billy Woods, simply<BR> +because you think I'm a horrid, mercenary, selfish <i>pig</i>. You think I<BR> +couldn't give up the money--you think I couldn't be happy without it.<BR> +Well, you have every right to think so, after the way I've behaved.<BR> +But why not tell me that is the real reason?"<BR> +<BR> +Billy raised his hand in protest. "I--I think you might miss it," he<BR> +conceded. "Yes, I think you would miss it."<BR> +<BR> +"Listen!" said Margaret, quickly. "The money is yours now--by my act.<BR> +You say you--care for me. If I am the sort of woman you think me--I<BR> +don't say I am, and I don't say I'm not--but thinking me that sort of<BR> +woman, don't you think I'd--I'd marry you for the asking if you kept<BR> +the money? Don't you think you're losing every chance of me by burning<BR> +that will? Oh, I'm not standing on conventionalities now! Don't you<BR> +think that, Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +She was tempting him to the uttermost; and her heart was sick with<BR> +fear lest he might yield. This was the Eagle's last battle; and<BR> +recreant Love fought with the Eagle against poor Billy, who had only<BR> +his honour to help him.<BR> +<BR> +Margaret's face was pale as she bent toward him, her lips parted a<BR> +little, her eyes glinting eerily in the firelight. The room was dark<BR> +now save in the small radius of its amber glow; beyond that was<BR> +darkness where panels and brasses blinked.<BR> +<BR> +"Yes," said Billy, gravely--"forgive me if I'm wrong, dear, but--I<BR> +do think that. But you see you don't care for me, Peggy. In the<BR> +summer-house I thought for a moment--ah, well, you've shown in a<BR> +hundred ways that you don't care--and I wouldn't have you come to me,<BR> +not caring. So I'm going to burn the paper, dear."<BR> +<BR> +Margaret bowed her head. Had she ever known happiness before?<BR> +<BR> +"It is not very flattering to me," she said, "but it shows that<BR> +you--care--a great deal. You care enough to--let me go. Ah--yes. You<BR> +may burn it now, Billy."<BR> +<BR> +And promptly he tossed it into the flames. For a moment it lay<BR> +unharmed; then the edges caught and crackled and blazed, and their<BR> +heads drew near together as they watched it burn.<BR> +<BR> +There (thought Billy) is the end! Ah, ropes, daggers, and poisons!<BR> +there is the end! Oh, Peggy. Peggy, if you could only have loved me!<BR> +if only this accursed money hadn't spoiled you so utterly! Billy was<BR> +quite properly miserable over it.<BR> +<BR> +But he raised his head with a smile. "And now," said he--and not<BR> +without a little, little bitterness; "if I have any right to advise<BR> +you, Peggy, I--I think I'd be more careful in the future as to how I<BR> +used the money. You've tried to do good with it, I know. But every<BR> +good cause has its parasites. Don't trust entirely to the Haggages and<BR> +Jukesburys, Peggy, and--and don't desert the good ship Philanthropy<BR> +because there are a few barnacles on it, dear."<BR> +<BR> +"You make me awfully tired," Miss Hugonin observed, as she rose to her<BR> +feet. "How do you suppose I'm going to do anything for Philanthropy or<BR> +any other cause when I haven't a penny in the world? You see, you've<BR> +just burned the last will Uncle Fred ever made--the one that left<BR> +everything to me. The one in your favour was probated or proved or<BR> +whatever they call it a week ago." I think Billy was surprised.<BR> +<BR> +She stood over him, sharply outlined against the darkness, clasping<BR> +her hands tightly just under her chin, ludicrously suggestive of a<BR> +pre-Raphaelitish saint. In the firelight her hair was an aureole; and<BR> +her gown, yellow with multitudinous tiny arabesques of black velvet,<BR> +echoed the glow of her hair to a shade. The dancing flames made of her<BR> +a flickering little yellow wraith. And oh, the quaint tenderness of<BR> +her eyes!--oh, the hint of faint, nameless perfume she diffused! thus<BR> +ran the meditations of Billy's dizzied brain.<BR> +<BR> +"Listen! I told you I burned the other will. I started to burn it. But<BR> +I was afraid to, because I didn't know what they could do to me if I<BR> +did. So I put it away in my little handkerchief-box--and if you'd had<BR> +a <i>grain</i> of sense you'd have noticed the orris on it. And you made me<BR> +promise not to take any steps in the matter till you got well. I knew<BR> +you would. So I had already sent that second will--sent it before I<BR> +promised you--to Hunston Wyke--he's my lawyer now, you know--and I've<BR> +heard from him, and he has probated it."<BR> +<BR> +Billy was making various irrelevant sounds.<BR> +<BR> +"And I brought that other will to you, and if you didn't choose to<BR> +examine it more carefully I'm sure it wasn't my fault. I kept my word<BR> +like a perfect gentleman and took no step <i>whatever</i> in the matter.<BR> +I didn't say a word when before my eyes you stripped me of my entire<BR> +worldly possessions--you know I didn't. You burned it up yourself,<BR> +Billy Woods--of your own free will and accord--and now Selwoode and<BR> +all that detestable money belongs to <i>you</i>, and I'm sure I'd like to<BR> +know what you are going to do about it. So <i>there</i>!"<BR> +<BR> +Margaret faced him defiantly. Billy was in a state of considerable<BR> +perturbation.<BR> +<BR> +"Why have you done this?" he asked, slowly. But a lucent<BR> +something--half fear, half gladness--was wakening in Billy's eyes.<BR> +<BR> +And her eyes answered him. But her tongue was far less veracious.<BR> +<BR> +"Because you thought I was a <i>pig</i>! Because you couldn't make<BR> +allowances for a girl who for four years has seen nothing but money<BR> +and money-worshippers and the power of money! Because I wanted<BR> +your--your respect, Billy. And you thought I couldn't give it up! Very<BR> +well!" Miss Hugonin waved her hand airily toward the hearth. "Now I<BR> +hope you know better. <i>Don't you dare get up, Billy Woods</i>!"<BR> +<BR> +But I think nothing short of brute force could have kept Mr. Woods<BR> +from her.<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy," he babbled--"ah, forgive me if I'm a presumptuous ass--but<BR> +was it because you knew I couldn't ask you to marry me so long as you<BR> +had the money?"<BR> +<BR> +She dallied with her bliss. Margaret was on the other side of the<BR> +table.<BR> +<BR> +"Why--why, of course it wasn't!" she panted. "What nonsense!"<BR> +<BR> +"Look at me, Peggy!"<BR> +<BR> +"I don't want to! You look like a fright with your head all tied up."<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy ... this exercise is bad for an invalid."<BR> +<BR> +"I--oh, please sit down! <i>Please</i>, Billy! It is bad for you."<BR> +<BR> +"Not until you tell me----"<BR> +<BR> +"But I <i>don't</i>!... Oh, you make me <i>awfully</i> tired."<BR> +<BR> +"Peggy, don't you dare stamp your foot at me!... Peggy!"<BR> +<BR> +"<i>Please</i> sit down! Now ... well, there's my hand, stupid, if you<BR> +<i>will</i> be silly. Now sit down here--so, with your head leaned back on<BR> +this nice little cushion because it's good for your poor head--and<BR> +I'll sit on this nice little footstool and be quite, quite honest. No,<BR> +you must lean back--I don't care if you can't see me, I'd much rather<BR> +you couldn't. Well, the truth is--no, you <i>must</i> lean back--the truth<BR> +is--I've loved you all my life, Billy Woods, and--no, not <i>yet</i>,<BR> +Billy--and if you hadn't been the stupidest beautiful in the universe<BR> +you'd have seen it long ago. You--you needn't--lean back--any longer,<BR> +Billy ... Oh, Billy, why <i>didn't</i> you shave?"<BR> +<BR> +"She <i>is</i> skinny, isn't she, Billy?"<BR> +<BR> +"Now, Peggy, you mustn't abuse Kathleen. She's a friend of mine."<BR> +<BR> +"Well, I know she's a friend of yours, but that doesn't prevent her<BR> +being skinny, does it?"<BR> +<BR> +"Now, Peggy--"<BR> +<BR> +"Please, Billy! <i>Please</i> say she's skinny!"<BR> +<BR> +"Er--well, she's a bit thin, perhaps."<BR> +<BR> +"You angel!"<BR> +<BR> +"And you're quite sure you've forgiven me for doubting you?"<BR> +<BR> +"And you've forgiven <i>me</i>?"<BR> +<BR> +"Bless you, Peggy, I never doubted you! I've been too busy loving<BR> +you."<BR> +<BR> +"It seems to me as if it had been--<i>always</i>."<BR> +<BR> +"Why, didn't we love one another in Carthage, Peggy?"<BR> +<BR> +"I think it was in Babylon, Billy."<BR> +<BR> +"And will love one another----?"<BR> +<BR> +"Forever and ever, dear. You've been to seek a wife, Billy boy."<BR> +<BR> +"And oh, the dimple in her chin..."<BR> +<BR> + * * * * *<BR> +<BR> +Ah, well! There was a deal of foolish prattle there in the<BR> +firelight--delectable prattle, irresponsible as the chattering of<BR> +birds after a storm. And I fancy that the Eagle's shadow is lifted<BR> +from Selwoode, now that Love has taken up his abode there.<BR> +<BR> +<big>THE END</big><BR> +<BR> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Eagle's Shadow, by James Branch Cabell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S SHADOW *** + +***** This file should be named 10882-h.htm or 10882-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/8/8/10882/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + https://www.gutenberg.org/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</HTML> |