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diff --git a/old/13782.txt b/old/13782.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a203523 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13782.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16303 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady Rose's Daughter, by Mrs. Humphry Ward + +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: Lady Rose's Daughter + +Author: Mrs. Humphry Ward + +Release Date: October 18, 2004 [EBook #13782] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: See page 122 +"AS THOUGH SHE LISTENED STILL TO WORDS IN HER EARS"] + +Lady Rose's Daughter + +A Novel + +BY +MRS. HUMPHRY WARD +Author of "Eleanor" "Robert Elsmere" etc. etc. + +ILLUSTRATED BY +HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY + +1903 + + + + +ILLUSTRATION +"AS THOUGH SHE LISTENED STILL TO WORDS IN HER EARS" . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +"LADY HENRY LISTENED EAGERLY" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Facing p_. 30 + +"'INDEED I WILL!' CRIED SIR WILFRID, AND THEY WALKED ON". . . . . . . 52 + +"LADY HENRY GASPED. SHE FELL BACK INTO HER CHAIR" . . . . . . . . . . 100 + +"HE ENTERED UPON A MERRY SCENE" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 + +"'FOR MY ROSE'S CHILD,' HE SAID, GENTLY". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 + +"HER HANDS CLASPED IN FRONT OF HER" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356 + +"SHE FOUND HERSELF KNEELING BESIDE HIM" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 480 + + + + +LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER + +I + +"Hullo! No!--Yes!--upon my soul, it _is_ Jacob! Why, Delafield, my dear +fellow, how are you?" + +So saying--on a February evening a good many years ago--an elderly +gentleman in evening dress flung himself out of his cab, which had just +stopped before a house in Bruton Street, and hastily went to meet a +young man who was at the same moment stepping out of another hansom a +little farther down the pavement. + +The pleasure in the older man's voice rang clear, and the younger met +him with an equal cordiality, expressed perhaps through a manner more +leisurely and restrained. + +"So you _are_ home, Sir Wilfrid? You were announced, I saw. But I +thought Paris would have detained you a bit." + +"Paris? Not I! Half the people I ever knew there are dead, and the rest +are uncivil. Well, and how are you getting on? Making your fortune, eh?" + +And, slipping his arm inside the young man's, the speaker walked back +with him, along a line of carriages, towards a house which showed a +group of footmen at its open door. Jacob Delafield smiled. + +"The business of a land agent seems to be to spend some one else's--as +far as I've yet gone." + +"Land agent! I thought you were at the bar?" + +"I was, but the briefs didn't come in. My cousin offered me the care of +his Essex estates. I like the country--always have. So I thought I'd +better accept." + +"What--the Duke? Lucky fellow! A regular income, and no anxieties. I +expect you're pretty well paid?" + +"Oh, I'm not badly paid," replied the young man, tranquilly. "Of course +you're going to Lady Henry's?" + +"Of course. Here we are." + +The older man paused outside the line of servants waiting at the door, +and spoke in a lower tone. "How is she? Failing at all?" + +Jacob Delafield hesitated. "She's grown very blind--and perhaps rather +more infirm, generally. But she is at home, as usual--every evening for +a few people, and for a good many on Wednesdays." + +"Is she still alone--or is there any relation who looks after her?" + +"Relation? No. She detests them all." + +"Except you?" + +Delafield raised his shoulders, without an answering smile. "Yes, she is +good enough to except me. You're one of her trustees, aren't you?" + +"At present, the only one. But while I have been in Persia the lawyers +have done all that was necessary. Lady Henry herself never writes a +letter she can help. I really have heard next to nothing about her for +more than a year. This morning I arrived from Paris--sent round to ask +if she would be at home--and here I am." + +"Ah!" said Delafield, looking down. "Well, there is a lady who has been +with her, now, for more than two years--" + +"Ah, yes, yes, I remember. Old Lady Seathwaite told me--last year. +Mademoiselle Le Breton--isn't that her name? What--she reads to her, and +writes letters for her--that kind of thing?" + +"Yes--that kind of thing," said the other, after a moment's hesitation. +"Wasn't that a spot of rain? Shall I charge these gentry?" + +And he led the way through the line of footmen, which, however, was not +of the usual Mayfair density. For the party within was not a "crush." +The hostess who had collected it was of opinion that the chief object of +your house is not to entice the mob, but to keep it out. The two men +mounted the stairs together. + +"What a charming house!" said the elder, looking round him. "I remember +when your uncle rebuilt it. And before that, I remember his mother, the +old Duchess here, with her swarm of parsons. Upon my word, London tastes +good--after Teheran!" + +And the speaker threw back his fair, grizzled head, regarding the +lights, the house, the guests, with the air of a sensitive dog on a +familiar scent. + +"Ah, you're fresh home," said Delafield, laughing. "But let's just try +to keep you here--" + +"My dear fellow, who is that at the top of the stairs?" + +The old diplomat paused. In front of the pair some half a dozen guests +were ascending, and as many coming down. At the top stood a tall lady in +black, receiving and dismissing. + +Delafield looked up. + +"That is Mademoiselle Le Breton," he said, quietly. + +"She receives?" + +"She distributes the guests. Lady Henry generally establishes herself in +the back drawing-room. It doesn't do for her to see too many people at +once. Mademoiselle arranges it." + +"Lady Henry must indeed be a good deal more helpless that I remember +her," murmured Sir Wilfrid, in some astonishment. + +"She is, physically. Oh, no doubt of it! Otherwise you won't find much +change. Shall I introduce you?" + +They were approaching a woman whose tall slenderness, combined with a +remarkable physiognomy, arrested the old man's attention. She was not +handsome--that, surely, was his first impression? The cheek-bones were +too evident, the chin and mouth too strong. And yet the fine pallor of +the skin, the subtle black-and-white, in which, so to speak, the head +and face were drawn, the life, the animation of the whole--were these +not beauty, or more than beauty? As for the eyes, the carriage of the +head, the rich magnificence of hair, arranged with an artful +eighteenth-century freedom, as Madame Vigee Le Brun might have worn +it--with the second glance the effect of them was such that Sir Wilfrid +could not cease from looking at the lady they adorned. It was an effect +as of something over-living, over-brilliant--an animation, an intensity, +so strong that, at first beholding, a by-stander could scarcely tell +whether it pleased him or no. + +"Mademoiselle Le Breton--Sir Wilfrid Bury," said Jacob Delafield, +introducing them. + +"_Is_ she French?" thought the old diplomat, puzzled. "And--have I ever +seen her before?" + +"Lady Henry will be so glad!" said a low, agreeable voice. "You are one +of the old friends, aren't you? I have often heard her talk of you." + +"You are very good. Certainly, I am an old friend--a connection also." +There was the slightest touch of stiffness in Sir Wilfrid's tone, of +which the next moment he was ashamed. "I am very sorry to hear that Lady +Henry has grown so much more helpless since I left England." + +"She has to be careful of fatigue. Two or three people go in to see her +at a time. She enjoys them more so." + +"In my opinion," said Delafield, "one more device of milady's for +getting precisely what she wants." + +The young man's gay undertone, together with the look which passed +between him and Mademoiselle Le Breton, added to Sir Wilfrid's stifled +feeling of surprise. + +"You'll tell her, Jacob, that I'm here?" He turned abruptly to the young +man. + +"Certainly--when mademoiselle allows me. Ah, here comes the Duchess!" +said Delafield, in another voice. + +Mademoiselle Le Breton, who had moved a few steps away from the +stair-head with Sir Wilfrid Bury, turned hastily. A slight, small woman, +delicately fair and sparkling with diamonds, was coming up the +stairs alone. + +"My dear," said the new-comer, holding out her hands eagerly to +Mademoiselle Le Breton, "I felt I must just run in and have a look at +you. But Freddie says that I've got to meet him at that tiresome Foreign +Office! So I can only stay ten minutes. How are you?"--then, in a lower +voice, almost a whisper, which, however, reached Sir Wilfrid Bury's +ears--"worried to death?" + +Mademoiselle Le Breton raised eyes and shoulders for a moment, then, +smiling, put her finger to her lip. + +"You're coming to me to-morrow afternoon?" said the Duchess, in the same +half-whisper. + +"I don't think I can get away." + +"Nonsense! My dear, you must have some air and exercise! Jacob, will you +see she comes?" + +"Oh, I'm no good," said that young man, turning away. "Duchess, you +remember Sir Wilfrid Bury?" + +"She would be an unnatural goddaughter if she didn't," said that +gentleman, smiling. "She may be your cousin, but I knew her before +you did." + +The young Duchess turned with a start. + +"Sir Wilfrid! A sight for sair een. When did you get back?" + +She put her slim hands into both of his, and showered upon him all +proper surprise and the greetings due to her father's oldest friend. +Voice, gesture, words--all were equally amiable, well trained, and +perfunctory--Sir Wilfrid was well aware of it. He was possessed of a +fine, straw-colored mustache, and long eyelashes of the same color. Both +eyelashes and mustache made a screen behind which, as was well known, +their owner observed the world to remarkably good purpose. He perceived +the difference at once when the Duchess, having done her social and +family duty, left him to return to Mademoiselle Le Breton. + +"It _was_ such a bore you couldn't come this afternoon! I wanted you to +see the babe dance--she's _too_ great a duck! And that Canadian girl +came to sing. The voice is magnificent--but she has some tiresome +tricks!--and _I_ didn't know what to say to her. As to the other music +on the 16th--I say, can't we find a corner somewhere?" And the Duchess +looked round the beautiful drawing-room, which she and her companions +had just entered, with a dissatisfied air. + +"Lady Henry, you'll remember, doesn't like corners," said Mademoiselle +Le Breton, smiling. Her tone, delicately free and allusive, once more +drew Sir Wilfrid's curious eyes to her, and he caught also the impatient +gesture with which the Duchess received the remark. + +"Ah, that's all right!" said Mademoiselle Le Breton, suddenly, turning +round to himself. "Here is Mr. Montresor--going on, too, I suppose, to +the Foreign Office. Now there'll be some chance of getting at +Lady Henry." + +Sir Wilfrid looked down the drawing-room, to see the famous War Minister +coming slowly through the well-filled but not crowded room, stopping now +and then to exchange a greeting or a farewell, and much hampered, as it +seemed, in so doing, by a pronounced and disfiguring short-sight. He was +a strongly built man of more than middle height. His iron-gray hair, +deeply carved features, and cavernous black eyes gave him the air of +power that his reputation demanded. On the other hand, his difficulty of +eyesight, combined with the marked stoop of overwork, produced a +qualifying impression--as of power teased and fettered, a Samson among +the Philistines. + +"My dear lady, good-night. I must go and fight with wild beasts in +Whitehall--worse luck! Ah, Duchess! All very well--but you can't +shirk either!" + +So saying, Mr. Montresor shook hands with Mademoiselle Le Breton and +smiled upon the Duchess--both actions betraying precisely the same +degree of playful intimacy. + +"How did you find Lady Henry?" said Mademoiselle Le Breton, in a lowered +voice. + +"Very well, but very cross. She scolds me perpetually--I haven't got a +skin left. Ah, Sir Wilfrid!--_very_ glad to see you! When did you +arrive? I thought I might perhaps find you at the Foreign Office." + +"I'm going on there presently," said Sir Wilfrid. + +"Ah, but that's no good. Dine with me to-morrow night?--if you are free? +Excellent!--that's arranged. Meanwhile--send him in, mademoiselle--send +him in! He's fresh--let him take his turn." And the Minister, grinning, +pointed backward over his shoulder towards an inner drawing-room, where +the form of an old lady, seated in a wheeled invalid-chair between two +other persons, could be just dimly seen. + +"When the Bishop goes," said Mademoiselle Le Breton, with a laughing +shake of the head. "But I told him not to stay long." + +"He won't want to. Lady Henry pays no more attention to his cloth than +to my gray hairs. The rating she has just given me for my speech of last +night! Well, good-night, dear lady--good-night. You _are_ better, +I think?" + +Mr. Montresor threw a look of scrutiny no less friendly than earnest at +the lady to whom he was speaking; and immediately afterwards Sir +Wilfrid, who was wedged in by an entering group of people, caught the +murmured words: + +"Consult me when you want me--at any time." + +Mademoiselle Le Breton raised her beautiful eyes to the speaker in a +mute gratitude. + +"And five minutes ago I thought her plain!" said Sir Wilfrid to himself +as he moved away. "Upon my word, for a _dame de compagnie_ that young +woman is at her ease! But where the deuce have I seen her, or her +double, before?" + +He paused to look round the room a moment, before yielding himself to +one of the many possible conversations which, as he saw, it contained +for him. It was a stately panelled room of the last century, furnished +with that sure instinct both for comfort and beauty which a small +minority of English rich people have always possessed. Two glorious +Gainsboroughs, clad in the subtlest brilliance of pearly white and +shimmering blue, hung on either side of the square opening leading to +the inner room. The fair, clouded head of a girl, by Romney, looked down +from the panelling above the hearth. A gowned abbe, by Vandyck, made the +centre of another wall, facing the Gainsboroughs. The pictures were all +famous, and had been associated for generations with the Delafield name. +Beneath them the carpets were covered by fine eighteenth-century +furniture, much of it of a florid Italian type subdued to a delicate and +faded beauty by time and use. The room was cleverly broken into various +circles and centres for conversation; the chairs were many and +comfortable; flowers sheltered tete-a-tetes or made a setting for +beautiful faces; the lamps were soft, the air warm and light. A cheerful +hum of voices rose, as of talk enjoyed for talking's sake; and a general +effect of intimacy, or gayety, of an unfeigned social pleasure, seemed +to issue from the charming scene and communicate itself to the onlooker. + +And for a few moments, before he was discovered and tumultuously annexed +by a neighboring group, Sir Wilfrid watched the progress of Mademoiselle +Le Breton through the room, with the young Duchess in her wake. Wherever +she moved she was met with smiles, deference, and eager attention. Here +and there she made an introduction, she redistributed a group, she moved +a chair. It was evident that her eye was everywhere, that she knew every +one; her rule appeared to be at once absolute and welcome. Presently, +when she herself accepted a seat, she became, as Sir Wilfrid perceived +in the intervals of his own conversation, the leader of the most +animated circle in the room. The Duchess, with one delicate arm +stretched along the back of Mademoiselle Le Breton's chair, laughed and +chattered; two young girls in virginal white placed themselves on big +gilt footstools at her feet; man after man joined the group that stood +or sat around her; and in the centre of it, the brilliance of her black +head, sharply seen against a background of rose brocade, the grace of +her tall form, which was thin almost to emaciation, the expressiveness +of her strange features, the animation of her gestures, the sweetness of +her voice, drew the eyes and ears of half the room to Lady Henry's +"companion." + +Presently there was a movement in the distance. A man in knee-breeches +and silver-buckled shoes emerged from the back drawing-room. +Mademoiselle Le Breton rose at once and went to meet him. + +"The Bishop has had a long innings," said an old general to Sir Wilfrid +Bury. "And here is Mademoiselle Julie coming for you." + +Sir Wilfrid rose, in obedience to a smiling sign from the lady thus +described, and followed her floating black draperies towards the +farther room. + +"Who are those two persons with Lady Henry?" he asked of his guide, as +they approached the _penetralia_ where reigned the mistress of the +house. "Ah, I see!--one is Dr. Meredith--but the other?" + +"The other is Captain Warkworth," said Mademoiselle Le Breton. "Do you +know him?" + +"Warkworth--Warkworth? Ah--of course--the man who distinguished himself +in the Mahsud expedition. But why is he home again so soon?" + +Mademoiselle Le Breton smiled uncertainly. + +"I think he was invalided home," she said, with that manner, at once +restrained and gracious, that Sir Wilfrid had already observed in her. +It was the manner of some one who _counted_; and--through all outward +modesty--knew it. + +"He wants something out of the ministry. I remember the man," was Sir +Wilfrid's unspoken comment. + +But they had entered the inner room. Lady Henry looked round. Over her +wrinkled face, now parchment-white, there shone a ray of +pleasure--sudden, vehement, and unfeigned. + +"Sir Wilfrid!" + +She made a movement as though to rise from her chair, which was checked +by his gesture and her helplessness. + +"Well, this is good fortune," she said, as she put both her hands into +both of his. "This morning, as I was dressing, I had a feeling that +something agreeable was going to happen at last--and then your note +came. Sit down there. You know Dr. Meredith. He's as quarrelsome as +ever. Captain Warkworth--Sir Wilfrid Bury." + +The square-headed, spectacled journalist addressed as Dr. Meredith +greeted the new-comer with the quiet cordiality of one for whom the day +holds normally so many events that it is impossible to make much of any +one of them. And the man on the farther side of Lady Henry rose and +bowed. He was handsome, and slenderly built. The touch of impetuosity in +his movement, and the careless ease with which he carried his curly +head, somehow surprised Sir Wilfrid. He had expected another sort +of person. + +"I will give you my chair," said the Captain, pleasantly. "I have had +more than my turn." + +"Shall I bring in the Duchess?" said Mademoiselle Le Breton, in a low +tone, as she stooped over the back of Lady Henry's chair. + +That lady turned abruptly to the speaker. + +"Let her do precisely as she pleases," said a voice, sharp, lowered +also, but imperious, like the drawing of a sword. "If she wants me, she +knows where I am." + +"She would be so sorry--" + +"Ne jouez pas la comedie, ma chere! Where is Jacob?" + +"In the other room. Shall I tell him you want him?" + +"I will send for him when it suits me. Meanwhile, as I particularly +desired you to let me know when he arrived--" + +"He has only been here twenty minutes," murmured Mademoiselle Le Breton. +"I thought while the Bishop was here you would not like to be +disturbed--" + +"You thought!" The speaker raised her shoulders fiercely. "Comme +toujours, vous vous etes trop bien amusee pour vous souvenir de mes +instructions--voila la verite! Dr. Meredith," the whole imperious form +swung round again towards the journalist, "unless you forbid me, I shall +tell Sir Wilfrid who it was reviewed his book for you." + +"Oh, good Heavens! I forbid you with all the energy of which I am +capable," said the startled journalist, raising appealing hands, while +Lady Henry, delighted with the effect produced by her sudden shaft, sank +back in her chair and grimly smiled. + +Meanwhile Sir Wilfrid Bury's attention was still held by Mademoiselle Le +Breton. In the conversation between her and Lady Henry he had noticed an +extraordinary change of manner on the part of the younger lady. Her +ease, her grace had disappeared. Her tone was humble, her manner +quivering with nervous anxiety. And now, as she stood a moment behind +Lady Henry's chair, one trembling hand steadying the other, Sir Wilfrid +was suddenly aware of yet another impression. Lady Henry had treated her +companion with a contemptuous and haughty ill-humor. Face to face with +her mistress, Mademoiselle Le Breton had borne it with submission, +almost with servility. But now, as she stood silent behind the blind old +lady who had flouted her, her wonderfully expressive face, her delicate +frame, spoke for her with an energy not to be mistaken. Her dark eyes +blazed. She stood for anger; she breathed humiliation. + +"A dangerous woman, and an extraordinary situation," so ran his thought, +while aloud he was talking Central Asian politics and the latest Simla +gossip to his two companions. + +Meanwhile, Captain Warkworth and Mademoiselle Le Breton returned +together to the larger drawing-room, and before long Dr. Meredith took +his leave. Lady Henry and her old friend were left alone. + +"I am sorry to hear that your sight troubles you more than of old," said +Sir Wilfrid, drawing his chair a little nearer to her. + +Lady Henry gave an impatient sigh. "Everything troubles me more than of +old. There is one disease from which no one recovers, my dear Wilfrid, +and it has long since fastened upon me." + +"You mean old age? Oh, you are not so much to be pitied for that," said +Sir Wilfrid, smiling. "Many people would exchange their youth for +your old age." + +"Then the world contains more fools than even I give it credit for!" +said Lady Henry, with energy. "Why should any one exchange with me--a +poor, blind, gouty old creature, with no chick or child to care whether +she lives or dies?" + +"Ah, well, that's a misfortune--I won't deny that," said Sir Wilfrid, +kindly. "But I come home after three years. I find your house as +thronged as ever, in the old way. I see half the most distinguished +people in London in your drawing-room. It is sad that you can no longer +receive them as you used to do: but here you sit like a queen, and +people fight for their turn with you." + +Lady Henry did not smile. She laid one of her wrinkled hands upon his +arm. + +"Is there any one else within hearing?" she said, in a quick undertone. +Sir Wilfrid was touched by the vague helplessness of her gesture, as she +looked round her. + +"No one--we are quite alone." + +"They are not here for _me_--those people," she said, quivering, with a +motion of her hand towards the large drawing-room. + +"My dear friend, what do you mean?" + +"They are here--come closer, I don't want to be overheard--for a +_woman_--whom I took in, in a moment of lunacy--who is now robbing me of +my best friends and supplanting me in my own house." + +The pallor of the old face had lost all its waxen dignity. The lowered +voice hissed in his ear. Sir Wilfrid, startled and repelled, hesitated +for his reply. Meanwhile, Lady Henry, who could not see it, seemed at +once to divine the change in his expression. + +"Oh, I suppose you think I'm mad," she said, impatiently, "or +ridiculous. Well, see for yourself, judge for yourself. In fact, I have +been looking, hungering, for your return. You have helped me through +emergencies before now. And I am in that state at present that I trust +no one, talk to no one, except of _banalites_. But I should be greatly +obliged if _you_ would come and listen to me, and, what is more, advise +me some day." + +"Most gladly," said Sir Wilfrid, embarrassed; then, after a pause, "Who +is this lady I find installed here?" + +Lady Henry hesitated, then shut her strong mouth on the temptation to +speak. + +"It is not a story for to-night," she said; "and it would upset me. But, +when you first saw her, how did she strike you?" + +"I saw at once," said her companion after a pause, "that you had caught +a personality." + +"A personality!" Lady Henry gave an angry laugh. "That's one way of +putting it. But physically--did she remind you of no one?" + +Sir Wilfrid pondered a moment. + +"Yes. Her face haunted me, when I first saw it. But--no; no, I can't put +any names." + +Lady Henry gave a little snort of disappointment. + +"Well, think. You knew her mother quite well. You have known her +grandfather all your life. If you're going on to the Foreign Office, as +I suppose you are, you'll probably see him to-night. She is uncannily +like him. As to her father, I don't know--but he was a rolling-stone of +a creature; you very likely came across him." + +"I knew her mother and her father?" said Sir Wilfrid, astonished and +pondering. + +"They had no right to be her mother and her father," said Lady Henry, +with grimness. + +"Ah! So if one does guess--" + +"You'll please hold your tongue." + +"But at present I'm completely mystified," said Sir Wilfrid. + +"Perhaps it'll come to you later. You've a good memory generally for +such things. Anyway, I can't tell you anything now. But when'll you come +again? To-morrow--luncheon? I really want you." + +"Would you be alone?" + +"Certainly. _That_, at least, I can still do--lunch as I please, and +with whom I please. Who is this coming in? Ah, you needn't tell me." + +The old lady turned herself towards the entrance, with a stiffening of +the whole frame, an instinctive and passionate dignity in her whole +aspect, which struck a thrill through her companion. + +The little Duchess approached, amid a flutter of satin and lace, +heralded by the scent of the Parma violets she wore in profusion at her +breast and waist. Her eye glanced uncertainly, and she approached with +daintiness, like one stepping on mined ground. + +"Aunt Flora, I must have just a minute." + +"I know no reason against your having ten, if you want them," said Lady +Henry, as she held-out three fingers to the new-comer. "You promised +yesterday to come and give me a full account of the Devonshire House +ball. But it doesn't matter--and you have forgotten." + +"No, indeed, I haven't," said the Duchess, embarrassed. "But you seemed +so well employed to-night, with other people. And now--" + +"Now you are going on," said Lady Henry, with a most unfriendly suavity. + +"Freddie says I must," said the other, in the attitude of a protesting +child. + +"_Alors_!" said Lady Henry, lifting her hand. "We all know how obedient +you are. Good-night!" + +The Duchess flushed. She just touched her aunt's hand, and then, turning +an indignant face on Sir Wilfrid, she bade him farewell with an air +which seemed to him intended to avenge upon his neutral person the +treatment which, from Lady Henry, even so spoiled a child of fortune as +herself could not resent. + +Twenty minutes later, Sir Wilfrid entered the first big room of the +Foreign Office party. He looked round him with a revival of the +exhilaration he had felt on Lady Henry's staircase, enjoying, after his +five years in Teheran, after his long homeward journey by desert and +sea, even the common trivialities of the scene--the lights, the gilding, +the sparkle of jewels, the scarlet of the uniforms, the noise and +movement of the well-dressed crowd. Then, after this first physical +thrill, began the second stage of pleasure--the recognitions and the +greetings, after long absence, which show a man where he stands in the +great world, which sum up his past and forecast his future. Sir Wilfrid +had no reason to complain. Cabinet ministers and great ladies, members +of Parliament and the permanent officials who govern but do not rule, +soldiers, journalists, barristers--were all glad, it seemed, to grasp +him by the hand. He had returned with a record of difficult service +brilliantly done, and the English world rewarded him in its +accustomed ways. + +It was towards one o'clock that he found himself in a crowd pressing +towards the staircase in the wake of some departing royalties. A tall +man in front turned round to look for some ladies behind him from whom +he had been separated in the crush. Sir Wilfrid recognized old Lord +Lackington, the veteran of marvellous youth, painter, poet, and sailor, +who as a gay naval lieutenant had entertained Byron in the AEgean; whose +fame as one of the raciest of naval reformers was in all the newspapers; +whose personality was still, at seventy-five, charming to most women and +challenging to most men. + +As the old man turned, he was still smiling, as though in unison with +something which had just been said to him; and his black eyes under his +singularly white hair searched the crowd with the animation of a lad of +twenty. Through the energy of his aspect the flame of life still +burned, as the evening sun through a fine sky. The face had a faulty yet +most arresting brilliance. The mouth was disagreeable, the chin common. +But the general effect was still magnificent. + +Sir Wilfrid started. He recalled the drawing-room in Bruton Street; the +form and face of Mademoiselle Le Breton; the sentences by which Lady +Henry had tried to put him on the track. His mind ran over past years, +and pieced together the recollections of a long-past scandal. "Of +course! _Of course!_" he said to himself, not without excitement. "She +is not like her mother, but she has all the typical points of her +mother's race." + + + +II + +It was a cold, clear morning in February, with a little pale sunshine +playing on the bare trees of the Park. Sir Wilfrid, walking southward +from the Marble Arch to his luncheon with Lady Henry, was gladly +conscious of the warmth of his fur-collared coat, though none the less +ready to envy careless youth as it crossed his path now and then, +great-coatless and ruddy, courting the keen air. + +Just as he was about to make his exit towards Mount Street he became +aware of two persons walking southward like himself, but on the other +side of the roadway. He soon identified Captain Warkworth in the slim, +soldierly figure of the man. And the lady? There also, with the help of +his glasses, he was soon informed. Her trim, black hat and her black +cloth costume seemed to him to have a becoming and fashionable +simplicity; and she moved in morning dress, with the same ease and +freedom that had distinguished her in Lady Henry's drawing-room the +night before. + +He asked himself whether he should interrupt Mademoiselle Le Breton with +a view to escorting her to Bruton Street. He understood, indeed, that he +and Lady Henry were to be alone at luncheon; Mademoiselle Julie had, no +doubt, her own quarters and attendants. But she seemed to be on her way +home. An opportunity for some perhaps exploratory conversation with her +before he found himself face to face with Lady Henry seemed to him not +undesirable. + +But he quickly decided to walk on. Mademoiselle Le Breton and Captain +Warkworth paused in their walk, about no doubt to say good-bye, but, +very clearly, loath to say it. They were, indeed, in earnest +conversation. The Captain spoke with eagerness; Mademoiselle Julie, with +downcast eyes, smiled and listened. + +"Is the fellow making love to her?" thought the old man, in some +astonishment, as he turned away. "Hardly the place for it either, one +would suppose." + +He vaguely thought that he would both sound and warn Lady Henry. Warn +her of what? He happened on the way home to have been thrown with a +couple of Indian officers whose personal opinion of Harry Warkworth was +not a very high one, in spite of the brilliant distinction which the +young man had earned for himself in the Afridi campaign just closed. But +how was he to hand that sort of thing on to Lady Henry?--and because he +happened to have seen her lady companion and Harry Warkworth together? +No doubt Mademoiselle Julie was on her employer's business. + +Yet the little encounter added somehow to his already lively curiosity +on the subject of Lady Henry's companion. Thanks to a remarkable +physical resemblance, he was practically certain that he had guessed the +secret of Mademoiselle Le Breton's parentage. At any rate, on the +supposition that he had, his thoughts began to occupy themselves with +the story to which his guess pointed. + +Some thirty years before, he had known, both in London and in Italy, a +certain Colonel Delaney and his wife, once Lady Rose Chantrey, the +favorite daughter of Lord Lackington. They were not a happy couple. She +was a woman of great intelligence, but endowed with one of those +natures--sensitive, plastic, eager to search out and to challenge +life--which bring their possessors some great joys, hardly to be +balanced against a final sum of pain. Her husband, absorbed in his +military life, silent, narrowly able, and governed by a strict +Anglicanism that seemed to carry with it innumerable "shalts" and "shalt +nots," disagreeable to the natural man or woman, soon found her a tiring +and trying companion. She asked him for what he could not give; she +coquetted with questions he thought it impious to raise; the persons she +made friends with were distasteful to him; and, without complaining, he +soon grew to think it intolerable that a woman married to a soldier +should care so little for his professional interests and ambitions. +Though when she pretended to care for them she annoyed him, if possible, +still more. + +As for Lady Rose, she went through all the familiar emotions of the +_femme incomprise_. And with the familiar result. There presently +appeared in the house a man of good family, thirty-five or so, +traveller, painter, and dreamer, with fine, long-drawn features bronzed +by the sun of the East, and bringing with him the reputation of having +plotted and fought for most of the "lost causes" of our generation, +including several which had led him into conflict with British +authorities and British officials. To Colonel Delaney he was an +"agitator," if not a rebel; and the careless pungency of his talk soon +classed him as an atheist besides. In the case of Lady Rose, this man's +free and generous nature, his independence of money and convention, his +passion for the things of the mind, his contempt for the mode, whether +in dress or politics, his light evasions of the red tape of life as of +something that no one could reasonably expect of a vagabond like +himself--these things presently transformed a woman in despair to a +woman in revolt. She fell in love with an intensity befitting her true +temperament, and with a stubbornness that bore witness to the dreary +failure of her marriage. Marriott Dalrymple returned her love, and +nothing in his view of life predisposed him to put what probably +appeared to him a mere legality before the happiness of two people meant +for each other. There were no children of the Delaney marriage; and in +his belief the husband had enjoyed too long a companionship he had never +truly deserved. + +So Lady Rose faced her husband, told him the truth, and left him. She +and Dalrymple went to live in Belgium, in a small country-house some +twenty or thirty miles from Brussels. They severed themselves from +England; they asked nothing more of English life. Lady Rose suffered +from the breach with her father, for Lord Lackington never saw her +again. And there was a young sister whom she had brought up, whose image +could often rouse in her a sense of loss that showed itself in +occasional spells of silence and tears. But substantially she never +repented what she had done, although Colonel Delaney made the penalties +of it as heavy as he could. Like Karennine in Tolstoy's great novel, he +refused to sue for a divorce, and for something of the same reasons. +Divorce was in itself impious, and sin should not be made easy. He was +at any time ready to take back his wife, so far as the protection of +his name and roof were concerned, should she penitently return to him. + +So the child that was presently born to Lady Rose could not be +legitimized. + +Sir Wilfrid stopped short at the Park end of Bruton Street, with a start +of memory. + +"I saw it once! I remember now--perfectly." + +And he went on to recall a bygone moment in the Brussels Gallery, when, +as he was standing before the great Quintin Matsys, he was accosted with +sudden careless familiarity by a thin, shabbily dressed man, in whose +dark distinction, made still more fantastic and conspicuous by the fever +and the emaciation of consumption, he recognized at once Marriott +Dalrymple. + +He remembered certain fragments of their talk about the pictures--the +easy mastery, now brusque, now poetic, with which Dalrymple had shown +him the treasures of the gallery, in the manner of one whose learning +was merely the food of fancy, the stuff on which imagination and reverie +grew rich. + +Then, suddenly, his own question--"And Lady Rose?" + +And Dalrymple's quiet, "Very well. She'd see you, I think, if you want +to come. She has scarcely seen an English person in the last +three years." + +And as when a gleam searches out some blurred corner of a landscape, +there returned upon him his visit to the pair in their country home. He +recalled the small eighteenth-century house, the "chateau" of the +village, built on the French model, with its high _mansarde_ roof; the +shabby stateliness of its architecture matching plaintively with the +field of beet-root that grew up to its very walls; around it the flat, +rich fields, with their thin lines of poplars; the slow, canalized +streams; the unlovely farms and cottages; the mire of the lanes; and, +shrouding all, a hot autumn mist sweeping slowly through the damp +meadows and blotting all cheerfulness from the sun. And in the midst of +this pale landscape, so full of ragged edges to an English eye, the +English couple, with their books, their child, and a pair of +Flemish servants. + +It had been evident to him at once that their circumstances were those +of poverty. Lady Rose's small fortune, indeed, had been already mostly +spent on "causes" of many kinds, in many countries. She and Dalrymple +were almost vegetarians, and wine never entered the house save for the +servants, who seemed to regard their employers with a real but +half-contemptuous affection. He remembered the scanty, ill-cooked +luncheon; the difficulty in providing a few extra knives and forks; the +wrangling with the old _bonne_-housekeeper, which was necessary before +_serviettes_ could be produced. + +And afterwards the library, with its deal shelves from floor to ceiling +put up by Dalrymple himself, its bare, polished floor, Dalrymple's table +and chair on one side of the open hearth, Lady Rose's on the other; on +his table the sheets of verse translation from AEschylus and Euripides, +which represented his favorite hobby; on hers the socialist and +economical books they both studied and the English or French poets they +both loved. The walls, hung with the faded damask of a past generation, +were decorated with a strange crop of pictures pinned carelessly into +the silk--photographs or newspaper portraits of modern men and women +representing all possible revolt against authority, political, +religious, even scientific, the Everlasting No of an untiring and +ubiquitous dissent. + +Finally, in the centre of the polished floor, the strange child, whom +Lady Rose had gone to fetch after lunch, with its high crest of black +hair, its large, jealous eyes, its elfin hands, and the sudden smile +with which, after half an hour of silence and apparent scorn, it had +rewarded Sir Wilfrid's advances. He saw himself sitting bewitched +beside it. + +Poor Lady Rose! He remembered her as he and she parted at the gate of +the neglected garden, the anguish in her eyes as they turned to look +after the bent and shrunken figure of Dalrymple carrying the child back +to the house. + +"If you meet any of his old friends, don't--don't say anything! We've +just saved enough money to go to Sicily for the winter--that'll set +him right." + +And then, barely a year later, the line in a London newspaper which had +reached him at Madrid, chronicling the death of Marriott Dalrymple, as +of a man once on the threshold of fame, but long since exiled from the +thoughts of practical men. Lady Rose, too, was dead--many years since; +so much he knew. But how, and where? And the child? + +She was now "Mademoiselle Le Breton "?--the centre and apparently the +chief attraction of Lady Henry's once famous salon? + +"And, by Jove! several of her kinsfolk there, relations of the mother or +the father, if what I suppose is true!" thought Sir Wilfrid, remembering +one or two of the guests. "Were they--was she--aware of it?" + + * * * * * + +The old man strode on, full of a growing eagerness, and was soon on Lady +Henry's doorstep. + +"Her ladyship is in the dining-room," said the butler, and Sir Wilfrid +was ushered there straight. + +"Good-morning, Wilfrid," said the old lady, raising herself on her +silver--headed sticks as he entered. "I prefer to come down-stairs by +myself. The more infirm I am, the less I like it--and to be helped +enrages me. Sit down. Lunch is ready, and I give you leave to eat some." + +"And you?" said Sir Wilfrid, as they seated themselves almost side by +side at the large, round table in the large, dingy room. + +The old lady shook her head. + +"All the world eats too much. I was brought up with people who lunched +on a biscuit and a glass of sherry." + +"Lord Russell?--Lord Palmerston?" suggested Sir Wilfrid, attacking his +own lunch meanwhile with unabashed vigor. + +"That sort. I wish we had their like now." + +"Their successors don't please you?" + +Lady Henry shook her head. + +"The Tories have gone to the deuce, and there are no longer enough Whigs +even to do that. I wouldn't read the newspapers at all if I could help +it. But I do." + +"So I understand," said Sir Wilfrid; "you let Montresor know it last +night." + +"Montresor!" said Lady Henry, with a contemptuous movement. "What a +_poseur_! He lets the army go to ruin, I understand, while he joins +Dante societies." + +Sir Wilfrid raised his eyebrows. + +"I think, if I were you, I should have some lunch," he said, gently +pushing the admirable _salmi_ which the butler had left in front of him +towards his old friend. + +Lady Henry laughed. + +"Oh, my temper will be better presently, when those men are gone"--she +nodded towards the butler and footman in the distance--"and I can +have my say." + +Sir Wilfrid hurried his meal as much as Lady Henry--who, as it turned +out, was not at all minded to starve him--would allow. She meanwhile +talked politics and gossip to him, with her old, caustic force, nibbling +a dry biscuit at intervals and sipping a cup of coffee. She was a +wilful, characteristic figure as she sat there, beneath her own portrait +as a bride, which hung on the wall behind her. The portrait represented +a very young woman, with plentiful brown hair gathered into a knot on +the top of her head, a high waist, a blue waist-ribbon, and inflated +sleeves. Handsome, imperious, the corners of the mouth well down, the +look straight and daring--the Lady Henry of the picture, a bride of +nineteen, was already formidable. And the old woman sitting beneath it, +with the strong, white hair, which the ample cap found some difficulty +even now in taming and confining, the droop of the mouth accentuated, +the nose more masterful, the double chin grown evident, the light of the +eyes gone out, breathed pride and will from every feature of her still +handsome face, pride of race and pride of intellect, combined with a +hundred other subtler and smaller prides that only an intimate knowledge +of her could detect. The brow and eyes, so beautiful in the picture, +were, however, still agreeable in the living woman; if generosity +lingered anywhere, it was in them. + +The door was hardly closed upon the servants when she bent forward. + +"Well, have you guessed?" + +Sir Wilfrid looked at her thoughtfully as he stirred the sugar in his +coffee. + +"I think so," he said. "She is Lady Rose Delaney's daughter." + +Lady Henry gave a sudden laugh. + +"I hardly expected you to guess! What helped you?" + +"First your own hints. Then the strange feeling I had that I had seen +the face, or some face just like it, before. And, lastly, at the Foreign +Office I caught sight, for a moment, of Lord Lackington. That +finished it." + +"Ah!" said Lady Henry, with a nod. "Yes, that likeness is extraordinary. +Isn't it amazing that that foolish old man has never perceived it?" + +"He knows nothing?" + +"Oh, nothing! Nobody does. However, that'll do presently. But Lord +Lackington comes here, mumbles about his music and his water-colors, and +his flirtations--seventy-four, if you please, last birthday!--talks +about himself endlessly to Julie or to me--whoever comes handy--and +never has an inkling, an idea." + +"And she?" + +"Oh, _she_ knows. I should rather think she does." And Lady Henry pushed +away her coffee-cup with the ill-suppressed vehemence which any mention +of her companion seemed to produce in her. "Well, now, I suppose you'd +like to hear the story." + +"Wait a minute. It'll surprise you to hear that I not only knew this +lady's mother and father, but that I've seen her, herself, before." + +"You?" Lady Henry looked incredulous. + +"I never told you of my visit to that _menage_, four-and-twenty years +ago?" + +"Never, that I remember. But if you had I should have forgotten. What +did they matter to me then? I myself only saw Lady Rose once, so far as +I remember, before she misconducted herself. And afterwards--well, one +doesn't trouble one's self about the women that have gone under." + +Something lightened behind Sir Wilfrid's straw-colored lashes. He bent +over his coffee-cup and daintily knocked off the end of his cigarette +with a beringed little finger. + +"The women who have--not been able to pull up?" + +Lady Henry paused. + +"If you like to put it so," she said, at last. Sir Wilfrid did not raise +his eyes. Lady Henry took up her strongest glasses from the table and +put them on. But it was pitifully evident that even so equipped she saw +but little, and that her strong nature fretted perpetually against the +physical infirmity that teased it. Nevertheless, some unspoken +communication passed between them, and Sir Wilfrid knew that he had +effectually held up a protecting hand for Lady Rose. + +"Well, let me tell you my tale first," he said; and gave the little +reminiscence in full. When he described the child, Lady Henry +listened eagerly. + +"Hm," she said, when he came to an end; "she was jealous, you say, of +her mother's attentions to you? She watched you, and in the end she took +possession of you? Much the same creature, apparently, then as now." + +"No moral, please, till the tale is done," said Sir Wilfrid, smiling. +"It's your turn." + +Lady Henry's face grew sombre. + +[Illustration: "LADY HENRY LISTENED EAGERLY"] + +"All very well," she said. "What did your tale matter to you? As for +mine--" + +The substance of hers was as follows, put into chronological order: + +Lady Rose had lived some ten years after Dalrymple's death. That time +she passed in great poverty in some _chambres garnies_ at Bruges, with +her little girl and an old Madame Le Breton, the maid, housekeeper, and +general factotum who had served them in the country. This woman, though +of a peevish, grumbling temper, was faithful, affectionate, and not +without education. She was certainly attached to little Julie, whose +nurse she had been during a short period of her infancy. It was natural +that Lady Rose should leave the child to her care. Indeed, she had no +choice. An old Ursuline nun, and a kind priest who at the nun's +instigation occasionally came to see her, in the hopes of converting +her, were her only other friends in the world. She wrote, however, to +her father, shortly before her death, bidding him good-bye, and asking +him to do something for the child. "She is wonderfully like you," so ran +part of the letter. "You won't ever acknowledge her, I know. That is +your strange code. But at least give her what will keep her from want, +till she can earn her living. Her old nurse will take care of her, I +have taught her, so far. She is already very clever. When I am gone she +will attend one of the convent schools here. And I have found an honest +lawyer who will receive and pay out money." + +To this letter Lord Lackington replied, promising to come over and see +his daughter. But an attack of gout delayed him, and, before he was out +of his room, Lady Rose was dead. Then he no longer talked of coming +over, and his solicitors arranged matters. An allowance of a hundred +pounds a year was made to Madame Le Breton, through the "honest lawyer" +whom Lady Rose had found, for the benefit of "Julie Dalrymple," the +capital value to be handed over to that young lady herself on the +attainment of her eighteenth birthday--always provided that neither she +nor anybody on her behalf made any further claim on the Lackington +family, that her relationship to them was dropped, and her mother's +history buried in oblivion. + +Accordingly the girl grew to maturity in Bruges. By the lawyer's advice, +after her mother's death, she took the name of her old _gouvernante_, +and was known thenceforward as Julie Le Breton. The Ursuline nuns, to +whose school she was sent, took the precaution, after her mother's +death, of having her baptized straightway into the Catholic faith, and +she made her _premiere communion_ in their church. In the course of a +few years she became a remarkable girl, the source of many anxieties to +the nuns. For she was not only too clever for their teaching, and an +inborn sceptic, but wherever she appeared she produced parties and the +passions of parties. And though, as she grew older, she showed much +adroitness in managing those who were hostile to her, she was never +without enemies, and intrigues followed her. + +"I might have been warned in time," said Lady Henry, in whose wrinkled +cheeks a sharp and feverish color had sprung up as her story approached +the moment of her own personal acquaintance with Mademoiselle Le Breton. +"For one or two of the nuns when I saw them in Bruges, before the +bargain was finally struck, were candid enough. However, now I come to +the moment when I first set eyes on her. You know my little place in +Surrey? About a mile from me is a manor-house belonging to an old +Catholic family, terribly devout and as poor as church-mice. They sent +their daughters to school in Bruges. One summer holiday these girls +brought home with them Julie Dalrymple as their quasi-holiday governess. +It was three years ago. I had just seen Liebreich. He told me that I +should soon be blind, and, naturally, it was a blow to me." + +Sir Wilfrid made a murmur of sympathy. + +"Oh, don't pity me! I don't pity other people. This odious body of ours +has got to wear out sometime--it's in the bargain. Still, just then I +was low. There are two things I care about--one is talk, with the people +that amuse me, and the other is the reading of French books. I didn't +see how I was going to keep my circle here together, and my own mind in +decent repair, unless I could find somebody to be eyes for me, and to +read to me. And as I'm a bundle of nerves, and I never was agreeable to +illiterate people, nor they to me, I was rather put to it. Well, one day +these girls and their mother came over to tea, and, as you guess, of +course, they brought Mademoiselle Le Breton with them. I had asked them +to come, but when they arrived I was bored and cross, and like a sick +dog in a hole. And then, as you have seen her, I suppose you can guess +what happened." + +"You discovered an exceptional person?" + +Lady Henry laughed. + +"I was limed, there and then, old bird as I am. I was first struck with +the girl's appearance--_une belle laide_--with every movement just as it +ought to be; infinitely more attractive to me than any pink-and-white +beauty. It turned out that she had just been for a month in Paris +with another school-fellow. Something she said about a new +play--suddenly--made me look at her. 'Venez vous asseoir ici, +mademoiselle, s'il vous plait--pres de moi,' I said to her--I can hear +my own voice now, poor fool, and see her flush up. Ah!" Lady Henry's +interjection dropped to a note of rage that almost upset Sir Wilfrid's +gravity; but he restrained himself, and she resumed: "We talked for two +hours; it seemed to me ten minutes. I sent the others out to the +gardens. She stayed with me. The new French books, the theatre, poems, +plays, novels, memoirs, even politics, she could talk of them all; or, +rather--for, mark you, that's her gift--she made _me_ talk. It seemed to +me I had not been so brilliant for months. I was as good, in fact, as I +had ever been. The difficulty in England is to find any one to keep up +the ball. She does it to perfection. She never throws to +win--never!--but so as to leave you all the chances. You make a +brilliant stroke; she applauds, and in a moment she has arranged you +another. Oh, it is the most extraordinary gift of conversation--and she +never says a thing that you want to remember." + +There was a silence. Lady Henry's old fingers drummed restlessly on the +table. Her memory seemed to be wandering angrily among her first +experiences of the lady they were discussing. + +"Well," said Sir Wilfrid, at last, "so you engaged her as _lectrice_, +and thought yourself very lucky?" + +"Oh, don't suppose that I was quite an idiot. I made some inquiries--I +bored myself to death with civilities to the stupid family she was +staying with, and presently I made her stay with me. And of course I +soon saw there was a history. She possessed jewels, laces, little +personal belongings of various kinds, that wanted explaining. So I laid +traps for her; I let her also perceive whither my own plans were +drifting. She did not wait to let me force her hand. She made up her +mind. One day I found, left carelessly on the drawing-room table, a +volume of Saint-Simon, beautifully bound in old French morocco, with +something thrust between the leaves. I opened it. On the fly-leaf was +written the name Marriott Dalrymple, and the leaves opened, a little +farther, on a miniature of Lady Rose Delaney. So--" + +"Apparently it was _her_ traps that worked," said Sir Wilfrid, smiling. +Lady Henry returned the smile unwillingly, as one loath to acknowledge +her own folly. + +"I don't know that I was trapped. We both desired to come to close +quarters. Anyway, she soon showed me books, letters--from Lady Rose, +from Dalrymple, Lord Lackington--the evidence was complete.... + +"'Very well,' I said; 'it isn't your fault. All the better if you are +well born--I am not a person of prejudices. But understand, if you come +to me, there must be no question of worrying your relations. There are +scores of them in London. I know them all, or nearly all, and of course +you'll come across them. But unless you can hold your tongue, don't come +to me. Julie Dalrymple has disappeared, and I'll be no party to her +resurrection. If Julie Le Breton becomes an inmate of my house, there +shall be no raking up of scandals much better left in their graves. If +you haven't got a proper parentage, consistently thought out, we must +invent one--'" + +"I hope I may some day be favored with it," said Sir Wilfrid. + +Lady Henry laughed uncomfortably. + +"Oh, I've had to tell lies," she said, "plenty of them." + +"What! It was _you_ that told the lies?" + +Lady Henry's look flashed. + +"The open and honest ones," she said, defiantly. + +"Well," said Sir Wilfrid, regretfully, "_some_ sort were indispensable. +So she came. How long ago?" + +"Three years. For the first half of that time I did nothing but plume +myself on my good fortune. I said to myself that if I had searched +Europe through I could not have fared better. My household, my friends, +my daily ways, she fitted into them all to perfection. I told people +that I had discovered her through a Belgian acquaintance. Every one was +amazed at her manners, her intelligence. She was perfectly modest, +perfectly well behaved. The old Duke--he died six months after she came +to me--was charmed with her. Montresor, Meredith, Lord Robert, all my +_habitues_ congratulated me. 'Such cultivation, such charm, such +_savoir-faire!_ Where on earth did you pick up such a treasure? What are +her antecedents?' etc., etc. So then, of course--" + +"I hope no more than were absolutely necessary!" said Sir Wilfrid, +hastily. + +"I had to do it well," said Lady Henry, with decision; "I can't say I +didn't. That state of things lasted, more or less, about a year and a +half. And by now, where do you think it has all worked out?" + +"You gave me a few hints last night," said Sir Wilfrid, hesitating. + +Lady Henry pushed her chair back from the table. Her hands trembled on +her stick. + +"Hints!" she said, scornfully. "I'm long past hints. I told you last +night--and I repeat--that woman has stripped me of all my friends! She +has intrigued with them all in turn against me. She has done the same +even with my servants. I can trust none of them where she is concerned. +I am alone in my own house. My blindness makes me her tool, her +plaything. As for my salon, as you call it, it has become hers. I am a +mere courtesy-figurehead--her chaperon, in fact. I provide the house, +the footmen, the champagne; the guests are hers. And she has done this +by constant intrigue and deception--by flattery--by lying!" + +The old face had become purple. Lady Henry breathed hard. + +"My dear friend," said Sir Wilfrid, quickly, laying a calming hand on +her arm, "don't let this trouble you so. Dismiss her." + +"And accept solitary confinement for the rest of my days? I haven't the +courage--yet," said Lady Henry, bitterly. "You don't know how I have +been isolated and betrayed! And I haven't told you the worst of all. +Listen! Do you know whom she has got into her toils?" + +She paused, drawing herself rigidly erect. Sir Wilfrid, looking up +sharply, remembered the little scene in the Park, and waited. + +"Did you have any opportunity last night," said Lady Henry, slowly, "of +observing her and Jacob Delafield?" + +She spoke with passionate intensity, her frowning brows meeting above a +pair of eyes that struggled to see and could not. But the effect she +listened for was not produced. Sir Wilfrid drew back uncertainly. + +"Jacob Delafield?" he said. "Jacob Delafield? Are you sure?" + +"Sure?" cried Lady Henry, angrily. Then, disdaining to support her +statement, she went on: "He hesitates. But she'll soon make an end of +that. And do you realize what that means--what Jacob's possibilities +are? Kindly recollect that Chudleigh has one boy--one sickly, +tuberculous boy--who might die any day. And Chudleigh himself is a poor +life. Jacob has more than a good chance--ninety chances out of a +hundred"--she ground the words out with emphasis--"of inheriting +the dukedom." + +"Good gracious!" said Sir Wilfrid, throwing away his cigarette. + +"There!" said Lady Henry, in sombre triumph. "Now you can understand +what I have brought on poor Henry's family." + +A low knock was heard at the door. + +"Come in," said Lady Henry, impatiently. + +The door opened, and Mademoiselle Le Breton appeared on the threshold, +carrying a small gray terrier under each arm. + +"I thought I had better tell you," she said, humbly, "that I am taking +the dogs out. Shall I get some fresh wool for your knitting?" + + + +III + +It was nearly four o'clock. Sir Wilfrid had just closed Lady Henry's +door behind him, and was again walking along Bruton Street. + +He was thinking of the little scene of Mademoiselle Le Breton's +appearance on the threshold of Lady Henry's dining-room; of the insolent +sharpness with which Lady Henry had given her order upon order--as to +the dogs, the books for the circulating library, a message for her +dressmaker, certain directions for the tradesmen, etc., etc.--as though +for the mere purpose of putting the woman who had dared to be her rival +in her right place before Sir Wilfrid Bury. And at the end, as she was +departing, Mademoiselle Le Breton, trusting no doubt to Lady Henry's +blindness, had turned towards himself, raising her downcast eyes upon +him suddenly, with a proud, passionate look. Her lips had moved; Sir +Wilfrid had half risen from his chair. Then, quickly, the door had +closed upon her. + +Sir Wilfrid could not think of it without a touch of excitement. + +"Was she reminding me of Gherardtsloo?" he said to himself. "Upon my +word, I must find some means of conversation with her, in spite of +Lady Henry." + +He walked towards Bond Street, pondering the situation of the two +women--the impotent jealousy and rancor with which Lady Henry was +devoured, the domestic slavery contrasted with the social power of +Mademoiselle Le Breton. Through the obscurity and difficulty of +circumstance, how marked was the conscience of race in her, and, as he +also thought, of high intelligence! The old man was deeply interested. +He felt a certain indulgent pity for his lifelong friend Lady Henry; but +he could not get Mademoiselle Julie out of his head. + +"Why on earth does she stay where she is?" + +He had asked the same question of Lady Henry, who had contemptuously +replied: + +"Because she likes the flesh-pots, and won't give them up. No doubt she +doesn't find my manners agreeable; but she knows very well that she +wouldn't get the chances she gets in my house anywhere else. I give her +a foothold. She'll not risk it for a few sour speeches on my part. I may +say what I like to her--and I intend to say what I like! Besides, you +watch her, and see whether she's made for poverty. She takes to luxury +as a fish to water. What would she be if she left me? A little visiting +teacher, perhaps, in a Bloomsbury lodging. That's not her line at all." + +"But somebody else might employ her as you do?" Sir Wilfrid had +suggested. + +"You forget I should be asked for a character," said Lady Henry. "Oh, I +admit there are possibilities--on her side. That silly goose, Evelyn +Crowborough, would have taken her in, but I had a few words with +Crowborough, and he put his foot down. He told his wife he didn't want +an intriguing foreigner to live with them. No; for the present we are +chained to each other. I can't get rid of her, and she doesn't want to +get rid of me. Of course, things might become intolerable for either of +us. But at present self-interest on both sides keeps us going. Oh, don't +tell me the thing is odious! I know it. Every day she stays in the house +I become a more abominable old woman." + +A more exacting one, certainly. Sir Wilfrid thought with pity and +amusement of the commissions with which Mademoiselle Julie had been +loaded. "She earns her money, any way," he thought. "Those things will +take her a hard afternoon's work. But, bless my soul!"--he paused in his +walk--"what about that engagement to Duchess Evelyn that I heard her +make? Not a word, by-the-way, to Lady Henry about it! Oh, this +is amusing!" + +He went meditatively on his way, and presently turned into his club to +write some letters. But at five o'clock he emerged, and told a hansom to +drive him to Grosvenor Square. He alighted at the great red-brick +mansion of the Crowboroughs, and asked for the Duchess. The magnificent +person presiding over the hall, an old family retainer, remembered him, +and made no difficulty about admitting him. + +"Anybody with her grace?" he inquired, as the man handed him over to the +footman who was to usher him up-stairs. + +"Only Miss Le Breton and Mr. Delafield, Sir Wilfrid. Her grace told me +to say 'not at home' this afternoon, but I am sure, sir, she will +see you." + +Sir Wilfrid smiled. + +As he entered the outer drawing-room, the Duchess and the group +surrounding her did not immediately perceive the footman nor himself, +and he had a few moments in which to take in a charming scene. + +A baby girl in a white satin gown down to her heels, and a white satin +cap, lace-edged and tied under her chin, was holding out her tiny skirt +with one hand and dancing before the Duchess and Miss Le Breton, who was +at the piano. The child's other hand held up a morsel of biscuit +wherewith she directed the movements of her partner, a small black +spitz, of a slim and silky elegance, who, straining on his hind legs, +his eager attention fixed upon the biscuit, followed every movement of +his small mistress; while she, her large blue eyes now solemn, now +triumphant, her fair hair escaping from her cap in fluttering curls, her +dainty feet pointed, her dimpled arm upraised, repeated in living grace +the picture of her great-great-grandmother which hung on the wall in +front of her, a masterpiece from Reynolds's happiest hours. + +Behind Mademoiselle Le Breton stood Jacob Delafield; while the Duchess, +in a low chair beside them, beat time gayly to the gavotte that +Mademoiselle Julie was playing and laughed encouragement and applause to +the child in front of her. She herself, with her cloud of fair hair, the +delicate pink and white of her skin, the laughing lips and small white +hands that rose and fell with the baby steps, seemed little more than a +child. Her pale blue dress, for which she had just exchanged her winter +walking-costume, fell round her in sweeping folds of lace and silk--a +French fairy dressed by Woerth, she was possessed by a wild gayety, and +her silvery laugh held the room. + +Beside her, Julie Le Breton, very thin, very tall, very dark, was +laughing too. The eyes which Sir Wilfrid had lately seen so full of +pride were now alive with pleasure. Jacob Delafield, also, from behind, +grinned applause or shouted to the babe, "Brava, Tottie; well done!" +Three people, a baby, and a dog more intimately pleased with one +another's society it would have been difficult to discover. + +"Sir Wilfrid!" + +The Duchess sprang up astonished, and in a moment, to Sir Wilfrid's +chagrin, the little scene fell to pieces. The child dropped on the +floor, defending herself and the biscuit as best she could against the +wild snatches of the dog. Delafield composed his face in a moment to its +usual taciturnity. Mademoiselle Le Breton rose from the piano. + +"No, no!" said Sir Wilfrid, stopping short and holding up a deprecating +hand. "Too bad! Go on." + +"Oh, we were only fooling with baby!" said the Duchess. "It is high time +she went to her nurse. Sit here, Sir Wilfrid. Julie, will you take the +babe, or shall I ring for Mrs. Robson?" + +"I'll take her," said Mademoiselle Le Breton. + +She knelt down by the child, who rose with alacrity. Catching her skirts +round her, with one eye half laughing, half timorous, turned over her +shoulder towards the dog, the baby made a wild spring into Mademoiselle +Julie's arms, tucking up her feet instantly, with a shriek of delight, +out of the dog's way. Then she nestled her fair head down upon her +bearer's shoulder, and, throbbing with joy and mischief, was +carried away. + +Sir Wilfrid, hat in hand, stood for a moment watching the pair. A bygone +marriage uniting the Lackington family with that of the Duchess had just +occurred to him in some bewilderment. He sat down beside his hostess, +while she made him some tea. But no sooner had the door of the farther +drawing-room closed behind Mademoiselle Le Breton, than with a dart of +all her lively person she pounced upon him. + +"Well, so Aunt Flora has been complaining to you?" + +Sir Wilfrid's cup remained suspended in his hand. He glanced first at +the speaker and then at Jacob Delafield. + +"Oh, Jacob knows all about it!" said the Duchess, eagerly. "This is +Julie's headquarters; _we_ are on her staff. _You_ come from the enemy!" + +Sir Wilfrid took out his white silk handkerchief and waved it. + +"Here is my flag of truce," he said. "Treat me well." + +"We are only too anxious to parley with you," said the Duchess, +laughing. "Aren't we, Jacob?" + +Then she drew closer. + +"What has Aunt Flora been saying to you?" + +Sir Wilfrid paused. As he sat there, apparently studying his boots, his +blond hair, now nearly gray, carefully parted in the middle above his +benevolent brow, he might have been reckoned a tame and manageable +person. Jacob Delafield, however, knew him of old. + +"I don't think that's fair," said Sir Wilfrid, at last, looking up. "I'm +the new-comer; I ought to be allowed the questions." + +"Go on," said the Duchess, her chin on her hand. "Jacob and I will +answer all we know." + +Delafield nodded. Sir Wilfrid, looking from one to the other, quickly +reminded himself that they had been playmates from the cradle--or might +have been. + +"Well, in the first place," he said, slowly, "I am lost in admiration at +the rapidity with which Mademoiselle Le Breton does business. An hour +and a half ago"--he looked at his watch--"I stood by while Lady Henry +enumerated commissions it would have taken any ordinary man-mortal half +a day to execute." + +The Duchess clapped her hands. + +"My maid is now executing them," she said, with glee. "In an hour she +will be back. Julie will go home with everything done, and I shall have +had nearly two hours of her delightful society. What harm is there +in that?" + +"Where are the dogs?" said Sir Wilfrid, looking round. + +"Aunt Flora's dogs? In the housekeeper's room, eating sweet biscuit. +They adore the groom of the chambers." + +"Is Lady Henry aware of this--this division of labor?" said Sir Wilfrid, +smiling. + +"Of course not," said the Duchess, flushing. "She makes Julie's life +such a burden to her that something has to be done. Now what _has_ Aunt +Flora been telling you? We were certain she would take you into +council--she has dropped various hints of it. I suppose she has been +telling you that Julie has been intriguing against her--taking +liberties, separating her from her friends, and so on?" + +Sir Wilfrid smilingly presented his cup for some more tea. + +"I beg to point out," he said, "that I have only been allowed _two_ +questions so far. But if things are to be at all fair and equal, I am +owed at least six." + +The Duchess drew back, checked, and rather annoyed. Jacob Delafield, on +the other hand, bent forward. + +"We are _anxious_, Sir Wilfrid, to tell you all we know," he replied, +with quiet emphasis. + +Sir Wilfrid looked at him. The flame in the young man's eyes burned +clear and steady--but flame it was. Sir Wilfrid remembered him as a +lazy, rather somnolent youth; the man's advance in expression, in +significant power, of itself, told much. + +"In the first place, can you give me the history of this lady's +antecedents?" + +He glanced from one to the other. + +The Duchess and Jacob Delafield exchanged glances. Then the Duchess +spoke--uncertainly. + +"Yes, we know. She has confided in us. There is nothing whatever to her +discredit." + +Sir Wilfrid's expression changed. + +"Ah!" cried the Duchess, bending forward. "You know, too?" + +"I knew her father and mother," said Sir Wilfrid, simply. + +The Duchess gave a little cry of relief. Jacob Delafield rose, took a +turn across the room, and came back to Sir Wilfrid. + +"Now we can really speak frankly," he said. "The situation has grown +very difficult, and we did not know--Evelyn and I--whether we had a +right to explain it. But now that Lady Henry--" + +"Oh yes," said Sir Wilfrid, "that's all right. The fact of Mademoiselle +Le Breton's parentage--" + +"Is really what makes Lady Henry so jealous!" cried the Duchess, +indignantly. "Oh, she's a tyrant, is Aunt Flora! It is because Julie is +of her own world--of _our_ world, by blood, whatever the law may +say--that she can't help making a rival out of her, and tormenting her +morning, noon, and night. I tell you, Sir Wilfrid, what that poor girl +has gone through no one can imagine but we who have watched it. Lady +Henry owes her _every_thing this last three years. Where would she have +been without Julie? She talks of Julie's separating her from her +friends, cutting her out, imposing upon her, and nonsense of that kind! +How would she have kept up that salon alone, I should like to know--a +blind old woman who can't write a note for herself or recognize a face? +First of all she throws everything upon Julie, is proud of her +cleverness, puts her forward in every way, tells most unnecessary +falsehoods about her--Julie has felt _that_ very much--and then when +Julie has a great success, when people begin to come to Bruton Street, +for her sake as well as Lady Henry's, then Lady Henry turns against her, +complains of her to everybody, talks about treachery and disloyalty and +Heaven knows what, and begins to treat her like the dirt under her feet! +How can Julie help being clever and agreeable--she _is_ clever and +agreeable! As Mr. Montresor said to me yesterday, 'As soon as that woman +comes into a room, my spirits go up!' And why? Because she never thinks +of herself, she always makes other people show at their best. And then +Lady Henry behaves like this!" The Duchess threw out her hands in +scornful reprobation. "And the question is, of course, Can it go on?" + +"I don't gather," said Sir Wilfrid, hesitating, "that Lady Henry wants +immediately to put an end to it." + +Delafield gave an angry laugh. + +"The point is whether Mademoiselle Julie and Mademoiselle Julie's +friends can put up with it much longer." + +"You see," said the Duchess, eagerly, "Julie is such a loyal, +affectionate creature. She knows Lady Henry was kind to her, to begin +with, that she gave her great chances, and that she's getting old and +infirm. Julie's awfully sorry for her. She doesn't want to leave her all +alone--to the mercy of her servants--" + +"I understand the servants, too, are devoted to Mademoiselle Julie?" +said Sir Wilfrid. + +"Yes, that's another grievance," said Delafield, contemptuously. "Why +shouldn't they be? When the butler had a child very ill, it was +Mademoiselle Julie who went to see it in the mews, who took it flowers +and grapes--" + +"Lady Henry's grapes?" threw in Sir Wilfrid. + +"What does it matter!" said Delafield, impatiently. "Lady Henry has more +of everything than she knows what to do with. But it wasn't grapes only! +It was time and thought and consideration. Then when the younger footman +wanted to emigrate to the States, it was Mademoiselle Julie who found a +situation for him, who got Mr. Montresor to write to some American +friends, and finally sent the lad off, devoted to her, of course, for +life. I should like to know when Lady Henry would have done that kind of +thing! Naturally the servants like her--she deserves it." + +"I see--I see," said Sir Wilfrid, nodding gently, his eyes on the +carpet. "A very competent young lady." + +Delafield looked at the older man, half in annoyance, half in +perplexity. + +"Is there anything to complain of in that?" he said, rather shortly. + +"Oh, nothing, nothing!" said Sir Wilfrid, hastily. "And this word +intrigue that Lady Henry uses? Has mademoiselle always steered a +straightforward course with her employer?" + +"Oh, well," said the Duchess, shrugging her shoulders, "how can you +always be perfectly straightforward with such a tyrannical old person! +She _has_ to be managed. Lately, in order to be sure of every minute of +Julie's time, she has taken to heaping work upon her to such a +ridiculous extent that unless I come to the rescue the poor thing gets +no rest and no amusement. And last summer there was an explosion, +because Julie, who was supposed to be in Paris for her holiday with a +school-friend, really spent a week of it with the Buncombes, Lady +Henry's married niece, who has a place in Kent. The Buncombes knew her +at Lady Henry's parties, of course. Then they met her in the Louvre, +took her about a little, were delighted with her, and begged her to come +and stay with them--they have a place near Canterbury--on the way home. +They and Julie agreed that it would be best to say nothing to Lady Henry +about it--she is too absurdly jealous--but then it leaked out, +unluckily, and Lady Henry was furious." + +"I must say," said Delafield, hurriedly, "I always thought frankness +would have been best there." + +"Well, perhaps," said the Duchess, unwillingly, with another shrug. "But +now what is to be done? Lady Henry really must behave better, or Julie +can't and sha'n't stay with her. Julie has a great following--hasn't +she, Jacob? They won't see her harassed to death." + +"Certainly not," said Delafield. "At the same time we all see"--he +turned to Sir Wilfrid--"what the advantages of the present combination +are. Where would Lady Henry find another lady of Mademoiselle Le +Breton's sort to help her with her house and her salon? For the last two +years the Wednesday evenings have been the most brilliant and successful +things of their kind in London. And, of course, for Mademoiselle Le +Breton it is a great thing to have the protection of Lady +Henry's name--" + +"A great thing?" cried Sir Wilfrid. "Everything, my dear Jacob!" + +"I don't know," said Delafield, slowly. "It may be bought too dear." + +Sir Wilfrid looked at the speaker with curiosity. It had been at all +times possible to rouse Jacob Delafield--as child, as school-boy, as +undergraduate--from an habitual carelessness and idleness by an act or a +tale of injustice or oppression. Had the Duchess pressed him into her +service, and was he merely taking sides for the weaker out of a natural +bent towards that way of looking at things? Or-- + +"Well, certainly we must do our best to patch it up," said Sir Wilfrid, +after a pause. "Perhaps Mademoiselle Le Breton will allow me a word with +her by-and-by. I think I have still some influence with Lady Henry. But, +dear goddaughter"--he bent forward and laid his hand on that of the +Duchess--"don't let the maid do the commissions." + +"But I must!" cried the Duchess. "Just think, there is my big bazaar on +the 16th. You don't know how clever Julie is at such things. I want to +make her recite--her French is too beautiful! And then she has such +inventiveness, such a head! Everything goes if she takes it in hand. But +if I say anything to Aunt Flora, she'll put a spoke in all our wheels. +She'll hate the thought of anything in which Julie is successful and +conspicuous. Of course she will!" + +"All the same, Evelyn," said Delafield, uncomfortable apparently for the +second time, "I really think it would be best to let Lady Henry know." + +"Well, then, we may as well give it up," said the Duchess, pettishly, +turning aside. + +Delafield, who was still pacing the carpet, suddenly raised his hand in +a gesture of warning. Mademoiselle Le Breton was crossing the outer +drawing-room. + +"Julie, come here!" cried the Duchess, springing up and running towards +her. "Jacob is making himself so disagreeable. He thinks we ought to +tell Lady Henry about the 16th." + +The speaker put her arm through Julie Le Breton's, looking up at her +with a frowning brow. The contrast between her restless prettiness, the +profusion of her dress and hair, and Julie's dark, lissome strength, +gowned and gloved in neat, close black, was marked enough. + +As the Duchess spoke, Julie looked smiling at Jacob Delafield. + +"I am in your hands," she said, gently. "Of course I don't want to keep +anything from Lady Henry. Please decide for me." + +Sir Wilfrid's mouth showed a satirical line. He turned aside and began +to play with a copy of the _Spectator_. + +"Julie," said the Duchess, hesitating, "I hope you won't mind, but we +have been discussing things a little with Sir Wilfrid. I felt sure Aunt +Flora had been talking to him." + +"Of course," said Julie, "I knew she would." She looked towards Sir +Wilfrid, slightly drawing herself up. Her manner was quiet, but all her +movements were somehow charged with a peculiar and interesting +significance. The force of the character made itself felt through all +disguises. + +In spite of himself, Sir Wilfrid began to murmur apologetic things. + +"It was natural, mademoiselle, that Lady Henry should confide in me. She +has perhaps told you that for many years I have been one of the trustees +of her property. That has led to her consulting me on a good many +matters. And evidently, from what she says and what the Duchess says, +nothing could be of more importance to her happiness, now, in her +helpless state, than her relations to you." + +He spoke with a serious kindness in which the tinge of mocking habitual +to his sleek and well-groomed visage was wholly lost. Julie Le Breton +met him with dignity. + +"Yes, they are important. But, I fear they cannot go on as they are." + +There was a pause. Then Sir Wilfrid approached her: + +"I hear you are returning to Bruton Street immediately. Might I be your +escort?" + +"Certainly." + +The Duchess, a little sobered by the turn events had taken and the +darkened prospects of her bazaar, protested in vain against this sudden +departure. Julie resumed her furs, which, as Sir Wilfrid, who was +curious in such things; happened to notice, were of great beauty, and +made her farewells. Did her hand linger in Jacob Delafield's? Did the +look with which that young man received it express more than the +steadfast support which justice offers to the oppressed? Sir Wilfrid +could not be sure. + +[Illustration: "'INDEED I WILL!' CRIED SIR WILFRID, AND THEY WALKED ON"] + +As they stepped out into the frosty, lamp-lit dark of Grosvenor Square, +Julie Le Breton turned to her companion. + +"You knew my mother and father," she said, abruptly. "I remember your +coming," + +What was in her voice, her rich, beautiful voice? Sir Wilfrid only knew +that while perfectly steady, it seemed to bring emotion near, to make +all the aspects of things dramatic. + +"Yes, yes," he replied, in some confusion. "I knew her well, from the +time when she was a girl in the school-room. Poor Lady Rose!" + +The figure beside him stood still. + +"Then if you were my mother's friend," she said, huskily, "you will hear +patiently what I have to say, even though you are Lady Henry's trustee." + +"Indeed I will!" cried Sir Wilfrid, and they walked on. + + + +IV + +"But, first of all," said Mademoiselle Le Breton, looking in some +annoyance at the brace of terriers circling and barking round them, "we +must take the dogs home, otherwise no talk will be possible." + +"You have no more business to do?" + +His companion smiled. + +"Everything Lady Henry wants is here," she said, pointing to the bag +upon her arm which had been handed to her, as Sir Wilfrid remembered, +after some whispered conversation, in the hall of Crowborough House by +an elegantly dressed woman, who was no doubt the Duchess's maid. + +"Allow me to carry it for you." + +"Many thanks," said Mademoiselle Le Breton, firmly retaining it, "but +those are not the things I mind." + +They walked on quickly to Bruton Street. The dogs made conversation +impossible. If they were on the chain it was one long battle between +them and their leader. If they were let loose, it seemed to Sir Wilfrid +that they ranged every area on the march, and attacked all elderly +gentlemen and most errand-boys. + +"Do you always take them out?" he asked, when both he and his companion +were crimson and out of breath. + +"Always." + +"Do you like dogs?" + +"I used to. Perhaps some day I shall again." + +"As for me, I wish they had but one neck!" said Sir Wilfrid, who had but +just succeeded in dragging Max, the bigger of the two, out of the +interior of a pastry-cook's hand-cart which had been rashly left with +doors open for a few minutes in the street, while its responsible +guardian was gossiping in an adjacent kitchen. Mademoiselle Julie +meanwhile was wrestling with Nero, the younger, who had dived to the +very heart of a peculiarly unsavory dust-box, standing near the entrance +of a mews. + +"So you commonly go through the streets of London in this whirlwind?" +asked Sir Wilfrid, again, incredulous, when at last they had landed +their charges safe at the Bruton Street door. + +"Morning and evening," said Mademoiselle Julie, smiling. Then she +addressed the butler: "Tell Lady Henry, please, that I shall be at home +in half an hour." + +As they turned westward, the winter streets were gay with lights and +full of people. Sir Wilfrid was presently conscious that among all the +handsome and well-dressed women who brushed past them, Mademoiselle Le +Breton more than held her own. She reminded him now not so much of her +mother as of Marriott Dalrymple. Sir Wilfrid had first seen this woman's +father at Damascus, when Dalrymple, at twenty-six, was beginning the +series of Eastern journeys which had made him famous. He remembered the +brillance of the youth; the power, physical and mental, which radiated +from him, making all things easy; the scorn of mediocrity, the +incapacity for subordination. + +"I should like you to understand," said the lady beside him, "that I +came to Lady Henry prepared to do my very best." + +"I am sure of that," said Sir Wilfrid, hastily recalling his thoughts +from Damascus. "And you must have had a very difficult task." + +Mademoiselle Le Breton shrugged her shoulders. + +"I knew, of course, it must be difficult. And as to the drudgery of +it--the dogs, and that kind of thing--nothing of that sort matters to me +in the least. But I cannot be humiliated before those who have become my +friends, entirely because Lady Henry wished it to be so." + +"Lady Henry at first showed you every confidence?" + +"After the first month or two she put everything into my hands--her +household, her receptions, her letters, you may almost say her whole +social existence. She trusted me with all her secrets." ("No, no, my +dear lady," thought Sir Wilfrid.) "She let me help her with all her +affairs. And, honestly, I did all I could to make her life easy." + +"That I understand from herself." + +"Then why," cried Mademoiselle Le Breton, turning round to him with +sudden passion--"why couldn't Lady Henry leave things alone? Are +devotion, and--and the kind of qualities she wanted, so common? I said +to myself that, blind and helpless as she was, she should lose nothing. +Not only should her household be well kept, her affairs well managed, +but her salon should be as attractive, her Wednesday evenings as +brilliant, as ever. The world was deserting her; I helped her to bring +it back. She cannot live without social success; yet now she hates me +for what I have done. Is it sane--is it reasonable?" + +"She feels, I suppose," said Sir Wilfrid, gravely, "that the success is +no longer hers." + +"So she says. But will you please examine that remark? When her guests +assemble, can I go to bed and leave her to grapple with them? I have +proposed it often, but of course it is impossible. And if I am to be +there I must behave, I suppose, like a lady, not like the housemaid. +Really, Lady Henry asks too much. In my mother's little flat in Bruges, +with the two or three friends who frequented it, I was brought up in as +good society and as good talk as Lady Henry has ever known." + +They were passing an electric lamp, and Sir Wilfrid, looking up, was +half thrilled, half repelled by the flashing energy of the face beside +him. Was ever such language on the lips of a paid companion before? His +sympathy for Lady Henry revived. + +"Can you really give me no clew to the--to the sources of Lady Henry's +dissatisfaction?" he said, at last, rather coldly. + +Mademoiselle Le Breton hesitated. + +"I don't want to make myself out a saint," she said, at last, in another +voice and with a humility which was, in truth, hardly less proud than +her self-assertion. "I--I was brought up in poverty, and my mother died +when I was fifteen. I had to defend myself as the poor defend +themselves--by silence. I learned not to talk about my own affairs. I +couldn't afford to be frank, like a rich English girl. I dare say, +sometimes I have concealed things which had been better made plain. They +were never of any real importance, and if Lady Henry had shown any +consideration--" + +Her voice failed her a little, evidently to her annoyance. They walked +on without speaking for a few paces. "Never of any real importance?" Sir +Wilfrid wondered. + +Their minds apparently continued the conversation though their lips were +silent, for presently Julie Le Breton said, abruptly: + +"Of course I am speaking of matters where Lady Henry might have some +claim to information. With regard to many of my thoughts and feelings, +Lady Henry has no right whatever to my confidence." + +"She gives us fair warning," thought Sir Wilfrid. + +Aloud he said: + +"It is not a question of thoughts and feelings, I understand, but of +actions." + +"Like the visit to the Duncombes'?" said Mademoiselle Le Breton, +impatiently. "Oh, I quite admit it--that's only one of several instances +Lady Henry might have brought forward. You see, she led me to make these +friendships; and now, because they annoy her, I am to break them. But +she forgets. Friends are too--too new in my life, too precious--" + +Again the voice wavered. How it thrilled and penetrated! Sir Wilfrid +found himself listening for every word. + +"No," she resumed. "If it is a question of renouncing the friends I have +made in her house, or going--it will be going. That may as well be +quite clear." + +Sir Wilfrid looked up. + +"Let me ask you one question, mademoiselle." + +"Certainly. Whatever you like." + +"Have you ever had, have you now, any affection for Lady Henry?" + +"Affection? I could have had plenty. Lady Henry is most interesting to +watch. It is magnificent, the struggles she makes with her infirmities." + +Nothing could have been more agreeable than the modulation of these +words, the passage of the tone from a first note of surprise to its +grave and womanly close. Again, the same suggestions of veiled and +vibrating feeling. Sir Wilfrid's nascent dislike softened a little. + +"After all," he said, with gentleness, "one must make allowance for old +age and weakness, mustn't one?" + +"Oh, as to that, you can't say anything to me that I am not perpetually +saying to myself," was her somewhat impetuous reply. "Only there is a +point when ill-temper becomes not only tormenting to me but degrading to +herself.... Oh, if you only knew!"--the speaker drew an indignant +breath. "I can hardly bring myself to speak of such _miseres_. But +everything excites her, everything makes her jealous. It is a grievance +that I should have a new dress, that Mr. Montresor should send me an +order for the House of Commons, that Evelyn Crowborough should give me a +Christmas present. Last Christmas, Evelyn gave me these furs--she is the +only creature in London from whom I would accept a farthing or the value +of a farthing." + +She paused, then rapidly threw him a question: + +"Why, do you suppose, did I take it from her?" + +"She is your kinswoman," said Wilfrid, quietly. + +"Ah, you knew that! Well, then, mayn't Evelyn be kind to me, though I am +what I am? I reminded Lady Henry, but she only thought me a mean +parasite, sponging on a duchess for presents above my station. She said +things hardly to be forgiven. I was silent. But I have never ceased to +wear the furs." + +With what imperious will did the thin shoulders straighten themselves +under the folds of chinchilla! The cloak became symbolic, a flag not to +be struck. + +"I never answer back, please understand--never," she went on, hurriedly. +"You saw to-day how Lady Henry gave me her orders. There is not a +servant in the house with whom she would dare such a manner. Did I +resent it?" + +"You behaved with great forbearance. I watched you with admiration." + +"Ah, _forbearance!_ I fear you don't understand one of the strangest +elements in the whole case. I am _afraid_ of Lady Henry, mortally +afraid! When she speaks to me I feel like a child who puts up its hands +to ward off a blow. My instinct is not merely to submit, but to grovel. +When you have had the youth that I had, when you have existed, learned, +amused yourself on sufferance, when you have had somehow to maintain +yourself among girls who had family, friends, money, name, while you--" + +Her voice stopped, resolutely silenced before it broke. Sir Wilfrid +uncomfortably felt that he had no sympathy to produce worthy of the +claim that her whole personality seemed to make upon it. But she +recovered herself immediately. + +"Now I think I had better give you an outline of the last six months," +she said, turning to him. "Of course it is my side of the matter. But +you have heard Lady Henry's." + +And with great composure she laid before him an outline of the chief +quarrels and grievances which had embittered the life of the Bruton +Street house during the period she had named. It was a wretched story, +and she clearly told it with repugnance and disgust. There was in her +tone a note of offended personal delicacy, as of one bemired against +her will. + +Evidently, Lady Henry was hardly to be defended. The thing had been +"odious," indeed. Two women of great ability and different ages, shut up +together and jarring at every point, the elder furiously jealous and +exasperated by what seemed to her the affront offered to her high rank +and her past ascendency by the social success of her dependant, the +other defending herself, first by the arts of flattery and submission, +and then, when these proved hopeless, by a social skill that at least +wore many of the aspects of intrigue--these were the essential elements +of the situation; and, as her narrative proceeded, Sir Wilfrid admitted +to himself that it was hard to see any way out of it. As to his own +sympathies, he did not know what to make of them. + +"No. I have been only too yielding," said Mademoiselle Le Breton, +sorely, when her tale was done. "I am ashamed when I look back on what I +have borne. But now it has gone too far, and something must be done. If +I go, frankly, Lady Henry will suffer." + +Sir Wilfrid looked at his companion. + +"Lady Henry is well aware of it." + +"Yes," was the calm reply, "she knows it, but she does not realize it. +You see, if it comes to a rupture she will allow no half-measures. Those +who stick to me will have to quarrel with her. And there will be a great +many who will stick to me." + +Sir Wilfrid's little smile was not friendly. + +"It is indeed evident," he said, "that you have thought it all out." + +Mademoiselle Le Breton did not reply. They walked on a few minutes in +silence, till she said, with a suddenness and in a low tone that +startled her companion: + +"If Lady Henry could ever have felt that she _humbled_ me, that I +acknowledged myself at her mercy! But she never could. She knows that I +feel myself as well born as she, that I am _not_ ashamed of my parents, +that my principles give me a free mind about such things." + +"Your principles?" murmured Sir Wilfrid. + +"You were right," she turned upon him with a perfectly quiet but most +concentrated passion. "I have _had_ to think things out. I know, of +course, that the world goes with Lady Henry. Therefore I must be +nameless and kinless and hold my tongue. If the world knew, it would +expect me to hang my head. I _don't!_ I am as proud of my mother as of +my father. I adore both their memories. Conventionalities of that kind +mean nothing to me." + +"My dear lady--" + +"Oh, I don't expect you or any one else to feel with me," said the voice +which for all its low pitch was beginning to make him feel as though he +were in the centre of a hail-storm. "You are a man of the world, you +knew my parents, and yet I understand perfectly that for you, too, I am +disgraced. So be it! So be it! I don't quarrel with what any one may +choose to think, but--" + +She recaptured herself with difficulty, and there was silence. They were +walking through the purple February dusk towards the Marble Arch. It was +too dark to see her face under its delicate veil, and Sir Wilfrid did +not wish to see it. But before he had collected his thoughts +sufficiently his companion was speaking again, in a wholly +different manner. + +"I don't know what made me talk in this way. It was the contact with +some one, I suppose, who had seen us at Gherardtsloo." She raised her +veil, and he thought that she dashed away some tears. "That never +happened to me before in London. Well, now, to return. If there is +a breach--" + +"Why should there be a breach?" said Sir Wilfrid. "My dear Miss Le +Breton, listen to me for a few minutes. I see perfectly that you have a +great deal to complain of, but I also see that Lady Henry has something +of a case." + +And with a courteous authority and tact worthy of his trade, the old +diplomat began to discuss the situation. + +Presently he found himself talking with an animation, a friendliness, an +intimacy that surprised himself. What was there in the personality +beside him that seemed to win a way inside a man's defences in spite of +him? Much of what she had said had seemed to him arrogant or morbid. And +yet as she listened to him, with an evident dying down of passion, an +evident forlornness, he felt in her that woman's weakness and timidity +of which she had accused herself in relation to Lady Henry, and was +somehow, manlike, softened and disarmed. She had been talking wildly, +because no doubt she felt herself in great difficulties. But when it was +his turn to talk she neither resented nor resisted what he had to say. +The kinder he was, the more she yielded, almost eagerly at times, as +though the thorniness of her own speech had hurt herself most, and there +were behind it all a sad life, and a sad heart that only asked in truth +for a little sympathy and understanding. + +"I shall soon be calling her 'my dear' and patting her hand," thought +the old man, at last, astonished at himself. For the dejection in her +attitude and gait began to weigh upon him; he felt a warm desire to +sustain and comfort her. More and more thought, more and more +contrivance did he throw into the straightening out of this tangle +between two excitable women, not, it seemed, for Lady Henry's sake, not, +surely, for Miss Le Breton's sake. But--ah! those two poor, dead folk, +who had touched his heart long ago, did he feel the hovering of their +ghosts beside him in the wintry wind? + +At any rate, he abounded in shrewd and fatherly advice, and Mademoiselle +Le Breton listened with a most flattering meekness. + +"Well, now I think we have come to an understanding," he urged, +hopefully, as they turned down Bruton Street again. + +Mademoiselle Le Breton sighed. + +"It is very kind of you. Oh, I will do my best. But--" + +She shook her head uncertainly. + +"No--no 'buts,'" cried Sir Wilfrid, cheerfully. "Suppose, as a first +step," he smiled at his companion, "you tell Lady Henry about +the bazaar?" + +"By all means. She won't let me go. But Evelyn will find some one else." + +"Oh, we'll see about that," said the old man, almost crossly. "If you'll +allow me I'll try my hand." + +Julie Le Breton did not reply, but her face glimmered upon him with a +wistful friendliness that did not escape him, even in the darkness. In +this yielding mood her voice and movements had so much subdued +sweetness, so much distinction, that he felt himself more than melting +towards her. + +Then, of a sudden, a thought--a couple of thoughts--sped across him. He +drew himself rather sharply together. + +"Mr. Delafield, I gather, has been a good deal concerned in the whole +matter?" + +Mademoiselle Le Breton laughed and hesitated. + +"He has been very kind. He heard Lady Henry's language once when she was +excited. It seemed to shock him. He has tried once or twice to smooth +her down. Oh, he has been most kind!" + +"Has he any influence with her?" + +"Not much." + +"Do you think well of him?" + +He turned to her with a calculated abruptness. She showed a little +surprise. + +"I? But everybody thinks well of him. They say the Duke trusts +everything to him." + +"When I left England he was still a rather lazy and unsatisfactory +undergraduate. I was curious to know how he had developed. Do you know +what his chief interests are now?" + +Mademoiselle Le Breton hesitated. + +"I'm really afraid I don't know," she said, at last, smiling, and, as it +were, regretful. "But Evelyn Crowborough, of course, could tell you all +about him. She and he are very old friends." + +"No birds out of that cover," was Sir Wilfrid's inward comment. + +The lamp over Lady Henry's door was already in sight when Sir Wilfrid, +after some talk of the Montresors, with whom he was going to dine that +night, carelessly said: + +"That's a very good-looking fellow, that Captain Warkworth, whom I saw +with Lady Henry last night." + +"Ah, yes. Lady Henry has made great friends with him," said Mademoiselle +Julie, readily. "She consults him about her memoir of her husband." + +"Memoir of her husband!" Sir Wilfrid stopped short. "Heavens above! +Memoir of Lord Henry?" + +"She is half-way through it. I thought you knew." + +"Well, upon my word! Whom shall we have a memoir of next? Henry +Delafield! Henry Delafield! Good gracious!" + +And Sir Wilfrid walked along, slashing at the railings with his stick, +as though the action relieved him. Julie Le Breton quietly resumed: + +"I understand that Lord Henry and Captain Warkworth's father went +through the Indian Mutiny together, and Captain Warkworth has some +letters--" + +"Oh, I dare say--I dare say," muttered Sir Wilfrid. "What's this man +home for just now?" + +"Well, I _think_ Lady Henry knows," said Mademoiselle Julie, turning to +him an open look, like one who, once more, would gladly satisfy a +questioner if they could. "He talks to her a great deal. But why +shouldn't he come home?" + +"Because he ought to be doing disagreeable duty with his regiment +instead of always racing about the world in search of something to get +his name up," said Sir Wilfrid, rather sharply. "At least, that's the +view his brother officers mostly take of him." + +"Oh," said Mademoiselle Julie, with amiable vagueness, "is there +anything particular that you suppose he wants?" + +"I am not at all in the secret of his ambitions," said Sir Wilfrid, +lifting his shoulders. "But you and Lady Henry seemed well acquainted +with him." + +The straw-colored lashes veered her way. + +"I had some talk with him in the Park this morning," said Julie Le +Breton, reflectively. "He wants me to copy his father's letters for Lady +Henry, and to get her to return the originals as soon as possible. He +feels nervous when they are out of his hands." + +"Hm!" said Sir Wilfrid. + +At that moment Lady Henry's door-bell presented itself. The vigor with +which Sir Wilfrid rang it may, perhaps, have expressed the liveliness of +his unspoken scepticism. He did not for one moment believe that General +Warkworth's letters had been the subject of the conversation he had +witnessed that morning in the Park, nor that filial veneration had had +anything whatever to say to it. + +Julie Le Breton gave him her hand. + +"Thank you very much," she said, gravely and softly. + +Sir Wilfrid at the moment before had not meant to press it at all. But +he did press it, aware the while of the most mingled feelings. + +"On the contrary, you were very good to allow me this conversation. +Command me at any time if I can be useful to you and Lady Henry." + +Julie Le Breton smiled upon him and was gone. + +Sir Wilfrid ran down the steps, chafing at himself. + +"She somehow gets round one," he thought, with a touch of annoyance. "I +wonder whether I made any real impression upon her. Hm! Let's see +whether Montresor can throw any more light upon her. He seemed to be +pretty intimate. Her 'principles,' eh? A dangerous view to take, for a +woman of that _provenance._" + + * * * * * + +An hour or two later Sir Wilfrid Bury presented himself in the +Montresors' drawing-room in Eaton Place. He had come home feeling it +essential to impress upon the cabinet a certain line of action with +regard to the policy of Russia on the Persian Gulf. But the first person +he perceived on the hearth-rug, basking before the Minister's ample +fire, was Lord Lackington. The sight of that vivacious countenance, that +shock of white hair, that tall form still boasting the spareness and +almost the straightness of youth, that unsuspecting complacency, +confused his ideas and made him somehow feel the whole world a little +topsy-turvy. + +Nevertheless, after dinner he got his fifteen minutes of private talk +with his host, and conscientiously made use of them. Then, after an +appointment had been settled for a longer conversation on another day, +both men felt that they had done their duty, and, as it appeared, the +same subject stirred in both their minds. + +"Well, and what did you think of Lady Henry?" said Montresor, with a +smile, as he lighted another cigarette. + +"She's very blind," said Sir Wilfrid, "and more rheumatic. But else +there's not much change. On the whole she wears wonderfully well." + +"Except as to her temper, poor lady!" laughed the Minister. "She has +really tried all our nerves of late. And the worst of it is that most +of it falls upon that poor woman who lives with her"--the Minister +lowered his voice--"one of the most interesting and agreeable creatures +in the world." + +Sir Wilfrid glanced across the table. Lord Lackington was telling +scandalous tales of his youth to a couple of Foreign Office clerks, who +sat on either side of him, laughing and spurring him on. The old man's +careless fluency and fun were evidently contagious; animation reigned +around him; he was the spoiled child of the dinner, and knew it. + +"I gather that you have taken a friendly interest in Miss Le Breton," +said Bury, turning to his host. + +"Oh, the Duchess and Delafield and I have done our best to protect her, +and to keep the peace. I am quite sure Lady Henry has poured out her +grievances to you, hasn't she?" + +"Alack, she has!" + +"I knew she couldn't hold her tongue to you, even for a day. She has +really been losing her head over it. And it is a thousand pities." + +"So you think all the fault's on Lady Henry's side?" + +The Minister gave a shrug. + +"At any rate, I have never myself seen anything to justify Lady Henry's +state of feeling. On the famous Wednesdays, Mademoiselle Julie always +appears to make Lady Henry her first thought. And in other ways she has +really worn herself to death for the old lady. It makes one rather +savage sometimes to see it." + +"So in your eyes she is a perfect companion?" + +Montresor laughed. + +"Oh, as to perfection--" + +"Lady Henry accuses her of intrigue. You have seen no traces of it?" + +The Minister smiled a little oddly. + +"Not as regards Lady Henry. Oh, Mademoiselle Julie is a very astute +lady." + +A ripple from some source of secret amusement spread over the dark-lined +face. + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"She knows how to help her friends better than most people. I have known +three men, at least, _made_ by Mademoiselle Le Breton within the last +two or three years. She has just got a fresh one in tow." + +Sir Wilfrid moved a little closer to his host. They turned slightly from +the table and seemed to talk into their cigars. + +"Young Warkworth?" said Bury. + +The Minister smiled again and hesitated. + +"Oh, she doesn't bother me, she is much too clever. But she gets at me +in the most amusing, indirect ways. I know perfectly well when she has +been at work. There are two or three men--high up, you understand--who +frequent Lady Henry's evenings, and who are her very good friends.... +Oh, I dare say she'll get what she wants," he added, with nonchalance. + +"Between you and me, do you suspect any direct interest in the young +man?" + +Montresor shrugged his shoulders. + +"I don't know. Not necessarily. She loves to feel herself a power--all +the more, I think, because of her anomalous position. It is very +curious--at bottom very feminine and amusing--and quite harmless." + +"You and others don't resent it?" + +"No, not from her," said the Minister, after a pause. "But she is rather +going it, just now. Three or four batteries have opened upon me at once. +She must be thinking of little else." + +Sir Wilfrid grew a trifle red. He remembered the comedy of the +door-step. "Is there anything that he particularly wants?" His tone +assumed a certain asperity. + +"Well, as for me, I cannot help feeling that Lady Henry has something to +say for herself. It is very strange--mysterious even--the kind of +ascendency this lady has obtained for herself in so short a time." + +"Oh, I dare say it's hard for Lady Henry to put up with," mused +Montresor. "Without family, without connections--" + +He raised his head quietly and put on his eye-glasses. Then his look +swept the face of his companion. + +Sir Wilfrid, with a scarcely perceptible yet significant gesture, +motioned towards Lord Lackington. Mr. Montresor started. The eyes of +both men travelled across the table, then met again. + +"You know?" said Montresor, under his breath. + +Sir Wilfrid nodded. Then some instinct told him that he had now +exhausted the number of the initiated. + + * * * * * + +When the men reached the drawing-room, which was rather emptily waiting +for the "reception" Mrs. Montresor was about to hold in it, Sir Wilfrid +fell into conversation with Lord Lackington. The old man talked well, +though flightily, with a constant reference of all topics to his own +standards, recollections, and friendships, which was characteristic, but +in him not unattractive. Sir Wilfrid noticed certain new and pitiful +signs of age. The old man was still a rattle. But every now and then the +rattle ceased abruptly and a breath of melancholy made itself felt--like +a chill and sudden gust from some unknown sea. + +They were joined presently, as the room filled up, by a young +journalist--an art critic, who seemed to know Lord Lackington and his +ways. The two fell eagerly into talk about pictures, especially of an +exhibition at Antwerp, from which the young man had just returned. + +"I looked in at Bruges on the way back for a few hours," said the +new-comer, presently. "The pictures there are much better seen than they +used to be. When were you there last?" He turned to Lord Lackington. + +"Bruges?" said Lord Lackington, with a start. "Oh, I haven't been there +for twenty years." + +And he suddenly sat down, dangling a paper-knife between his hands, and +staring at the carpet. His jaw dropped a little. A cloud seemed to +interpose between him and his companions. + +Sir Wilfrid, with Lady Henry's story fresh in his memory, was somehow +poignantly conscious of the old man. Did their two minds hold the same +image--of Lady Rose drawing her last breath in some dingy room beside +one of the canals that wind through Bruges, laying down there the last +relics of that life, beauty, and intelligence that had once made her the +darling of the father, who, for some reason still hard to understand, +had let her suffer and die alone? + + + +V + +On leaving the Montresors, Sir Wilfrid, seeing that it was a fine night +with mild breezes abroad, refused a hansom, and set out to walk home to +his rooms in Duke Street, St. James's. He was so much in love with the +mere streets, the mere clatter of the omnibuses and shimmer of the +lamps, after his long absence, that every step was pleasure. At the top +of Grosvenor Place he stood still awhile only to snuff up the soft, +rainy air, or to delight his eye now with the shining pools which some +showers of the afternoon had left behind them on the pavement, and now +with the light veil of fog which closed in the distance of Piccadilly. + +"And there are silly persons who grumble about the fogs!" he thought, +contemptuously, while he was thus yielding himself heart and sense to +his beloved London. + +As for him, dried and wilted by long years of cloudless heat, he drank +up the moisture and the mist with a kind of physical passion--the noises +and the lights no less. And when he had resumed his walk along the +crowded street, the question buzzed within him, whether he must indeed +go back to his exile, either at Teheran, or nearer home, in some more +exalted post? "I've got plenty of money; why the deuce don't I give it +up, and come home and enjoy myself? Only a few more years, after all; +why not spend them here, in one's own world, among one's own kind?" + +It was the weariness of the governing Englishman, and it was answered +immediately by that other instinct, partly physical, partly moral, which +keeps the elderly man of affairs to his task. Idleness? No! That way +lies the end. To slacken the rush of life, for men of his sort, is to +call on death--death, the secret pursuer, who is not far from each one +of us. No, no! Fight on! It was only the long drudgery behind, under +alien suns, together with the iron certainty of fresh drudgery ahead, +that gave value, after all, to this rainy, this enchanting +Piccadilly--that kept the string of feeling taut and all its +notes clear. + +"Going to bed, Sir Wilfrid?" said a voice behind him, as he turned down +St. James's Street. + +"Delafield!" The old man faced round with alacrity. "Where have you +sprung from?" + +Delafield explained that he had been dining with the Crowboroughs, and +was now going to his club to look for news of a friend's success or +failure in a north-country election. + +"Oh, that'll keep!" said Sir Wilfrid. "Turn in with me for half an hour. +I'm at my old rooms, you know, in Duke Street." + +"All right," said the young man, after what seemed to Sir Wilfrid a +moment of hesitation. + +"Are you often up in town this way?" asked Bury, as they walked on. +"Land agency seems to be a profession with mitigations." + +"There is some London business thrown in. We have some large milk depots +in town that I look after." + +There was just a trace of hurry in the young man's voice, and Bury +surveyed him with a smile. + +"No other attractions, eh?" + +"Not that I know of. By-the-way, Sir Wilfrid, I never asked you how Dick +Mason was getting on?" + +"Dick Mason? Is he a friend of yours?" + +"Well, we were at Eton and Oxford together." + +"Were you? I never heard him mention your name." + +The young man laughed. + +"I don't mean to suggest he couldn't live without me. You've left him in +charge, haven't you, at Teheran?" + +"Yes, I have--worse luck. So you're deeply interested in Dick Mason?" + +"Oh, come--I liked him pretty well." + +"Hm--I don't much care about him. And I don't somehow believe you do." + +And Bury, with a smile, slipped a friendly hand within the arm of his +companion. + +Delafield reddened. + +"It's decent, I suppose, to inquire after an old school-fellow?" + +"Exemplary. But--there are things more amusing to talk about." + +Delafield was silent. Sir Wilfrid's fair mustaches approached his ear. + +"I had my interview with Mademoiselle Julie." + +"So I suppose. I hope you did some good." + +"I doubt it. Jacob, between ourselves, the little Duchess hasn't been a +miracle of wisdom." + +"No--perhaps not," said the other, unwillingly. + +"She realizes, I suppose, that they are connected?" + +"Of course. It isn't very close. Lady Rose's brother married Evelyn's +aunt, her mother's sister." + +"Yes, that's it. She and Mademoiselle Julie _ought_ to have called the +same person uncle; but, for lack of certain ceremonies, they don't. +By-the-way, what became of Lady Rose's younger sister?" + +"Lady Blanche? Oh, she married Sir John Moffatt, and has been a widow +for years. He left her a place in Westmoreland, and she lives there +generally with her girl." + +"Has Mademoiselle Julie ever come across them?" + +"No." + +"She speaks of them?" + +"Yes. We can't tell her much about them, except that the girl was +presented last year, and went to a few balls in town. But neither she +nor her mother cares for London." + +"Lady Blanche Moffatt--Lady Blanche Moffatt?" said Sir Wilfrid, pausing. +"Wasn't she in India this winter?" + +"Yes. I believe they went out in November and are to be home by April." + +"Somebody told me they had met her and the girl at Peshawar and then at +Simla," said Sir Wilfrid, ruminating. "Now I remember! She's a great +heiress, isn't she, and pretty to boot? I know! Somebody told me that +fellow Warkworth had been making up to her." + +"Warkworth?" Jacob Delafield stood still a moment, and Sir Wilfrid +caught a sudden contraction of the brow. "That, of course, was just a +bit of Indian gossip." + +"I don't think so," said Sir Wilfrid, dryly. "My informants were two +frontier officers--I came from Egypt with them--who had recently been at +Peshawar; good fellows both of them, not at all given to take young +ladies' names in vain." + +Jacob made no reply. They had let themselves into the Duke Street house +and were groping their way up the dim staircase to Sir Wilfrid's rooms. + +There all was light and comfort. Sir Wilfrid's valet, much the same age +as himself, hovered round his master, brought him his smoking-coat, +offered Delafield cigars, and provided Sir Wilfrid, strange to say, with +a large cup of tea. + +"I follow Mr. Gladstone," said Sir Wilfrid, with a sigh of luxury, as he +sank into an easy-chair and extended a very neatly made pair of legs and +feet to the blaze. "He seems to have slept the sleep of the just--on a +cup of tea at midnight--through the rise and fall of cabinets. So I'm +trying the receipt." + +"Does that mean that you are hankering after politics?" + +"Heavens! When you come to doddering, Jacob, it's better to dodder in +the paths you know. I salute Mr. G.'s physique, that's all. Well, now, +Jacob, do you know anything about this Warkworth?" + +"Warkworth?" Delafield withdrew his cigar, and seemed to choose his +words a little. "Well, I know what all the world knows." + +"Hm--you seemed very sure just now that he wasn't going to marry Miss +Moffatt." + +"Sure? I'm not sure of anything," said the young man, slowly. + +"Well, what I should like to know," said Sir Wilfrid, cradling his +teacup in both hands, "is, what particular interest has Mademoiselle +Julie in that young soldier?" + +Delafield looked into the fire. + +"Has she any?" + +"She seems to be moving heaven and earth to get him what he wants. +By-the-way, what does he want?" + +"He wants the special mission to Mokembe, as I understand," said +Delafield, after a moment. "But several other people want it too." + +"Indeed!" Sir Wilfrid nodded reflectively. "So there is to be one! Well, +it's about time. The travellers of the other European firms have been +going it lately in that quarter. Jacob, your mademoiselle also is a bit +of an intriguer!" + +Delafield made a restless movement. "Why do you say that?" + +"Well, to say the least of it, frankness is not one of her +characteristics. I tried to question her about this man. I had seen them +together in the Park, talking as intimates. So, when our conversation +had reached a friendly stage, I threw out a feeler or two, just to +satisfy myself about her. But--" + +He pulled his fair mustaches and smiled. + +"Well?" said the young man, with a kind of reluctant interrogation. + +"She played with me, Jacob. But really she overdid it. For such a clever +woman, I assure you, she overdid it!" + +"I don't see why she shouldn't keep her friendships to herself," said +Delafield, with sudden heat. + +"Oh, so you admit it is a friendship?" + +Delafield did not reply. He had laid down his cigar, and with his hands +on his knees was looking steadily into the fire. His attitude, however, +was not one of reverie, but rather of a strained listening. + +"What is the meaning, Jacob, of a young woman taking so keen an interest +in the fortunes of a dashing soldier--for, between you and me, I hear +she is moving heaven and earth to get him this post--and then +concealing it?" + +"Why should she want her kindnesses talked of?" said the young man, +impetuously. "She was perfectly right, I think, to fence with your +questions, Sir Wilfrid. It's one of the secrets of her influence that +she can render a service--and keep it dark." + +Sir Wilfrid shook his head. + +"She overdid it," he repeated. "However, what do you think of the man +yourself, Jacob?" + +"Well, I don't take to him," said the other, unwillingly. "He isn't my +sort of man." + +"And Mademoiselle Julie--you think nothing but well of her? I don't like +discussing a lady; but, you see, with Lady Henry to manage, one must +feel the ground as one can." + +Sir Wilfrid looked at his companion, and then stretched his legs a +little farther towards the fire. The lamp-light shone full on his silky +eyelashes and beard, on his neatly parted hair, and the diamond on his +fine left hand. The young man beside him could not emulate his easy +composure. He fidgeted nervously as he replied, with warmth: + +"I think she has had an uncommonly hard time, that she wants nothing but +what is reasonable, and that if she threw you off the scent, Sir +Wilfrid, with regard to Warkworth, she was quite within her rights. You +probably deserved it." + +He threw up his head with a quick gesture of challenge. Sir Wilfrid +shrugged his shoulders. + +"I vow I didn't," he murmured. "However, that's all right. What do you +do with yourself down in Essex, Jacob?" + +The lines of the young man's attitude showed a sudden unconscious relief +from tension. He threw himself back in his chair. + +"Well, it's a big estate. There's plenty to do." + +"You live by yourself?" + +"Yes. There's an agent's house--a small one--in one of the villages." + +"How do you amuse yourself? Plenty of shooting, I suppose?" + +"Too much. I can't do with more than a certain amount." + +"Golfing?" + +"Oh yes," said the young man, indifferently. "There's a fair links." + +"Do you do any philanthropy, Jacob?" + +"I like 'bossing' the village," said Delafield, with a laugh. "It +pleases one's vanity. That's about all there is to it." + +"What, clubs and temperance, that kind of thing? Can you take any real +interest in the people?" + +Delafield hesitated. + +"Well, yes," he said, at last, as though he grudged the admission. +"There's nothing else to take an interest in, is there? By-the-way"--he +jumped up--"I think I'll bid you good-night, for I've got to go down +to-morrow in a hurry. I must be off by the first train in the morning." + +"What's the matter?" + +"Oh, it's only a wretched old man--that two beasts of women have put +into the workhouse infirmary against his will. I only heard it to-night. +I must go and get him out." + +He looked round for his gloves and stick. + +"Why shouldn't he be there?" + +"Because it's an infernal shame!" said the other, shortly. "He's an old +laborer who'd saved quite a lot of money. He kept it in his cottage, and +the other day it was all stolen by a tramp. He has lived with these two +women--his sister-in-law and her daughter--for years and years. As long +as he had money to leave, nothing was too good for him. The shock half +killed him, and now that he's a pauper these two harpies will have +nothing to say to nursing him and looking after him. He told me the +other day he thought they'd force him into the infirmary. I didn't +believe it. But while I've been away they've gone and done it." + +"Well, what'll you do now?" + +"Get him out." + +"And then?" + +Delafield hesitated. "Well, then, I suppose, he can come to my place +till I can find some decent woman to put him with." + +Sir Wilfrid rose. + +"I think I'll run down and see you some day. Will there be paupers in +all the bedrooms?" + +Delafield grinned. + +"You'll find a rattling good cook and a jolly snug little place, I can +tell you. Do come. But I shall see you again soon. I must be up next +week, and very likely I shall be at Lady Henry's on Wednesday." + +"All right. I shall see her on Sunday, so I can report." + +"Not before Sunday?" Delafield paused. His clear blue eyes looked down, +dissatisfied, upon Sir Wilfrid. + +"Impossible before. I have all sorts of official people to see to-morrow +and Saturday. And, Jacob, keep the Duchess quiet. She may have to give +up Mademoiselle Julie for her bazaar." + +"I'll tell her." + +"By-the-way, is that little person happy?" said Sir Wilfrid, as he +opened the door to his departing guest. "When I left England she was +only just married." + +"Oh yes, she's happy enough, though Crowborough's rather an ass." + +"How--particularly?" + +Delafield smiled. + +"Well, he's rather a sticky sort of person. He thinks there's something +particularly interesting in dukes, which makes him a bore." + +"Take care, Jacob! Who knows that you won't be a duke yourself some +day?" + +"What _do_ you mean?" The young man glowered almost fiercely upon his +old friend. + +"I hear Chudleigh's boy is but a poor creature," said Sir Wilfrid, +gravely. "Lady Henry doesn't expect him to live." + +"Why, that's the kind that always does live!" cried Delafield, with +angry emphasis. "And as for Lady Henry, her imagination is a perfect +charnel-house. She likes to think that everybody's dead or dying but +herself. The fact is that Mervyn is a good deal stronger this year than +he was last. Really, Lady Henry--" The tone lost itself in a growl +of wrath. + +"Well, well," said Sir Wilfrid, smiling, "'A man beduked against his +will,' etcetera. Good-night, my dear Jacob, and good luck to your +old pauper." + +But Delafield turned back a moment on the stairs. + +"I say"--he hesitated--"you won't shirk talking to Lady Henry?" + +"No, no. Sunday, certainly--honor bright. Oh, I think we shall +straighten it out." + +Delafield ran down the stairs, and Sir Wilfrid returned to his warm room +and the dregs of his tea. + +"Now--is he in love with her, and hesitating for social reasons? Or--is +he jealous of this fellow Warkworth? Or--has she snubbed him, and both +are keeping it dark? Not very likely, that, in view of his prospects. +She must want to regularize her position. Or--is he not in love with +her at all?" + +On which cogitations there fell presently the strokes of many bells +tolling midnight, and left them still unresolved. Only one positive +impression remained--that Jacob Delafield had somehow grown, vaguely but +enormously, in mental and moral bulk during the years since he had left +Oxford--the years of Bury's Persian exile. Sir Wilfrid had been an +intimate friend of his dead father, Lord Hubert, and on very friendly +terms with his lethargic, good-natured mother. She, by-the-way, was +still alive, and living in London with a daughter. He must go and +see them. + +As for Jacob, Sir Wilfrid had cherished a particular weakness for him +in the Eton-jacket stage, and later on, indeed, when the lad enjoyed a +brief moment of glory in the Eton eleven. But at Oxford, to Sir +Wilfrid's thinking, he had suffered eclipse--had become a somewhat +heavy, apathetic, pseudo-cynical youth, displaying his mother's inertia +without her good temper, too slack to keep up his cricket, too slack to +work for the honor schools, at no time without friends, but an enigma to +most of them, and, apparently, something of a burden to himself. + +And now, out of that ugly slough, a man had somehow emerged, in whom Sir +Wilfrid, who was well acquainted with the race, discerned the stirring +of all sorts of strong inherited things, formless still, but struggling +to expression. + +"He looked at me just now, when I talked of his being duke, as his +father would sometimes look." + +His father? Hubert Delafield had been an obstinate, dare-devil, heroic +sort of fellow, who had lost his life in the Chudleigh salmon river +trying to save a gillie who had missed his footing. A man much +hated--and much beloved; capable of the most contradictory actions. He +had married his wife for money, would often boast of it, and would, none +the less, give away his last farthing recklessly, passionately, if he +were asked for it, in some way that touched his feelings. Able, too; +though not so able as the great Duke, his father. + +"Hubert Delafield was never _happy_, that I can remember," thought +Wilfrid Bury, as he sat over his fire, "and this chap has the same +expression. That woman in Bruton Street would never do for him--apart +from all the other unsuitability. He ought to find something sweet and +restful. And yet I don't know. The Delafields are a discontented lot. If +you plague them, they are inclined to love you. They want something hard +to get their teeth in. How the old Duke adored his termagant of a wife!" + + * * * * * + +It was late on Sunday afternoon before Sir Wilfrid was able to present +himself in Lady Henry's drawing-room; and when he arrived there, he +found plenty of other people in possession, and had to wait for +his chance. + +Lady Henry received him with a brusque "At last," which, however, he +took with equanimity. He was in no sense behind his time. On Thursday, +when parting with her, he had pleaded for deliberation. "Let me study +the situation a little; and don't, for Heaven's sake, let's be too +tragic about the whole thing." + +Whether Lady Henry was now in the tragic mood or no, he could not at +first determine. She was no longer confined to the inner shrine of the +back drawing-room. Her chair was placed in the large room, and she was +the centre of a lively group of callers who were discussing the events +of the week in Parliament, with the light and mordant zest of people +well acquainted with the personalities they were talking of. She was +apparently better in health, he noticed; at any rate, she was more at +ease, and enjoying herself more than on the previous Wednesday. All her +social characteristics were in full play; the blunt and careless freedom +which made her the good comrade of the men she talked with--as good a +brain and as hard a hitter as they--mingled with the occasional sally or +caprice which showed her very much a woman. + +Very few other women were there. Lady Henry did not want women on +Sundays, and was at no pains whatever to hide the fact. But Mademoiselle +Julie was at the tea-table, supported by an old white-haired general, in +whom Sir Wilfrid recognized a man recently promoted to one of the higher +posts in the War Office. Tea, however, had been served, and Mademoiselle +Le Breton was now showing her companion a portfolio of photographs, on +which the old man was holding forth. + +"Am I too late for a cup?" said Sir Wilfrid, after she had greeted him +with cordiality. "And what are those pictures?" + +"They are some photos of the Khaibar and Tirah," said Mademoiselle Le +Breton. "Captain Warkworth brought them to show Lady Henry." + +"Ah, the scene of his exploits," said Sir Wilfrid, after a glance at +them. "The young man distinguished himself, I understand?" + +"Oh, very much so," said General M'Gill, with emphasis. "He showed +brains, and he had luck." + +"A great deal of luck, I hear," said Sir Wilfrid, accepting a piece of +cake. "He'll get his step up, I suppose. Anything else?" + +"Difficult to say. But the good men are always in request," said General +M'Gill, smiling. + +"By-the-way, I heard somebody mention his name last night for this +Mokembe mission," said Sir Wilfrid, helping himself to tea-cake. + +"Oh, that's quite undecided," said the General, sharply. "There is no +immediate hurry for a week or two, and the government must send the best +man possible." + +"No doubt," said Sir Wilfrid. + +It interested him to observe that Mademoiselle Le Breton was no longer +pale. As the General spoke, a bright color had rushed into her cheeks. +It seemed to Sir Wilfrid that she turned away and busied herself with +the photographs in order to hide it. + +The General rose, a thin, soldierly figure, with gray hair that drooped +forward, and two bright spots of red on the cheek-bones. In contrast +with the expansiveness of his previous manner to Mademoiselle Le Breton, +he was now a trifle frowning and stiff--the high official once more, and +great man. + +"Good-night, Sir Wilfrid. I must be off." + +"How are your sons?" said Sir Wilfrid, as he rose. + +"The eldest is in Canada with his regiment." + +"And the second?" + +"The second is in orders." + +"Overworking himself in the East End, as all the young parsons seem to +be doing?" + +"That is precisely what he _has_ been doing. But now, I am thankful to +say, a country living has been offered him, and his mother and I have +persuaded him to take it." + +"A country living? Where?" + +"One of the Duke of Crowborough's Shropshire livings," said the General, +after what seemed to be an instant's hesitation. Mademoiselle Le Breton +had moved away, and was replacing the photographs in the drawer of a +distant bureau. + +"Ah, one of Crowborough's? Well, I hope it is a living with something to +live on." + +"Not so bad, as times go," said the General, smiling. "It has been a +great relief to our minds. There were some chest symptoms; his mother +was alarmed. The Duchess has been most kind; she took quite a fancy to +the lad, and--" + +"What a woman wants she gets. Well, I hope he'll like it. Good-night, +General. Shall I look you up at the War Office some morning?" + +"By all means." + +The old soldier, whose tanned face had shown a singular softness while +he was speaking of his son, took his leave. + +Sir Wilfrid was left meditating, his eyes absently fixed on the graceful +figure of Mademoiselle Le Breton, who shut the drawer she had been +arranging and returned to him. + +"Do you know the General's sons?" he asked her, while she was preparing +him a second cup of tea. + +"I have seen the younger." + +She turned her beautiful eyes upon him. It seemed to Sir Wilfrid that he +perceived in them a passing tremor of nervous defiance, as though she +were in some way bracing herself against him. But her self-possession +was complete. + +"Lady Henry seems in better spirits," he said, bending towards her. + +She did not reply for a moment. Her eyes dropped. Then she raised them +again, and gently shook her head without a word. The melancholy energy +of her expression gave him a moment's thrill. + +"Is it as bad as ever?" he asked her, in a whisper. + +"It's pretty bad. I've tried to appease her. I told her about the +bazaar. She said she couldn't spare me, and, of course, I acquiesced. +Then, yesterday, the Duchess--hush!" + +"Mademoiselle!" + +Lady Henry's voice rang imperiously through the room. + +"Yes, Lady Henry." + +Mademoiselle Le Breton stood up expectant. + +"Find me, please, that number of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ which came +in yesterday. I can prove it to you in two minutes," she said, turning +triumphantly to Montresor on her right. + +"What's the matter?" said Sir Wilfrid, joining Lady Henry's circle, +while Mademoiselle Le Breton disappeared into the back drawing-room. + +"Oh, nothing," said Montresor, tranquilly. "Lady Henry thinks she has +caught me out in a blunder--about Favre, and the negotiations at +Versailles. I dare say she has. I am the most ignorant person alive." + +"Then are the rest of us spooks?" said Sir Wilfrid, smiling, as he +seated himself beside his hostess. Montresor, whose information on most +subjects was prodigious, laughed and adjusted his eye-glass. These +battles royal on a date or a point of fact between him and Lady Henry +were not uncommon. Lady Henry was rarely victorious. This time, however, +she was confident, and she sat frowning and impatient for the book that +didn't come. + +Mademoiselle Le Breton, indeed, returned from the back drawing-room +empty-handed; left the room apparently to look elsewhere, and came back +still without the book. + +"Everything in this house is always in confusion!" said Lady Henry, +angrily. "No order, no method anywhere!" + +Mademoiselle Julie said nothing. She retreated behind the circle that +surrounded Lady Henry. But Montresor jumped up and offered her +his chair. + +"I wish I had you for a secretary, mademoiselle," he said, gallantly. "I +never before heard Lady Henry ask you for anything you couldn't find." + +Lady Henry flushed, and, turning abruptly to Bury, began a new topic. +Julie quietly refused the seat offered to her, and was retiring to an +ottoman in the background when the door was thrown open and the footman +announced: + +"Captain Warkworth." + + + +VI + +The new-comer drew all eyes as he approached the group surrounding Lady +Henry. Montresor put up his glasses and bestowed on him a few moments of +scrutiny, during which the Minister's heavily marked face took on the +wary, fighting aspect which his department and the House of Commons +knew. The statesman slipped in for an instant between the trifler coming +and the trifler gone. + +As for Wilfrid Bury, he was dazzled by the young man's good looks. +"'Young Harry with his beaver up!'" he thought, admiring against his +will, as the tall, slim soldier paid his respects to Lady Henry, and, +with a smiling word or two to the rest of those present, took his place +beside her in the circle. + +"Well, have you come for your letters?" said Lady Henry, eying him with +a grim favor. + +"I think I came--for conversation," was Warkworth's laughing reply, as +he looked first at his hostess and then at the circle. + +"Then I fear you won't get it," said Lady Henry, throwing herself back +in her chair. "Mr. Montresor can do nothing but quarrel and contradict." + +Montresor lifted his hands in wonder. + +"Had I been AEsop," he said, slyly, "I would have added another touch to +a certain tale. Observe, please!--even after the Lamb has been devoured +he is still the object of calumny on the part of the Wolf! Well, well! +Mademoiselle, come and console me. Tell me what new follies the Duchess +has on foot." + +And, pushing his chair back till he found himself on a level with Julie +Le Breton, the great man plunged into a lively conversation with her. +Sir Wilfrid, Warkworth, and a few other _habitues_ endeavored meanwhile +to amuse Lady Henry. But it was not easy. Her brow was lowering, her +talk forced. Throughout, Sir Wilfrid perceived in her a strained +attention directed towards the conversation on the other side of the +room. She could neither see it nor hear it, but she was jealously +conscious of it. As for Montresor, there was no doubt an element of +malice in the court he was now paying to Mademoiselle Julie. Lady Henry +had been thorny over much during the afternoon; even for her oldest +friend she had passed bounds; he desired perhaps to bring it home +to her. + +Meanwhile, Julie Le Breton, after a first moment of reserve and +depression, had been beguiled, carried away. She yielded to her own +instincts, her own gifts, till Montresor, drawn on and drawn out, found +himself floating on a stream of talk, which Julie led first into one +channel and then into another, as she pleased; and all to the flattery +and glorification of the talker. The famous Minister had come to visit +Lady Henry, as he had done for many Sundays in many years; but it was +not Lady Henry, but her companion, to whom his homage of the afternoon +was paid, who gave him his moment of enjoyment--the moment that would +bring him there again. Lady Henry's fault, no doubt; but Wilfrid Bury, +uneasily aware every now and then of the dumb tumult that was raging in +the breast of the haughty being beside him, felt the pathos of this slow +discrowning, and was inclined, once more, rather to be sorry for the +older woman than to admire the younger. + +At last Lady Henry could bear it no longer. + +"Mademoiselle, be so good as to return his father's letters to Captain +Warkworth," she said, abruptly, in her coldest voice, just as Montresor, +dropping his--head thrown back and knees crossed--was about to pour into +the ears of his companion the whole confidential history of his +appointment to office three years before. + +Julie Le Breton rose at once. She went towards a table at the farther +end of the large room, and Captain Warkworth followed her. Montresor, +perhaps repenting himself a little, returned to Lady Henry; and though +she received him with great coolness, the circle round her, now +augmented by Dr. Meredith, and another politician or two, was +reconstituted; and presently, with a conscious effort, visible at least +to Bury, she exerted herself to hold it, and succeeded. + +Suddenly--just as Bury had finished a very neat analysis of the Shah's +public and private character, and while the applauding laughter of the +group of intimates amid which he sat told him that his epigrams had been +good--he happened to raise his eyes towards the distant settee where +Julie Le Breton was sitting. + +His smile stiffened on his lips. Like an icy wave, a swift and tragic +impression swept through him. He turned away, ashamed of having seen, +and hid himself, as it were, with relief, in the clamor of amusement +awakened by his own remarks. + +What had he seen? Merely, or mainly, a woman's face. Young Warkworth +stood beside the sofa, on which sat Lady Henry's companion, his hands in +his pockets, his handsome head bent towards her. They had been talking +earnestly, wholly forgetting and apparently forgotten by the rest of the +room. On his side there was an air of embarrassment. He seemed to be +choosing his words with difficulty, his eyes on the floor. Julie Le +Breton, on the contrary, was looking at him--looking with all her soul, +her ardent, unhappy soul--unconscious of aught else in the wide world. + +"Good God! she is in love with him!" was the thought that rushed through +Sir Wilfrid's mind. "Poor thing! Poor thing!" + + * * * * * + +Sir Wilfrid outstayed his fellow-guests. By seven o'clock all were gone. +Mademoiselle Le Breton had retired. He and Lady Henry were left alone. + +"Shut the doors!" she said, peremptorily, looking round her as the last +guest disappeared. "I must have some private talk with you. Well, I +understand you walked home from the Crowboroughs' the other night +with--that woman." + +She turned sharply upon him. The accent was indescribable. And with a +fierce hand she arranged the folds of her own thick silk dress, as +though, for some relief to the stormy feeling within, she would rather +have torn than smoothed it. + +Sir Wilfrid seated himself beside her, knees crossed, finger-tips +lightly touching, the fair eyelashes somewhat lowered--Calm +beside Tempest. + +"I am sorry to hear you speak so," he said, gravely, after a pause. +"Yes, I talked with her. She met me very fairly, on the whole. It seemed +to me she was quite conscious that her behavior had not been always what +it should be, and that she was sincerely anxious to change it. I did my +best as a peacemaker. Has she made no signs since--no advances?" + +Lady Henry threw out her hand in disdain. + +"She confessed to me that she had pledged a great deal of the time for +which I pay her to Evelyn Crowborough's bazaar, and asked what she was +to do. I told her, of course, that I would put up with nothing of +the kind." + +"And were more annoyed, alack! than propitiated by her confession?" said +Sir Wilfrid, with a shrug. + +"I dare say," said Lady Henry. "You see, I guessed that it was not +spontaneous; that you had wrung it out of her." + +"What else did you expect me to do?" cried Sir Wilfrid. "I seem, indeed, +to have jolly well wasted my time." + +"Oh no. You were very kind. And I dare say you might have done some +good. I was beginning to--to have some returns on myself, when the +Duchess appeared on the scene." + +"Oh, the little fool!" ejaculated Sir Wilfrid, under his breath. + +"She came, of course, to beg and protest. She offered me her valuable +services for all sorts of superfluous things that I didn't want--if only +I would spare her Julie for this ridiculous bazaar. So then my back was +put up again, and I told her a few home truths about the way in which +she had made mischief and forced Julie into a totally false position. +On which she flew into a passion, and said a lot of silly nonsense about +Julie, that showed me, among other things, that Mademoiselle Le Breton +had broken her solemn compact with me, and had told her family history +both to Evelyn and to Jacob Delafield. That alone would be sufficient to +justify me in dismissing her. _N'est-ce pas?_" + +"Oh yes," murmured Sir Wilfrid, "if you want to dismiss her." + +"We shall come to that presently," said Lady Henry, shortly. "Imagine, +please, the kind of difficulties in which these confidences, if they +have gone any further--and who knows?--may land me. I shall have old +Lord Lackington--who behaved like a brute to his daughter while she was +alive, and is, all the same, a _poseur_ from top to toe--walking in here +one night and demanding his granddaughter--spreading lies, perhaps, that +I have been ill-treating her. Who can say what absurdities may happen if +it once gets out that she is Lady Rose's child? I could name half a +dozen people, who come here habitually, who would consider themselves +insulted if they knew--what you and I know." + +"Insulted? Because her mother--" + +"Because her mother broke the seventh commandment? Oh, dear, no! That, +in my opinion, doesn't touch people much nowadays. Insulted because they +had been kept in the dark--that's all. Vanity, not morals." + +"As far as I can ascertain," said Sir Wilfrid, meditatively, "only the +Duchess, Delafield, Montresor, and myself are in the secret." + +"Montresor!" cried Lady Henry, beside herself. "_Montresor!_ That's new +to me. Oh, she shall go at once--at once!" She breathed hard. + +"Wait a little. Have you had any talk with Jacob?" + +"I should think not! Evelyn, of course, brings him in perpetually--Jacob +this and Jacob that. He seems to have been living in her pocket, and the +three have been intriguing against me, morning, noon, and night. Where +Julie has found the time I can't imagine; I thought I had kept her +pretty well occupied." + +Sir Wilfrid surveyed his angry companion and held his peace. + +"So you don't know what Jacob thinks?" + +"Why should I want to know?" said Lady Henry, disdainfully. "A lad whom +I sent to Eton and Oxford, when his father couldn't pay his bills--what +does it matter to me what he thinks?" + +"Women are strange folk," thought Sir Wilfrid. "A man wouldn't have said +that." + +Then, aloud: + +"I thought you were afraid lest he should want to marry her?" + +"Oh, let him cut his throat if he likes!" said Lady Henry, with the +inconsistency of fury. "What does it matter to me?" + +"By-the-way, as to that"--he spoke as though feeling his way--"have you +never had suspicions in quite another direction?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, I hear a good deal in various quarters of the trouble +Mademoiselle Le Breton is taking--on behalf of that young soldier who +was here just now--Harry Warkworth." + +Lady Henry laughed impatiently. + +"I dare say. She is always wanting to patronize or influence somebody. +It's in her nature. She's a born _intrigante_. If you knew her as well +as I do, you wouldn't think much of that. Oh no--make your mind easy. +It's Jacob she wants--it's Jacob she'll get, very likely. What can an +old, blind creature like me do to stop it?" + +"And as Jacob's wife--the wife perhaps of the head of the family--you +still mean to quarrel with her?" + +"Yes, I _do_ mean to quarrel with her!" and Lady Henry lifted herself in +her chair, a pale and quivering image of war--"Duchess or no Duchess! +Did you see the audacious way in which she behaved this +afternoon?--_how_ she absorbs my guests?--how she allows and encourages +a man like Montresor to forget himself?--eggs him on to put slights on +me in my own drawing-room!" + +"No, no! You are really unjust," said Sir Wilfrid, laying a kind hand +upon her arm. "That was not her fault." + +"It _is_ her fault that she is what she is!--that her character is such +that she _forces_ comparisons between us--between _her_ and _me!_--that +she pushes herself into a prominence that is intolerable, considering +who and what she is--that she makes me appear in an odious light to my +old friends. No, no, Wilfrid, your first instinct was the true one. I +shall have to bring myself to it, whatever it costs. She must take her +departure, or I shall go to pieces, morally and physically. To be in a +temper like this, at my age, shortens one's life--you know that." + +"And you can't subdue the temper?" he asked, with a queer smile. + +"No, I can't! That's flat. She gets on my nerves, and I'm not +responsible. _C'est fini_." + +"Well," he said, slowly, "I hope you understand what it means?" + +"Oh, I know she has plenty of friends!" she said, defiantly. But her old +hands trembled on her knee. + +"Unfortunately they were and are yours. At least," he entreated, "don't +quarrel with everybody who may sympathize with her. Let them take what +view they please. Ignore it--be as magnanimous as you can." + +"On the contrary!" She was now white to the lips. "Whoever goes with her +gives me up. They must choose--once for all." + +"My dear friend, listen to reason." + +And, drawing his chair close to her, he argued with her for half an +hour. At the end of that time her gust of passion had more or less +passed away; she was, to some extent, ashamed of herself, and, as he +believed, not far from tears. + +"When I am gone she will think of what I have been saying," he assured +himself, and he rose to take his leave. Her look of exhaustion +distressed him, and, for all her unreason, he felt himself astonishingly +in sympathy with her. The age in him held out secret hands to the age in +her--as against encroaching and rebellious youth. + +Perhaps it was the consciousness of this mood in him which at last +partly appeased her. + +"Well, I'll try again. I'll _try_ to hold my tongue," she granted him, +sullenly. "But, understand, she, sha'n't go to that bazaar!" + +"That's a great pity," was his naive reply. "Nothing would put you in a +better position than to give her leave." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind," she vowed. "And now good-night, +Wilfrid--good-night. You're a very good fellow, and if I _can_ take your +advice, I will." + + * * * * * + +Lady Henry sat alone in her brightly lighted drawing-room for some time. +She could neither read nor write nor sew, owing to her blindness, and in +the reaction from her passion of the afternoon she felt herself very old +and weary. + +But at last the door opened and Julie Le Breton's light step approached. + +"May I read to you?" she said, gently. + +Lady Henry coldly commanded the _Observer_ and her knitting. + +She had no sooner, however, begun to knit than her very acute sense of +touch noticed something wrong with the wool she was using. + +"This is not the wool I ordered," she said, fingering it carefully. "You +remember, I gave you a message about it on Thursday? What did they say +about it at Winton's?" + +Julie laid down the newspaper and looked in perplexity at the ball of +wool. + +"I remember you gave me a message," she faltered. + +"Well, what did they say?" + +"I suppose that was all they had." + +Something in the tone struck Lady Henry's quick ears. She raised a +suspicious face. + +"Did you ever go to Winton's at all?" she said, quickly. + +[Illustration: "LADY HENRY GASPED. SHE FELL BACK INTO HER CHAIR"] + +"I am so sorry. The Duchess's maid was going there," said Julie, +hurriedly, "and she went for me. I thought I had given her your message +most carefully." + +"Hm," said Lady Henry, slowly. "So you didn't go to Winton's. May I ask +whether you went to Shaw's, or to Beatson's, or the Stores, or any of +the other places for which I gave you commissions?" Her voice cut like +a knife. + +Julie hesitated. She had grown very white. Suddenly her face settled and +steadied. + +"No," she said, calmly. "I meant to have done all your commissions. But +I was persuaded by Evelyn to spend a couple of hours with her, and her +maid undertook them." + +Lady Henry flushed deeply. + +"So, mademoiselle, unknown to me, you spent two hours of my time amusing +yourself at Crowborough House. May I ask what you were doing there?" + +"I was trying to help the Duchess in her plans for the bazaar." + +"Indeed? Was any one else there? Answer me, mademoiselle." + +Julie hesitated again, and again spoke with a kind of passionate +composure. + +"Yes. Mr. Delafield was there." + +"So I supposed. Allow me to assure you, mademoiselle"--Lady Henry rose +from her seat, leaning on her stick; surely no old face was ever more +formidable, more withering--"that whatever ambitions you may cherish, +Jacob Delafield is not altogether the simpleton you imagine. I know him +better than you. He will take some time before he really makes up his +mind to marry a woman of your disposition--and your history." + +Julie Le Breton also rose. + +"I am afraid, Lady Henry, that here, too, you are in the dark," she +said, quietly, though her thin arm shook against her dress. "I shall not +marry Mr. Delafield. But it is because--I have refused him twice." + +Lady Henry gasped. She fell back into her chair, staring at her +companion. + +"You have--refused him?" + +"A month ago, and last year. It is horrid of me to say a word. But you +forced me." + +Julie was now leaning, to support herself, on the back of an old French +chair. Feeling and excitement had blanched her no less than Lady Henry, +but her fine head and delicate form breathed a will so proud, a dignity +so passionate, that Lady Henry shrank before her. + +"Why did you refuse him?" + +Julie shrugged her shoulders. + +"That, I think, is my affair. But if--I had loved him--I should not have +consulted your scruples, Lady Henry." + +"That's frank," said Lady Henry. "I like that better than anything +you've said yet. You are aware that he _may_ inherit the dukedom of +Chudleigh?" + +"I have several times heard you say so," said the other, coldly. + +Lady Henry looked at her long and keenly. Various things that Wilfrid +Bury had said recurred to her. She thought of Captain Warkworth. +She wondered. + +Suddenly she held out her hand. + +"I dare say you won't take it, mademoiselle. I suppose I've been +insulting you. But--you have been playing tricks with me. In a good many +ways, we're quits. Still, I confess, I admire you a good deal. Anyway, I +offer you my hand. I apologize for my recent remarks. Shall we bury the +hatchet, and try and go on as before?" + +Julie Le Breton turned slowly and took the hand--without unction. + +"I make you angry," she said, and her voice trembled, "without knowing +how or why." + +Lady Henry gulped. + +"Oh, it mayn't answer," she said, as their hands dropped. "But we may as +well have one more trial. And, mademoiselle, I shall be delighted that +you should assist the Duchess with her _bazaar_." + +Julie shook her head. + +"I don't think I have any heart for it," she said, sadly; and then, as +Lady Henry sat silent, she approached. + +"You look very tired. Shall I send your maid?" + +That melancholy and beautiful voice laid a strange spell on Lady Henry. +Her companion appeared to her, for a moment, in a new light--as a +personage of drama or romance. But she shook off the spell. + +"At once, please. Another day like this would put an end to me." + + + +VII + +Julie le Breton was sitting alone in her own small sitting-room. It was +the morning of the Tuesday following her Sunday scene with Lady Henry, +and she was busy with various household affairs. A small hamper of +flowers, newly arrived from Lady Henry's Surrey garden, and not yet +unpacked, was standing open on the table, with various empty +flower-glasses beside it. Julie was, at the moment, occupied with the +"Stores order" for the month, and Lady Henry's cook-housekeeper had but +just left the room after delivering an urgent statement on the need for +"relining" a large number of Lady Henry's copper saucepans. + +The room was plain and threadbare. It had been the school-room of +various generations of Delafields in the past. But for an observant eye +it contained a good many objects which threw light upon its present +occupant's character and history. In a small bookcase beside the fire +were a number of volumes in French bindings. They represented either the +French classics--Racine, Bossuet, Chateaubriand, Lamartine--which had +formed the study of Julie's convent days, or those other books--George +Sand, Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, Mazzini, Leopardi, together with +the poets and novelists of revolutionary Russia or Polish nationalism or +Irish rebellion--which had been the favorite reading of both Lady Rose +and her lover. They were but a hundred in all; but for Julie Le Breton +they stood for the bridge by which, at will, memory and dreamful pity +might carry her back into that vanished life she had once shared with +her parents--those strange beings, so calm and yet so passionate in +their beliefs, so wilful and yet so patient in their deeds, by whose +acts her own experience was still wholly conditioned. In her little room +there were no portraits of them visible. But on a side-table stood a +small carved triptych. The oblong wings, which were open, contained +photographs of figures from one of the great Bruges Memlings. The centre +was covered by two wooden leaves delicately carved, and the leaves were +locked. The inquisitive housemaid who dusted the room had once tried to +open them.--in vain. + +On a stand near the fire lay two or three yellow volumes--some recent +French essays, a volume of memoirs, a tale of Bourget's, and so forth. +These were flanked by Sir Henry Maine's _Popular Government_, and a +recent brilliant study of English policy in Egypt--both of them with the +name "Richard J. Montresor" on the title-page. The last number of Dr. +Meredith's paper, _The New Rambler_, was there also; and, with the +paper-knife still in its leaves, the journal of the latest French +traveller in Mokembe, a small "H.W." inscribed in the top right-hand +corner of its gray cover. + +Julie finished her Stores order with a sigh of relief. Then she wrote +half a dozen business notes, and prepared a few checks for Lady Henry's +signature. When this was done the two dachshunds, who had been lying on +the rug spying out her every movement, began to jump upon her. + +But Julie laughed in their faces. "It's raining," she said, pointing to +the window--"_raining!_ So there! Either you won't go out at all, or +you'll go with John." + +John was the second footman, whom the dogs hated. They returned +crestfallen to the rug and to a hungry waiting on Providence. Julie took +up a letter on foreign paper which had reached her that morning, glanced +at the door, and began to reread its closely written sheets. It was from +an English diplomat on a visit to Egypt, a man on whom the eyes of +Europe were at that moment fixed. That he should write to a woman at +all, on the subjects of the letter, involved a compliment _hors ligne_; +that he should write with this ease, this abandonment, was indeed +remarkable. Julie flushed a little as she read. But when she came to the +end she put it aside with a look of worry. "I _wish_ he'd write to Lady +Henry," was her thought. "She hasn't had a line from him for weeks. I +shouldn't wonder if she suspects already. When any one talks of Egypt, I +daren't open my lips." + +For fear of betraying the very minute and first-hand information that +was possessed by Lady Henry's companion? With a smile and a shrug she +locked the letter away in one of the drawers of her writing-table, and +took up an envelope which had lain beneath it. From this--again with a +look round her--she half drew out a photograph. The grizzled head and +spectacled eyes of Dr. Meredith emerged. Julie's expression softened; +her eyebrows went up a little; then she slightly shook her head, like +one who protests that if something has gone wrong, it +isn't--isn't--their fault. Unwillingly she looked at the last words of +the letter: + + "So, remember, I can give you work if you want it, and paying + work. I would rather give you my life and my all. But these, + it seems, are commodities for which you have no use. So be + it. But if you refuse to let me serve you, when the time + comes, in such ways as I have suggested in this letter, then, + indeed, you would be unkind--I would almost dare to say + ungrateful! Yours always + + "F.M." + +This letter also she locked away. But her hand lingered on the last of +all. She had read it three times already, and knew it practically by +heart. So she left the sheets undisturbed in their envelope. But she +raised the whole to her lips, and pressed it there, while her eyes, as +they slowly filled with tears, travelled--unseeing--to the wintry street +beyond the window. Eyes and face wore the same expression as Wilfrid +Bury had surprised there--the dumb utterance of a woman hard pressed, +not so much by the world without as by some wild force within. + +In that still moment the postman's knock was heard in the street +outside. Julie Le Breton started, for no one whose life is dependent on +a daily letter can hear that common sound without a thrill. Then she +smiled sadly at herself. "_My_ joy is over for to-day!" And she turned +away with the letter in her hand. + +But she did not place it in the same drawer with the others. She moved +across to the little carved triptych, and, after listening a moment to +the sounds in the house, she opened its closed doors with a gold key +that hung on her watch-chain and had been hidden in the bosom of +her dress. + +The doors fell open. Inside, on a background of dark velvet, hung two +miniatures, lightly framed in gold and linked together by a graceful +scroll-work in gold. They were of fine French work, and they represented +a man and woman, both handsome, young, and of a remarkable distinction +of aspect. The faces, nevertheless, hardly gave pleasure. There was in +each of them a look at once absent and eager--the look of those who have +cared much and ardently for "man," and very little, comparatively, +for men. + +The miniatures had not been meant for the triptych, nor the triptych for +them. It had been adapted to them by loving hands; but there was room +for other things in the velvet-lined hollow, and a packet of letters was +already reposing there. Julie slipped the letter of the morning inside +the elastic band which held the packet; then she closed and locked the +doors, returning the key to its place in her dress. Both the lock and +hinges of this little hiding-place were well and strongly made, and when +the wings also were shut and locked one saw nothing but a massively +framed photograph of the Bruges belfry resting on a wooden support. + +She had hardly completed her little task when there was a sudden noise +of footsteps in the passage outside. + +"Julie!" said a light voice, subdued to a laughing whisper. "May I come +in?" + +The Duchess stood on the threshold, her small, shell-pink face emerging +from a masterly study in gray, presented by a most engaging costume. + +Julie, in surprise, advanced to meet her visitor, and the old butler, +who was Miss Le Breton's very good friend, quickly and discreetly shut +the door upon the two ladies. + +"Oh, my dear!" said the Duchess, throwing herself into Julie's arms. "I +came up so quietly! I told Hutton not to disturb Lady Henry, and I just +crept up-stairs, holding my skirts. Wasn't it heroic of me to put my +poor little head into the lion's den like this? But when I got your +letter this morning saying you couldn't come to me, I vowed I would just +see for myself how you were, and whether there was anything left of you. +Oh, you poor, pale thing!" + +And drawing Julie to a chair, the little Duchess sat down beside her, +holding her friend's hands and studying her face. + +"Tell me what's been happening--I believe you've been crying! Oh, the +old wretch!" + +"You're quite mistaken," said Julie, smiling. "Lady Henry says I may +help you with the bazaar." + +"No!" The Duchess threw up her hands in amazement. "How have you managed +that?" + +"By giving in. But, Evelyn, I'm not coming." + +"Oh, Julie!" The Duchess threw herself back in her chair and fixed a +pair of very blue and very reproachful eyes on Miss Le Breton. + +"No, I'm not coming. If I'm to stay here, even for a time, I mustn't +provoke her any more. She says I may come, but she doesn't mean it." + +"She couldn't mean anything civil or agreeable. How has she been +behaving--since Sunday?" + +Julie looked uncertain. + +"Oh, there is an armed truce. I was made to have a fire in my bedroom +last night. And Hutton took the dogs out yesterday." + +The Duchess laughed. + +"And there was quite a scene on Sunday? You don't tell me much about it +in your letter. But, Julie"--her voice dropped to a whisper--"was +anything said about Jacob?" + +Julie looked down. A bitterness crept into her face. + +"Yes. I can't forgive myself. I was provoked into telling the truth." + +"You did! Well? I suppose Aunt Flora thought it was all your fault that +he proposed, and an impertinence that you refused?" + +"She was complimentary at the time," said Julie, half smiling. "But +since--No, I don't feel that she is appeased." + +"Of course not. Affronted, more likely." + +There was a silence. The Duchess was looking at Julie, but her thoughts +were far away. And presently she broke out, with the _etourderie_ that +became her: + +"I wish I understood it myself, Julie. I know you like him." + +"Immensely. But--we should fight!" + +Miss Le Breton looked up with animation. + +"Oh, that's not a reason," said the Duchess, rather annoyed. + +"It's _the_ reason. I don't know--there is something of _iron_ in Mr. +Delafield;" and Julie emphasized the words with a shrug which was almost +a shiver. "And as I'm not in love with him, I'm afraid of him." + +"That's the best way of being in love," cried the Duchess. "And then, +Julie"--she paused, and at last added, naively, as she laid her little +hands on her friend's knee--"haven't you got _any_ ambitions?" + +"Plenty. Oh, I should like very well to play the duchess, with you to +instruct me," said Julie, caressing the hands. "But I must choose my +duke. And till the right one appears, I prefer my own wild ways." + +"Afraid of Jacob Delafield? How odd!" said the Duchess, with her chin on +her hands. + +"It may be odd to you," said Julie, with vivacity. "In reality, it's not +in the least odd. There's the same quality in him that there is in Lady +Henry--something that beats you down," she added, under her breath. +"There, that's enough about Mr. Delafield--quite enough." + +And, rising, Julie threw up her arms and clasped her hands above her +head. The gesture was all strength and will, like the stretching of a +sea-bird's wings. + +The Duchess looked at her with eyes that had begun to waver. + +"Julie, I heard such an odd piece of news last night." + +Julie turned. + +"You remember the questions you asked me about Aileen Moffatt?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Well, I saw a man last night who had just come home from Simla. He saw +a great deal of her, and he says that she and her mother were adored in +India. They were thought so quaint and sweet--unlike other people--and +the girl so lovely, in a sort of gossamer way. And who do you think was +always about with them--at Peshawar first, and then at Simla--so that +everybody talked? Captain Warkworth! My man believed there was an +understanding between them." + +Julie had begun to fill the flower-glasses with water and unpack the +flower-basket. Her back was towards the Duchess. After a moment she +replied, her hands full of forced narcissuses: + +"Well, that would be a _coup_ for him." + +"I should think so. She is supposed to have half a million in coal-mines +alone, besides land. Has Captain Warkworth ever said anything to you +about them?" + +"No. He has never mentioned them." + +The Duchess reflected, her eyes still on Julie's back. + +"Everybody wants money nowadays. And the soldiers are just as bad as +anybody else. They don't _look_ money, as the City men do--that's why we +women fall in love with them--but they _think_ it, all the same." + +Julie made no reply. The Duchess could see nothing of her. But the +little lady's face showed the flutter of one determined to venture yet a +little farther on thin ice. + +"Julie, I've done everything you've asked me. I sent a card for the 20th +to that _rather_ dreadful woman, Lady Froswick. I was very clever with +Freddie about that living; and I've talked to Mr. Montresor. But, Julie, +if you don't mind, I really should like to know why you're so keen +about it?" + +The Duchess's cheeks were by now one flush. She had a romantic affection +for Julie, and would not have offended her for the world. + +Julie turned round. She was always pale, and the Duchess saw nothing +unusual. + +"Am I so keen?" + +"Julie, you have done everything in the world for this man since he came +home." + +"Well, he interested me," said Julie, stepping back to look at the +effect of one of the vases. "The first evening he was here, he saved me +from Lady Henry--twice. He's alone in the world, too, which attracts +me. You see, I happen to know what it's like. An only son, and an +orphan, and no family interest to push him--" + +"So you thought you'd push him? Oh, Julie, you're a darling--but you're +rather a wire-puller, aren't you?" + +Julie smiled faintly. + +"Well, perhaps I like to feel, sometimes, that I have a little power. I +haven't much else." + +The Duchess seized one of her hands and pressed it to her cheek. + +"You have power, because every one loves and admires you. As for me, I +would cut myself in little bits to please you.... Well, I only hope, +when he's married his heiress, if he does marry her, they'll remember +what they owe to you." + +Did she feel the hand lying in her own shake? At any rate, it was +brusquely withdrawn, and Julie walked to the end of the table to fetch +some more flowers. + +"I don't want any gratitude," she said, abruptly, "from any one. Well, +now, Evelyn, you understand about the bazaar? I wish I could, but +I can't." + +"Yes, I understand. Julie!" The Duchess rose impulsively, and threw +herself into a chair beside the table where she could watch the face and +movements of Mademoiselle Le Breton. "Julie, I want so much to talk to +you--about _business_. You're not to be offended. Julie, _if_ you leave +Lady Henry, how will you manage?" + +"How shall I live, you mean?" said Julie, smiling at the euphemism in +which this little person, for whom existence had rained gold +and flowers since her cradle, had enwrapped the hard facts of +bread-and-butter--facts with which she was so little acquainted that +she approached them with a certain delicate mystery. + +"You must have some money, you know, Julie," said the Duchess, timidly, +her upraised face and Paris hat well matched by the gay poinsettias, the +delicate eucharis and arums with which the table was now covered. + +"I shall earn some," said Julie, quietly. + +"Oh, but, Julie, you can't be bothered with any other tiresome old +lady!" + +"No. I should keep my freedom. But Dr. Meredith has offered me work, and +got me a promise of more." + +The Duchess opened her eyes. + +"Writing! Well, of course, we all know you can do anything you want to +do. And you won't let anybody help you at all?" + +"I won't let anybody give me money, if that's what you mean," said +Julie, smiling. But it was a smile without accent, without gayety. + +The Duchess, watching her, said to herself, "Since I came in she is +changed--quite changed." + +"Julie, you're horribly proud!" + +Julie's face contracted a little. + +"How much 'power' should I have left, do you think--how much +self-respect--if I took money from my friends?" + +"Well, not money, perhaps. But, Julie, you know all about Freddie's +London property. It's abominable how much he has. There are always a few +houses he keeps in his own hands. If Lady Henry _does_ quarrel with you, +and we could lend you a little house--for a time--_wouldn't_ you take +it, Julie?" + +Her voice had the coaxing inflections of a child. Julie hesitated. + +"Only if the Duke himself offered it," she said, finally, with a brusque +stiffening of her whole attitude. + +The Duchess flushed and stood up. + +"Oh, well, that's all right," she said, but no longer in the same voice. +"Remember, I have your promise. Good-bye, Julie, you darling!... Oh, +by-the-way, what an idiot I am! Here am I forgetting the chief thing I +came about. Will you come with me to Lady Hubert to-night? Do! Freddie's +away, and I hate going by myself." + +"To Lady Hubert's?" said Julie, starting a little. "I wonder what Lady +Henry would say?" + +"Tell her Jacob won't be there," said the Duchess, laughing. "Then she +won't make any difficulties." + +"Shall I go and ask her?" + +"Gracious! let me get out of the house first. Give her a message from me +that I will come and see her to-morrow morning. We've got to make it up, +Freddie says; so the sooner it's over, the better. Say all the civil +things you can to her about to-night, and wire me this afternoon. If +all's well, I come for you at eleven." + +The Duchess rustled away. Julie was left standing by the table, alone. +Her face was very still, but her eyes shone, her teeth pressed her lip. +Unconsciously her hand closed upon a delicate blossom of eucharis and +crushed it. + +"I'll go," she said, to herself. "Yes, I'll go." + +Her letter of the morning, as it happened, had included the following +sentences: + +"I think to-night I must put in an appearance at the Hubert Delafields', +though I own that neither the house nor the son of the house is very +much to my liking. But I hear that he has gone back to the country. And +there are a few people who frequent Lady Hubert, who might just now +be of use." + +Lady Henry gave her consent that Mademoiselle Le Breton should accompany +the Duchess to Lady Hubert's party almost with effusion. "It will be +very dull," she said. "My sister-in-law makes a desert and calls it +society. But if you want to go, go. As to Evelyn Crowborough, I am +engaged to my dentist to-morrow morning." + +When at night this message was reported to the Duchess, as she and Julie +were on their way to Rutland Gate, she laughed. + +"How much leek shall I have to swallow? What's to-morrow? Wednesday. +Hm--cards in the afternoon; in the evening I appear, sit on a stool at +Lady Henry's feet, and look at you through my glasses as though I had +never seen you before. On Thursday I leave a French book; on Friday I +send the baby to see her. Goodness, what a time it takes!" said the +Duchess, raising her very white and very small shoulders. "Well, for my +life, I mustn't fail to-morrow night." + +At Lady Hubert's they found a very tolerable, not to say lively, +gathering, which quite belied Lady Henry's slanders. There was not the +same conscious brilliance, the same thrill in the air, as pertained to +the gatherings in Bruton Street. But there was a more solid social +comfort, such as befits people untroubled by the certainty that the +world is looking on. The guests of Bruton Street laughed, as well-bred +people should, at the estimation in which Lady Henry's salon was held, +by those especially who did not belong to it. Still, the mere knowledge +of this outside estimate kept up a certain tension. At Lady Hubert's +there was no tension, and the agreeable nobodies who found their way in +were not made to blush for the agreeable nothings of their conversation. + +Lady Hubert herself made for ease--partly, no doubt, for stupidity. She +was fair, sleepy, and substantial. Her husband had spent her fortune, +and ruffled all the temper she had. The Hubert Delafields were now, +however, better off than they had been--investments had recovered--and +Lady Hubert's temper was once more placid, as Providence had meant it to +be. During the coming season it was her firm intention to marry her +daughter, who now stood beside her as she received her guests--a blonde, +sweet-featured girl, given, however, so it was said, to good works, and +not at all inclined to trouble herself overmuch about a husband. + +The rooms were fairly full; and the entry of the Duchess and +Mademoiselle Le Breton was one of the incidents of the evening, and +visibly quickened the pulses of the assembly. The little Dresden-china +Duchess, with her clothes, her jewels, and her smiles, had been, since +her marriage, one of the chief favorites of fashion. She had been +brought up in the depths of the country, and married at eighteen. After +six years she was not in the least tired of her popularity or its +penalties. All the life in her dainty person, her glancing eyes, and +small, smiling lips rose, as it were, to meet the stir that she evoked. +She vaguely saw herself as Titania, and played the part with childish +glee. And like Titania, as she had more than once ruefully reflected, +she was liable to be chidden by her lord. + +But the Duke was on this particular evening debating high subjects in +the House of Lords, and the Duchess was amusing herself. Sir Wilfrid +Bury, who arrived not long after his goddaughter, found her the centre +first of a body-guard of cousins, including among them apparently a +great many handsome young men, and then of a small crowd, whose vaguely +smiling faces reflected the pleasure that was to be got, even at a +distance, out of her young and merry beauty. + +Julie Le Breton was not with her. But in the next room Sir Wilfrid soon +perceived the form and face which, in their own way, exacted quite as +much attention from the world as those of the Duchess. She was talking +with many people, and, as usual, he could not help watching her. Never +yet had he seen her wide, black eyes more vivid than they were to-night. +Now, as on his first sight of her, he could not bring himself to call +them beautiful. Yet beautiful they were, by every canon of form and +color. No doubt it was something in their expression that offended his +own well-drilled instincts. + +He found himself thinking suspicious thoughts about most of the +conversations in which he saw her engaged. Why was she bestowing those +careful smiles on that intolerable woman, Lady Froswick? And what an +acquaintance she seemed to have among these elderly soldiers, who might +at all times be reckoned on at Lady Hubert's parties! One gray-haired +veteran after another recalled himself to her attention, got his few +minutes with her, and passed on smiling. Certain high officials, too, +were no less friendly. Her court, it seemed to him, was mainly composed +of the middle-aged; to-night, at any rate, she left the young to the +Duchess. And it was on the whole a court of men. The women, as he now +perceived, were a trifle more reserved. There was not, indeed, a trace +of exclusion. They were glad to see her; glad, he thought, to be noticed +by her. But they did not yield themselves--or so he fancied--with the +same wholeness as their husbands. + +"How old is she?" he asked himself. "About nine-and-twenty?... Jacob's +age--or a trifle older." + +After a time he lost sight of her, and in the amusement of his own +evening forgot her. But as the rooms were beginning to thin he walked +through them, looking for a famous collection of miniatures that +belonged to Lady Hubert. English family history was one of his hobbies, +and he was far better acquainted with the Delafield statesmen, and the +Delafield beauties of the past, than were any of their modern +descendants. Lady Hubert's Cosways and Plimers had made a lively +impression upon him in days gone by, and he meant to renew acquaintance +with them. + +But they had been moved from the room in which he remembered them, and +he was led on through a series of drawing-rooms, now nearly empty, till +on the threshold of the last he paused suddenly. + +A lady and gentleman rose from a sofa on which they had been sitting. +Captain Warkworth stood still. Mademoiselle Le Breton advanced to the +new-comer. + +"Is it very late?" she said, gathering up her fan and gloves. "We have +been looking at Lady Hubert's miniatures. That lady with the muff"--she +pointed to the case which occupied a conspicuous position in the +room--"is really wonderful. Can you tell me, Sir Wilfrid, where the +Duchess is?" + +"No, but I can help you find her," said that gentleman, forgetting the +miniatures and endeavoring to look at neither of his companions. + +"And I must rush," said Captain Warkworth, looking at his watch. "I told +a man to come to my rooms at twelve. Heavens!" + +He shook hands with Miss Le Breton and hurried away. + +Sir Wilfrid and Julie moved on together. That he had disturbed a most +intimate and critical conversation was somehow borne in upon Sir +Wilfrid. But kind and even romantic as was the old man's inmost nature, +his feelings were not friendly. + +"How does the biography get on?" he asked his companion, with a smile. + +A bright flush appeared in Mademoiselle Le Breton's cheek. + +"I think Lady Henry has dropped it." + +"Ah, well, I don't imagine she will regret it;" he said, dryly. + +She made no reply. He mentally accused himself for a brute, and then +shook off the charge. Surely a few pin-pricks were her desert! That she +should defend her own secrets was, as Delafield had said, legitimate +enough. But when a man offers you his services, you should not befool +him beyond a certain point. + +She must be aware of what he was thinking. He glanced at her curiously; +at the stately dress gleaming with jet, which no longer affected +anything of the girl; at the fine but old-fashioned necklace of pearls +and diamonds--no doubt her mother's--which clasped her singularly +slender throat. At any rate, she showed nothing. She began to talk again +of the Delafield miniatures, using her fan the while with graceful +deliberation; and presently they found the Duchess. + +"Is she an adventuress, or is she not?" thought Bury, as his hansom +carried him away from Rutland Gate. "If she marries Jacob, it will be a +queer business." + + + +VIII + +Meanwhile the Duchess had dropped Julie Le Breton at Lady Henry's door. +Julie groped her way up-stairs through the sleeping house. She found her +room in darkness, and she turned on no light. There was still a last +glimmer of fire, and she sank down by it, her long arms clasped round +her knees, her head thrown back as though she listened still to words +in her ears. + +"Oh, such a child! Such a dear, simple-minded child! Report engaged her +to at least ten different people at Simla. She had a crowd of cavaliers +there--I was one of them. The whole place adored her. She is a very rare +little creature, but well looked after, I can tell you--a long array of +guardians in the background." + +How was it possible not to trust that aspect and that smile? Her mind +travelled back to the autumn days when she had seen them first; reviewed +the steps, so little noticed at first, so rapid lately and full of fate, +by which she had come into this bondage wherein she stood. She saw the +first appearance of the young soldier in Lady Henry's drawing-room; her +first conversation with him; and all the subtle development of that +singular relation between them, into which so many elements had entered. +The flattering sense of social power implied both in the homage of this +young and successful man, and in the very services that she, on her +side, was able to render him; impulsive gratitude for that homage, at a +time when her very soul was smarting under Lady Henry's contemptuous +hostility; and then the sweet advances of a "friendship" that was to +unite them in a bond, secret and unique, a bond that took no account of +the commonplaces of love and marriage, the link of equal and kindred +souls in a common struggle with hard and sordid circumstance. + +"I have neither family nor powerful friends," he had written to her a +few weeks after their first meeting; "all that I have won, I have won +for myself. Nobody ever made 'interest' for me but you. You, too, are +alone in the world. You, too, have to struggle for yourself. Let us +unite our forces--cheer each other, care for each other--and keep our +friendship a sacred secret from the world that would misunderstand it. I +will not fail you, I will give you all my confidence; and I will try and +understand that noble, wounded heart of yours, with its memories, and +all those singular prides and isolations that have been imposed on it by +circumstance. I will not say, let me be your brother; there is something +_banal_ in that; 'friend' is good enough for us both; and there is +between us a community of intellectual and spiritual interest which will +enable us to add new meaning even to that sacred word. I will write to +you every day; you shall know all that happens to me; and whatever +grateful devotion can do to make your life smoother shall be done." + +Five months ago was it, that that letter was written? + +Its remembered phrases already rang bitterly in an aching heart. Since +it reached her, she had put out all her powers as a woman, all her +influence as an intelligence, in the service of the writer. + +And now, here she sat in the dark, tortured by a passion of which she +was ashamed, before which she was beginning to stand helpless in a kind +of terror. The situation was developing, and she found herself wondering +how much longer she would be able to control herself or it. Very +miserably conscious, too, was she all the time that she was now playing +for a reward that was secretly, tacitly, humiliatingly denied her. How +could a poor man, with Harry Warkworth's ambitions, think for a moment +of marriage with a woman in her ambiguous and dependent position? Her +common-sense told her that the very notion was absurd. And yet, since +the Duchess's gossip had given point and body to a hundred vague +suspicions, she was no longer able to calm, to master herself. + +Suddenly a thought of another kind occurred to her. It added to her +smart that Sir Wilfrid, in their meeting at Lady Hubert's, had spoken to +her and looked at her with that slight touch of laughing contempt. There +had been no insincerity in that emotion with which she had first +appealed to him as her mother's friend; she did truly value the old +man's good opinion. And yet she had told him lies. + +"I can't help it," she said to herself, with a little shiver. The story +about the biography had been the invention of a moment. It had made +things easy, and it had a small foundation in the fact that Lady Henry +had talked vaguely of using the letters lent her by Captain Warkworth +for the elucidation--perhaps in a _Nineteenth Century_ article--of +certain passages in her husband's Indian career. + +Jacob Delafield, too. There also it was no less clear to her than to Sir +Wilfrid that she had "overdone it." It was true, then, what Lady Henry +said of her--that she had an overmastering tendency to intrigue--to a +perpetual tampering with the plain fact? + +"Well, it is the way in which such people as I defend themselves," she +said, obstinately, repeating to herself what she had said to Sir +Wilfrid Bury. + +And then she set against it, proudly, that disinterestedness of which, +as she vowed to herself, no one but she knew the facts. It was true, +what she had said to the Duchess and to Sir Wilfrid. Plenty of people +would give her money, would make her life comfortable, without the need +for any daily slavery. She would not take it. Jacob Delafield would +marry her, if she lifted her finger; and she would not lift it. Dr. +Meredith would marry her, and she had said him nay. She hugged the +thought of her own unknown and unapplauded integrity. It comforted her +pride. It drew a veil over that wounding laughter which had gleamed for +a moment through those long lashes of Sir Wilfrid Bury. + +Last of all, as she sank into her restless sleep, came the remembrance +that she was still under Lady Henry's roof. In the silence of the night +the difficulties of her situation pressed upon and tormented her. What +was she to do? Whom was she to trust? + + * * * * * + +"Dixon, how is Lady Henry?" + +"Much too ill to come down-stairs, miss. She's very much put out; in +fact, miss (the maid lowered her voice), you hardly dare go near her. +But she says herself it would be absurd to attempt it." + +"Has Hatton had any orders?" + +"Yes, miss. I've just told him what her ladyship wishes. He's to tell +everybody that Lady Henry's very sorry, and hoped up to the last moment +to be able to come down as usual." + +"Has Lady Henry all she wants, Dixon? Have you taken her the evening +papers?" + +"Oh yes, miss. But if you go in to her much her ladyship says you're +disturbing her; and if you don't go, why, of course, everybody's +neglecting her." + +"Do you think I may go and say good-night to her, Dixon?" + +The maid hesitated. + +"I'll ask her, miss--I'll certainly ask her." + +The door closed, and Julie was left alone in the great drawing-room of +the Bruton Street house. It had been prepared as usual for the +Wednesday--evening party. The flowers were fresh; the chairs had been +arranged as Lady Henry liked to have them; the parquet floors shone +under the electric light; the Gainsboroughs seemed to look down from the +walls with a gay and friendly expectancy. + +For herself, Julie had just finished her solitary dinner, still buoyed +up while she was eating it by the hope that Lady Henry would be able to +come down. The bitter winds of the two previous days, however, had much +aggravated her chronic rheumatism. She was certainly ill and suffering; +but Julie had known her make such heroic efforts before this to keep her +Wednesdays going that not till Dixon appeared with her verdict did she +give up hope. + +So everybody would be turned away. Julie paced the drawing-room a +solitary figure amid its lights and flowers--solitary and dejected. In a +couple of hours' time all her particular friends would come to the door, +and it would be shut against them. "Of course, expect me to-night," had +been the concluding words of her letter of the morning. Several people +also had announced themselves for this evening whom it was extremely +desirable she should see. A certain eminent colonel, professor at the +Staff College, was being freely named in the papers for the Mokembe +mission. Never was it more necessary for her to keep all the threads of +her influence in good working order. And these Wednesday evenings +offered her the occasions when she was most successful, most at her +ease--especially whenever Lady Henry was not well enough to leave the +comparatively limited sphere of the back drawing-room. + +Moreover, the gatherings themselves ministered to a veritable craving in +Julie Le Breton--the craving for society and conversation. She shared it +with Lady Henry, but in her it was even more deeply rooted. Lady Henry +had ten talents in the Scriptural sense--money, rank, all sorts of +inherited bonds and associations. Julie Le Breton had but this one. +Society was with her both an instinct and an art. With the subtlest and +most intelligent ambition she had trained and improved her natural gift +for it during the last few years. And now, to the excitement of society +was added the excitement of a new and tyrannous feeling, for which +society was henceforth a mere weapon to be used. + +She fumed and fretted for a while in silence. Every now and then she +would pause in front of one of the great mirrors of the room, and look +at the reflection of her tall thinness and the trailing satin of +her gown. + +"The girl--so pretty, in a gossamer sort of way," The words echoed in +her mind, and vaguely, beside her own image in the glass, there rose a +vision of girlhood--pale, gold hair, pink cheeks, white frock--and she +turned away, miserable, from that conscious, that intellectual +distinction with which, in general, she could persuade herself to be +very fairly satisfied. + +Hutton, the butler, came in to look at the fire. + +"Will you be sitting here to-night, miss?" + +"Oh no, Hutton. I shall go back to the library. I think the fire in my +own room is out." + +"I had better put out these lights, anyway," said the man, looking round +the brilliant room. + +"Oh, certainly," said Julie, and she began to assist him to do so. + +Suddenly a thought occurred to her. + +"Hutton!" She went up to him and spoke in a lower tone. "If the Duchess +of Crowborough comes to-night, I should very much like to see her, and I +know she wants to see me. Do you think it could possibly disturb Lady +Henry if you were to show her into the library for twenty minutes?" + +The man considered. + +"I don't think there could be anything heard up-stairs, miss. I should, +of course, warn her grace that her ladyship was ill." + +"Well, then, Hutton, please ask her to come in," said Miss Le Breton, +hurriedly. "And, Hutton, Dr. Meredith and Mr. Montresor, you know how +disappointed they'll be not to find Lady Henry at home?" + +"Yes, miss. They'll want to know how her ladyship is, no doubt. I'll +tell them you're in the library. And Captain Warkworth, miss?--he's +never missed a Wednesday evening for weeks." + +"Oh, well, if he comes--you must judge for yourself, Hutton," said Miss +Le Breton, occupying herself with the electric switches. "I should like +to tell them all--the old friends--how Lady Henry is." + +The butler's face was respectful discretion itself. + +"Of course, miss. And shall I bring tea and coffee?" + +"Oh no," said Miss Le Breton, hastily; and then, after reflection, +"Well, have it ready; but I don't suppose anybody will ask for it. Is +there a good fire in the library?" + +"Oh yes, miss. I thought you would be coming down there again. Shall I +take some of these flowers down? The room looks rather bare, if +anybody's coming in." + +Julie colored a little. + +"Well, you might--not many. And, Hutton, you're sure we can't disturb +Lady Henry?" + +Hutton's expression was not wholly confident. + +"Her ladyship's very quick of hearing, miss. But I'll shut those doors +at the foot of the back stairs, and I'll ask every one to come +in quietly." + +"Thank you, Hutton--thank you. That'll be very good of you. And, +Hutton--" + +"Yes, miss." The man paused with a large vase of white arums in his +hand. + +"You'll say a word to Dixon, won't you? If anybody comes in, there'll be +no need to trouble Lady Henry about it. I can tell her to-morrow." + +"Very good, miss. Dixon will be down to her supper presently." + +The butler departed. Julie was left alone in the now darkened room, +lighted only by one lamp and the bright glow of the fire. She caught her +breath--suddenly struck with the audacity of what she had been doing. +Eight or ten of these people certainly would come in--eight or ten of +Lady Henry's "intimates." If Lady Henry discovered it--after this +precarious truce between them had just been patched up! + +Julie made a step towards the door as though to recall the butler, then +stopped herself. The thought that in an hour's time Harry Warkworth +might be within a few yards of her, and she not permitted to see him, +worked intolerably in heart and brain, dulling the shrewd intelligence +by which she was ordinarily governed. She was conscious, indeed, of some +profound inner change. Life had been difficult enough before the Duchess +had said those few words to her. But since! + +Suppose he had deceived her at Lady Hubert's party! Through all her +mounting passion her acute sense of character did not fail her. She +secretly knew that it was quite possible he had deceived her. But the +knowledge merely added to the sense of danger which, in this case, was +one of the elements of passion itself. + +"He must have money--of course he must have money," she was saying, +feverishly, to herself. "But I'll find ways. Why should he marry +yet--for years? It would be only hampering him." + +Again she paused before the mirrored wall; and again imagination evoked +upon the glass the same white and threatening image--her own near +kinswoman--the child of her mother's sister! How strange! Where was the +little gossamer creature now--in what safe haven of money and family +affection, and all the spoiling that money brings? From the climbing +paths of her own difficult and personal struggle Julie Le Breton looked +down with sore contempt on such a degenerate ease of circumstance. She +had heard it said that the mother and daughter were lingering abroad for +a time on their way home from India. Yet was the girl all the while +pining for England, thinking not of her garden, her horse, her pets, but +only of this slim young soldier who in a few minutes, perhaps, would +knock at Lady Henry's door, in quest of Aileen Moffatt's unknown, +unguessed-of cousin? These thoughts sent wild combative thrills through +Julie's pulses. She turned to one of the old French clocks. How much +longer now--till he came? + +"Her ladyship would like to see you, miss." + +The voice was Dixon's, and Julie turned hurriedly, recalling all her +self-possession. She climbed some steep stairs, still unmodernized, to +Lady Henry's floor. That lady slept at the back of the house, so as to +be out of noise. Her room was an old-fashioned apartment, furnished +about the year Queen Victoria came to the throne, with furniture, +chintzes, and carpet of the most approved early Victorian pattern. What +had been ugly then was dingy now; and its strong mistress, who had known +so well how to assimilate and guard the fine decorations and noble +pictures of the drawing-rooms, would not have a thing in it touched. "It +suits me," she would say, impatiently, when her stout sister-in-law +pleaded placidly for white paint and bright colors. "If it's ugly, so +am I." + +Fierce, certainly, and forbidding she was on this February evening. She +lay high on her pillow, tormented by her chronic bronchitis and by +rheumatic pain, her brows drawn together, her vigorous hands clasped +before her in an evident tension, as though she only restrained herself +with difficulty from defying maid, doctor, and her own sense +of prudence. + +"Well, you have dressed?" she said, sharply, as Julie Le Breton entered +her room. + +"I did not get your message till I had finished dinner. And I dressed +before dinner." + +Lady Henry looked her up and down, like a cat ready to pounce. + +"You didn't bring me those letters to sign?" + +"No, I thought you were not fit for it." + +"I said they were to go to-night. Kindly bring them at once." + +Julie brought them. With groans and flinchings that she could not +repress, Lady Henry read and signed them. Then she demanded to be read +to. Julie sat down, trembling. How fast the hands of Lady Henry's clock +were moving on! + +Mercifully, Lady Henry was already somewhat sleepy, partly from +weakness, partly from a dose of bromide. + +"I hear nothing," she said, putting out an impatient hand. "You should +raise your voice. I didn't mean you to shout, of course. Thank +you--that'll do. Good-night. Tell Hutton to keep the house as quiet as +he can. People must knock and ring, I suppose; but if all the doors are +properly shut it oughtn't to bother me. Are you going to bed?" + +"I shall sit up a little to write some letters. But--I sha'n't be +late." + +"Why should you be late?" said Lady Henry, tartly, as she turned away. + + * * * * * + +Julie made her way down-stairs with a beating heart. All the doors were +carefully shut behind her. When she reached the hall it was already +half-past ten o'clock. She hurried to the library, the large panelled +room behind the dining-room. How bright Hutton had made it look! Up shot +her spirits. With a gay and dancing step she went from chair to chair, +arranging everything instinctively as she was accustomed to do in the +drawing-room. She made the flowers less stiff; she put on another light; +she drew one table forward and pushed its fellow back against the wall. +What a charming old room, after all! What a pity Lady Henry so seldom +used it! It was panelled in dark oak, while the drawing-room was white. +But the pictures, of which there were two or three, looked even better +here than up-stairs. That beautiful Lawrence--a "red boy" in gleaming +satin--that pair of Hoppners, fine studies in blue, why, who had ever +seen them before? And another light or two would show them still better. + +A loud knock and ring. Julie held her breath. Ah! A distant voice in the +hall. She moved to the fire, and stood quietly reading an evening paper. + +"Captain Warkworth would be glad if you would see him for a few minutes, +miss. He would like to ask you himself about her ladyship." + +"Please ask him to come in, Hutton." + +Hutton effaced himself, and the young man entered, Then Julie raised her +voice. + +"Remember, please, Hutton, that I _particularly_ want to see the +Duchess." + +Hutton bowed and retired. Warkworth came forward. + +"What luck to find you like this!" + +He threw her one look--Julie knew it to be a look of scrutiny--and then, +as she held out her hand, he stooped and kissed it. + +"He wants to know that my suspicions are gone," she thought. "At any +rate, he should believe it." + +"The great thing," she said, with her finger to her lip, "is that Lady +Henry should hear nothing." + +She motioned her somewhat puzzled guest to a seat on one side of the +fire, and, herself, fell into another opposite. A wild vivacity was in +her face and manner. + +"Isn't this amusing? Isn't the room charming? I think I should receive +very well"--she looked round her--"in my own house." + +"You would receive well in a garret--a stable," he said. "But what is +the meaning of this? Explain." + +"Lady Henry is ill and is gone to bed. That made her very cross--poor +Lady Henry! She thinks I, too, am in bed. But you see--you forced your +way in--didn't you?--to inquire with greater minuteness after Lady +Henry's health." + +She bent towards him, her eyes dancing. + +"Of course I did. Will there presently be a swarm on my heels, all +possessed with a similar eagerness, or--?" + +He drew his chair, smiling, a little closer to her. She, on the +contrary, withdrew hers. + +"There will, no doubt, be six or seven," she said, demurely, "who will +want personal news. But now, before they come"--her tone changed--"is +there anything to tell me?" + +"Plenty," he said, drawing a letter out of his pocket. "Your writ, my +dear lady, runs as easily in the City as elsewhere." And he held up +an envelope. + +She flushed. + +"You have got your allotment? But I knew you would. Lady Froswick +promised." + +"And a large allotment, too," he said, joyously. "I am the envy of all +my friends. Some of them have got a few shares, and have already sold +them--grumbling. I keep mine three days more on the best advice--the +price may go higher yet. But, anyway, there"--he shook the +envelope--"there it is--deliverance from debt--peace of mind for the +first time since I was a lad at school--the power of going, properly +fitted out and equipped, to Africa--_if_ I go--and not like a +beggar--all in that bit of paper, and all the work of--some one you and +I know. Fairy godmother! tell me, please, how to say a proper +thank you." + +The young soldier dropped his voice. Those blue eyes which had done him +excellent service in many different parts of the globe were fixed with +brilliance on his companion; the lines of a full-lipped mouth quivered +with what seemed a boyish pleasure. The comfort of money relief was +never acknowledged more frankly or more handsomely. + +Julie hurriedly repressed him. Did she feel instinctively that there are +thanks which it sometimes humiliates a man to remember, lavishly as he +may have poured them out at the moment--thanks which may easily count in +the long run, not for, but against, the donor? She rather haughtily +asked what she had done but say a chance word to Lady Froswick? The +shares had to be allotted to somebody. She was glad, of course, very +glad, if he were relieved from anxiety.... + +So did she free herself and him from a burdensome gratitude; and they +passed to discussing the latest chances of the Mokembe appointment. The +Staff-College Colonel was no doubt formidable; the Commander-in-Chief, +who had hitherto allowed himself to be much talked to on the subject of +young Warkworth's claims by several men in high place--General M'Gill +among them--well known in Lady Henry's drawing-room, was perhaps +inclining to the new suggestion, which was strongly supported by +important people in Egypt; he had one or two recent appointments on his +conscience not quite of the highest order, and the Staff-College man, in +addition to a fine military record, was virtue, poverty, and industry +embodied; was nobody's cousin, and would, altogether, produce a +good effect. + +Could anything more be done, and fresh threads set in motion? + +They bandied names a little, Julie quite as subtly and minutely informed +as the man with regard to all the sources of patronage. New devices, +fresh modes of approach revealed themselves to the woman's quick brain. +Yet she did not chatter about them; still less parade her own resources. +Only, in talking with her, dead walls seemed to give way; vistas of hope +and possibility opened in the very heart of discouragement. She found +the right word, the right jest, the right spur to invention or effort; +while all the time she was caressing and appeasing her companion's +self-love--placing it like a hot-house plant in an atmosphere of +expansion and content--with that art of hers, which, for the ambitious +and irritable man, more conscious of the kicks than of the kisses of +fortune, made conversation with her an active and delightful pleasure. + +"I don't know how it is," Warkworth presently declared; "but after I +have been talking to you for ten minutes the whole world seems changed. +The sky was ink, and you have turned it rosy. But suppose it is all +mirage, and you the enchanter?" + +He smiled at her--consciously, superabundantly. It was not easy to keep +quite cool with Julie Le Breton; the self-satisfaction she could excite +in the man she wished to please recoiled upon the woman offering the +incense. The flattered one was apt to be foolishly responsive. + +"That is my risk," she said, with a little shrug. "If I make you +confident, and nothing comes of it--" + +"I hope I shall know how to behave myself," cried Warkworth. "You see, +you hardly understand--forgive me!--your own personal effect. When +people are face to face with you, they want to please you, to say what +will please you, and then they go away, and--" + +"Resolve not to be made fools of?" she said, smiling. "But isn't that +the whole art--when you're guessing what will happen--to be able to +strike the balance of half a dozen different attractions?" + +"Montresor as the ocean," said Warkworth, musing, "with half a dozen +different forces tugging at him? Well, dear lady, be the moon to these +tides, while this humble mortal looks on--and hopes." + +He bent forward, and across the glowing fire their eyes met. She looked +so cool, so handsome, so little yielding at that moment, that, in +addition to gratitude and nattered vanity, Warkworth was suddenly +conscious of a new stir in the blood. It begat, however, instant recoil. +Wariness!--let that be the word, both for her sake and his own. What had +he to reproach himself with so far? Nothing. He had never offered +himself as the lover, as the possible husband. They were both _esprits +faits_--they understood each other. As for little Aileen, well, whatever +had happened, or might happen, that was not his secret to give away. And +a woman in Julie Le Breton's position, and with her intelligence, knows +very well what the difficulties of her case are. Poor Julie! If she had +been Lady Henry, what a career she would have made for herself! He was +very curious as to her birth and antecedents, of which he knew little or +nothing; with him she had always avoided the subject. She was the child, +he understood, of English parents who had lived abroad; Lady Henry had +come across her by chance. But there must be something in her past to +account for this distinction, this ease with which she held her own in +what passes as the best of English society. + +Julie soon found herself unwilling to meet the gaze fixed upon her. She +flushed a little and began to talk of other things. + +"Everybody, surely, is unusually late. It will be annoying, indeed, if +the Duchess doesn't come." + +"The Duchess is a delicious creature, but not for me," said Warkworth, +with a laugh. "She dislikes me. Ah, now then for the fray!" + +For the outer bell rang loudly, and there were steps in the hall. + +"Oh, Julie"--in swept a white whirlwind with the smallest white satin +shoes twinkling in front of it--"how clever of you--you naughty angel! +Aunt Flora in bed--and you down here! And I who came prepared for such a +dose of humble-pie! What a relief! Oh, how do you do?" + +The last words were spoken in quite another tone, as the Duchess, for +the first time perceiving the young officer on the more shaded side of +the fireplace, extended to him a very high wrist and a very stiff hand. +Then she turned again to Julie. + +"My dear, there's a small mob in the hall. Mr. Montresor--and General +Somebody--and Jacob--and Dr. Meredith with a Frenchman. Oh, and old Lord +Lackington, and Heaven knows who! Hutton told me I might come in, so I +promised to come first and reconnoitre. But what's Hutton to do? You +really must take a line. The carriages are driving up at a fine rate." + +"I'll go and speak to Hutton," said Julie. + +And she hurried into the hall. + + + +IX + +When Miss Le Breton reached the hall, a footman was at the outer door +reciting Lady Henry's excuses as each fresh carriage drove up; while in +the inner vestibule, which was well screened from the view of the +street, was a group of men, still in their hats and over-coats, talking +and laughing in subdued voices. + +Julie Le Breton came forward. The hats were removed, and the tall, +stooping form of Montresor advanced. + +"Lady Henry is _so_ sorry," said Julie, in a soft, lowered voice. "But I +am sure she would like me to give you her message and to tell you how +she is. She would not like her old friends to be alarmed. Would you come +in for a moment? There is a fire in the library. Mr. Delafield, don't +you think that would be best?... Will you tell Hutton not to let in +_anybody_ else?" + +She looked at him uncertainly, as though appealing to him, as a relation +of Lady Henry's, to take the lead. + +"By all means," said that young man, after perhaps a moment's +hesitation, and throwing off his coat. + +"Only _please_ make no noise!" said Miss Le Breton, turning to the +group. "Lady Henry might be disturbed." + +Every one came in, as it were, on tiptoe. In each face a sense of the +humor of the situation fought with the consciousness of its dangers. As +soon as Montresor saw the little Duchess by the fire, he threw up his +hands in relief. + +"I breathe again," he said, greeting her with effusion. "Duchess, where +thou goest, I may go. But I feel like a boy robbing a hen-roost. Let me +introduce my friend, General Fergus. Take us both, pray, under your +protection!" + +"On the contrary," said the Duchess, as she returned General Fergus's +bow, "you are both so magnificent that no one would dare to +protect you." + +For they were both in uniform, and the General was resplendent with +stars and medals. + +"We have been dining with royalty." said Montresor. "We want some +relaxation." + +He put on his eye-glasses, looked round the room, and gently rubbed his +hands. + +"How very agreeable this is! What a charming room! I never saw it +before. What are we doing here? Is it a party? Why shouldn't it be? +Meredith, have you introduced M. du Bartas to the Duchess? Ah, I see--" + +For Julie Le Breton was already conversing with the distinguished +Frenchman wearing the rosette of the Legion of Honor in his button-hole, +who had followed Dr. Meredith into the room. As Montresor spoke, +however, she came forward, and in a French which was a joy to the ear, +she presented M. du Bartas, a tall, well-built Norman with a fair +mustache, first to the Duchess and then to Lord Lackington and Jacob. + +"The director of the French Foreign Office," said Montresor, in an aside +to the Duchess. "He hates us like poison. But if you haven't already +asked him to dinner--I warned you last week he was coming--pray do +it at once!" + +Meanwhile the Frenchman, his introductions over, looked curiously round +the room, studied its stately emptiness, the books on the walls under a +trellis-work, faintly gilt, the three fine pictures; then his eyes +passed to the tall and slender lady who had addressed him in such +perfect French, and to the little Duchess in her flutter of lace and +satin, the turn of her small neck, and the blaze of her jewels. "These +Englishwomen overdo their jewels," he thought, with distaste. "But they +overdo everything. That is a handsome fellow, by-the-way, who was with +_la petite fee_ when we arrived." + +And his shrewd, small eyes travelled from Warkworth to the Duchess, his +mind the while instinctively assuming some hidden relation between them. + +Meanwhile, Montresor was elaborately informing himself as to Lady Henry. + +"This is the first time for twenty years that I have not found her on a +Wednesday evening," he said, with a sudden touch of feeling which became +him. "At our age, the smallest break in the old habit--" + +He sighed, and then quickly threw off his depression. + +"Nonsense! Next week she will be scolding us all with double energy. +Meanwhile, may we sit down, mademoiselle? Ten minutes? And, upon my +word, the very thing my soul was longing for--a cup of coffee!" + +For at the moment Hutton and two footmen entered with trays containing +tea and coffee, lemonade and cakes. + +"Shut the door, Hutton, _please_," Mademoiselle Le Breton implored, and +the door was shut at once. + +"We mustn't, _mustn't_ make any noise!" she said, her finger on her +lip, looking first at Montresor and then at Delafield. The group +laughed, moved their spoons softly, and once more lowered their voices. + +But the coffee brought a spirit of festivity. Chairs were drawn up. The +blazing fire shone out upon a semicircle of people representing just +those elements of mingled intimacy and novelty which go to make +conversation. And in five minutes Mademoiselle Le Breton was leading it +as usual. A brilliant French book had recently appeared dealing with +certain points of the Egyptian question in a manner so interesting, +supple, and apparently impartial that the attention of Europe had been +won. Its author had been formerly a prominent official of the French +Foreign Office, and was now somewhat out of favor with his countrymen. +Julie put some questions about him to M. du Bartas. + +The Frenchman feeling himself among comrades worthy of his steel, and +secretly pricked by the presence of an English cabinet minister, +relinquished the half-disdainful reserve with which he had entered, and +took pains. He drew the man in question, _en silhouette_, with a hostile +touch so sure, an irony so light, that his success was instant +and great. + +Lord Lackington woke up. Handsome, white-haired dreamer that he was, he +had been looking into the fire, half--smiling, more occupied, in truth, +with his own thoughts than with his companions. Delafield had brought +him in; he did not exactly know why he was there, except that he liked +Mademoiselle Le Breton, and often wondered how the deuce Lady Henry had +ever discovered such an interesting and delightful person to fill such +an uncomfortable position. But this Frenchman challenged and excited +him. He, too, began to talk French, and soon the whole room was talking +it, with an advantage to Julie Le Breton which quickly made itself +apparent. In English she was a link, a social conjunction; she eased all +difficulties, she pieced all threads. But in French her tongue was +loosened, though never beyond the point of grace, the point of delicate +adjustment to the talkers round her. + +So that presently, and by insensible gradations, she was the queen of +the room. The Duchess in ecstasy pinched Jacob Delafield's wrist, and +forgetting all that she ought to have remembered, whispered, +rapturously, in his ear, "Isn't she enchanting--Julie--to-night?" That +gentleman made no answer. The Duchess, remembering, shrank back, and +spoke no more, till Jacob looked round upon her with a friendly smile +which set her tongue free again. + +M. du Bartas, meanwhile, began to consider this lady in black with more +and more attention. The talk glided into a general discussion of the +Egyptian position. Those were the days before Arabi, when elements of +danger and of doubt abounded, and none knew what a month might bring +forth. With perfect tact Julie guided the conversation, so that all +difficulties, whether for the French official or the English statesman, +were avoided with a skill that no one realized till each separate rock +was safely passed. Presently Montresor looked from her to Du Bartas with +a grin. The Frenchman's eyes were round with astonishment. Julie had +been saying the lightest but the wisest things; she had been touching +incidents and personalities known only to the initiated with a +restrained gayety which often broke down into a charming shyness, which +was ready to be scared away in a moment by a tone--too serious or too +polemical--which jarred with the general key of the conversation, which +never imposed itself, and was like the ripple on a summer sea. But the +summer sea has its depths, and this modest gayety was the mark of an +intimate and first-hand knowledge. + +"Ah, I see," thought Montresor, amused. "P---- has been writing to her, +the little minx. He seems to have been telling her all the secrets. I +think I'll stop it. Even she mayn't quite understand what should and +shouldn't be said before this gentleman." + +So he gave the conversation a turn, and Mademoiselle Le Breton took the +hint at once. She called others to the front--it was like a change of +dancers in the ballet--while she rested, no less charming as a listener +than as a talker, her black eyes turning from one to another and radiant +with the animation of success. + +But one thing--at last--she had forgotten. She had forgotten to impose +any curb upon the voices round her. The Duchess and Lord Lackington were +sparring like a couple of children, and Montresor broke in from time to +time with his loud laugh and gruff throat voice. Meredith, the +Frenchman, Warkworth, and General Fergus were discussing a grand review +which had been held the day before. Delafield had moved round to the +back of Julie's chair, and she was talking to him, while all the time +her eyes were on General Fergus and her brain was puzzling as to how she +was to secure the five minutes' talk with him she wanted. He was one of +the intimates of the Commander-in-Chief. She herself had suggested to +Montresor, of course in Lady Henry's name, that he should be brought to +Bruton Street some Wednesday evening. + +Presently there was a little shifting of groups. Julie saw that +Montresor and Captain Warkworth were together by the fireplace, that the +young man with his hands held out to the blaze and his back to her was +talking eagerly, while Montresor, looking outward into the room, his +great black head bent a little towards his companion, was putting sharp +little questions from time to time, with as few words as might be. Julie +understood that an important conversation was going on--that Montresor, +whose mind various friends of hers had been endeavoring to make up for +him, was now perhaps engaged in making it up for himself. + +With a quickened pulse she turned to find General Fergus beside her. +What a frank and soldierly countenance!--a little roughly cut, with a +strong mouth slightly underhung, and a dogged chin, the whole lit by +eyes that were the chosen homes of truth, humanity, and will. Presently +she discovered, as they drew their chairs a little back from the circle, +that she, too, was to be encouraged to talk about Warkworth. The General +was, of course, intimately 'acquainted with his professional record; but +there were certain additional Indian opinions--a few incidents in the +young man's earlier career, including, especially, a shooting expedition +of much daring in the very district to which the important Mokembe +mission was now to be addressed, together with some quotations from +private letters of her own, or Lady Henry's, which Julie, with her usual +skill, was able to slip into his ear, all on the assumption, delicately +maintained, that she was merely talking of a friend of Lady Henry's, as +Lady Henry herself would have talked, to much better effect, had she +been present. + +The General gave her a grave and friendly attention. Few men had done +sterner or more daring feats in the field. Yet here he sat, relaxed, +courteous, kind, trusting his companions simply, as it was his instinct +to trust all women. Julie's heart beat fast. What an exciting, what an +important evening!... + +Suddenly there was a voice in her ear. + +"Do you know, I think we ought to clear out. It must be close on +midnight." + +She looked up, startled, to see Jacob Delafield. His expression--of +doubt or discomfort--recalled her at once to the realities of her own +situation. + +But before she could reply, a sound struck on her ear. She sprang to her +feet. + +"What was that?" she said. + +A voice was heard in the hall. + +Julie Le Breton caught the chair behind her, and Delafield saw her turn +pale. But before she or he could speak again, the door of the library +was thrown open. + +"Good Heavens!" said Montresor, springing to his feet. "Lady Henry!" + + * * * * * + +M. du Bartas lifted astonished eyes. On the threshold of the room stood +an old lady, leaning heavily on two sticks. She was deathly pale, and +her fierce eyes blazed upon the scene before her. Within the bright, +fire-lit room the social comedy was being played at its best; but here +surely was Tragedy--or Fate. Who was she? What did it mean? + +The Duchess rushed to her, and fell, of course, upon the one thing she +should not have said. + +"Oh, Aunt Flora, dear Aunt Flora! But we thought you were too ill to +come down!" + +"So I perceive," said Lady Henry, putting her aside. "So you, and this +lady"--she pointed a shaking finger at Julie--"have held my reception +for me. I am enormously obliged. You have also"--she looked at the +coffee-cups--"provided my guests with refreshment. I thank you. I trust +my servants have given you satisfaction. + +"Gentlemen"--she turned to the rest of the company, who stood +stupefied--"I fear I cannot ask you to remain with me longer. The hour +is late, and I am--as you see--indisposed. But I trust, on some future +occasion, I may have the honor--" + +She looked round upon them, challenging and defying them all. + +Montresor went up to her. + +"My dear old friend, let me introduce to you M. du Bartas, of the French +Foreign Office." + +At this appeal to her English hospitality and her social chivalry, Lady +Henry looked grimly at the Frenchman. + +"M. du Bartas, I am charmed to make your acquaintance. With your leave, +I will pursue it when I am better able to profit by it. To-morrow I will +write to you to propose another meeting--should my health allow." + +"Enchante, madame," murmured the Frenchman, more embarrassed than he had +ever been in his life. "Permettez--moi de vous faire mes plus sinceres +excuses." + +"Not at all, monsieur, you owe me none." + +Montresor again approached her. + +"Let me tell you," he said, imploringly, "how this has happened--how +innocent we all are--" + +"Another time, if you please," she said, with a most cutting calm. "As I +said before, it is late. If I had been equal to entertaining you"--she +looked round upon them all--"I should not have told my butler to make my +excuses. As it is, I must beg you to allow me to bid you good-night. +Jacob, will you kindly get the Duchess her cloak? Good-night. +Good-night. As you see"--she pointed to the sticks which supported +her--"I have no hands to-night. My infirmities have need of them." + +Montresor approached her again, in real and deep distress. + +"Dear Lady Henry--" + +"Go!" she said, under her breath, looking him in the eyes, and he turned +and went without a word. So did the Duchess, whimpering, her hand in +Delafield's arm. As she passed Julie, who stood as though turned to +stone, she made a little swaying movement towards her. + +"Dear Julie!" she cried, imploringly. + +But Lady Henry turned. + +"You will have every opportunity to-morrow," she said. "As far as I am +concerned, Miss Le Breton will have no engagements." + +Lord Lackington quietly said, "Good-night, Lady Henry," and, without +offering to shake hands, walked past her. As he came to the spot where +Julie Le Breton stood, that lady made a sudden, impetuous movement +towards him. Strange words were on her lips, a strange expression +in her eyes. + +"_You_ must help me," she said, brokenly. "It is my right!" + +Was that what she said? Lord Lackington looked at her in astonishment. +He did not see that Lady Henry was watching them with eagerness, leaning +heavily on her sticks, her lips parted in a keen expectancy. + +Then Julie withdrew. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, hurriedly. "I beg your pardon. +Good-night." + +Lord Lackington hesitated. His face took a puzzled expression. Then he +held out his hand, and she placed hers in it mechanically. + +"It will be all right," he whispered, kindly. "Lady Henry will soon be +herself again. Shall I tell the butler to call for some one--her maid?" + +Julie shook her head, and in another moment he, too, was gone. Dr. +Meredith and General Fergus stood beside her. The General had a keen +sense of humor, and as he said good-night to this unlawful hostess, +whose plight he understood no more than his own, his mouth twitched with +repressed laughter. But Dr. Meredith did not laugh. He pressed Julie's +hand in both of his. Looking behind him, he saw that Jacob Delafield, +who had just returned from the hall, was endeavoring to appease Lady +Henry. He bent towards Julie. + +"Don't deceive yourself," he said, quickly, in a low voice; "this is the +end. Remember my letter. Let me hear to-morrow." + +As Dr. Meredith left the room, Julie lifted her eyes. Only Jacob +Delafield and Lady Henry were left. + +Harry Warkworth, too, was gone--without a word? She looked round her +piteously. She could not remember that he had spoken--that he had bade +her farewell. A strange pang convulsed her. She scarcely heard what Lady +Henry was saying to Jacob Delafield. Yet the words were emphatic enough. + +"Much obliged to you, Jacob. But when I want your advice in my household +affairs, I will ask it. You and Evelyn Crowborough have meddled a good +deal too much in them already. Good-night. Hutton will get you a cab." + +And with a slight but imperious gesture, Lady Henry motioned towards the +door. Jacob hesitated, then quietly took his departure. He threw Julie a +look of anxious appeal as he went out. But she did not see it; her +troubled gaze was fixed on Lady Henry. + + * * * * * + +That lady eyed her companion with composure, though by now even the old +lips were wholly blanched. + +"There is really no need for any conversation between us, Miss Le +Breton," said the familiar voice. "But if there were, I am not to-night, +as you see, in a condition to say it. So--when you came up to say +good-night to me--you had determined on this adventure? You had been +good enough, I see, to rearrange my room--to give my servants +your orders." + +Julie stood stonily erect. She made her dry lips answer as best they +could. + +"We meant no harm," she said, coldly. "It all came about very simply. A +few people came in to inquire after you. I regret they should have +stayed talking so long." + +Lady Henry smiled in contempt. + +"You hardly show your usual ability by these remarks. The room you stand +in"--she glanced significantly at the lights and the chairs--"gives you +the lie. You had planned it all with Hutton, who has become your tool, +before you came to me. Don't contradict. It distresses me to hear you. +Well, now we part." + +"Of course. Perhaps to-morrow you will allow me a few last words?" + +"I think not. This will cost me dear," said Lady Henry, her white lips +twitching. "Say them now, mademoiselle." + +"You are suffering." Julie made an uncertain step forward. "You ought to +be in bed." + +"That has nothing to do with it. What was your object to-night?" + +"I wished to see the Duchess--" + +"It is not worth while to prevaricate. The Duchess was not your first +visitor." + +Julie flushed. + +"Captain Warkworth arrived first; that was a mere chance." + +"It was to see him that you risked the whole affair. You have used my +house for your own intrigues." + +Julie felt herself physically wavering under the lash of these +sentences. But with a great effort she walked towards the fireplace, +recovered her gloves and handkerchief, which were on the mantel-piece, +and then turned slowly to Lady Henry. + +"I have done nothing in your service that I am ashamed of. On the +contrary, I have borne what no one else would have borne. I have devoted +myself to you and your interests, and you have trampled upon and +tortured me. For you I have been merely a servant, and an inferior--" + +Lady Henry nodded grimly. + +"It is true," she said, interrupting, "I was not able to take your +romantic view of the office of companion." + +"You need only have taken a human view," said Julie, in a voice that +pierced; "I was alone, poor--worse than motherless. You might have done +what you would with me. A little indulgence, and I should have been your +devoted slave. But you chose to humiliate and crush me; and in return, +to protect myself, I, in defending myself, have been led, I admit it, +into taking liberties. There is no way out of it. I shall, of course, +leave you to-morrow morning." + +"Then at last we understand each other," said Lady Henry, with a laugh. +"Good-night, Miss Le Breton." + +She moved heavily on her sticks. Julie stood aside to let her pass. One +of the sticks slipped a little on the polished floor. Julie, with a cry, +ran forward, but Lady Henry fiercely motioned her aside. + +"Don't touch me! Don't come near me!" + +She paused a moment to recover breath and balance. Then she resumed her +difficult walk. Julie followed her. + +"Kindly put out the electric lights," said Lady Henry, and Julie obeyed. + +They entered the hall in which one little light was burning. Lady Henry, +with great difficulty, and panting, began to pull herself up the stairs. + +"Oh, _do_ let me help you!" said Julie, in an agony. "You will kill +yourself. Let me at least call Dixon." + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said Lady Henry, indomitable, though +tortured by weakness and rheumatism. "Dixon is in my room, where I bade +her remain. You should have thought of the consequences of this before +you embarked upon it. If I were to die in mounting these stairs, I would +not let you help me." + +"Oh!" cried Julie, as though she had been struck, and hid her eyes with +her hand. + +Slowly, laboriously, Lady Henry dragged herself from step to step. As +she turned the corner of the staircase, and could therefore be no longer +seen from below, some one softly opened the door of the dining-room and +entered the hall. + +Julie looked round her, startled. She saw Jacob Delafield, who put his +finger to his lip. + +Moved by a sudden impulse, she bowed her head on the banister of the +stairs against which she was leaning and broke into stifled sobs. + +Jacob Delafield came up to her and took her hand. She felt his own +tremble, and yet its grasp was firm and supporting. + +"Courage!" he said, bending over her. "Try not to give way. You will +want all your fortitude." + +"Listen!" She gasped, trying vainly to control herself, and they both +listened to the sounds above them in the dark house--the labored breath, +the slow, painful step. + +"Oh, she wouldn't let me help her. She said she would rather die. +Perhaps I have killed her. And I could--I could--yes, I _could_ have +loved her." + +She was in an anguish of feeling--of sharp and penetrating remorse. + +Jacob Delafield held her hand close in his, and when at last the sounds +had died in the distance he lifted it to his lips. + +"You know that I am your friend and servant," he said, in a queer, +muffled voice. "You promised I should be." + +She tried to withdraw her hand, but only feebly. Neither physically nor +mentally had she the strength to repulse him. If he had taken her in his +arms, she could hardly have resisted. But he did not attempt to conquer +more than her hand. He stood beside her, letting her feel the whole +mute, impetuous offer of his manhood--thrown at her feet to do what she +would with. + +Presently, when once more she moved away, he said to her, in a whisper: + +"Go to the Duchess to-morrow morning, as soon as you can get away. She +told me to say that--Hutton gave me a little note from her. Your home +must be with her till we can all settle what is best. You know very well +you have devoted friends. But now good-night. Try to sleep. Evelyn and I +will do all we can with Lady Henry." + +Julie drew herself out of his hold. "Tell Evelyn I will come to see her, +at any rate, as soon as I can put my things together. Good-night." + +And she, too, dragged herself up-stairs sobbing, starting at every +shadow. All her nerve and daring were gone. The thought that she must +spend yet another night under the roof of this old woman who hated her +filled her with terror. When she reached her room she locked her door +and wept for hours in a forlorn and aching misery. + + + +X + +The Duchess was in her morning-room. On the rug, in marked and, as it +seemed to her plaintive eyes, brutal contrast with the endless +photographs of her babies and women friends which crowded her +mantel-piece, stood the Duke, much out of temper. He was a powerfully +built man, some twenty years older than his wife, with a dark +complexion, enlivened by ruddy cheeks and prominent, red lips. His eyes +were of a cold, clear gray; his hair very black, thick, and wiry. An +extremely vigorous person, more than adequately aware of his own +importance, tanned and seasoned by the life of his class, by the +yachting, hunting, and shooting in which his own existence was largely +spent, slow in perception, and of a sulky temper--so one might have read +him at first sight. But these impressions only took you a certain way in +judging the character of the Duchess's husband. + +As to the sulkiness, there could be no question on this particular +morning--though, indeed, his ill-humor deserved a more positive and +energetic name. + +"You have got yourself and me," he was declaring, "into a most +disagreeable and unnecessary scrape. This letter of Lady Henry's"--he +held it up--"is one of the most annoying that I have received for many a +day. Lady Henry seems to me perfectly justified. You _have_ been +behaving in a quite unwarrantable way. And now you tell me that this +woman, who is the cause of it all, of whose conduct I thoroughly and +entirely disapprove, is coming to stay here, in my house, whether I like +it or not, and you expect me to be civil to her. If you persist, I shall +go down to Brackmoor till she is pleased to depart. I won't countenance +the thing at all, and, whatever you may do, _I_ shall apologize to +Lady Henry." + +"There's nothing to apologize for," cried the drooping Duchess, plucking +up a little spirit. "Nobody meant any harm. Why shouldn't the old +friends go in to ask after her? Hutton--that old butler that has been +with Aunt Flora for twenty years--_asked_ us to come in." + +"Then he did what he had no business to do, and he deserves to be +dismissed at a day's notice. Why, Lady Henry tells me that it was a +regular party--that the room was all arranged for it by that most +audacious young woman--that the servants were ordered about--that it +lasted till nearly midnight, and that the noise you all made positively +woke Lady Henry out of her sleep. Really, Evelyn, that you should have +been mixed up in such an affair is more unpalatable to me than I can +find words to describe." And he paced, fuming, up and down before her. + +"Anybody else than Aunt Flora would have laughed," said the Duchess, +defiantly. "And I declare, Freddie, I won't be scolded in such a tone. +Besides, if you only knew--" + +She threw back her head and looked at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips +quivering with a secret that, once out, would perhaps silence him at +once--would, at any rate, as children do when they give a shake to their +spillikins, open up a number of new chances in the game. + +"If I only knew what?" + +The Duchess pulled at the hair of the little spitz on her lap without +replying. + +"What is there to know that I don't know?" insisted the Duke. "Something +that makes the matter still worse, I suppose?" + +"Well, that depends," said the Duchess, reflectively. A gleam of +mischief had slipped into her face, though for a moment the tears had +not been far off. + +The Duke looked at his watch. + +"Don't keep me here guessing riddles longer than you can help," he said, +impatiently. "I have an appointment in the City at twelve, and I want to +discuss with you the letter that must be written to Lady Henry." + +"That's your affair," said the Duchess. "I haven't made up my mind yet +whether I mean to write at all. And as for the riddle, Freddie, you've +seen Miss Le Breton?" + +"Once. I thought her a very pretentious person," said the Duke, stiffly. + +"I know--you didn't get on. But, Freddie, didn't she remind you of +somebody?" + +The Duchess was growing excited. Suddenly she jumped up; the little +spitz rolled off her lap; she ran to her husband and took him by the +fronts of his coat. + +"Freddie, you'll be very much astonished." And suddenly releasing him, +she began to search among the photographs on the mantel-piece. "Freddie, +you know who that is?" She held up a picture. + +"Of course I know. What on earth has that got to do with the subject we +have been discussing?" + +"Well, it has a good deal to do with it," said the Duchess, slowly. +"That's my uncle, George Chantrey, isn't it, Lord Lackington's second +son, who married mamma's sister? Well--oh, you won't like it, Freddie, +but you've got to know--that's--Julie's uncle, too!" + +"What in the name of fortune do you mean?" said the Duke, staring at +her. + +His wife again caught him by the coat, and, so imprisoning him, she +poured out her story very fast, very incoherently, and with a very +evident uncertainty as to what its effect might be. + +And indeed the effect was by no means easy to determine. The Duke was +first incredulous, then bewildered by the very mixed facts which she +poured out upon him. He tried to cross-examine her _en route_, but he +gained little by that; she only shook him a little, insisting the more +vehemently on telling the story her own way. At last their two +impatiences had nearly come to a dead-lock. But the Duke managed to free +himself physically, and so regained a little freedom of mind. + +"Well, upon my word," he said, as he resumed his march up and +down--"upon my word!" Then, as he stood still before her, "You say she +is Marriott Dalrymple's daughter?" + +"And Lord Lackington's granddaughter." said the Duchess, panting a +little from her exertions. "And, oh, what a blind bat you were not to +see it at once--from the likeness!" + +"As if one had any right to infer such a thing from a likeness!" said +the Duke, angrily. "Really, Evelyn, your talk is most--most unbecoming. +It seems to me that Mademoiselle Le Breton has already done you harm. +All that you have told me, supposing it to be true--oh, of course, I +know you believe it to be true--only makes me"--he stiffened his +back--"the more determined to break off the connection between her and +you. A woman of such antecedents is not a fit companion for my wife, +independently of the fact that she seems to be, in herself, an +intriguing and dangerous character." + +"How could she help her antecedents?" cried the Duchess. + +"I didn't say she could help them. But if they are what you say, she +ought--well, she ought to be all the more careful to live in a modest +and retired way, instead of, as I understand, making herself the rival +of Lady Henry. I never heard anything so preposterous--so--so indecent! +She shows no proper sense, and, as for you, I deeply regret you should +have been brought into any contact with such a disgraceful story." + +"Freddie!" The Duchess went into a helpless, half-hysterical fit of +laughter. + +But the Duke merely expanded, as it seemed, still further--to his utmost +height and bulk. "Oh, dear," thought the Duchess, in despair, "now he is +going to be like his mother!" Her strictly Evangelical mother-in-law, +with whom the Duke had made his bachelor home for many years, had been +the scourge of her early married life; and though for Freddie's sake she +had shed a few tears over her death, eighteen months before this date, +the tears--as indeed the Duke had thought at the time--had been only too +quickly dried. + +There could be no question about it, the Duke was painfully like his +mother as he replied: + +"I fear that your education, Evelyn, has led you to take such things far +more lightly than you ought. I am old-fashioned. Illegitimacy with me +_does_ carry a stigma, and the sins of the fathers _are_ visited upon +the children. At any rate, we who occupy a prominent social place have +no right to do anything which may lead others to think lightly of God's +law. I am sorry to speak plainly, Evelyn. I dare say you don't like +these sentiments, but you know, at least, that I am quite honest in +expressing them." + +The Duke turned to her, not without dignity. He was and had been from +his boyhood a person of irreproachable morals--earnest and religious +according to his lights, a good son, husband, and father. His wife +looked at him with mingled feelings. + +"Well, all I know is," she said, passionately beating her little foot on +the carpet before her, "that, by all accounts, the only thing to do with +Colonel Delaney was to run away from him." + +The Duke shrugged his shoulders. + +"You don't expect me to be much moved by a remark of that kind? As to +this lady, your story does not affect me in her favor in the smallest +degree. She has had her education; Lord Lackington gives her one hundred +pounds a year; if she is a self-respecting woman she will look after +herself. I _don't_ want to have her here, and I beg you won't invite +her. A couple of nights, perhaps--I don't mind that--but not +for longer." + +"Oh, as to that, you may be very sure she won't stay here unless you're +very particularly nice to her. There'll be plenty of people +glad--enchanted--to have her! I don't care about that, but what I _do_ +want is"--the Duchess looked up with calm audacity--"that you should +find her a house." + +The Duke paused in his walk and surveyed his wife with amazement. + +"Evelyn, are you _quite_ mad?" + +"Not in the least. You have more houses than you know what to do with, +and a _great_ deal more money than anybody in the world ought to have. +If they ever do set up the guillotine at Hyde Park Corner, we shall be +among the first--we ought to be!" + +"What is the good of talking nonsense like this, Evelyn?" said the Duke, +once more consulting his watch. "Let's go back to the subject of my +letter to Lady Henry." + +"It's most excellent sense!" cried the Duchess, springing up. "You +_have_ more houses than you know what to do with; and you have one house +in particular--that little place at the back of Cureton Street where +Cousin Mary Leicester lived so long--which is in your hands still, I +know, for you told me so last week--which is vacant and +furnished--Cousin Mary left you the furniture, as if we hadn't got +enough!--and it would be the _very_ thing for Julie, if only you'd lend +it to her till she can turn round." + +The Duchess was now standing up, confronting her lord, her hands +grasping the chair behind her, her small form alive with eagerness and +the feminine determination to get her own way, by fair means or foul. + +"Cureton Street!" said the Duke, almost at the end of his tether. "And +how do you propose that this young woman is to live--in Cureton Street, +or anywhere else?" + +"She means to write," said the Duchess, shortly. "Dr. Meredith has +promised her work." + +"Sheer lunacy! In six months time you'd have to step in and pay all her +bills." + +"I should like to see anybody dare to propose to Julie to pay her +bills!" cried the Duchess, with scorn. "You see, the great pity is, +Freddie, that you don't know anything at all about her. But that +house--wasn't it made out of a stable? It has got six rooms, I +know--three bedrooms up-stairs, and two sitting-rooms and a kitchen +below. With one good maid and a boy Julie could be perfectly +comfortable. She would earn four hundred pounds--Dr. Meredith has +promised her--she has one hundred pounds a year of her own. She would +pay no rent, of course. She would have just enough to live on, poor, +dear thing! And she would be able to gather her old friends +round her when she wanted them. A cup of tea and her delightful +conversation--that's all they'd ever want." + +"Oh, go on--go on!" said the Duke, throwing himself exasperated into an +arm-chair; "the ease with which you dispose of my property on behalf of +a young woman who has caused me most acute annoyance, who has embroiled +us with a near relation for whom I have a very particular respect! _Her +friends_, indeed! Lady Henry's friends, you mean. Poor Lady Henry tells +me in this letter that her circle will be completely scattered. This +mischievous woman in three years has destroyed what it has taken Lady +Henry nearly thirty to build up. Now look here, Evelyn"--the Duke sat up +and slapped his knee--"as to this Cureton Street plan, I will do nothing +of the kind. You may have Miss Le Breton here for two or three nights if +you like--I shall probably go down to the country--and, of course, I +have no objection to make if you wish to help her find another +situation--" + +"Another situation!" cried the Duchess, beside herself. "Freddie, you +really are impossible! Do you understand that I regard Julie Le Breton +as _my relation_, whatever you may say--that I love her dearly--that +there are fifty people with money and influence ready to help her if you +won't, because she is one of the most charming and distinguished women +in London--that you ought to be _proud_ to do her a service--that I want +you to have the _honor_ of it--there! And if you won't do this little +favor for me--when I ask and beg it of you--I'll make you remember it +for a very long time to come--you may be sure of that!" + +And his wife turned upon him as an image of war, her fair hair ruffling +about her ears, her cheeks and eyes brilliant with anger--and +something more. + +The Duke rose in silent ferocity and sought for some letters which he +had left on the mantel-piece. + +"I had better leave you to come to your senses by yourself, and as +quickly as possible," he said, as he put them into his pockets. "No good +can come of any more discussion of this sort." + +The Duchess said nothing. She looked out of the window busily, and bit +her lip. Her silence served her better than her speech, for suddenly the +Duke looked round, hesitated, threw down a book he carried, walked up to +her, and took her in his arms. + +"You are a very foolish child," he declared, as he held her by main +force and kissed away her tears. "You make me lose my temper--and waste +my time--for nothing." + +"Not at all," said the sobbing Duchess, trying to push herself away, and +denying him, as best she could, her soft, flushed face. "You don't, or +you won't, understand! I was--I was very fond of Uncle George Chantrey. +_He_ would have helped Julie if he were alive. And as for you, you're +Lord Lackington's godson, and you're always preaching what he's done for +the army, and what the nation owes him--and--and--" + +"Does he know?" said the Duke, abruptly, marvelling at the irrelevance +of these remarks. + +"No, not a word. Only six people in London know--Aunt Flora, Sir Wilfrid +Bury"--the Duke made an exclamation--"Mr. Montresor, Jacob, you, and I." + +"Jacob!" said the Duke. "What's he got to do with it?" + +The Duchess suddenly saw her opportunity, and rushed upon it. + +"Only that he's madly in love with her, that's all. And, to my +knowledge, she has refused him both last year and this. Of course, +naturally, if you won't do anything to help her, she'll probably marry +him--simply as a way out." + +"Well, of all the extraordinary affairs!" + +The Duke released her, and stood bewildered. The Duchess watched him in +some excitement. He was about to speak, when there was a sound in the +anteroom. They moved hastily apart. The door was thrown open, and the +footman announced, "Miss Le Breton." + + * * * * * + +Julie Le Breton entered, and stood a moment on the threshold, looking, +not in embarrassment, but with a certain hesitation, at the two persons +whose conversation she had disturbed. She was pale with sleeplessness; +her look was sad and weary. But never had she been more composed, more +elegant. Her closely fitting black cloth dress; her strangely expressive +face, framed by a large hat, very simple, but worn as only the woman of +fashion knows how; her miraculous yet most graceful slenderness; the +delicacy of her hands; the natural dignity of her movements--these +things produced an immediate, though, no doubt, conflicting impression +upon the gentleman who had just been denouncing her. He bowed, with an +involuntary deference which he had not at all meant to show to Lady +Henry's insubordinate companion, and then stood frowning. + +But the Duchess ran forward, and, quite heedless of her husband, threw +herself into her friend's arms. + +"Oh, Julie, is there anything left of you? I hardly slept a wink for +thinking of you. What did that old--oh, I forgot--do you know my +husband? Freddie, this is my _great_ friend, Miss Le Breton." + +The Duke bowed again, silently. Julie looked at him, and then, still +holding the Duchess by the hand, she approached him, a pair of very fine +and pleading eyes fixed upon his face. + +"You have probably heard from Lady Henry, have you not?" she said, +addressing him. "In a note I had from her this morning she told me she +had written to you. I could not help coming to-day, because Evelyn has +been so kind. But--is it your wish that I should come here?" + +The Christian name slipped out unawares, and the Duke winced at it. The +likeness to Lord Lackington--it was certainly astonishing. There ran +through his mind the memory of a visit paid long ago to his early home +by Lord Lackington and two daughters, Rose and Blanche. He, the Duke, +had then been a boy home from school. The two girls, one five or six +years older than the other, had been the life and charm of the party. He +remembered hunting with Lady Rose. + +But the confusion in his mind had somehow to be mastered, and he made an +effort. + +"I shall be glad if my wife is able to be of any assistance to you, Miss +Le Breton," he said, coldly; "but it would not be honest if I were to +conceal my opinion--so far as I have been able to form it--that Lady +Henry has great and just cause of complaint." + +"You are quite right--quite right," said Julie, almost with eagerness. +"She has, indeed." + +The Duke was taken by surprise. Imperious as he was, and stiffened by a +good many of those petty prides which the spoiled children of the world +escape so hardly, he found himself hesitating--groping for his words. + +The Duchess meanwhile drew Julie impulsively towards a chair. + +"Do sit down. You look so tired." + +But Julie's gaze was still bent upon the Duke. She restrained her +friend's eager hand, and the Duke collected himself. _He_ brought a +chair, and Julie seated herself. + +"I am deeply, deeply distressed about Lady Henry," she said, in a low +voice, by which the Duke felt himself most unwillingly penetrated. "I +don't--oh no, indeed, I don't defend last night. Only--my position has +been very difficult lately. I wanted very much to see the +Duchess--and--it was natural--wasn't it?--that the old friends should +like to be personally informed about Lady Henry's illness? But, of +course, they stayed too long; it was my fault--I ought to have +prevented it." + +She paused. This stern-looking man, who stood with his back to the +mantel-piece regarding her, Philistine though he was, had yet a +straight, disinterested air, from which she shrank a little. Honestly, +she would have liked to tell him the truth. But how could she? She did +her best, and her account certainly was no more untrue than scores of +narratives of social incident which issue every day from lips the most +respected and the most veracious. As for the Duchess, she thought it the +height of candor and generosity. The only thing she could have wished, +perhaps, in her inmost heart, was that she had _not_ found Julie alone +with Harry Warkworth. But her loyal lips would have suffered torments +rather than accuse or betray her friend. + +The Duke meanwhile went through various phases of opinion as Julie laid +her story before him. Perhaps he was chiefly affected by the tone of +quiet independence--as from equal to equal--in which she addressed him. +His wife's cousin by marriage; the granddaughter of an old and intimate +friend of his own family; the daughter of a man known at one time +throughout Europe, and himself amply well born--all these facts, warm, +living, and still efficacious, stood, as it were, behind this manner of +hers, prompting and endorsing it. But, good Heavens! was illegitimacy to +be as legitimacy?--to carry with it no stains and penalties? Was vice to +be virtue, or as good? The Duke rebelled. + +"It is a most unfortunate affair, of that there can be no doubt," he +said, after a moment's silence, when Julie had brought her story to an +end; and then, more sternly, "I shall certainly apologize for my wife's +share in it." + +"Lady Henry won't be angry with the Duchess long," said Julie Le Breton. +"As for me"--her voice sank--"my letter this morning was returned to me +unopened." + +There was an uncomfortable pause; then Julie resumed, in another tone: + +"But what I am now chiefly anxious to discuss is, how can we save Lady +Henry from any further pain or annoyance? She once said to me in a fit +of anger that if I left her in consequence of a quarrel, and any of her +old friends sided with me, she would never see them again." + +"I know," said the Duke, sharply. "Her salon will break up. She already +foresees it." + +"But why?--why?" cried Julie, in a most becoming distress. "Somehow, we +must prevent it. Unfortunately I must live in London. I have the offer +of work here--journalist's work which cannot be done in the country or +abroad. But I would do all I could to shield Lady Henry." + +"What about Mr. Montresor?" said the Duke, abruptly. Montresor had been +the well-known Chateaubriand to Lady Henry's Madame Recamier for more +than a generation. + +Julie turned to him with eagerness. + +"Mr. Montresor wrote to me early this morning. The letter reached me at +breakfast. In Mrs. Montresor's name and his own, he asked me to stay +with them till my plans developed. He--he was kind enough to say he felt +himself partly responsible for last night." + +"And you replied?" The Duke eyed her keenly. + +Julie sighed and looked down. + +"I begged him not to think any more of me in the matter, but to write at +once to Lady Henry. I hope he has done so." + +"And so you refused--excuse these questions--Mrs. Montresor's +invitation?" + +The working of the Duke's mind was revealed in his drawn and puzzled +brows. + +"Certainly." The speaker looked at him with surprise. "Lady Henry would +never have forgiven that. It could not be thought of. Lord Lackington +also"--but her voice wavered. + +"Yes?" said the Duchess, eagerly, throwing herself on a stool at Julie's +feet and looking up into her face. + +"He, too, has written to me. He wants to help me. But--I can't let him." + +The words ended in a whisper. She leaned back in her chair, and put her +handkerchief to her eyes. It was very quietly done, and very touching. +The Duchess threw a lightning glance at her husband; and then, +possessing herself of one of Julie's hands, she kissed it and +murmured over it. + +"Was there ever such a situation?" thought the Duke, much shaken. "And +she has already, if Evelyn is to be believed, refused the chance--the +practical certainty--of being Duchess of Chudleigh!" + +He was a man with whom a _gran rifiuto_ of this kind weighed heavily. +His moral sense exacted such things rather of other people than himself. +But, when made, he could appreciate them. + +After a few turns up and down the room, he walked up to the two women. + +"Miss Le Breton," he said, in a far more hurried tone than was usual to +him, "I cannot approve--and Evelyn ought not to approve--of much that +has taken place during your residence with Lady Henry. But I understand +that your post was not an easy one, and I recognize the forbearance of +your present attitude. Evelyn is much distressed about it all. On the +understanding that you will do what you can to soften this breach for +Lady Henry, I shall be, glad if you will allow me to come partially to +your assistance." + +Julie looked up gravely, her eyebrows lifting. The Duke found himself +reddening as he went on. + +"I have a little house near here--a little furnished house--Evelyn will +explain to you. It happens to be vacant. If you will accept a loan of +it, say for six months"--the Duchess frowned--"you will give me +pleasure. I will explain my action to Lady Henry, and endeavor to soften +her feelings." + +He paused. Miss Le Breton's face was grateful, touched with emotion, but +more than hesitating. + +"You are very good. But I have no claim upon you at all. And I can +support myself." + +A touch of haughtiness slipped into her manner as she gently rose to her +feet. "Thank God, I did not offer her money!" thought the Duke, +strangely perturbed. + +"Julie, dear Julie," implored the Duchess. "It's such a tiny little +place, and it is quite musty for want of living in. Nobody has set foot +in it but the caretaker for two years, and it would be really a kindness +to us to go and live there--wouldn't it, Freddie? And there's all the +furniture just as it was, down to the bellows and the snuffers. If you'd +only use it and take care of it; Freddie hasn't liked to sell it, +because it's all old family stuff, and he was very fond of Cousin Mary +Leicester. Oh, do say yes, Julie! They shall light the fires, and I'll +send in a few sheets and things, and you'll feel as though you'd been +there for years. Do, Julie!" + +Julie shook her head. + +"I came here," she said, in a voice that was still unsteady, "to ask for +advice, not favors. But it's very good of you." + +And with trembling fingers she began to refasten her veil. + +"Julie!--where are you going?" cried the Duchess "You're staying here." + +"Staying here?" said Julie, turning round upon her. "Do you think I +should be a burden upon you, or any one?" + +"But, Julie, you told Jacob you would come." + +"I have come. I wanted your sympathy, and your counsel. I wished also to +confess myself to the Duke, and to point out to him how matters could be +made easier for Lady Henry." + +The penitent, yet dignified, sadness of her manner and voice completed +the discomfiture--the temporary discomfiture--of the Duke. + +"Miss Le Breton," he said, abruptly, coming to stand beside her, "I +remember your mother." + +Julie's eyes filled. Her hand still held her veil, but it paused in its +task. + +"I was a small school-boy when she stayed with us," resumed the Duke. +"She was a beautiful girl. She let me go out hunting with her. She was +very kind to me, and I thought her a kind of goddess. When I first heard +her story, years afterwards, it shocked me awfully. For her sake, +accept my offer. I don't think lightly of such actions as your +mother's--not at all. But I can't bear to think of her daughter alone +and friendless in London." + +Yet even as he spoke he seemed to be listening to another person. He did +not himself understand the feelings which animated him, nor the strength +with which his recollections of Lady Rose had suddenly invaded him. + +Julie leaned her arms on the mantel-piece, and hid her face. She had +turned her back to them, and they saw that she was crying softly. + +The Duchess crept up to her and wound her arms round her. + +"You will, Julie!--you will! Lady Henry has turned you out-of-doors at a +moment's notice. And it was a great deal my fault. You _must_ let us +help you!" + +Julie did not answer, but, partially disengaging herself, and without +looking at him, she held out her hand to the Duke. + +He pressed it with a cordiality that amazed him. + +"That's right--that's right. Now, Evelyn, I leave you to make the +arrangements. The keys shall be here this afternoon. Miss Le Breton, of +course, stays here till things are settled. As for me, I must really be +off to my meeting. One thing, Miss Le Breton--" + +"Yes." + +"I think," he said, gravely, "you ought to reveal yourself to Lord +Lackington." + +She shrank. + +"You'll let me take my own time for that?" was her appealing reply. + +"Very well--very well. We'll speak of it again." + +And he hurried away. As he descended his own stairs astonishment at what +he had done rushed upon him and overwhelmed him. + +"How on earth am I ever to explain the thing to Lady Henry?" + +And as he went citywards in his cab, he felt much more guilty than his +wife had ever done. What _could_ have made him behave in this +extraordinary, this preposterous way? A touch of foolish +romance--immoral romance--of which he was already ashamed? Or the one +bare fact that this woman had refused Jacob Delafield? + + + +XI + +"Here it is," said the Duchess, as the carriage stopped. "Isn't it an +odd little place?" + +And as she and Julie paused on the pavement, Julie looked listlessly at +her new home. It was a two-storied brick house, built about 1780. The +front door boasted a pair of Ionian columns and a classical canopy or +pediment. The windows had still the original small panes; the _mansarde_ +roof, with its one dormer, was untouched. The little house had rather +deep eaves; three windows above; two, and the front door, below. It wore +a prim, old-fashioned air, a good deal softened and battered, however, +by age, and it stood at the corner of two streets, both dingily quiet, +and destined, no doubt, to be rebuilt before long in the general +rejuvenation of Mayfair. + +As the Duchess had said, it occupied the site of what had once--about +1740--been the westerly end of a mews belonging to houses in Cureton +Street, long since pulled down. The space filled by these houses was now +occupied by one great mansion and its gardens. The rest of the mews had +been converted into three-story houses of a fair size, looking south, +with a back road between them and the gardens of Cureton House. But at +the southwesterly corner of what was now Heribert Street, fronting west +and quite out of line and keeping with the rest, was this curious little +place, built probably at a different date and for some special family +reason. The big planes in the Cureton House gardens came close to it and +overshadowed it; one side wall of the house, in fact, formed part of the +wall of the garden. + +The Duchess, full of nervousness, ran up the steps, put in the key +herself, and threw open the door. An elderly Scotchwoman, the caretaker, +appeared from the back and stood waiting to show them over. + +"Oh, Julie, perhaps it's _too_ queer and musty!" cried the Duchess, +looking round her in some dismay. "I thought, you know, it would be a +little out-of-the-way and quaint--unlike other people--just what you +ought to have. But--" + +"I think it's delightful," said Julie, standing absently before a case +of stuffed birds, somewhat moth-eaten, which took up a good deal of +space in the little hall. "I love stuffed birds." + +The Duchess glanced at her uneasily. "What is she thinking about?" she +wondered. But Julie roused herself. + +"Why, it looks as though everything here had gone to sleep for a hundred +years," she said, gazing in astonishment at the little hall, with its +old clock, its two or three stiff hunting-pictures, its drab-painted +walls, its poker-work chest. + +And the drawing-room! The caretaker had opened the windows. It was a +mild March day, and there were misty sun-gleams stealing along the lawns +of Cureton House. None entered the room itself, for its two +semi-circular windows looked north over the gardens. Yet it was not +uncheerful. Its faded curtains of blue rep, its buff walls, on which the +pictures and miniatures in their tarnished gilt frames were arranged at +intervals in stiff patterns and groups; the Italian glass, painted with +dilapidated Cupids, over the mantel-piece; the two or three Sheraton +arm-chairs and settees, covered with threadbare needle-work from the +days of "Evelina"; a carpet of old and well-preserved Brussels--blue +arabesques on a white ground; one or two pieces of old satin-wood +furniture, very fine and perfect; a heavy centre-table, its cloth +garnished with some early Victorian wool-work, and a pair of pink glass +vases; on another small table close by, of a most dainty and +spindle-legged correctness, a set of Indian chessmen under a glass +shade; and on another a collection of tiny animals, stags and dogs for +the most part, deftly "pinched" out of soft paper, also under glass, and +as perfect as when their slender limbs were first fashioned by Cousin +Mary Leicester's mother, somewhere about the year that Marie Antoinette +mounted the scaffold. These various elements, ugly and beautiful, +combined to make a general effect--clean, fastidious, frugal, and +refined--that was, in truth, full of a sort of acid charm. + +"Oh, I like it! I like it so much!" cried Julie, throwing herself down +into one of the straight-backed arm-chairs and looking first round the +walls and then through the windows to the gardens outside. + +"My dear," said the Duchess, flitting from one thing to another, +frowning and a little fussed, "those curtains won't do at all. I must +send some from home." + +"No, no, Evelyn. Not a thing shall be changed. You shall lend it me just +as it is or not at all. What a character it has! I _taste_ the person +who lived here." + +"Cousin Mary Leicester?" said the Duchess. "Well, she was rather an +oddity. She was Low Church, like my mother-in-law; but, oh, so much +nicer! Once I let her come to Grosvenor Square and speak to the servants +about going to church. The groom of the chambers said she was 'a dear +old lady, and if she were _his_ cousin he wouldn't mind her being a bit +touched,' My maid said she had no idea poke-bonnets could be so _sweet_. +It made her understand what the Queen looked like when she was young. +And none of them have ever been to church since that I can make out. +There was one very curious thing about Cousin Mary Leicester," added the +Duchess, slowly--"she had second sight. She _saw_ her old mother, in +this room, once or twice, after she had been dead for years. And she saw +Freddie once, when he was away on a long voyage--" + +"Ghosts, too!" said Julie, crossing her hands before her with a little +shiver--"that completes it." + +"Sixty years," said the Duchess, musing. "It was a long time--wasn't +it?--to live in this little house, and scarcely ever leave it. Oh, she +had quite a circle of her own. For many years her funny little sister +lived here, too. And there was a time, Freddie says, when there was +almost a rivalry between them and two other famous old ladies who lived +in Bruton Street--what _was_ their name? Oh, the Miss Berrys! Horace +Walpole's Miss Berrys. All sorts of famous people, I believe, have sat +in these chairs. But the Miss Berrys won." + +"Not in years? Cousin Mary outlived them." + +"Ah, but she was dead long before she died," said the Duchess as she +came to perch on the arm of Julie's chair, and threw her arm round her +friend's neck. "After her little sister departed this life she became a +very silent, shrivelled thing--except for her religion--and very few +people saw her. She took a fancy to me--which was odd, wasn't it, when +I'm such a worldling?--and she let me come in and out. Every morning she +read the Psalms and Lessons, with her old maid, who was just her own +age--in this very chair. And two or three times a month Freddie would +slip round and read them with her--you know Freddie's very religious. +And then she'd work at flannel petticoats for the poor, or something of +that kind, till lunch. Afterwards she'd go and read the Bible to people +in the workhouse or in hospital. When she came home, the butler brought +her the _Times_; and sometimes you'd find her by the fire, straining her +old eyes over 'a little Dante.' And she always dressed for +dinner--everything was quite smart--and her old butler served her. +Afterwards her maid played dominoes or spillikins with her--all her life +she never touched a card--and they read a chapter, and Cousin Mary +played a hymn on that funny little old piano there in the corner, and at +ten they all went to bed. Then, one morning, the maid went in to wake +her, and she saw her dear sharp nose and chin against the light, and her +hands like that, in front of her--and--well, I suppose, she'd gone to +play hymns in heaven--dear Cousin Mary! Julie, isn't it strange the kind +of lives so many of us have to lead? Julie"--the little Duchess laid her +cheek against her friend's--"do you believe in another life?" + +"You forget I'm a Catholic," said Julie, smiling rather doubtfully. + +"_Are_ you, Julie? I'd forgotten." + +"The good nuns at Bruges took care of that." + +"Do you ever go to mass?" + +"Sometimes." + +"Then you're not a good Catholic, Julie?" + +"No," said Julie, after a pause, "not at all. But it sometimes catches +hold of me." + +The old clock in the hall struck. The Duchess sprang up. + +"Oh, Julie, I have got to be at Clarisse's by four. I _promised_ her I'd +go and settle about my Drawing-room dress to-day. Let's see the rest of +the house." + +And they went rapidly through it. All of it was stamped with the same +character, representing, as it were, the meeting-point between an +inherited luxury and a personal asceticism. Beautiful chairs, or +cabinets transported sixty years before from one of the old Crowborough +houses in the country to this little abode, side by side with things the +cheapest and the commonest--all that Cousin Mary Leicester could ever +persuade herself to buy with her own money. For all the latter part of +her life she had been half a mystic and half a great lady, secretly +hating the luxury from which she had not the strength to free herself, +dressing ceremoniously, as the Duchess had said, for a solitary dinner, +and all the while going in sore remembrance of a Master who "had not +where to lay his head." + +At any rate, there was an ample supply of household stuff for a single +woman and her maids. In the china cupboard there were still the +old-fashioned Crown Derby services, the costly cut glass, the Leeds and +Wedgewood dessert dishes that Cousin Mary Leicester had used for half a +century. The caretaker produced the keys of the iron-lined plate +cupboard, and showed its old-world contents, clean and in order. + +"Why, Julie! If we'd only ordered the dinner I might have come to dine +with you to-night!" cried the Duchess, enjoying and peering into +everything like a child with its doll's house. "And the +linen--gracious!" as the doors of another cupboard were opened to her. +"But now I remember, Freddie said nothing was to be touched till he made +up his mind what to do with the little place. Why, there's everything!" + +And they both looked in astonishment at the white, fragrant rows, at the +worn monogram in the corners of the sheets, at the little bags of +lavender and pot-pourri ranged along the shelves. + +Suddenly Julie turned away and sat down by an open window, carrying her +eyes far from the house and its stores. + +"It is too much, Evelyn," she said, sombrely. "It oppresses me. I don't +think I can live up to it." + +"Julie!" and again the little Duchess came to stand caressingly beside +her. "Why, you must have sheets--and knives and forks! Why should you +get ugly new ones, when you can use Cousin Mary's? She would have loved +you to have them." + +"She would have hated me with all her strength," said Miss Le Breton, +probably with much truth. + +The two were silent a little. Through Julie's stormy heart there swept +longings and bitternesses inexpressible. What did she care for the +little house and all its luxuries! She was sorry that she had fettered +herself with it.... Nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and no +letter--not a word! + +"Julie," said the Duchess, softly, in her ear, "you know you can't live +here alone. I'm afraid Freddie would make a fuss." + +"I've thought of that," said Julie, wearily. "But, shall we really go on +with it, Evelyn?" + +The Duchess looked entreaty. Julie repented, and, drawing her friend +towards her, rested her head against the chinchilla cloak. + +"I'm tired, I suppose," she said, in a low voice. "Don't think me an +ungrateful wretch. Well, there's my foster-sister and her child." + +"Madame Bornier and the little cripple girl?" cried the Duchess. +"Excellent! Where are they?" + +"Leonie is in the French Governesses' Home, as it happens, looking out +for a situation, and the child is in the Orthopaedic Hospital. They've +been straightening her foot. It's wonderfully better, and she's nearly +ready to come out." + +"Are they nice, Julie?" + +"Therese is an angel--you must be the one thing or the other, +apparently, if you're a cripple. And as for Leonie--well, if she comes +here, nobody need be anxious about my finances. She'd count every crust +and cinder. We couldn't keep any English servant; but we could get a +Belgian one." + +"But is she nice?" repeated the Duchess. + +"I'm used to her," said Julie, in the same inanimate voice. + +Suddenly the clock in the hall below struck four. + +"Heavens!" cried the Duchess. "You don't know how Clarisse keeps you to +your time. Shall I go on, and send the carriage back for you?" + +"Don't trouble about me. I should like to look round me here a little +longer." + +"You'll remember that some of our fellow-criminals may look in after +five? Dr. Meredith and Lord Lackington said, as we were getting away +last night--oh, how that doorstep of Aunt Flora's burned my shoes!--that +they should come round. And Jacob is coming; he'll stay and dine. And, +Julie, I've asked Captain Warkworth to dine to-morrow night." + +"Have you? That's noble of you--for you don't like him." + +"I don't know him!" cried the Duchess, protesting. "If you like him--of +course it's all right. Was he--was he very agreeable last night?" she +added, slyly. + +"What a word to apply to anybody or anything connected with last night!" + +"Are you very sore, Julie?" + +"Well, on this very day of being turned out it hurts. I wonder who is +writing Lady Henry's letters for her this afternoon?" + +"I hope they are not getting written," said the Duchess, savagely; "and +that she's missing you abominably. Good-bye--_au revoir!_ If I am twenty +minutes late with Clarisse, I sha'n't get any fitting, duchess or +no duchess." + +And the little creature hurried off; not so fast, however, but that she +found time to leave a number of parting instructions as to the house +with the Scotch caretaker, on her way to her carriage. + +Julie rose and made her way down to the drawing-room again. The +Scotchwoman saw that she wanted to be alone and left her. + +The windows were still open to the garden outside. Julie examined the +paths, the shrubberies, the great plane-trees; she strained her eyes +towards the mansion itself. But not much of it could be seen. The little +house at the corner had been carefully planted out. + +What wealth it implied--that space and size, in London! Evidently the +house was still shut up. The people who owned it were now living the +same cumbrous, magnificent life in the country which they would soon +come up to live in the capital. Honors, parks, money, birth--all were +theirs, as naturally as the sun rose. Julie envied and hated the big +house and all it stood for; she flung a secret defiance at this coveted +and elegant Mayfair that lay around her, this heart of all that is +recognized, accepted, carelessly sovereign in our "materialized" +upper class. + +And yet all the while she knew that it was an unreal and passing +defiance. She would not be able in truth to free herself from the +ambition to live and shine in this world of the English rich and well +born. For, after all, as she told herself with rebellious passion, it +was or ought to be her world. And yet her whole being was sore from the +experiences of these three years with Lady Henry--from those, above all, +of the preceding twenty-four hours. She wove no romance about herself. +"I should have dismissed myself long ago," she would have said, +contemptuously, to any one who could have compelled the disclosure of +her thoughts. But the long and miserable struggle of her self-love with +Lady Henry's arrogance, of her gifts with her circumstances; the +presence in this very world, where she had gained so marked a personal +success, of two clashing estimates of herself, both of which she +perfectly understood--the one exalting her, the other merely implying +the cool and secret judgment of persons who see the world as it +is--these things made a heat and poison in her blood. + +She was not good enough, not desirable enough, to be the wife of the man +she loved. Here was the plain fact that stung and stung. + +Jacob Delafield had thought her good enough! She still felt the pressure +of his warm, strong fingers, the touch of his kiss upon her hand. What a +paradox was she living in! The Duchess might well ask: why, indeed, had +she refused Jacob Delafield--that first time? As to the second refusal, +that needed no explanation, at least for herself. When, upon that winter +day, now some six weeks past, which had beheld Lady Henry more than +commonly tyrannical, and her companion more than commonly weary and +rebellious, Delafield's stammered words--as he and she were crossing +Grosvenor Square in the January dusk--had struck for the second time +upon her ear, she was already under Warkworth's charm. But before--the +first time? She had come to Lady Henry firmly determined to marry as +soon and as well as she could--to throw off the slur on her life--to +regularize her name and place in the world. And then the possible heir +of the Chudleighs proposes to her--and she rejects him! + +It was sometimes difficult for her now to remember all the whys and +wherefores of this strange action of which she was secretly so proud. +But the explanation was in truth not far from that she had given to the +Duchess. The wild strength in her own nature had divined and shrunk from +a similar strength in Delafield's. Here, indeed, one came upon the fact +which forever differentiated her from the adventuress, had Sir Wilfrid +known. She wanted money and name; there were days when she hungered for +them. But she would not give too reckless a price for them. She was a +personality, a soul--not a vulgar woman--not merely callous or greedy. +She dreaded to be miserable; she had a thirst for happiness, and the +heart was, after all, stronger than the head. + +Jacob Delafield? No! Her being contracted and shivered at the thought of +him. A will tardily developed, if all accounts of his school and college +days were true, but now, as she believed, invincible; a mystic; an +ascetic; a man under whose modest or careless or self-mocking ways she, +with her eye for character, divined the most critical instincts, and a +veracity, iron, scarcely human--a man before whom one must be always +posing at one's best--that was a personal risk too great to take for a +Julie Le Breton. + +Unless, indeed, if it came to this--that one must think no more of +love--but only of power--why, then-- + +A ring at the door, resounding through the quiet side street. After a +minute the Scotchwoman opened the drawing-room door. + +"Please, miss, is this meant for you?" + +Julie took the letter in astonishment. Then through the door she saw a +man standing in the hall and recognized Captain Warkworth's +Indian servant. + +"I don't understand him," said the Scotchwoman, shaking her head. + +Julie went out to speak with him. The man had been sent to Crowborough +House with instructions to inquire for Miss Le Breton and deliver his +note. The groom of the chambers, misinterpreting the man's queer +English, and thinking the matter urgent--the note was marked +"immediate"--had sent him after the ladies to Heribert Street. + +The man was soon feed and dismissed, and Miss Le Breton took the letter +back to the drawing-room. + +So, after all, he had not failed; there on her lap was her daily letter. +Outside the scanty March sun, now just setting, was touching the garden +with gold. Had it also found its way into Julie's eyes? + +Now for his explanation: + + "First, how and where are you? I called in Bruton Street at + noon. Hutton told me you had just gone to Crowborough House. + Kind--no, wise little Duchess! She honors herself in + sheltering you. + + "I could not write last night--I was too uncertain, too + anxious. All I said might have jarred. This morning came your + note, about eleven. It was angelic to think so kindly and + thoughtfully of a friend--angelic to write such a letter at + such a time. You announced your flight to Crowborough House, + but did not say when, so I crept to Bruton Street, seeing + Lady Henry in every lamp-post, got a few clandestine words + with Hutton, and knew, at least, what had happened to + you--outwardly and visibly. + + "Last night did you think me a poltroon to vanish as I did? + It was the impulse of a moment. Mr. Montresor had pulled me + into a corner of the room, away from the rest of the party, + nominally to look at a picture, really that I might answer a + confidential question he had just put to me with regard to a + disputed incident in the Afridi campaign. We were in the dark + and partly behind a screen. Then the door opened. I confess + the sight of Lady Henry paralyzed me. A great, murderous, + six-foot Afridi--that would have been simple enough. But a + woman--old and ill and furious--with that Medusa's face--no! + My nerves suddenly failed me. What right had I in her house, + after all? As she advanced into the room, I slipped out + behind her. General Fergus and M. du Bartas joined me in the + hall. We walked to Bond Street together. They were divided + between laughter and vexation. I should have laughed--if I + could have forgotten you. + + "But what could I have done for you, dear lady, if I had + stayed out the storm? I left you with three or four devoted + adherents, who had, moreover, the advantage over me of either + relationship or old acquaintance with Lady Henry. Compared to + them, I could have done nothing to shield you. Was it not + best to withdraw? Yet all the way home I accused myself + bitterly. Nor did I feel, when I reached home, that one who + had not grasped your hand under fire had any right to rest or + sleep. But anxiety for you, regrets for myself, took care of + that; I got my deserts. + + "After all, when the pricks and pains of this great wrench + are over, shall we not all acknowledge that it is best the + crash should have come? You have suffered and borne too much. + Now we shall see you expand in a freer and happier life. The + Duchess has asked me to dinner to-morrow--the note has just + arrived--so that I shall soon have the chance of hearing from + you some of those details I so much want to know. But before + then you will write? + + "As for me, I am full of alternate hopes and fears. General + Fergus, as we walked home, was rather silent and bearish--I + could not flatter myself that he had any friendly intentions + towards me in his mind. But Montresor was more than kind, and + gave me some fresh opportunities of which I was very glad to + avail myself. Well, we shall know soon. + + "You told me once that if, or when, this happened, you would + turn to your pen, and that Dr. Meredith would find you + openings. That is not to be regretted, I think. You have + great gifts, which will bring you pleasure in the using. I + have got a good deal of pleasure out of my small ones. Did + you know that once, long ago, when I was stationed at + Gibraltar, I wrote a military novel? + + "No, I don't pity you because you will need to turn your + intellect to account. You will be free, and mistress of your + fate. That, for those who, like you and me, are the 'children + of their works,' as the Spaniards say, is much. + + "Dear friend--kind, persecuted friend!--I thought of you in + the watches of the night--I think of you this morning. Let me + soon have news of you." + +Julie put the letter down upon her knee. Her face stiffened. Nothing +that she had ever received from him yet had rung so false. + +Grief? Complaint? No! Just a calm grasp of the game--a quick playing of +the pieces--so long as the game was there to play. If he was appointed +to this mission, in two or three weeks he would be gone--to the heart of +Africa. If not-- + +Anyway, two or three weeks were hers. Her mind seemed to settle and +steady itself. + +She got up and went once more carefully through the house, giving her +attention to it. Yes, the whole had character and a kind of charm. The +little place would make, no doubt, an interesting and distinguished +background for the life she meant to put into it. She would move in at +once--in three days at most. Ways and means were for the moment not +difficult. During her life with Lady Henry she had saved the whole of +her own small _rentes_. Three hundred pounds lay ready to her hand in +an investment easily realized. And she would begin to earn at once. + +Therese--that should be her room--the cheerful, blue-papered room with +the south window. Julie felt a strange rush of feeling as she thought of +it. How curious that these two--Leonie and little Therese--should be +thus brought back into her life! For she had no doubt whatever that they +would accept with eagerness what she had to offer. Her foster-sister had +married a school-master in one of the Communal schools of Bruges while +Julie was still a girl at the convent. Leonie's lame child had been much +with her grandmother, old Madame Le Breton. To Julie she had been at +first unwelcome and repugnant. Then some quality in the frail creature +had unlocked the girl's sealed and often sullen heart. + +While she had been living with Lady Henry, these two, the mother and +child, had been also in London; the mother, now a widow, earning her +bread as an inferior kind of French governess, the child boarded out +with various persons, and generally for long periods of the year in +hospital or convalescent home. To visit her in her white hospital +bed--to bring her toys and flowers, or merely kisses and chat--had been, +during these years, the only work of charity on Julie's part which had +been wholly secret, disinterested, and constant. + + + +XII + +It was a somewhat depressed company that found its straggling way into +the Duchess's drawing-room that evening between tea and dinner. + +Miss Le Breton did not appear at tea. The Duchess believed that, after +her inspection of the house in Heribert Street, Julie had gone on to +Bloomsbury to find Madame Bornier. Jacob Delafield was there, not much +inclined to talk, even as Julie's champion. And, one by one, Lady +Henry's oldest _habitues_, the "criminals" of the night before, +dropped in. + +Dr. Meredith arrived with a portfolio containing what seemed to be +proof-sheets. + +"Miss Le Breton not here?" he said, as he looked round him. + +The Duchess explained that she might be in presently. The great man sat +down, his portfolio carefully placed beside him, and drank his tea under +what seemed a cloud of preoccupation. + +Then appeared Lord Lackington and Sir Wilfrid Bury. Montresor had sent a +note from the House to say that if the debate would let him he would +dash up to Grosvenor Square for some dinner, but could only stay +an hour. + +"Well, here we are again--the worst of us!" said the Duchess, presently, +with a sigh of bravado, as she handed Lord Lackington his cup of tea +and sank back in her chair to enjoy her own. + +"Speak for yourselves, please," said Sir Wilfrid's soft, smiling voice, +as he daintily relieved his mustache of some of the Duchess's cream. + +"Oh, that's all very well," said the Duchess, throwing up a hand in mock +annoyance; "but why weren't you there?" + +"I knew better." + +"The people who keep out of scrapes are not the people one loves," was +the Duchess's peevish reply. + +"Let him alone," said Lord Lackington, coming for some more tea-cake. +"He will get his deserts. Next Wednesday he will be _tete-a-tete_ with +Lady Henry." + +"Lady Henry is going to Torquay to-morrow," said Sir Wilfrid, quietly. + +"Ah!" + +There was a general chorus of interrogation, amid which the Duchess made +herself heard. + +"Then you've seen her?" + +"To-day, for twenty minutes--all she was able to bear. She was ill +yesterday. She is naturally worse to-day. As to her state of mind--" + +The circle of faces drew eagerly nearer. + +"Oh, it's war," said Sir Wilfrid, nodding--"undoubtedly war--upon the +Cave--if there is a Cave." + +"Well, poor things, we must have something to shelter us!" cried the +Duchess. "The Cave is being aired to-day." + +The interrogating faces turned her way. The Duchess explained the +situation, and drew the house in Heribert Street--with its Cyclops-eye +of a dormer window, and its Ionian columns--on the tea-cloth with +her nail. + +"Ah," said Sir Wilfrid, crossing his knees reflectively. "Ah, that makes +it serious." + +"Julie must have a place to live in," said the Duchess, stiffly. + +"I suppose Lady Henry would reply that there are still a few houses in +London which do not belong to her kinsman, the Duke of Crowborough." + +"Not perhaps to be had for the lending, and ready to step into at a +day's notice," said Lord Lackington, with his queer smile, like the play +of sharp sunbeams through a mist. "That's the worst of our class. The +margin between us and calamity is too wide. We risk too little. Nobody +goes to the workhouse." + +Sir Wilfrid looked at him curiously. "Do I catch your meaning?" he said, +dropping his voice; "is it that if there had been no Duchess, and no +Heribert Street, Miss Le Breton would have managed to put up with +Lady Henry?" + +Lord Lackington smiled again. "I think it probable.... As it is, +however, we are all the gainers. We shall now see Miss Julie at her ease +and ours." + +"You have been for some time acquainted with Miss Le Breton?" + +"Oh, some time. I don't exactly remember. Lady Henry, of course, is an +old friend of mine, as she is of yours. Sometimes she is rude to me. +Then I stay away. But I always go back. She and I can discuss things and +people that nobody else recollects--no, as far as that's concerned, +you're not in it, Bury. Only this winter, somehow, I have often gone +round to see Lady Henry, and have found Miss Le Breton instead so +attractive--" + +"Precisely," said Sir Wilfrid, laughing; "the whole case in a nutshell." + +"What puzzles me," continued his companion, in a musing voice, "is how +she can be so English as she is--with her foreign bringing up. She has a +most extraordinary instinct for people--people in London--and their +relations. I have never known her make a mistake. Yet it is only five +years since she began to come to England at all; and she has lived but +three with Lady Henry. It was clear, I thought, that neither she nor +Lady Henry wished to be questioned. But, do you, for instance--I have no +doubt Lady Henry tells you more than she tells me--do you know anything +of Mademoiselle Julie's antecedents?" + +Sir Wilfrid started. Through his mind ran the same reflection as that to +which the Duke had given expression in the morning--"_she ought to +reveal herself!_" Julie Le Breton had no right to leave this old man in +his ignorance, while those surrounding him were in the secret. Thereby +she made a spectacle of her mother's father--made herself and him the +sport of curious eyes. For who could help watching them--every movement, +every word? There was a kind of indelicacy in it. + +His reply was rather hesitating. "Yes, I happen to know something. But I +feel sure Miss Le Breton would prefer to tell you herself. Ask her. +While she was with Lady Henry there were reasons for silence--" + +"But, of course, I'll ask her," said his companion, eagerly, "if you +suppose that I may. A more hungry curiosity was never raised in a human +breast than in mine with regard to this dear lady. So charming, +handsome, and well bred--and so forlorn! That's the paradox of it. The +personality presupposes a _milieu_--else how produce it? And there is no +_milieu_, save this little circle she has made for herself through Lady +Henry.... Ah, and you think I may ask her? I will--that's flat--I will!" + +And the old man gleefully rubbed his hands, face and form full of the +vivacity of his imperishable youth. + +"Choose your time and place," said Sir Wilfrid, hastily. "There are very +sad and tragic circumstances--" + +Lord Lackington looked at him and nodded gayly, as much as to say, "You +distrust me with the sex? Me, who have had the whip-hand of them since +my cradle!" + +Suddenly the Duchess interrupted. "Sir Wilfrid, you have seen Lady +Henry; which did she mind most--the coming-in or the coffee?" + +Bury returned, smiling, to the tea-table. + +"The coming-in would have been nothing if it had led quickly to the +going-out. It was the coffee that ruined you." + +"I see," said the Duchess, pouting--"it meant that it was possible for +us to enjoy ourselves without Lady Henry. That was the offence." + +"Precisely. It showed that you _were_ enjoying yourselves. Otherwise +there would have been no lingering, and no coffee." + +"I never knew coffee so fatal before," sighed the Duchess. "And now"--it +was evident that she shrank from the answer to her own question--"she is +really irreconcilable?" + +"Absolutely. Let me beg you to take it for granted." + +"She won't see any of us--not me?" + +Sir Wilfrid hesitated. + +"Make the Duke your ambassador." + +The Duchess laughed, and flushed a little. + +"And Mr. Montresor?" + +"Ah," said Sir Wilfrid in another tone, "that's not to be lightly spoken +of." + +"You don't mean--" + +"How many years has that lasted?" said Sir Wilfrid, meditatively. + +"Thirty, I think--if not more. It was Lady Henry who told him of his +son's death, when his wife daren't do it." + +There was a silence. Montresor had lost his only son, a subaltern in the +Lancers, in the action of Alumbagh, on the way to the relief of Lucknow. + +Then the Duchess broke out: + +"I know that you think in your heart of hearts that Julie has been in +fault, and that we have all behaved abominably!" + +"My dear lady," said Sir Wilfrid, after a moment, "in Persia we believe +in fate; I have brought the trick home." + +"Yes, yes, that's it!" exclaimed Lord Lackington--it! When Lady Henry +wanted a companion--and fate brought her Miss Le Breton--" + +"Last night's coffee was already drunk," put in Sir Wilfrid. + +Meredith's voice, raised and a trifle harsh, made itself heard. + +"Why you should dignify an ugly jealousy by fine words I don't know. For +some women--women like our old friend--gratitude is hard. That is the +moral of this tale." + +"The only one?" said Sir Wilfrid, not without a mocking twist of the +lip. + +"The only one that matters. Lady Henry had found, or might have found, a +daughter--" + +"I understand she bargained for a companion." + +"Very well. Then she stands upon her foolish rights, and loses both +daughter and companion. At seventy, life doesn't forgive you a blunder +of that kind." + +Sir Wilfrid silently shook his head. Meredith threw back his blanched +mane of hair, his deep eyes kindling under the implied contradiction. + +"I am an old comrade of Lady Henry's," he said, quickly. "My record, +you'll find, comes next to yours, Bury. But if Lady Henry is determined +to make a quarrel of this, she must make it. I regret nothing." + +"What madness has seized upon all these people?" thought Bury, as he +withdrew from the discussion. The fire, the unwonted fire, in Meredith's +speech and aspect, amazed him. From the corner to which he had retreated +he studied the face of the journalist. It was a face subtly and strongly +lined by much living--of the intellectual, however, rather than the +physical sort; breathing now a studious dignity, the effect of the broad +sweep of brow under the high-peaked lines of grizzled hair, and now +broken, tempestuous, scornful, changing with the pliancy of an actor. +The head was sunk a little in the shoulders, as though dragged back by +its own weight. The form which it commanded had the movements of a man +no less accustomed to rule in his own sphere than Montresor himself. + +To Sir Wilfrid the famous editor was still personally mysterious, after +many years of intermittent acquaintance. He was apparently unmarried; or +was there perhaps a wife, picked up in a previous state of existence, +and hidden away with her offspring at Clapham or Hornsey or Peckham? +Bury could remember, years before, a dowdy old sister, to whom Lady +Henry had been on occasion formally polite. Otherwise, nothing. What +were the great man's origins and antecedents--his family, school, +university? Sir Wilfrid did not know; he did not believe that any one +knew. An amazing mastery of the German, and, it was said, the Russian +tongues, suggested a foreign education; but neither on this ground nor +any other connected with his personal history did Meredith encourage the +inquirer. It was often reported that he was of Jewish descent, and there +were certain traits, both of feature and character, that lent support to +the notion. If so, the strain was that of Heine or Disraeli, not the +strain of Commerce. + +At any rate, he was one of the most powerful men of his day--the owner, +through _The New Rambler_, of an influence which now for some fifteen +years had ranked among the forces to be reckoned with. A man in whom +politics assumed a tinge of sombre poetry; a man of hatreds, ideals, +indignations, yet of habitually sober speech. As to passions, Sir +Wilfrid could have sworn that, wife or no wife, the man who could show +that significance of mouth and eye had not gone through life without +knowing the stress and shock of them. + +Was he, too, beguiled by this woman?--_he, too?_ For a little behind +him, beside the Duchess, sat Jacob Delafield; and, during his painful +interview that day with Lady Henry, Sir Wilfrid had been informed of +several things with regard to Jacob Delafield he had not known before. +So she had refused him--this lady who was now the heart of this +whirlwind? Permanently? Lady Henry had poured scorn on the notion. She +was merely sure of him; could keep him in a string to play with as she +chose. Meanwhile the handsome soldier was metal more attractive. Sir +Wilfrid reflected, with an inward shrug, that, once let a woman give +herself to such a fury as possessed Lady Henry, and there did not seem +to be much to choose between her imaginings and those of the most vulgar +of her sex. + +So Jacob could be played with--whistled on and whistled off as Miss Le +Breton chose? Yet his was not a face that suggested it, any more than +the face of Dr. Meredith. The young man's countenance was gradually +changing its aspect for Sir Wilfrid, in a somewhat singular way, as old +impressions of his character died away and new ones emerged. The face, +now, often recalled to Bury a portrait by some Holbeinesque master, +which he had seen once in the Basle Museum and never forgotten. A large, +thin-lipped mouth that, without weakness, suggested patience; the long +chin of a man of will; nose, bluntly cut at the tip, yet in the nostril +and bridge most delicate; grayish eyes, with a veil of reverie drawn, as +it were, momentarily across them, and showing behind the veil a kind of +stern sweetness; fair hair low on the brow, which was heavy, and made a +massive shelter for the eyes. So looked the young German who had perhaps +heard Melanchthon; so, in this middle nineteenth century, looked Jacob +Delafield. No, anger makes obtuse; that, no doubt, was Lady Henry's +case. At any rate, in Delafield's presence her theory did not +commend itself. + +But if Delafield had not echoed them, the little Duchess had received +Meredith's remarks with enthusiasm. + +"Regret! No, indeed! Why should we regret anything, except that Julie +has been miserable so long? She _has_ had a bad time. Every day and all +day. Ah, you don't know--none of you. You haven't seen all the little +things as I have." + +"The errands, and the dogs," said Sir William, slyly. + +The Duchess threw him a glance half conscious, half resentful, and went +on: + +"It has been one small torture after another. Even when a person's old +you can't bear more than a certain amount, can you? You oughtn't to. No, +let's be thankful it's all over, and Julie--our dear, delightful +Julie--who has done everybody in this room all sorts of kindnesses, +hasn't she?" + +An assenting murmur ran round the circle. + +"Julie's _free_! Only she's _very_ lonely. We must see to that, mustn't +we? Lady Henry can buy another companion to-morrow--she will. She has +heaps of money and heaps of friends, and she'll tell her own story to +them all. But Julie has only us. If we desert her--" + +"Desert her!" said a voice in the distance, half amused, half +electrical. Bury thought it was Jacob's. + +"Of course we sha'n't desert her!" cried the Duchess. "We shall rally +round her and carry her through. If Lady Henry makes herself +disagreeable, then we'll fight. If not, we'll let her cool down. Oh, +Julie, darling--here you are!" + +The Duchess sprang up and caught her entering friend by the hand. + +"And here are we," with a wave round the circle. "This is your +court--your St. Germain." + +"So you mean me to die in exile," said Julie, with a quavering smile, as +she drew off her gloves. Then she looked at her friends. "Oh, how good +of you all to come! Lord Lackington!" She went up to him impetuously, +and he, taken by surprise, yielded his hands, which she took in both +hers. "It was foolish, I know, but you don't think it was so _bad_, +do you?" + +She gazed up at him wistfully. Her lithe form seemed almost to cling to +the old man. Instinctively, Jacob, Meredith, Sir Wilfrid Bury withdrew +their eyes. The room held its breath. As for Lord Lackington, he colored +like a girl. + +"No, no; a mistake, perhaps, for all of us; but more ours than yours, +mademoiselle--much more! Don't fret. Indeed, you look as if you hadn't +slept, and that mustn't be. You must think that, sooner or later, it was +bound to come. Lady Henry will soften in time, and you will know so well +how to meet her. But now we have your future to think of. Only sit down. +You mustn't look so tired. Where have you been wandering?" + +And with a stately courtesy, her hand still in his, he took her to a +chair and helped her to remove her heavy cloak. + +"My future!" She shivered as she dropped into her seat. + +How weary and beaten-down she looked--the heroine of such a turmoil! Her +eyes travelled from face to face, shrinking--unconsciously appealing. In +the dim, soft color of the room, her white face and hands, striking +against her black dress, were strangely living and significant. They +spoke command--through weakness, through sex. For that, in spite of +intellectual distinction, was, after all, her secret. She breathed +femininity--the old common spell upon the blood. + +"I don't know why you're all so kind to me," she murmured. "Let me +disappear. I can go into the country and earn my living there. Then I +shall be no more trouble." + +Unseen himself, Sir Wilfrid surveyed her. He thought her a consummate +actress, and revelled in each new phase. + +The Duchess, half laughing, half crying, began to scold her friend. +Delafield bent over Julie Le Breton's chair. + +"Have you had some tea?" + +The smile in his eyes provoked a faint answer in hers. While she was +declaring that she was in no need whatever of physical sustenance, +Meredith advanced with his portfolio. He looked the editor merely, and +spoke with a business-like brevity. + +"I have brought the sheets of the new Shelley book, Miss Le Breton. It +is due for publication on the 22d. Kindly let me have your review within +a week. It may run to two columns--possibly even two and a half. You +will find here also the particulars of one or two other things--let me +know, please, what you will undertake." + +Julie put out a languid hand for the portfolio. + +"I don't think you ought to trust me." + +"What do you want of her?" said Lord Lackington, briskly. "'Chatter +about Harriet?' I could write you reams of that myself. I once saw +Harriet." + +"Ah!" + +Meredith, with whom the Shelley cult was a deep-rooted passion, started +and looked round; then sharply repressed the eagerness on his tongue and +sat down by Miss Le Breton, with whom, in a lowered voice, he began to +discuss the points to be noticed in the sheets handed over to her. No +stronger proof could he have given of his devotion to her. Julie knew +it, and, rousing herself, she met him with a soft attention and +docility; thus tacitly relinquishing, as Bury noticed with amusement, +all talk of "disappearance." + +Only with himself, he suspected, was the fair lady ill at ease. And, +indeed, it was so. Julie, by her pallor, her humility, had thrown +herself, as it were, into the arms of her friends, and each was now +vying with the other as to how best to cheer and console her. Meanwhile +her attention was really bent upon her critic--her only critic in this +assembly; and he discovered various attempts to draw him into +conversation. And when Lord Lackington, discomfited by Meredith, had +finished discharging his literary recollections upon him, Sir Wilfrid +became complaisant; Julie slipped in and held him. + +Leaning her chin on both hands, she bent towards him, fixing him with +her eyes. And in spite of his antagonism he no longer felt himself +strong enough to deny that the eyes were beautiful, especially with this +tragic note in them of fatigue and pain. + +"Sir Wilfrid"--she spoke in low entreaty--"you _must_ help me to prevent +any breach between Lady Henry and Mr. Montresor." + +He looked at her gayly. + +"I fear," he said, "you are too late. That point is settled, as I +understand from herself." + +"Surely not--so soon!" + +"There was an exchange of letters this morning." + +"Oh, but you can prevent it--you must!" She clasped her hands. + +"No," he said, slowly, "I fear you must accept it. Their relation was a +matter of old habit. Like other things old and frail, it bears shock and +disturbance badly." + +She sank back in her chair, raising her hands and letting them fall with +a gesture of despair. + +One little stroke of punishment--just one! Surely there was no cruelty +in that. Sir Wilfrid caught the Horatian lines dancing through his head: + + "Just oblige me and touch + With your wand that minx Chloe-- + But don't hurt her much!" + +Yet here was Jacob interposing!--Jacob, who had evidently been watching +his mild attempt at castigation, no doubt with disapproval. Lover or no +lover--what did the man expect? Under his placid exterior, Sir Wilfrid's +mind was, in truth, hot with sympathy for the old and helpless. + +Delafield bent over Miss Le Breton. + +"You will go and rest? Evelyn advises it." + +She rose to her feet, and most of the party rose, too. + +"Good-bye--good-bye," said Lord Lackington, offering her a cordial hand. +"Rest and forget. Everything blows over. And at Easter you must come to +me in the country. Blanche will be with me, and my granddaughter +Aileen, if I can tempt them away from Italy. Aileen's a little fairy; +you'd be charmed with her. Now mind, that's a promise. You must +certainly come." + +The Duchess had paused in her farewell nothings with Sir Wilfrid to +observe her friend. Julie, with her eyes on the ground, murmured thanks; +and Lord Lackington, straight as a dart to-night, carrying his +seventy-five years as though they were the merest trifle, made a stately +and smiling exit. Julie looked round upon the faces left. In her own +heart she read the same judgment as in their eyes: "_The old man +must know!_" + +The Duke came into the drawing-room half an hour later in quest of his +wife. He was about to leave town by a night train for the north, and his +temper was, apparently, far from good. + +The Duchess was stretched on the sofa in the firelight, her hands behind +her head, dreaming. Whether it was the sight of so much ease that jarred +on the Duke's ruffled nerves or no, certain it is that he inflicted a +thorny good-bye. He had seen Lady Henry, he said, and the reality was +even worse than he had supposed. There was absolutely nothing to be said +for Miss Le Breton, and he was ashamed of himself to have been so weakly +talked over in the matter of the house. His word once given, of course, +there was an end of it--for six months. After that, Miss Le Breton must +provide for herself. Meanwhile, Lady Henry refused to receive the +Duchess, and would be some time before she forgave himself. It was all +most annoying, and he was thankful to be going away, for, Lady Rose or +no Lady Rose, he really could not have entertained the lady with +civility. + +"Oh, well, never mind, Freddie," said the Duchess, springing up. "She'll +be gone before you come back, and I'll look after her." + +The Duke offered a rather sulky embrace, walked to the door, and came +back. + +"I really very much dislike this kind of gossip," he said, stiffly, "but +perhaps I had better say that Lady Henry believes that the affair with +Delafield was only one of several. She talks of a certain Captain +Warkworth--" + +"Yes," said the Duchess, nodding. "I know; but he sha'n't have Julie." + +Her smile completed the Duke's annoyance. + +"What have you to do with it? I beg, Evelyn--I insist--that you leave +Miss Le Breton's love affairs alone." + +"You forget, Freddie, that she is my _friend_." + +The little creature fronted him, all wilfulness and breathing hard, her +small hands clasped on her breast. + +With an angry exclamation the Duke departed. + + * * * * * + +At half-past eight a hansom dashed up to Crowborough House. Montresor +emerged. + +He found the two ladies and Jacob Delafield just beginning dinner, and +stayed with them an hour; but it was not an hour of pleasure. The great +man was tired with work and debate, depressed also by the quarrel with +his old friend. Julie did not dare to put questions, and guiltily shrank +into herself. She divined that a great price was being paid on her +behalf, and must needs bitterly ask whether anything that she could +offer or plead was worth it--bitterly suspect, also, that the query had +passed through other minds than her own. + +After dinner, as Montresor rose with the Duchess to take his leave, +Julie got a word with him in the corridor. + +"You will give me ten minutes' talk?" she said, lifting her pale face to +him. "You mustn't, mustn't quarrel with Lady Henry because of me." + +He drew himself up, perhaps with a touch of haughtiness. + +"Lady Henry could end it in a moment. Don't, I beg of you, trouble your +head about the matter. Even as an old friend, one must be allowed one's +self-respect." + +"But mayn't I--" + +"Nearly ten o'clock!" he cried, looking at his watch. "I must be off +this moment. So you are going to the house in Heribert Street? I +remember Lady Mary Leicester perfectly. As soon as you are settled, tell +me, and I will present myself. Meanwhile "--he smiled and bent his black +head towards her--"look in to-morrow's papers for some interesting +news." + +He sprang into his hansom and was gone. + +Julie went slowly up-stairs. Of course she understood. The long intrigue +had reached its goal, and within twelve hours the _Times_ would announce +the appointment of Captain Warkworth, D.S.O., to the command of the +Mokembe military mission. He would have obtained his heart's +desire--through her. + +How true were those last words, perhaps only Julie knew. She looked back +upon all the manoeuvres and influences she had brought to bear--flattery +here, interest or reciprocity there, the lures of Crowborough House, the +prestige of Lady Henry's drawing-room. Wheel by wheel she had built up +her cunning machine, and the machine had worked. No doubt the last +completing touch had been given the night before. Her culminating +offence against Lady Henry--the occasion of her disgrace and +banishment--had been to Warkworth the stepping-stone of fortune. + +What "gossamer girl" could have done so much? She threw back her head +proudly and heard the beating of her heart. + +Lady Henry was fiercely forgotten. She opened the drawing-room door, +absorbed in a counting of the hours till she and Warkworth should meet. + +Then, amid the lights and shadows of the Duchess's drawing-room, Jacob +Delafield rose and came towards her. Her exaltation dropped in a moment. +Some testing, penetrating influence seemed to breathe from this man, +which filled her with a moral discomfort, a curious restlessness. Did he +guess the nature of her feeling for Warkworth? Was he acquainted with +the efforts she had been making for the young soldier? She could not be +sure; he had never given her the smallest sign. Yet she divined that few +things escaped him where the persons who touched his feelings were +concerned. And Evelyn--the dear chatterbox--certainly suspected. + +"How tired you are!" he said to her, gently. "What a day it has been for +you! Evelyn is writing letters. Let me bring you the papers--and please +don't talk." + +She submitted to a sofa, to an adjusted light, to the papers on her +knee. Then Delafield withdrew and took up a book. + +She could not rest, however; visions of the morrow and of Warkworth's +triumphant looks kept flashing through her. Yet all the while +Delafield's presence haunted her--she could not forget him, and +presently she addressed him. + +"Mr. Delafield!" + +He heard the low voice and came. + +"I have never thanked you for your goodness last night. I do thank you +now--most earnestly." + +"You needn't. You know very well what I would do to serve you if I +could." + +"Even when you think me in the wrong?" said Julie, with a little, +hysterical laugh. + +Her conscience smote her. Why provoke this intimate talk--wantonly--with +the man she had made suffer? Yet her restlessness, which was partly +nervous fatigue, drove her on. + +Delafield flushed at her words. + +"How have I given you cause to say that?" + +"Oh, you are very transparent. One sees that you are always troubling +yourself about the right and wrong of things." + +"All very well for one's self," said Delafield, trying to laugh. "I hope +I don't seem to you to be setting up as a judge of other people's right +and wrong?" + +"Yes, yes, you do!" she said, passionately. Then, as he winced, "No, I +don't mean that. But you do judge--it is in your nature--and other +people feel it." + +"I didn't know I was such a prig," said Delafield, humbly. "It is true I +am always puzzling over things." + +Julie was silent. She was indeed secretly convinced that he no more +approved the escapade of the night before than did Sir Wilfrid Bury. +Through the whole evening she had been conscious of a watchful anxiety +and resistance on his part. Yet he had stood by her to the end--so +warmly, so faithfully. + +He sat down beside her, and Julie felt a fresh pang of remorse, perhaps +of alarm. Why had she called him to her? What had they to do with each +other? But he soon reassured her. He began to talk of Meredith, and the +work before her--the important and glorious work, as he naively termed +it, of the writer. + +And presently he turned upon her with sudden feeling. + +"You accused me, just now, of judging what I have no business to judge. +If you think that I regret the severance of your relation with Lady +Henry, you are quite, quite mistaken. It has been the dream of my life +this last year to see you free--mistress of your own life. It--it made +me mad that you should be ordered about like a child--dependent upon +another person's will." + +She looked at him curiously. + +"I know. That revolts you always--any form of command? Evelyn tells me +that you carry it to curious lengths with your servants and laborers." + +He drew back, evidently disconcerted. + +"Oh, I try some experiments. They generally break down." + +"You try to do without servants, Evelyn says, as much as possible." + +"Well, if I do try, I don't succeed," he said, laughing. "But"--his eyes +kindled--"isn't it worth while, during a bit of one's life, to escape, +if one can, from some of the paraphernalia in which we are all +smothered? Look there! What right have I to turn my fellow-creatures +into bedizened automata like that?" + +And he threw out an accusing hand towards the two powdered footmen, who +were removing the coffee-cups and making up the fire in the next room, +while the magnificent groom of the chambers stood like a statue, +receiving some orders from the Duchess. + +Julie, however, showed no sympathy. + +"They are only automata in the drawing-room. Down-stairs they are as +much alive as you or I." + +"Well, let us put it that I prefer other kinds of luxury," said +Delafield. "However, as I appear to have none of the qualities necessary +to carry out my notions, they don't get very far." + +"You would like to shake hands with the butler?" said Julie, musing. "I +knew a case of that kind. But the butler gave warning." + +Delafield laughed. + +"Perhaps the simpler thing would be to do without the butler." + +"I am curious," she said, smiling--"very curious. Sir Wilfrid, for +instance, talks of going down to stay with you?" + +"Why not? He'd come off extremely well. There's an ex-butler, and an +ex-cook of Chudleigh's settled in the village. When I have a visitor, +they come in and take possession. We live like fighting-cocks." + +"So nobody knows that, in general, you live like a workman?" + +Delafield looked impatient. + +"Somebody seems to have been cramming Evelyn with ridiculous tales, and +she's been spreading them. I must have it out with her." + +"I expect there is a good deal in them," said Julie. Then, unexpectedly, +she raised her eyes and gave him a long and rather strange look. "Why +do you dislike having servants and being waited upon so much, I wonder? +Is it--you won't be angry?--that you have such a strong will, and you do +these things to tame it?" + +Delafield made a sudden movement, and Julie had no sooner spoken the +words than she regretted them. + +"So you think I should have made a jolly tyrannical slave-owner?" said +Delafield, after a moment's pause. + +Julie bent towards him with a charming look of appeal--almost of +penitence. "On the contrary, I think you would have been as good to your +slaves as you are to your friends." + +His eyes met hers quietly. + +"Thank you. That was kind of you. And as to giving orders, and getting +one's way, don't suppose I let Chudleigh's estate go to ruin! It's +only"--he hesitated--"the small personal tyrannies of every day that I'd +like to minimize. They brutalize half the fellows I know." + +"You'll come to them," said Julie, absently. Then she colored, suddenly +remembering the possible dukedom that awaited him. + +His brow contracted a little, as though he understood. He made no reply. +Julie, with her craving to be approved--to say what pleased--could not +leave it there. + +"I wish I understood," she said, softly, after a moment, "what, or who +it was that gave you these opinions." + +Getting still no answer, she must perforce meet the gray eyes bent upon +her, more expressively, perhaps, than their owner knew. "That you shall +understand," he said, after a minute, in a voice which was singularly +deep and full, "whenever you choose to ask." + +Julie shrank and drew back. + +"Very well," she said, trying to speak lightly. "I'll hold you to that. +Alack! I had forgotten a letter I must write." + +And she pretended to write it, while Delafield buried himself in the +newspapers. + + + +XIII + +Julie's curiosity--passing and perfunctory as it was--concerning the +persons and influences that had worked upon Jacob Delafield since his +college days, was felt in good earnest by not a few of Delafield's +friends. For he was a person rich in friends, reserved as he generally +was, and crotchety as most of them thought him. The mixture of +self-evident strength and manliness in his physiognomy with something +delicate and evasive, some hindering element of reflection or doubt, was +repeated in his character. On the one side he was a robust, healthy +Etonian, who could ride, shoot, and golf like the rest of his kind, who +used the terse, slangy ways of speech of the ordinary Englishman, who +loved the land and its creatures, and had a natural hatred for a +poacher; and on another he was a man haunted by dreams and spiritual +voices, a man for whom, as he paced his tired horse homeward after a +day's run, there would rise on the grays and purples of the winter dusk +far-shining "cities of God" and visions of a better life for man. He +read much poetry, and the New Testament spoke to him imperatively, +though in no orthodox or accustomed way. Ruskin, and the earlier work of +Tolstoy, then just beginning to take hold of the English mind, had +affected his thought and imagination, as the generation before him had +been affected by Carlyle, Emerson, and George Sand. + +This present phase of his life, however, was the outcome of much that +was turbulent and shapeless in his first youth. He seemed to himself to +have passed through Oxford under a kind of eclipse. All that he could +remember of two-thirds of his time there was an immoderate amount of +eating, drinking, and sleeping. A heavy animal existence, disturbed by +moments of unhappiness and remorse, or, at best, lightened by intervals +and gleams of friendship with two or three men who tried to prod him out +of his lethargy, and cherished what appeared, to himself in particular, +a strange and unreasonable liking for him. Such, to his own thinking, +had been his Oxford life, up to the last year of his residence there. + +Then, when he was just making certain of an ignominious failure in the +final schools, he became more closely acquainted with one of the college +tutors, whose influence was to be the spark which should at last fire +the clay. This modest, heroic, and learned man was a paralyzed invalid, +owing to an accident in the prime of life. He had lost the use of his +lower limbs--"dead from the waist down." Yet such was the strength of +his moral and intellectual life that he had become, since the +catastrophe, one of the chief forces of his college. The invalid-chair +on which he wheeled himself, recumbent, from room to room, and from +which he gave his lectures, was, in the eyes of Oxford, a symbol not of +weakness, but of touching and triumphant victory. He gave himself no +airs of resignation or of martyrdom. He simply lived his life--except +during those crises of weakness or pain when his friends were shut +out--as though it were like any other life, save only for what he made +appear an insignificant physical limitation. Scholarship, college +business or college sports, politics and literature--his mind, at +least, was happy, strenuous, and at home in them all. To have pitied him +would have been a mere impertinence. While in his own heart, which never +grieved over himself, there were treasures of compassion for the weak, +the tempted, and the unsuccessful, which spent themselves in secret, +simple ways, unknown to his most intimate friends. + +This man's personality it was which, like the branch of healing on +bitter waters, presently started in Jacob Delafield's nature obscure +processes of growth and regeneration. The originator of them knew little +of what was going on. He was Delafield's tutor for Greats, in the +ordinary college routine; Delafield took essays to him, and occasionally +lingered to talk. But they never became exactly intimate. A few +conversations of "pith and moment"; a warm shake of the hand and a keen +look of pleasure in the blue eyes of the recumbent giant when, after one +year of superhuman but belated effort, Delafield succeeded in obtaining +a second class; a little note of farewell, affectionate and regretful, +when Delafield left the university; an occasional message through a +common friend--Delafield had little more than these to look back upon, +outside the discussions of historical or philosophical subjects which +had entered into their relation as pupil and teacher. + +And now the paralyzed tutor was dead, leaving behind him a volume of +papers on classical subjects, the reputation of an admirable scholar, +and the fragrance of a dear and honored name. His pupils had been many; +they counted among the most distinguished of England's youth; and all of +them owed him much. Few people thought of Delafield when the list of +them was recited; and yet, in truth, Jacob's debt was greater than any; +for he owed this man nothing less than his soul. + +No doubt the period at Oxford had been rather a period of obscure +conflict than of mere idleness and degeneracy, as it had seemed to be. +But it might easily have ended in physical and moral ruin, and, as it +was--thanks to Courtenay--Delafield went out to the business of life, a +man singularly master of himself, determined to live his own life for +his own ends. + +In the first place, he was conscious, like many other young men of his +time, of a strong repulsion towards the complexities and artificialities +of modern society. As in the forties, a time of social stir was rising +out of a time of stagnation. Social settlements were not yet founded, +but the experiments which led to them were beginning. Jacob looked at +the life of London, the clubs and the country-houses, the normal life of +his class, and turned from it in aversion. He thought, sometimes, of +emigrating, in search of a new heaven and a new earth, as men emigrated +in the forties. + +But his mother and sister were alone in the world--his mother a somewhat +helpless being, his sister still very young and unmarried. He could not +reconcile it to his conscience to go very far from them. + +He tried the bar, amid an inner revolt that only increased with time. +And the bar implied London, and the dinners and dances of London, which, +for a man of his family, the probable heir to the lands and moneys of +the Chudleighs, were naturally innumerable. He was much courted, in +spite, perhaps because, of his oddities; and it was plain to him that +with only a small exercise of those will-forces he felt accumulating +within him, most of the normal objects of ambition were within his +grasp. The English aristocratic class, as we all know, is no longer +exclusive. It mingles freely with the commoner world on apparently equal +terms. But all the while its personal and family cohesion is perhaps +greater than ever. The power of mere birth, it seemed to Jacob, was +hardly less in the England newly possessed of household suffrage than in +the England of Charles James Fox's youth, though it worked through other +channels. And for the persons in command of this power, a certain +_appareil de vie_ was necessary, taken for granted. So much income, so +many servants, such and such habits--these things imposed themselves. +Life became a soft and cushioned business, with an infinity of layers +between it and any hard reality--a round pea in a silky pod. + +And he meanwhile found himself hungry to throw aside these tamed and +trite forms of existence, and to penetrate to the harsh, true, simple +things behind. His imagination and his heart turned towards the +primitive, indispensable labors on which society rests--the life of the +husbandman, the laborer, the smith, the woodman, the builder; he dreamed +the old, enchanted dream of living with nature; of becoming the brother +not of the few, but of the many. He was still reading in chambers, +however, when his first cousin, the Duke, a melancholy semi-invalid, a +widower, with an only son tuberculous almost from his birth, arrived +from abroad. Jacob was brought into new contact with him. The Duke liked +him, and offered him the agency of his Essex property. Jacob accepted, +partly that he might be quit of the law, partly that he might be in the +country and among the poor, partly for reasons, or ghosts of reasons, +unavowed even to himself. The one terror that haunted his life was the +terror of the dukedom. This poor, sickly lad, the heir, with whom he +soon made warm friends, and the silent, morbid Duke, with the face of +Charles V. at St. Just--he became, in a short time, profoundly and +pitifully attached to them. It pleased him to serve them; above all did +it please him to do all he could, and to incite others to do all they +could, to keep these two frail persons cheered and alive. His own +passionate dread lest he should suddenly find himself in their place, +gave a particular poignancy to the service he was always ready to render +them of his best. + +The Duke's confidence in him had increased rapidly. Delafield was now +about to take over the charge of another of the Duke's estates, in the +Midlands, and much of the business connected with some important London +property was also coming into his hands. He had made himself a good man +of business where another's interests were concerned, and his dreams did +no harm to the Duke's revenues. He gave, indeed, a liberal direction to +the whole policy of the estate, and, as he had said to Julie, the Duke +did not forbid experiments. + +As to his own money, he gave it away as wisely as he could, which is, +perhaps, not saying very much for the schemes and Quixotisms of a young +man of eight-and-twenty. At any rate, he gave it away--to his mother and +sister first, then to a variety of persons and causes. Why should he +save a penny of it? He had some money of his own, besides his income +from the Duke. It was disgusting that he should have so much, and that +it should be, apparently, so very easy for him to have indefinitely +more if he wanted it. + +He lived in a small cottage, in the simplest, plainest way compatible +with his work and with the maintenance of two decently furnished rooms +for any friend who might chance to visit him. He read much and thought +much. But he was not a man of any commanding speculative or analytic +ability. It would have been hard for him to give any very clear or +logical account of himself and his deepest beliefs. Nevertheless, with +every year that passed he became a more remarkable _character_--his will +stronger, his heart gentler. In the village where he lived they wondered +at him a good deal, and often laughed at him. But if he had left them, +certainly the children and the old people would have felt as though the +sun had gone out. + +In London he showed little or nothing of his peculiar ways and pursuits; +was, in fact, as far as anybody knew--outside half a dozen friends--just +the ordinary, well-disposed young man, engaged in a business that every +one understood. With Lady Henry, his relations, apart from his sympathy +with Julie Le Breton, had been for some time rather difficult. She made +gratitude hard for one of the most grateful of men. When the +circumstances of the Hubert Delafields had been much straitened, after +Lord Hubert's death, Lady Henry had come to their aid, and had, in +particular, spent fifteen hundred pounds on Jacob's school and college +education. But there are those who can make a gift burn into the bones +of those who receive it. Jacob had now saved nearly the whole sum, and +was about to repay her. Meanwhile his obligation, his relationship, and +her age made it natural, or rather imperative, that he should be often +in her house; but when he was with her the touch of arrogant brutality +in her nature, especially towards servants and dependants, roused him +almost to fury. She knew it, and would often exercise her rough tongue +merely for the pleasure of tormenting him. + +No sooner, therefore, had he come to know the fragile, distinguished +creature whom Lady Henry had brought back with her one autumn as her +companion than his sympathies were instantly excited, first by the mere +fact that she was Lady Henry's dependant, and then by the confidence, as +to her sad story and strange position, which she presently reposed in +him and his cousin Evelyn. On one or two occasions, very early in his +acquaintance with her, he was a witness of some small tyranny of Lady +Henry's towards her. He saw the shrinking of the proud nature, and the +pain thrilled through his own nerves as though the lash had touched +himself. Presently it became a joy to him whenever he was in town to +conspire with Evelyn Crowborough for her pleasure and relief. It was the +first time he had ever conspired, and it gave him sometimes a slight +shock to see how readily these two charming women lent themselves, on +occasion, to devices that had the aspect of intrigue, and involved a +good deal of what, in his own case, he would have roundly dubbed lying. +And, in truth, if he had known, they did not find him a convenient ally, +and he was by no means always in their confidence. + +Once, about six months after Julie's arrival in Bruton Street, he met +her on a spring morning crossing Kensington Gardens with the dogs. She +looked startlingly white and ill, and when he spoke to her with eager +sympathy her mouth quivered and her dark eyes clouded with tears. The +sight produced an extraordinary effect on a man large-hearted and +simple, for whom women still moved in an atmosphere of romance. His +heart leaped within him as she let herself be talked with and comforted. +And when her delicate hand rested in his as they said good-bye, he was +conscious of feelings--wild, tumultuous feelings--to which, in his walk +homeward through the spring glades of the park, he gave +impetuous course. + +Romantic, indeed, the position was, for romance rests on contrast. +Jacob, who knew Julie Le Breton's secret, was thrilled or moved by the +contrasts of her existence at every turn. Her success and her +subjection; the place in Lady Henry's circle which Lady Henry had, in +the first instance, herself forced her to take, contrasted with the +shifts and evasions, the poor, tortuous ways by which, alas! she must +often escape Lady Henry's later jealousy; her intellectual strength and +her most feminine weaknesses; these things stirred and kept up in Jacob +a warm and passionate pity. The more clearly he saw the specks in her +glory, the more vividly did she appear to him a princess in distress, +bound by physical or moral fetters not of her own making. None of the +well-born, well-trained damsels who had been freely thrown across his +path had so far beguiled him in the least. Only this woman of doubtful +birth and antecedents, lonely, sad, and enslaved amid what people called +her social triumphs, stole into his heart--beautified by what he chose +to consider her misfortunes, and made none the less attractive by the +fact that as he pursued, she retreated; as he pressed, she grew cold. + +When, indeed, after their friendship had lasted about a year, he +proposed to her and she refused him, his passion, instead of cooling, +redoubled. It never occurred to him to think that she had done a strange +thing from the worldly point of view--that would have involved an +appreciation of himself, as a prize in the marriage market, he would +have loathed to make. But he was one of the men for whom resistance +enhances the value of what they desire, and secretly he said to himself, +"Persevere!" When he was repelled or puzzled by certain aspects of her +character, he would say to himself: + +"It is because she is alone and miserable. Women are not meant to be +alone. What soft, helpless creatures they are!--even when intellectually +they fly far ahead of us. If she would but put her hand in mine I would +so serve and worship her, she would have no need for these strange +things she does--the doublings and ruses of the persecuted." Thus the +touches of falsity that repelled Wilfrid Bury were to Delafield's +passion merely the stains of rough travel on a fair garment. + +But she refused him, and for another year he said no more. Then, as +things got worse and worse for her, he spoke again--ambiguously--a word +or two, thrown out to sound the waters. Her manner of silencing him on +this second occasion was not what it had been before. His suspicions +were aroused, and a few days later he divined the Warkworth affair. + +When Sir Wilfrid Bury spoke to him of the young officer's relations to +Mademoiselle Le Breton, Delafield's stiff defence of Julie's +prerogatives in the matter masked the fact that he had just gone through +a week of suffering, wrestling his heart down in country lanes; a week +which had brought him to somewhat curious results. + +In the first place, as with Sir Wilfrid, he stood up stoutly for her +rights. If she chose to attach herself to this man, whose business was +it to interfere? If he was worthy and loved her, Jacob himself would see +fair play, would be her friend and supporter. + +But the scraps of gossip about Captain Warkworth which the Duchess--who +had disliked the man at first sight--gathered from different quarters +and confided to Jacob were often disquieting. It was said that at Simla +he had entrapped this little heiress, and her obviously foolish and +incapable mother, by devices generally held to be discreditable; and it +had taken two angry guardians to warn him off. What was the state of the +case now no one exactly knew; though it was shrewdly suspected that the +engagement was only dormant. The child was known to have been in love +with him; in two years more she would be of age; her fortune was +enormous, and Warkworth was a poor and ambitious man. + +There was also an ugly tale of a civilian's wife in a hill station, +referring to a date some years back; but Delafield did not think it +necessary to believe it. + +As to his origins--there again, Delafield, making cautious inquiries, +came across some unfavorable details, confided to him by a man of +Warkworth's own regiment. His father had retired from the army +immediately after the Mutiny, broken in health, and much straitened in +means. Himself belonging to a family of the poorer middle class, he had +married late, a good woman not socially his equal, and without fortune. +They settled in the Isle of Wight, on his half-pay, and harassed by a +good many debts. Their two children, Henry and Isabella, were then +growing up, and the parents' hopes were fixed upon their promising and +good-looking son. With difficulty they sent him to Charterhouse and a +"crammer." The boy coveted a "crack" regiment; by dint of mustering all +the money and all the interest they could, they procured him his heart's +desire. He got unpardonably into debt; the old people's resources were +lessening, not expanding; and ultimately the poor father died broken +down by the terror of bankruptcy for himself and disgrace for Henry. The +mother still survived, in very straitened circumstances. + +"His sister," said Delafield's informant, "married one of the big London +tailors, whom she met first on the Ryde pier. I happen to know the +facts, for my father and I have been customers of his for years, and one +day, hearing that I was in Warkworth's regiment, he told me some stories +of his brother-in-law in a pretty hostile tone. His sister, it appears, +has often financed him of late. She must have done. How else could he +have got through? Warkworth may be a fine, showy fellow when there's +fighting about. In private life he's one of the most self-indulgent dogs +alive. And yet he's ashamed of the sister and her husband, and turns his +back on them whenever he can. Oh, he's not a person of nice feeling, is +Warkworth--but, mark my words, he'll be one of the most successful men +in the army." + +There was one side. On the other was to be set the man's brilliant +professional record; his fine service in this recent campaign; the +bull-dog defence of an isolated fort, which insured the safety of most +important communications; contempt of danger, thirst, exposure; the +rescue of a wounded comrade from the glacis of the fort, under a +murderous fire; facts, all of them, which had fired the public +imagination and brought his name to the front. No such acts as these +could have been done by any mere self-indulgent pretender. + +Delafield reserved his judgment. He set himself to watch. In his inmost +heart there was a strange assumption of the right to watch, and, if need +be, to act. Julie's instinct had told her truly. Delafield, the +individualist, the fanatic for freedom--he, also, had his instinct of +tyranny. She should not destroy herself, the dear, weak, beloved woman! +He would prevent it. + + * * * * * + +Thus, during these hours of transition, Delafield thought much of Julie. +Julie, on the other hand, had no sooner said good-night to him after the +conversation described in the last chapter than she drove him from her +thoughts--one might have said, with vehemence. + + * * * * * + +The _Times_ of the following morning duly contained the announcement of +the appointment of Captain Warkworth, D.S.O., of the Queen's Grays, to +the command of the military mission to Mokembe recently determined on by +her Majesty's government. The mission would proceed to Mokembe as soon +as possible, but of two officers who on the ground of especial knowledge +would form part of it, under Captain Warkworth's command, one was at +present in Canada and the other at the Cape. It would, therefore, hardly +be possible for the mission to start from the coast for the interior +before the beginning of May. In the same paper certain promotions and +distinctions on account of the recent Mahsud campaign were reprinted +from the _Gazette_. Captain Henry Warkworth's brevet majority was +among them. + +The _Times_ leader on the announcement pointed out that the mission +would be concerned with important frontier questions, still more with +the revival of the prestige of England in regions where a supine +government had allowed it to wither unaccountably. Other powers had been +playing a filching and encroaching game at the expense of the British +lion in these parts, and it was more than time that he should open his +sleepy eyes upon what was going on. As to the young officer who was to +command the mission, the great journal made a few civil though guarded +remarks. His record in the recent campaign was indeed highly +distinguished; still it could hardly be said that, take it as a whole, +his history so far gave him a claim to promotion so important as that +which he had now obtained. + +Well, now he had his chance. English soldiers had a way of profiting by +such chances. The _Times_ courteously gave him the benefit of the doubt, +prophesying that he would rise to the occasion and justify the choice of +his superiors. + +The Duchess looked over Julie's shoulder as she read. + +"Schemer," she said, as she dropped a kiss on the back of Julie's neck, +"I hope you're satisfied. The _Times_ doesn't know what to make of it." + +Julie put down the paper with a glowing cheek. + +"They'll soon know," she said, quietly. + +"Julie, do you believe in him so much?" + +"What does it matter what I think? It is not I who have appointed him." + +"Not so sure," laughed the Duchess. "As if he would have had a chance +without you. Whom did he know last November when you took him up?" + +Julie moved to and fro, her hands behind her. The tremor on her lip, the +light in her eye showed her sense of triumph. + +"What have I done," she said, laughing, "but push a few stones out of +the way of merit?" + +"Some of them were heavy," said the Duchess, making a little face. "Need +I invite Lady Froswick any more?" + +Julie threw her arms about her. + +"Evelyn, what a darling you've been! Now I'll never worry you again." + +"Oh, for some people I would do ten times as much!" cried the Duchess. +"But, Julie, I wish I knew why you think so well of this man. I--I don't +always hear very nice things about him." + +"I dare say not," said Julie, flushing. "It is easy to hate success." + +"No, come, we're not as mean as that!" cried the Duchess. "I vow that +all the heroes I've ever known had a ripping time. Julie"--she kissed +her friend impulsively--"Julie, don't like him too much. I don't think +he's good enough." + +"Good enough for what?" said Julie's bitter voice. "Make yourself easy +about Captain Warkworth, Evelyn; but please understand--_anything_ is +good enough for me. Don't let your dear head be troubled about my +affairs. They are never serious, and nothing counts--except," she added, +recklessly, "that I get a little amusement by the way." + +"Julie," cried the Duchess, "as if Jacob--" + +Julie frowned and released herself; then she laughed. + +"Nothing that one ever says about ordinary mortals applies to Mr. +Delafield. He is, of course, _hors concours_." + +"Julie!" + +"It is you, Evelyn, who make me _mechante_. I could be grateful--and +excellent friends with that young man--in my own way." + +The Duchess sighed, and held her tongue with difficulty. + + * * * * * + +When the successful hero arrived that night for dinner he found a +solitary lady in the drawing-room. + +Was this, indeed, Julie Le Breton--this soft, smiling vision in white? + +He expected to have found a martyr, pale and wan from the shock of the +catastrophe which had befallen her, and, even amid the intoxication of +his own great day, he was not easy as to how she might have taken his +behavior on the fatal night. But here was some one, all joy, animation, +and indulgence--a glorified Julie who trod on air. Why? Because +good-fortune had befallen her friend? His heart smote him. He had never +seen her so touching, so charming. Since the incubus of Lady Henry's +house and presence had been removed she seemed to have grown years +younger. A white muslin dress of her youth, touched here and there by +the Duchess's maid, replaced the familiar black satin. When Warkworth +first saw her he paused unconsciously in surprise. + +Then he advanced to meet her, broadly smiling, his blue eyes dancing. + +"You got my note this morning?" + +"Yes," she said, demurely. "You were much too kind, and much--much too +absurd. I have done nothing." + +"Oh, nothing, of course." Then, after a moment: "Are you going to tie me +to that fiction, or am I to be allowed a little decent sincerity? You +know perfectly well that you have done it all. There, there; give me +your hand." + +She gave it, shrinking, and he kissed it joyously. + +"Isn't it jolly!" he said, with a school-boy's delight as he released +her hand. "I saw Lord M---- this morning." He named the Prime Minister. +"Very civil, indeed. Then the Commander-in-Chief--and Montresor gave me +half an hour. It is all right. They are giving me a capital staff. +Excellent fellows, all of them. Oh, you'll see, I shall pull it +through--I shall pull it through. By George! it is a chance!" + +And he stood radiant, rubbing his hands over the blaze. + +The Duchess came in accompanied by an elderly cousin of the Duke's, a +white-haired, black-gowned spinster, Miss Emily Lawrence--one of those +single women, travelled, cultivated, and good, that England produces in +such abundance. + +"Well, so you're going," said the Duchess, to Warkworth. "And I hear +that we ought to think you a lucky man." + +"Indeed you ought, and you must," he said, gayly. "If only the climate +will behave itself. The blackwater fever has a way of killing you in +twenty-four hours if it gets hold of you; but short of that--" + +"Oh, you will be quite safe," said the Duchess. "Let me introduce you to +Miss Lawrence. Emily, this is Captain Warkworth." + +The elderly lady gave a sudden start. Then she quietly put on her +spectacles and studied the young soldier with a pair of intelligent +gray eyes. + + * * * * * + +Nothing could have been more agreeable than Warkworth at dinner. Even +the Duchess admitted as much. He talked easily, but not too much, of the +task before him; told amusing tales of his sporting experience of years +back in the same regions which were now to be the scene of his mission; +discussed the preparations he would have to make at Denga, the coast +town, before starting on his five weeks' journey to the interior; drew +the native porter and the native soldier, not to their advantage, and +let fall, by the way, not a few wise or vivacious remarks as to the +races, resources, and future of this illimitable and mysterious +Africa--this cavern of the unknown, into which the waves of white +invasion, one upon another, were now pressing fast and ceaselessly, +towards what goal, only the gods knew. + +A few other men were dining; among them two officers from the staff of +the Commander-in-Chief. Warkworth, much their junior, treated them with +a skilful deference; but through the talk that prevailed his military +competence and prestige appeared plainly enough, even to the women. His +good opinion of himself was indeed sufficiently evident; but there was +no crude vainglory. At any rate, it was a vainglory of youth, ability, +and good looks, ratified by these budding honors thus fresh upon him, +and no one took it amiss. + +When the gentlemen returned to the drawing-room, Warkworth and Julie +once more found themselves together, this time in the Duchess's little +sitting-room at the end of the long suite of rooms. + +"When do you go?" she asked him, abruptly. + +"Not for about a month." He mentioned the causes of delay. + +"That will bring you very late--into the worst of the heat?" Her voice +had a note of anxiety. + +"Oh, we shall all be seasoned men. And after the first few days we shall +get into the uplands." + +"What do your home people say?" she asked him, rather shyly. She knew, +in truth, little about them. + +"My mother? Oh, she will be greatly pleased. I go down to the Isle of +Wight for a day or two to see her to-morrow. But now, dear lady, that is +enough of my wretched self. You--do you stay on here with the Duchess?" + +She told him of the house in Heribert Street. He listened with +attention. + +"Nothing could be better. You will have a most distinguished little +setting of your own, and Lady Henry will repent at leisure. You won't +be lonely?" + +"Oh no!" But her smile was linked with a sigh. + +He came nearer to her. + +"You should never be lonely if I could help it," he said, in a low +voice. + +"When people are nameless and kinless," was her passionate reply, in the +same undertone as his, "they must be lonely." + +He looked at her with eagerness. She lay back in the firelight, her +beautiful brow and eyes softly illuminated. He felt within him a sudden +snapping of restraints. Why--why refuse what was so clearly within his +grasp? Love has many manners--many entrances--and many exits. + +"When will you tell me all that I want to know about you?" he said, +bending towards her with tender insistence. "There is so much I have +to ask." + +"Oh, some time," she said, hurriedly, her pulses quickening. "Mine is +not a story to be told on a great day like this." + +He was silent a moment, but his face spoke for him. + +"Our friendship has been a beautiful thing, hasn't it?" he said, at +last, in a voice of emotion. "Look here!" He thrust his hand into his +breast-pocket and half withdrew it. "Do you see where I carry +your letters?" + +"You shouldn't--they are not worthy." + +"How charming you are in that dress--in that light! I shall always see +you as you are to-night." + +A silence. Excitement mounted in their veins. Suddenly he stooped and +kissed her hands. They looked into each other's eyes, and the seconds +passed like hours. + +Presently, in the nearer drawing-room, there was a sound of approaching +voices and they moved apart. + +"Julie, Emily Lawrence is going," said the Duchess's voice, pitched in +what seemed to Julie a strange and haughty note. "Captain Warkworth, +Miss Lawrence thinks that you and she have common friends--Lady Blanche +Moffatt and her daughter." + +Captain Warkworth murmured some conventionality, and passed into the +next drawing-room with Miss Lawrence. + +Julie rose to her feet, the color dying out of her face, her passionate +eyes on the Duchess, who stood facing her friend, guiltily pale, and +ready to cry. + + + +XIV + +On the morning following these events, Warkworth went down to the Isle +of Wight to see his mother. On the journey he thought much of Julie. +They had parted awkwardly the night before. The evening, which had +promised so well, had, after all, lacked finish and point. What on earth +had that tiresome Miss Lawrence wanted with him? They had talked of +Simla and the Moffatts. The conversation had gone in spurts, she looking +at him every now and then with eyes that seemed to say more than her +words. All that she had actually said was perfectly insignificant and +trivial. Yet there was something curious in her manner, and when the +time came for him to take his departure she had bade him a frosty +little farewell. + +She had described herself once or twice as a _great_ friend of Lady +Blanche Moffatt. Was it possible? + +But if Lady Blanche, whose habits of sentimental indiscretion were +ingrained, _had_ gossiped to this lady, what then? Why should he be +frowned on by Miss Lawrence, or anybody else? That malicious talk at +Simla had soon exhausted itself. His present appointment was a +triumphant answer to it all. His slanderers--including Aileen's +ridiculous guardians--could only look foolish if they pursued the matter +any further. What "trap" was there--what _mesalliance_? A successful +soldier was good enough for anybody. Look at the first Lord Clyde, and +scores besides. + +The Duchess, too. Why had she treated him so well at first, and so +cavalierly after dinner? Her manners were really too uncertain. + +What was the matter, and why did she dislike him? He pondered over it a +good deal, and with much soreness of spirit. Like many men capable of +very selfish or very cruel conduct, he was extremely sensitive, and took +keen notice of the fact that a person liked or disliked him. + +If the Duchess disliked him it could not be merely on account of the +Simla story, even though the old maid might conceivably have given her a +jaundiced account. The Duchess knew nothing of Aileen, and was little +influenced, so far as he had observed her, by considerations of abstract +justice or propriety, affecting persons whom she had never seen. + +No, she was Julie's friend, the little wilful lady, and it was for Julie +she ruffled her feathers, like an angry dove. + +So his thoughts had come back to Julie, though, indeed, it seemed to him +that they were never far from her. As he looked absently from the train +windows on the flying landscape, Julie's image hovered between him and +it--a magic sun, flooding soul and senses with warmth. How +unconsciously, how strangely his feelings had changed towards her! That +coolness of temper and nerve he had been able to preserve towards her +for so long was, indeed, breaking down. He recognized the danger, and +wondered where it would lead him. What a fascinating, sympathetic +creature!--and, by George! what she had done for him! + +Aileen! Aileen was a little sylph, a pretty child-angel, white-winged +and innocent, who lived in a circle of convent thoughts, knowing nothing +of the world, and had fallen in love with him as the first man who had +ever made love to her. But this intelligent, full-blooded woman, who +could understand at a word, or a half word, who had a knowledge of +affairs which many a high-placed man might envy, with whom one never had +a dull moment--this courted, distinguished Julie Le Breton--his mind +swelled with half-guilty pride at the thought that for six months he had +absorbed all her energies, that a word from him could make her smile or +sigh, that he could force her to look at him with eyes so melting and so +troubled as those with which she had given him her hands--her slim, +beautiful hands--that night in Grosvenor Square. + +How freedom became her! Dependency had dropped from her, like a cast-off +cloak, and beside her fresh, melancholy charm, the airs and graces of a +child of fashion and privilege like the little Duchess appeared almost +cheap and trivial. Poor Julie! No doubt some social struggle was before +her. Lady Henry was strong, after all, in this London world, and the +solider and stupider people who get their way in the end were not, she +thought, likely to side with Lady Henry's companion in a quarrel where +the facts of the story were unquestionably, at first sight, damaging to +Miss Le Breton. Julie would have her hours of bitterness and +humiliation; and she would conquer by boldness, if she conquered at +all--by originality, by determining to live her own life. That would +preserve for her the small circle, if it lost her the large world. And +the small circle was what she lived for, what she ought, at any rate, +to live for. + +It was not likely she would marry. Why should she desire it? From any +blundering tragedy a woman of so acute a brain would, of course, know +how to protect herself. But within the limits of her life, why should +she refuse herself happiness, intimacy, love? + +His heart beat fast; his thoughts were in a whirl. But the train was +nearing Portsmouth, and with an effort he recalled his mind to the +meeting with his mother, which was then close upon him. + +He spent nearly a week in the little cottage at Sea View, and Mrs. +Warkworth got far more pleasure than usual, poor lady, out of his visit. +She was a thin, plain woman, not devoid of either ability or character. +But life had gone hardly with her, and since her husband's death what +had been reserve had become melancholy. She had always been afraid of +her only son since they had sent him to Charterhouse, and he had become +so much "finer" than his parents. She knew that he must consider her a +very ignorant and narrow-minded person; when he was with her she was +humiliated in her own eyes, though as soon as he was gone she resumed +what was in truth a leading place among her own small circle. + +She loved him, and was proud of him; yet at the bottom of her heart she +had never absolved him from his father's death. But for his +extravagance, and the misfortunes he had brought upon them, her old +general would be alive still--pottering about in the spring sunshine, +spudding the daisies from the turf, or smoking his pipe beneath the +thickening trees. Silently her heart still yearned and hungered for the +husband of her youth; his son did not replace him. + +Nevertheless, when he came down to her with this halo of glory upon him, +and smoked up and down her small garden through the mild spring days, +gossiping to her of all the great things that had befallen him, +repeating to her, word for word, his conversation with the Prime +Minister, and his interview with the Commander-in-Chief, or making her +read all the letters of congratulation he had received, her mother's +heart thawed within her as it had not done for long. Her ears told her +that he was still vain and a boaster; her memory held the indelible +records of his past selfishness; but as he walked beside her, his fair +hair blown back from his handsome brow, and eyes that were so much +younger than the rest of the face, his figure as spare and boyish now as +when he had worn the colors of the Charterhouse eleven, she said to +herself, in that inward and unsuspected colloquy she was always holding +with her own heart about him, that if his father could have seen him now +he would have forgiven him everything. According to her secret +Evangelical faith, God "deals" with every soul he has created--through +joy or sorrow, through good or evil fortune. He had dealt with herself +through anguish and loss. Henry, it seemed, was to be moulded through +prosperity. His good fortune was already making a better man of him. + +Certainly he was more affectionate and thoughtful than before. He would +have liked to give her money, of which he seemed to have an unusual +store; but she bade him keep what he had for his own needs. Her own +little bit of money, saved from the wreck of their fortunes, was enough +for her. Then he went into Ryde and brought her back a Shetland shawl +and a new table-cloth for her little sitting-room, which she accepted +with a warmer kiss than she had given him for years. + +He left her on a bright, windy morning which flecked the blue Solent +with foam and sent the clouds racing to westward. She walked back along +the sands, thinking anxiously of the African climate and the desert +hard-ships he was going to face. And she wondered what significance +there might be in the fact that he had written twice during his stay +with her to a Miss Le Breton, whose name, nevertheless, he had not +mentioned in their conversations. Well, he would marry soon, she +supposed, and marry well, in circles out of her ken. With the common +prejudice of the English middle class, she hoped that if this Miss Le +Breton were his choice, she might be only French in name and not +in blood. + +Meanwhile, Warkworth sped up to London in high spirits, enjoying the +comforts of a good conscience. + +He drove first to his club, where a pile of letters awaited him--some +letters of congratulation, others concerned with the business of his +mission. He enjoyed the first, noticing jealously who had and who had +not written to him; then he applied himself to the second. His mind +worked vigorously and well; he wrote his replies in a manner that +satisfied him. Then throwing himself into a chair, with a cigar, he gave +himself up to the close and shrewd planning of the preparations +necessary for his five weeks' march, or to the consideration of two or +three alternative lines of action which would open before him as soon as +he should find himself within the boundaries of Mokembe. Some five years +before, the government of the day had sent a small expedition to this +Debatable Land, which had failed disastrously, both from the diplomatic +and the military points of view. He went backward and forward to the +shelves of the fine "Service" library which surrounded him, taking down +the books and reports which concerned this expedition. He buried himself +in them for an hour, then threw them aside with contempt. What blunders +and short-sight everywhere! The general public might well talk of the +stupidity of English officers. And blunders so easily avoided, too! It +was sickening. He felt within himself a fulness of energy and +intelligence, a perspicacity of brain which judged mistakes of this kind +unpardonable. + +As he was replacing some of the books he had been using in the shelves, +the club began to fill up with men coming in to lunch. A great many +congratulated him; and a certain number who of old had hardly professed +to know him greeted him with cordiality. He found himself caught in a +series of short but flattering conversations, in which he bore himself +well--neither over-discreet nor too elate. "I declare that fellow's +improved," said one man, who might certainly have counted as Warkworth's +enemy the week before, to his companion at table. "The government's been +beastly remiss so far. Hope he'll pull it off. Ripping chance, anyway. +Though what they gave it to him for, goodness knows! There were a dozen +fellows, at least, did as well as he in the Mahsud business. And the +Staff-College man had a thousand times more claim." + +Nevertheless, Warkworth felt the general opinion friendly, a little +surprised, no doubt, but showing that readiness to believe in the man +coming to the front, which belongs much more to the generous than to the +calculating side of the English character. Insensibly his mental and +moral stature rose. He exchanged a few words on his way out with one of +the most distinguished members of the club, a man of European +reputation, whom he had seen the week before in the Commander-in-Chief's +room at the War Office. The great man spoke to him with marked +friendliness, and Warkworth walked on air as he went his way. +Potentially he felt himself the great man's equal; the gates of life +seemed to be opening before him. + +And with the rise of fortune came a rush of magnanimous resolution. No +more shady episodes; no more mean devices; no more gambling, and no more +debt. _Major_ Warkworth's sheet was clean, and it should remain so. A +man of his prospects must run straight. + +He felt himself at peace with all the world. By-the-way, just time to +jump into a cab and get to Park Crescent in time for his sister's +luncheon. His last interview with his brother-in-law had not been +agreeable. But now--he felt for the check-book in his pocket--he was in +a position to repay at least half the last sum of money which Bella had +lent him. He would go and give it her now, and report news of the +mother. And if the two chicks were there--why, he had a free hour and he +would take them to the Zoo--he vowed he would!--give them something +pleasant to remember their uncle by. + +And a couple of hours later a handsome, soldierly man might have been +seen in the lion-house at the Zoo, leading a plump little girl by either +hand. Rose and Katie Mullins enjoyed a golden time, and started a +wholly new adoration for the uncle who had so far taken small notice of +them, and was associated in their shrewd, childish minds rather with +tempests at home than buns abroad. But this time buns, biscuits, +hansom-drives and elephant-rides were showered upon them by an uncle who +seemed to make no account of money, while his gracious and captivating +airs set their little hearts beating in a common devotion. + +"Now go home--go home, little beggars!" said that golden gentleman, as +he packed them into a hansom and stood on the step to accept a wet kiss +on his mustache from each pink mouth. "Tell your mother all about it, +and don't forget your uncle Harry. There's a shilling for each of you. +Don't you spend it on sweets. You're quite fat enough already. +Good-bye!" + +"That's the hardest work I've done for many a long day," he said to +himself, with a sigh of relief, as the hansom drove away. "I sha'n't +turn nurse-maid when other trades fail. But they're nice little kids +all the same. + +"Now, then, Cox's--and the City"--he ran over the list of his +engagements for the afternoon--"and by five o'clock shall I find my fair +lady--at home--and established? Where on earth is Heribert Street?" + + * * * * * + +He solved the question, for a few minutes after five he was on Miss Le +Breton's doorstep. A quaint little house--and a strange parlor-maid! For +the door was opened to him by a large-eyed, sickly child, who looked at +him with the bewilderment of one trying to follow out instructions still +strange to her. + +[Illustration: "HE ENTERED UPON A MERRY SCENE"] + +"Yes, sir, Miss Le Breton is in the drawing-room," she said, in a +sweet, deliberate voice with a foreign accent, and she led the way +through the hall. + +Poor little soul--what a twisted back, and what a limp! She looked about +fourteen, but was probably older. Where had Julie discovered her? + +Warkworth looked round him at the little hall with its relics of +country-house sports and amusements; his eye travelled through an open +door to the little dining-room and the Russell pastels of Lady Mary's +parents, as children, hanging on the wall. The _character_ of the little +dwelling impressed itself at once. Smiling; he acknowledged its +congruity with Julie. Here was a lady who fell on her feet! + +The child, leading him, opened the door to the left. + +"Please walk in, sir," she said, shyly, and stood aside. + +As the door opened, Warkworth was conscious of a noise of tongues. + +So Julie was not alone? He prepared his manner accordingly. + +He entered upon a merry scene. Jacob Delafield was standing on a chair, +hanging a picture, while Dr. Meredith and Julie, on either side, +directed or criticised the operation. Meredith carried picture-cord and +scissors; Julie the hammer and nails. Meredith was expressing the +profoundest disbelief in Jacob's practical capacities; Jacob was +defending himself hotly; and Julie laughed at both. + +Towards the other end of the room stood the tea-table, between the fire +and an open window. Lord Lackington sat beside it, smiling to himself, +and stroking a Persian kitten. Through the open window the twinkling +buds on the lilacs in the Cureton House garden shone in the still +lingering sun. A recent shower had left behind it odors of earth and +grass. Even in this London air they spoke of the spring--the spring +which already in happier lands was drawing veils of peach and cherry +blossom, over the red Sienese earth or the green terraces of Como. The +fire crackled in the grate. The pretty, old-fashioned room was fragrant +with hyacinth and narcissus; Julie's books lay on the tables; Julie's +hand and taste were already to be felt everywhere. And Lord Lackington +with the kitten, beside the fire, gave the last touch of home and +domesticity. + +"So I find you established?" said Warkworth, smiling, to the lady with +the nails, while Delafield nodded to him from the top of the steps and +Meredith ceased to chatter. + +"I haven't a hand, I fear," said Julie. "Will you have some tea? Ah, +Leonie, tu vas en faire de nouveau, n'est-ce pas, pour ce monsieur?" + +A little woman in black, with a shawl over her shoulders, had just +glided into the room. She had a small, wrinkled face, bright eyes, and a +much-flattened nose. + +"Tout de suite, monsieur," she said, quickly, and disappeared with the +teapot. Warkworth guessed, of course, that she was Madame Bornier, the +foster-sister--the "Propriety" of this _menage_. + +"Can't I help?" he said to Julie, with a look at Delafield. + +"It's just done," she said, coldly, handing a nail to Delafield. "_Just_ +a trifle more to the right. Ecco! Perfection!" + +"Oh, you spoil him," said Meredith, "And not one word of praise for +me!" + +"What have you done?" she said, laughing. "Tangled the cord--that's +all!" + +Warkworth turned away. His face, so radiant as he entered, had settled +into sharp, sudden lines. What was the meaning of this voice, this +manner? He remembered that to his three letters he had received no word +of reply. But he had interpreted that to mean that she was in the throes +of moving and could find no time to write. + +As he neared the tea-table, Lord Lackington looked up. He greeted the +new-comer with the absent stateliness he generally put on when his mind +was in a state of confusion as to a person's identity. + +"Well, so they're sending you to D----? There'll be a row there before +long. Wish you joy of the missionaries!" + +"No, not D----," said Warkworth, smiling. "Nothing so amusing. Mokembe's +my destination." + +"Oh, Mokembe!" said Lord Lackington, a little abashed. "That's where +Cecil Ray, Lord R's second son, was killed last year--lion-hunting? No, +it was of fever that he died. By-the-way, a vile climate!" + +"In the plains, yes," said Warkworth, seating himself. "As to the +uplands, I understand they are to be the Switzerland of Africa." + +Lord Lackington did not appear to listen. + +"Are you a homoeopath?" he said, suddenly, rising to his full and +immense stature and looking down with eagerness on Warkworth. + +"No. Why?" + +"Because it's your only chance, for those parts. If Cecil Ray had had +their medicines with him he'd be alive now. Look here; when do you +start?" The speaker took out his note-book. + +"In rather less than a month I start for Denga." + +"All right. I'll send you a medicine-case--from Epps. If you're ill, +take 'em." + +"You're very good." + +"Not at all. It's my hobby--one of the last." A broad, boyish smile +flashed over the handsome old face. "Look at me; I'm seventy-five, and I +can tire out my own grandsons at riding and shooting. That comes of +avoiding all allopathic messes like the devil. But the allopaths are +such mean fellows they filch all our ideas." + +The old man was off. Warkworth submitted to five minutes' tirade, +stealing a glance sometimes at the group of Julie, Meredith, and +Delafield in the farther window--at the happy ease and fun that seemed +to prevail in it. He fiercely felt himself shut out and trampled on. + +Suddenly, Lord Lackington pulled up, his instinct for declamation +qualified by an equally instinctive dread of boring or being bored. +"What did you think of Montresor's statement?" he said, abruptly, +referring to a batch of army reforms that Montresor the week before had +endeavored to recommend to a sceptical House of Commons. + +"All very well, as far as it goes," said Warkworth, with a shrug. + +"Precisely! We English want an army and a navy; we don't like it when +those fellows on the Continent swagger in our faces, and yet we won't +pay either for the ships or the men. However, now that they've done away +with purchase--Gad! I could fight them in the streets for the way in +which they've done it!--now that they've turned the army into an +examination-shop, tempered with jobbery, whatever we do, we shall go to +the deuce. So it don't matter." + +"You were against the abolition?" + +"I was, sir--with Wellington and Raglan and everybody else of any +account. And as for the violence, the disgraceful violence with which it +was carried--" + +"Oh no, no," said Warkworth, laughing. "It was the Lords who behaved +abominably, and it'll do a deal of good." + +Lord Lackington's eyes flashed. + +"I've had a long life," he said, pugnaciously. "I began as a middy in +the American war of 1812, that nobody remembers now. Then I left the sea +for the army. I knocked about the world. I commanded a brigade in +the Crimea--" + +"Who doesn't remember that?" said Warkworth, smiling. + +The old man acknowledged the homage by a slight inclination of his +handsome head. + +"And you may take my word for it that this new system will not give you +men worth _a tenth part_ of those fellows who bought and bribed their +way in under the old. The philosophers may like it, or lump it, but +so it is." + +Warkworth dissented strongly. He was a good deal of a politician, +himself a "new man," and on the side of "new men." Lord Lackington +warmed to the fight, and Warkworth, with bitterness in his +heart--because of that group opposite--was nothing loath to meet him. +But presently he found the talk taking a turn that astonished him. He +had entered upon a drawing-room discussion of a subject which had, after +all, been settled, if only by what the Tories were pleased to call the +_coup d'etat_ of the Royal Warrant, and no longer excited the passions +of a few years back. What he had really drawn upon himself was a +hand-to-hand wrestle with a man who had no sooner provoked contradiction +than he resented it with all his force, and with a determination to +crush the contradictor. + +Warkworth fought well, but with a growing amazement at the tone and +manner of his opponent. The old man's eyes darted war-flames under his +finely arched brows. He regarded the younger with a more and more +hostile, even malicious air; his arguments grew personal, offensive; his +shafts were many and barbed, till at last Warkworth felt his face +burning and his temper giving way. + +"What _are_ you talking about?" said Julie Le Breton, at last, rising +and coming towards them. + +Lord Lackington broke off suddenly and threw himself into his chair. + +Warkworth rose from his. + +"We had better have been handing nails," he said, "but you wouldn't give +us any work." Then, as Meredith and Delafield approached, he seized the +opportunity of saying, in a low voice: + +"Am I not to have a word?" + +She turned with composure, though it seemed to him she was very pale. + +"Have you just come back from the Isle of Wight?" + +"This morning." He looked her in the eyes. "You got my letters?" + +"Yes, but I have had no time for writing. I hope you found your mother +well." + +"Very well, thank you. You have been hard at work?" + +"Yes, but the Duchess and Mr. Delafield have made it all easy." + +And so on, a few more insignificant questions and answers. + +"I must go," said Delafield, coming up to them, "unless there is any +more work for me to do. Good-bye, Major, I congratulate you. They have +given you a fine piece of work." + +Warkworth made a little bow, half ironical. Confound the fellow's grave +and lordly ways! He did not want his congratulations. + +He lingered a little, sorely, full of rage, yet not knowing how to go. + +Lord Lackington's eyes ceased to blaze, and the kitten ventured once +more to climb upon his knee. Meredith, too, found a comfortable +arm-chair, and presently tried to beguile the kitten from his neighbor. +Julie sat erect between them, very silent, her thin, white hands on her +lap, her head drooped a little, her eyes carefully restrained from +meeting Warkworth's. He meanwhile leaned against the mantel-piece, +irresolute. + +Meredith, it was clear, made himself quite happy and at home in the +little drawing-room. The lame child came in and took a stool beside him. +He stroked her head and talked nonsense to her in the intervals of +holding forth to Julie on the changes necessary in some proofs of his +which he had brought back. Lord Lackington, now quite himself again, +went back to dreams, smiling over them, and quite unaware that the +kitten had been slyly ravished from him. The little woman in black sat +knitting in the background. It was all curiously intimate and domestic, +only Warkworth had no part in it. + +"Good-bye, Miss Le Breton," he said, at last, hardly knowing his own +voice. "I am dining out." + +She rose and gave him her hand. But it dropped from his like a thing +dead and cold. He went out in a sudden suffocation of rage and pain; and +as he walked in a blind haste to Cureton Street, he still saw her +standing in the old-fashioned, scented room, so coldly graceful, with +those proud, deep eyes. + + * * * * * + +When he had gone, Julie moved to the window and looked out into the +gathering dusk. It seemed to her as if those in the room must hear the +beating of her miserable heart. + +When she rejoined her companions, Dr. Meredith had already risen and was +stuffing various letters and papers into his pockets with a view to +departure. + +"Going?" said Lord Lackington. "You shall see the last of me, too, +Mademoiselle Julie." + +And he stood up. But she, flushing, looked at him with a wistful smile. + +"Won't you stay a few minutes? You promised to advise me about Therese's +drawings." + +"By all means." + +Lord Lackington sat down again. The lame child, it appeared, had some +artistic talent, which Miss Le Breton wished to cultivate. Meredith +suddenly found his coat and hat, and, with a queer look at Julie, +departed in a hurry. + +"Therese, darling," said Julie, "will you go up-stairs, please, and +fetch me that book from my room that has your little drawings +inside it?" + +The child limped away on her errand. In spite of her lameness she moved +with wonderful lightness and swiftness, and she was back again quickly +with a calf-bound book in her hand. + +"Leonie!" said Julie, in a low voice, to Madame Bornier. + +The little woman looked up startled, nodded, rolled up her knitting in a +moment, and was gone. + +"Take the book to his lordship, Therese," she said, and then, instead of +moving with the child, she again walked to the window, and, leaning her +head against it, looked out. The hand hanging against her dress trembled +violently. + +"What did you want me to look at, my dear?" said Lord Lackington, taking +the book in his hand and putting on his glasses. + +But the child was puzzled and did not know. She gazed at him silently +with her sweet, docile look. + +"Run away, Therese, and find mother," said Julie, from the window. + +The child sped away and closed the door behind her. + +Lord Lackington adjusted his glasses and opened the book. Two or three +slips of paper with drawings upon them fluttered out and fell on the +table beneath. Suddenly there was a cry. Julie turned round, her +lips parted. + +Lord Lackington walked up to her. + +"Tell me what this means," he said, peremptorily. "How did you come by +it?" + +It was a volume of George Sand. He pointed, trembling, to the name and +date on the fly-leaf--"Rose Delaney, 1842." + +"It is mine," she said, softly, dropping her eyes. + +"But how--how, in God's name, did you come by it?" + +"My mother left it to me, with all her other few books and possessions." + +There was a pause. Lord Lackington came closer. + +"Who was your mother?" he said, huskily. + +The words in answer were hardly audible. Julie stood before him like a +culprit, her beautiful head humbly bowed. + +Lord Lackington dropped the book and stood bewildered. + +"Rose's child?" he said--"Rose's child?" + +Then, approaching her, he placed his hand on her arm. + +"Let me look at you," he commanded. + +Julie raised her eyes to him, and at the same time dumbly held out to +him a miniature she had been keeping hidden in her hand. It was one of +the miniatures from the locked triptych. + +He took it, looked from the pictured to the living face, then, turning +away with a groan, he covered his face with his hands and fell again +into the chair from which he had risen. + +Julie hurried to him. Her own eyes were wet with tears. After a moment's +hesitation she knelt down beside him. + +"I ought to ask your pardon for not having told you before," she +murmured. + +It was some time before Lord Lackington looked up. When at last his +hands dropped, the face they uncovered was very white and old. + +"So you," he said, almost in a whisper, "are the child she wrote to me +about before she died?" + +Julie made a sign of assent. + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty-nine." + +"_She_ was thirty-two when I saw her last." + +There was a silence. Julie lifted one of his hands and kissed it. But he +took no notice. + +"You know that I was going to her, that I should have reached her in +time"--the words seemed wrung from him--"but that I was myself +dangerously ill?" + +"I know. I remember it all." + +"Did she speak of me?" + +"Not often. She was very reserved, you remember. But not long before she +died--she seemed half asleep--I heard her say, 'Papa!--Blanche!' and +she smiled." + +Lord Lackington's face contracted, and the slow tears of old age stood +in his eyes. + +"You are like her in some ways," he said, brusquely, as though to cover +his emotion; "but not very like her." + +"She always thought I was like you." + +A cloud came over Lord Lackington's face. Julie rose from her knees and +sat beside him. He lost himself a few moments amid the painful ghosts of +memory. Then, turning to her abruptly, he said: + +"You have wondered, I dare say, why I was so hard--why, for seventeen +years, I cast her off?" + +"Yes, often. You could have come to see us without anybody knowing. +Mother loved you very much." + +Her voice was low and sad. Lord Lackington rose, fidgeted restlessly +with some of the small ornaments on the mantel-piece, and at last +turned to her. + +"She brought dishonor," he said, in the same stifled voice, "and the +women of our family have always been stainless. But that I could have +forgiven. After a time I should have resumed relations--private +relations--with her. But it was your father who stood in the way. I was +then--I am now--you saw me with that young fellow just now--quarrelsome +and hot-tempered. It is my nature." He drew himself up obstinately. "I +can't help it. I take great pains to inform myself, then I cling to my +opinions tenaciously, and in argument my temper gets the better of me. +Your father, too, was hot-tempered. He came, with my consent, once to +see me--after your mother had left her husband--to try and bring about +some arrangement between us. It was the Chartist time. He was a Radical, +a Socialist of the most extreme views. In the course of our conversation +something was said that excited him. He went off at score. I became +enraged, and met him with equal violence. We had a furious argument, +which ended in each insulting the other past forgiveness. We parted +enemies for life. I never could bring myself to see him afterwards, nor +to run the risk of seeing him. Your mother took his side and espoused +his opinions while he lived. After his death, I suppose, she was too +proud and sore to write to me. I wrote to her once--it was not the +letter it might have been. She did not reply till she felt herself +dying. That is the explanation of what, no doubt, must seem strange +to you." + +[Illustration: "'FOR MY ROSE'S CHILD,' HE SAID, GENTLY"] + +He turned to her almost pleadingly. A deep flush had replaced the pallor +of his first emotion, as though in the presence of these primal +realities of love, death, and sorrow which she had recalled to him, his +old quarrel, on a political difference, cut but a miserable figure. + +"No," she said, sadly, "not very strange. I understood my father--my +dear father," she added, with soft, deliberate tenderness. + +Lord Lackington was silent a little, then he threw her a sudden, +penetrating look. + +"You have been in London three years. You ought to have told me before." + +It was Julie's turn to color. + +"Lady Henry bound me to secrecy." + +"Lady Henry did wrong," he said, with emphasis. Then he asked, +jealously, with a touch of his natural irascibility, "Who else has been +in the secret?" + +"Four people, at most--the Duchess, first of all. I couldn't help it," +she pleaded. "I was so unhappy with Lady Henry." + +"You should have come to me. It was my right." + +"But"--she dropped her head--"you had made it a condition that I should +not trouble you." + +He was silenced; and once more he leaned against the mantel-piece and +hid his face from her, till, by a secret impulse, both moved. She rose +and approached him; he laid his hands on her arms. With his persistent +instinct for the lovely or romantic he perceived, with sudden pleasure, +the grave, poetic beauty of her face and delicate form. Emotion had +softened away all that was harsh; a quivering charm hovered over the +features. With a strange pride, and a sense of mystery, he recognized +his daughter and his race. + +"For my Rose's child," he said, gently, and, stooping, he kissed her on +the brow. She broke out into weeping, leaning against his shoulder, +while the old man comforted and soothed her. + + + +XV + +After the long conversation between herself and Lord Lackington which +followed on the momentous confession of her identity, Julie spent a +restless and weary evening, which passed into a restless and weary +night. Was she oppressed by this stirring of old sorrows?--haunted +afresh by her parents' fate? + +Ah! Lord Lackington had no sooner left her than she sank motionless into +her chair, and, with the tears excited by the memories of her mother +still in her eyes, she gave herself up to a desperate and sombre +brooding, of which Warkworth's visit of the afternoon was, in truth, the +sole cause, the sole subject. + +Why had she received him so? She had gone too far--much too far. But, +somehow, she had not been able to bear it--that buoyant, confident air, +that certainty of his welcome. No! She would show him that she was _not_ +his chattel, to be taken or left on his own terms. The, careless +good-humor of his blue eyes was too much, after those days she had +passed through. + +He, apparently, to judge from his letters to her from the Isle of Wight, +had been conscious of no crisis whatever. Yet he must have seen from the +little Duchess's manner, as she bade farewell to him that night at +Crowborough House, that something was wrong. He must have realized that +Miss Lawrence was an intimate friend of the Moffatts, and that--Or was +he really so foolish as to suppose that his quasi-engagement to this +little heiress, and the encouragement given him, in defiance of the +girl's guardians, by her silly and indiscreet mother, were still hidden +and secret matters?--that he could still conceal them from the world, +and deny them to Julie? + +Her whole nature was sore yet from her wrestle with the Duchess on that +miserable evening. + +"Julie, I can't help it! I know it's impertinent--but--Julie, +darling!--do listen! What business has that man to make love to you as +he does, when all the time--Yes, he does make love to you--he does! +Freddie had a most ill-natured letter from Lady Henry this morning. Of +course he had--and of course she'll write that kind of letter to as many +people as she can. And it wouldn't matter a bit, if--But, you see, you +_have_ been moving heaven and earth for him! And now his manner to you" +(while the sudden flush burned her cheek, Julie wondered whether by +chance the Duchess had seen anything of the yielded hands and the kiss) +"and that ill-luck of his being the first to arrive, last night, at Lady +Henry's! Oh, Julie, he's a wretch--_he is!_ Of course he is in love with +you. That's natural enough. But all the time--listen, that nice woman +told me the whole story--he's writing regularly to that little girl. She +and her mother, in spite of the guardians, regard it as an engagement +signed and sealed, and all his friends believe he's _quite_ determined +to marry her because of the money. You may think me an odious little +meddler, Julie, if you like, but I vow I could stab him to the heart, +with all the pleasure in life!" + +And neither the annoyance, nor the dignity, nor the ridicule of the +supposed victim--not Julie's angry eyes, nor all her mocking words from +tremulous lips--had availed in the least to silence the tumult of +alarmed affection in the Duchess's breast. Her Julie had been flouted +and trifled with; and if she was so blind, so infatuated, as not to see +it, she should at least be driven to realize what other people +felt about it. + +So she had her say, and Julie had been forced, willy-nilly, upon +discussion and self-defence--nay, upon a promise also. Pale, and stiffly +erect, yet determined all the same to treat it as a laughing matter, she +had vouchsafed the Duchess some kind of assurance that she would for the +future observe a more cautious behavior towards Warkworth. "He is my +_friend_, and whatever any one may say, he shall remain so," she had +said, with a smiling stubbornness which hid something before which the +little Duchess shrank. "But, of course, if I can do anything to please +you, Evelyn--you know I like to please you." + +But she had never meant, she had never promised to forswear his society, +to ban him from the new house. In truth she would rather have left home +and friends and prospects, at one stroke, rather than have pledged +herself to anything of the sort. Evelyn should never bind her to that. + +Then, during his days of absence, she had passed through wave after wave +of feeling, while all the time to the outer eye she was occupied with +nothing but the settlement into Lady Mary's strange little house. She +washed, dusted, placed chairs and tables. And meanwhile a wild +expectancy of his first letter possessed her. Surely there would be some +anxiety in it, some fear, some disclosure of himself, and of the +struggle in his mind between interest and love? + +Nothing of the kind. His first letter was the letter of one sure of his +correspondent, sure of his reception and of his ground; a happy and +intimate certainty shone through its phrases; it was the letter, almost, +of a lover whose doubts are over. + +The effect of it was to raise a tempest, sharp and obscure, in Julie's +mind. The contrast between the _pose_ of the letter and the sly reality +behind bred a sudden anguish of jealousy, concerned not so much with +Warkworth as with this little, unknown creature, who, without any +effort, any desert--by the mere virtue of money and blood--sat waiting +in arrogant expectancy till what she desired should come to her. How was +it possible to feel any compunction towards her? Julie felt none. + +As to the rest of Miss Lawrence's gossip--that Warkworth was supposed to +have "behaved badly," to have led the pretty child to compromise herself +with him at Simla in ways which Simla society regarded as inadmissible +and "bad form"; that the guardians had angrily intervened, and that he +was under a promise, habitually broken by the connivance of the girl's +mother, not to see or correspond with the heiress till she was +twenty-one, in other words, for the next two years--what did these +things matter to her? Had she ever supposed that Warkworth, in regard to +money or his career, was influenced by any other than the ordinary +worldly motives? She knew very well that he was neither saint nor +ascetic. These details--or accusations--did not, properly speaking, +concern her at all. She had divined and accepted his character, in all +its average human selfishness and faultiness, long ago. She loved him +passionately in spite of it--perhaps, if the truth were known, +because of it. + +As for the marrying, or rather the courting, for money, that excited in +her no repulsion whatever. Julie, in her own way, was a great romantic; +but owing to the economic notions of marriage, especially the whole +conception of the _dot_, prevailing in the French or Belgian minds amid +whom she had passed her later girlhood, she never dreamed for a moment +of blaming Warkworth for placing money foremost in his plans of +matrimony. She resembled one of the famous _amoureuses_ of the +eighteenth century, who in writing to the man she loved but could not +marry, advises him to take a wife to mend his fortunes, and proposes to +him various tempting morsels--_une jeune personne_, sixteen, with +neither father nor mother, only a brother. "They will give her on her +marriage thirteen thousand francs a year, and the aunt will be quite +content to keep her and look after her for some time." And if that won't +do--"I know a man who would be only too happy to have you for a +son-in-law; but his daughter is only eleven; she is an only child, +however, and she will be _very_ rich. You know, _mon ami_, I desire your +happiness above all things; how to procure it--there lies the chief +interest of my life." + +This notion of things, more or less disguised, was to Julie customary +and familiar; and it was no more incompatible in her with the notions +and standards of high sentiment, such as she might be supposed to have +derived from her parents, than it is in the Latin races generally. + +No doubt it had been mingled in her, especially since her settlement in +Lady Henry's house, with the more English idea of "falling in love"--the +idea which puts personal choice first in marriage, and makes the matter +of dowry subordinate to that mysterious election and affinity which the +Englishman calls "love." Certainly, during the winter, Julie had hoped +to lead Warkworth to marry her. As a poor man, of course, he must have +money. But her secret feeling had been that her place in society, her +influence with important people, had a money value, and that he would +perceive this. + +Well, she had been a mere trusting fool, and he had deceived her. There +was his crime--not in seeking money and trusting to money. He had told +her falsehoods and misled her. He was doing it still. His letter implied +that he loved her? Possibly. It implied to Julie's ear still more +plainly that he stood tacitly and resolutely by Aileen Moffatt and her +money, and that all he was prepared to offer to the dear friend of his +heart was a more or less ambiguous relation, lasting over two years +perhaps--till his engagement might be announced. + +A dumb and bitter anger mounted within her. She recalled the manner in +which he had evaded her first questions, and her opinion became very +much that of the Duchess. She had, indeed, been mocked, and treated like +a child. So she sent no answer to his first letter, and when his second +came she forbade herself to open it. It lay there on her writing-table. +At night she transferred it to the table beside her bed, and early in +the spring dawn her groping fingers drew it trembling towards her and +slipped it under her pillow. By the time the full morning had come she +had opened it, read and reread it--had bathed it, indeed, with +her tears. + +But her anger persisted, and when Warkworth appeared on her threshold it +flamed into sudden expression. She would make him realize her friends, +her powerful friends--above all, she would make him realize Delafield. + +Well, now it was done. She had repelled her lover. She had shown herself +particularly soft and gracious to Delafield. Warkworth now would break +with her--might, perhaps, be glad of the chance to return safely and +without further risks to his heiress. + +She sat on in the dark, thinking over every word, every look. Presently +Therese stole in. + +"Mademoiselle, le souper sera bientot pret." + +Julie rose wearily, and the child slipped a thin hand into hers. + +"J'aime tant ce vieux monsieur," she said, softly. "Je l'aime tant!" + +Julie started. Her thoughts had wandered far, indeed, from Lord +Lackington. + +As she went up-stairs to her little room her heart reproached her. In +their interview the old man had shown great sweetness of feeling, a +delicate and remorseful tenderness, hardly to have been looked for in a +being so fantastic and self-willed. The shock of their conversation had +deepened the lines in a face upon which age had at last begun to make +those marks which are not another beauty, but the end of beauty. When +she had opened the door for him in the dusk, Julie had longed, indeed, +to go with him and soothe his solitary evening. His unmarried son, +William, lived with him intermittently; but his wife was dead. Lady +Blanche seldom came to town, and, for the most part, he lived alone in +the fine house in St. James's Square, of which she had heard her +mother talk. + +He liked her--had liked her from the first. How natural that she should +tend and brighten his old age--how natural, and how impossible! He was +not the man to brave the difficulties and discomforts inseparable from +the sudden appearance of an illegitimate granddaughter in his household, +and if he had been, Julie, in her fierce, new-born independence, would +have shrunk from such a step. But she had been drawn to him; her heart +had yearned to her kindred. + +No; neither love nor kindred were for her. As she entered the little, +bare room over the doorway, which she had begun to fill with books and +papers, and all the signs of the literary trade, she miserably bid +herself be content with what was easily and certainly within her grasp. +The world was pleased to say that she had a remarkable social talent. +Let her give her mind to the fight with Lady Henry, and prove whether, +after all, the salon could not be acclimatized on English soil. She had +the literary instinct and aptitude, and she must earn money. She looked +at her half-written article, and sighed to her books to save her. + +That evening Therese, who adored her, watched her with a wistful and +stealthy affection. Her idol was strangely sad and pale. But she asked +no questions. All she could do was to hover about "mademoiselle" with +soft, flattering services, till mademoiselle went to bed, and then to +lie awake herself, quietly waiting till all sounds in the room opposite +had died away, and she might comfort her dumb and timid devotion with +the hope that Julie slept. + +Sleep, however, or no sleep, Julie was up early next day. Before the +post arrived she was already dressed, and on the point of descending to +the morning coffee, which, in the old, frugal, Bruges fashion, she and +Leonie and the child took in the kitchen together. Lady Henry's opinion +of her as a soft and luxurious person dependent on dainty living was, in +truth, absurdly far from the mark. After those years of rich food and +many servants in Lady Henry's household, she had resumed the penurious +Belgian ways at once, without effort--indeed, with alacrity. In the +morning she helped Leonie and Therese with the housework. Her quick +fingers washed and rubbed and dusted. In less than a week she knew every +glass and cup in Cousin Mary Leicester's well-filled china cupboard, and +she and Therese between them kept the two sitting-rooms spotless. She +who had at once made friends and tools of Lady Henry's servants, +disdained, so it appeared, to be served beyond what was absolutely +necessary in her own house. A charwoman, indeed, came in the morning for +the roughest work, but by ten o'clock she was gone, and Julie, Madame +Bornier, and the child remained in undisputed possession. Little, +flat-nosed, silent Madame Bornier bought and brought in all they ate. +She denounced the ways, the viands, the brigand's prices of English +_fournisseurs_, but it seemed to Julie, all the same, that she handled +them with a Napoleonic success. She bought as the French poor buy, so +far as the West End would let her, and Julie had soon perceived that +their expenditure, even in this heart of Mayfair, would be incredibly +small. Whereby she felt herself more and more mistress of her fate. By +her own unaided hands would she provide for herself and her household. +Each year there should be a little margin, and she would owe no man +anything. After six months, if she could not afford to pay the Duke a +fair rent for his house--always supposing he allowed her to remain in +it--she would go elsewhere. + +As she reached the hall, clad in an old serge dress, which was a +survival from Bruges days, Therese ran up to her with the letters. + +Julie looked through them, turned and went back to her room. She had +expected the letter which lay on the top, and she must brace herself +to read it. + +It began abruptly: + + "You will hardly wonder that I should write at once to ask if + you have no explanation to give me of your manner of this + afternoon. Again and again I go over what happened, but no + light comes. It was as though you had wiped out all the six + months of our friendship; as though I had become for you once + more the merest acquaintance. It is impossible that I can + have been mistaken. You meant to make me--and + others?--clearly understand--what? That I no longer deserved + your kindness--that you had broken altogether with the man on + whom you had so foolishly bestowed it? + + "My friend, what have I done? How have I sinned? Did that + sour lady, who asked me questions she had small business to + ask, tell you tales that have set your heart against me? But + what have incidents and events that happened, or may have + happened, in India, got to do with our friendship, which grew + up for definite reasons and has come to mean so much--has it + not?--to both of us? I am not a model person, Heaven + knows!--very far from it. There are scores of things in my + life to be ashamed of. And please remember that last year I + had never seen you; if I had, much might have gone + differently. + + "But how can I defend myself? I owe you so much. Ought not + that, of itself, to make you realize how great is your power + to hurt me, and how small are my powers of resistance? The + humiliations you can inflict upon me are infinite, and I have + no rights, no weapons, against you. + + "I hardly know what I am saying. It is very late, and I am + writing this after a dinner at the club given me by two or + three of my brother officers. It was a dinner in my honor, to + congratulate me on my good fortune. They are good fellows, + and it should have been a merry time. But my half hour in + your room had killed all power of enjoyment for me. They + found me a wretched companion, and we broke up early. I came + home through the empty streets, wishing myself, with all my + heart, away from England--facing the desert. Let me just say + this. It is not of good omen that now, when I want all my + faculties at their best, I should suddenly find myself + invaded by this distress and despondency. You have some + responsibility now in my life and career; if you would, you + cannot get rid of it. You have not increased the chances of + your friend's success in his great task. + + "You see how I restrain myself. I could write as madly as I + feel--violently and madly. But of set purpose we pitched our + relation in a certain key and measure; and I try, at least, + to keep the measure, if the music and the charm must go. But + why, in God's name, should they go? Why have you turned + against me? You have listened to slanderers; you have + secretly tried me by tests that are not in the bargain, and + you have judged and condemned me without a hearing, without a + word. I can tell you I am pretty sore. + + "I will come and see you no more in company for the present. + You gave me a footing with you, which has its own dignity. + I'll guard it; not even from you will I accept anything else. + But--unless, indeed, the grove is cut down and the bird flown + forever--let me come when you are alone. Then charge me with + what you will. I am an earthy creature, struggling through + life as I best can, and, till I saw you, struggling often, no + doubt, in very earthy ways. I am not a philosopher, nor an + idealist, with expectations, like Delafield. This + rough-and-tumble world is all I know. It's good enough for + me--good enough to love a friend in, as--I vow to God, + Julie!--I have loved you. + + "There, it's out, and you must put up with it. I couldn't + help it. I am too miserable. + + "But-- + + "But I won't write any more. I shall stay in my rooms till + twelve o'clock. You owe me promptness." + + * * * * * + +Julie put down the letter. + +She looked round her little study with a kind of despair--the despair +perhaps of the prisoner who had thought himself delivered, only to find +himself caught in fresh and stronger bonds. As for ambition, as for +literature--here, across their voices, broke this voice of the senses, +this desire of "the moth for the star." And she was powerless to resist +it. Ah, why had he not accepted his dismissal--quarrelled with her at +once and forever? + +She understood the letter perfectly--what it offered, and what it +tacitly refused. An intimate and exciting friendship--for two years. For +two years he was ready to fill up such time as he could spare from his +clandestine correspondence with her cousin, with this romantic, +interesting, but unprofitable affection. And then? + +She fell again upon his letter. Ah, but there was a new note in it--a +hard, strained note, which gave her a kind of desperate joy. It seemed +to her that for months she had been covetously listening for it in vain. + +She was beginning to be necessary to him; he had _suffered_--through +her. Never before could she say that to herself. Pleasure she had given +him, but not pain; and it is pain that is the test and consecration of-- + +Of what?... Well, now for her answer. It was short. + + "I am very sorry you thought me rude. I was tired with + talking and unpacking, and with literary work--housework, + too, if the truth were known. I am no longer a fine lady, and + must slave for myself. The thought, also, of an interview + with Lord Lackington which faced me, which I went through as + soon as you, Dr. Meredith, and Mr. Delafield had gone, + unnerved me. You were good to write to me, and I am grateful + indeed. As to your appointment, and your career, you owe no + one anything. Everything is in your own hands. I rejoice in + your good fortune, and I beg that you will let no false ideas + with regard to me trouble your mind. + + "This afternoon at five, if you can forgive me, you will find + me. In the early afternoon I shall be in the British Museum, + for my work's sake." + +She posted her letter, and went about her daily housework, oppressed the +while by a mental and moral nausea. As she washed and tidied and dusted, +a true housewife's love growing up in her for the little house and its +charming, old-world appointments--a sort of mute relation between her +and it, as though it accepted her for mistress, and she on her side +vowed it a delicate and prudent care--she thought how she could have +delighted in this life which had opened upon her had it come to her a +year ago. The tasks set her by Meredith were congenial and within her +power. Her independence gave her the keenest pleasure. The effort and +conquests of the intellect--she had the mind to love them, to desire +them; and the way to them was unbarred. + +What plucked her back? + +A tear fell upon the old china cup that she was dusting. A sort of +maternal element had entered into her affection for Warkworth during the +winter. She had upheld him and fought for him. And now, like a mother, +she could not tear the unworthy object from her heart, though all the +folly of their pseudo-friendship and her secret hopes lay bare +before her. + + * * * * * + +Warkworth came at five. + +He entered in the dusk; a little pale, with his graceful head thrown +back, and that half-startled, timid look in his wide, blue eyes--that +misleading look--which made him the boy still, when he chose. + +Julie was standing near the window as he came in. As she turned and saw +him there, a flood of tenderness and compunction swept over her. He was +going away. What if she never saw him again? + +She shuddered and came forward rapidly, eagerly. He read the meaning of +her movement, her face; and, wringing her hands with a violence that +hurt her, he drew a long breath of relief. + +"Why--why"--he said, under his breath--"have you made me so unhappy?" + +The blood leaped in her veins. These, indeed, were new words in a new +tone. + +"Don't let us reproach each other," she said. "There is so much to say. +Sit down." + +To-day there were no beguiling spring airs. The fire burned merrily in +the grate; the windows were closed. + +A scent of narcissus--the Duchess had filled the tables with +flowers--floated in the room. Amid its old-fashioned and distinguished +bareness--tempered by flowers, and a litter of foreign books--Julie +seemed at last to have found her proper frame. In her severe black +dress, opening on a delicate vest of white, she had a muselike grace; +and the wreath made by her superb black hair round the fine intelligence +of her brow had never been more striking. Her slender hands busied +themselves with Cousin Mary Leicester's tea-things; and every movement +had in Warkworth's eyes a charm to which he had never yet been sensible, +in this manner, to this degree. + +"Am I really to say no more of yesterday?" he said, looking at her +nervously. + +Her flush, her gesture, appealed to him. + +"Do you know what I had before me--that day--when you came in?" she +said, softly. + +"No. I cannot guess. Ah, you said something about Lord Lackington?" + +She hesitated. Then her color deepened. + +"You don't know my story. You suppose, don't you, that I am a Belgian +with English connections, whom Lady Henry met by chance? Isn't that how +you explain me?" + +Warkworth had pushed aside his cup. + +"I thought--" + +He paused in embarrassment, but there was a sparkle of astonished +expectancy in his eyes. + +"My mother"--she looked away into the blaze of the fire, and her voice +choked a little--"my mother was Lord Lackington's daughter." + +"Lord Lackington's daughter?" echoed Warkworth, in stupefaction. A rush +of ideas and inferences sped through his mind. He thought of Lady +Blanche--things heard in India--and while he stared at her in an +agitated silence the truth leaped to light. + +"Not--not Lady Rose Delaney?" he said, bending forward to her. + +She nodded. + +"My father was Marriott Dalrymple. You will have heard of him. I should +be Julie Dalrymple, but--they could never marry--because of +Colonel Delaney." + +Her face was still turned away. + +All the details of that famous scandal began to come back to him. His +companion, her history, her relations to others, to himself, began to +appear to him in the most astonishing new lights. So, instead of the +mere humble outsider, she belonged all the time to the best English +blood? The society in which he had met her was full of her kindred. No +doubt the Duchess knew--and Montresor.... He was meshed in a net of +thoughts perplexing and confounding, of which the total result was +perhaps that she appeared to him as she sat there, the slender outline +so quiet and still, more attractive and more desirable than ever. The +mystery surrounding her in some way glorified her, and he dimly +perceived that so it must have been for others. + +"How did you ever bear the Bruton Street life?" he said, presently, in +a low voice of wonder. "Lady Henry knew?" + +"Oh yes!" + +"And the Duchess?" + +"Yes. She is a connection of my mother's." + +Warkworth's mind went back to the Moffatts. A flush spread slowly over +the face of the young officer. It was indeed an extraordinary imbroglio +in which he found himself. + +"How did Lord Lackington take it?" he asked, after a pause. + +"He was, of course, much startled, much moved. We had a long talk. +Everything is to remain just the same. He wishes to make me an +allowance, and, if he persists, I suppose I can't hurt him by refusing. +But for the present I have refused. It is more amusing to earn one's own +living." She turned to him with a sharp brightness in her black eyes. +"Besides, if Lord Lackington gives me money, he will want to give me +advice. And I would rather advise myself." + +Warkworth sat silent a moment. Then he took a great resolve. + +"I want to speak to you," he said, suddenly, putting out his hand to +hers, which lay on her knee. + +She turned to him, startled. + +"I want to have no secrets from you," he said, drawing his breath +quickly. "I told you lies one day, because I thought it was my duty to +tell lies. Another person was concerned. But now I can't. Julie!--you'll +let me call you so, won't you? The name is already"--he hesitated; then +the words rushed out--"part of my life! Julie, it's quite true, there is +a kind of understanding between your little cousin Aileen and me. At +Simla she attracted me enormously. I lost my head one day in the woods, +when she--whom we were all courting--distinguished me above two or three +other men who were there. I proposed to her upon a sudden impulse, and +she accepted me. She is a charming, soft creature. Perhaps I wasn't +justified. Perhaps she ought to have had more chance of seeing the +world. Anyway, there was a great row. Her guardians insisted that I had +behaved badly. They could not know all the details of the matter, and I +was not going to tell them. Finally I promised to withdraw for +two years." + +He paused, anxiously studying her face. It had grown very white, and, he +thought, very cold. But she quickly rose, and, looking down upon +him, said: + +"Nothing of that is news to me. Did you think it was?" + +And moving to the tea-table, she began to make provision for a fresh +supply of tea. + +Both words and manner astounded him. He, too, rose and followed her. + +"How did you first guess?" he said, abruptly. + +"Some gossip reached me." She looked up with a smile. "That's what +generally happens, isn't it?" + +"There are no secrets nowadays," he said, sorely. "And then, there was +Miss Lawrence?" + +"Yes, there was Miss Lawrence." + +"Did you think badly of me?" + +"Why should I? I understand Aileen is very pretty, and--" + +"And will have a large fortune. You understand that?" he said, trying to +carry it off lightly. + +"The fact is well known, isn't it?" + +He sat down, twisting his hat between his hands. Then with an +exclamation he dashed it on the floor, and, rising, he bent over Julie, +his hands in his pockets. + +"Julie," he said, in a voice that shook her, "don't, for God's sake, +give me up! I have behaved abominably, but don't take your friendship +from me. I shall soon be gone. Our lives will go different ways. That +was settled--alack!--before we met. I am honorably bound to that poor +child. She cares for me, and I can't get loose. But these last months +have been happy, haven't they? There are just three weeks left. At +present the strongest feeling in my heart is--" He paused for his word, +and he saw that she was looking through the window to the trees of the +garden, and that, still as she was, her lip quivered. + +"What shall I say?" he resumed, with emotion. "It seems to me our case +stands all by itself, alone in the world. We have three weeks--give them +to me. Don't let's play at cross purposes any more. I want to be +sincere--I want to hide nothing from you in these days. Let us throw +aside convention and trust each other, as friends may, so that when I go +we may say to each other, 'Well, it was worth the pain. These have been +days of gold--we shall get no better if we live to be a hundred.'" + +She turned her face to him in a tremulous amazement and there were tears +on her cheek. Never had his aspect been so winning. What he proposed +was, in truth, a mean thing; all the same, he proposed it nobly. + +It was in vain that something whispered in her ear: "This girl to whom +he describes himself as 'honorably bound' has a fortune of half a +million. He is determined to have both her money and my heart." Another +inward voice, tragically generous, dashed down the thought, and, at the +moment, rightly; for as he stood over her, breathless and imperious, to +his own joy, to his own exaltation, Warkworth was conscious of a new +sincerity flowing in a tempestuous and stormy current through all the +veins of being. + +With a sombre passion which already marked an epoch in their relation, +and contained within itself the elements of new and unforeseen +developments, she gazed silently into his face. Then, leaning back in +her chair, she once more held out to him both her hands. + +He gave an exclamation of joy, kissed the hands tenderly, and sat down +beside her. + +"Now, then, all your cares, all your thoughts, all your griefs are to be +mine--till fate call us. And I have a thousand things to tell you, to +bless you for, to consult you about. There is not a thought in my mind +that you shall not know--bad, good, and indifferent--if you care to turn +out the rag-bag. Shall I begin with the morning--my experiences at the +club, my little nieces at the Zoo?" He laughed, but suddenly grew +serious again. "No, your story first; you owe it me. Let me know all +that concerns you. Your past, your sorrows, ambitions--everything." + +He bent to her imperiously. With a faint, broken smile, her hands still +in his, she assented. It was difficult to begin, then difficult to +control the flood of memory; and it had long been dark when Madame +Bornier, coming in to light the lamp and make up the fire, disturbed an +intimate and searching conversation, which had revealed the two natures +to each other with an agitating fulness. + + * * * * * + +Yet the results of this memorable evening upon Julie Le Breton were +ultimately such as few could have foreseen. + +When Warkworth had left her, she went to her own room and sat for a long +while beside the window, gazing at the dark shrubberies of the Cureton +House garden, at the few twinkling, distant lights. + +The vague, golden hopes she had cherished through these past months of +effort and scheming were gone forever. Warkworth would marry Aileen +Moffatt, and use her money for an ambitious career. After these weeks +now lying before them--weeks of dangerous intimacy, dangerous +emotion--she and he would become as strangers to each other. He would be +absorbed by his profession and his rich marriage. She would be left +alone to live her life. + +A sudden terror of her own weakness overcame her. No, she could not be +alone. She must place a barrier between herself and this--this strange +threatening of illimitable ruin that sometimes rose upon her from the +dark. "I have no prejudices," she had said to Sir Wilfrid. There were +many moments when she felt a fierce pride in the element of lawlessness, +of defiance, that seemed to be her inheritance from her parents. But +to-night she was afraid of it. + +Again, if love was to go, _power_, the satisfaction of ambition, +remained. She threw a quick glance into the future--the future beyond +these three weeks. What could she make of it? She knew well that she was +not the woman to resign herself to a mere pining obscurity. + +Jacob Delafield? Was it, after all, so impossible? + +For a few minutes she set herself deliberately to think out what it +would mean to marry him; then suddenly broke down and wept, with +inarticulate cries and sobs, with occasional reminiscences of her old +convent's prayers, appeals half conscious, instinctive, to a God only +half believed. + + + +XVI + +Delafield was walking through the Park towards Victoria Gate. A pair of +beautiful roans pulled up suddenly beside him, and a little figure with +a waving hand bent to him from a carriage. + +"Jacob, where are you off to? Let me give you a lift?" + +The gentleman addressed took off his hat. + +"Much obliged to you, but I want some exercise. I say, where did Freddie +get that pair?" + +"I don't know, he doesn't tell me. Jacob, you must get in. I want to +speak to you." + +Rather unwillingly, Delafield obeyed, and away they sped. + +"J'ai un tas de choses a vous dire," she said, speaking low, and in +French, so as to protect herself from the servants in front. "Jacob, I'm +_very_ unhappy about Julie." + +Delafield frowned uncomfortably. + +"Why? Hadn't you better leave her alone?" + +"Oh, of course, I know you think me a chatterbox. I don't care. You +_must_ let me tell you some fresh news about her. It _isn't_ gossip, and +you and I are her best friends. Oh, Freddie's so disagreeable about her. +Jacob, you've got to help and advise a little. Now, do listen. It's your +duty--your downright catechism duty." + +And she poured into his reluctant ear the tale which Miss Emily +Lawrence nearly a fortnight before had confided to her. + +"Of course," she wound up, "you'll say it's only what we knew or guessed +long ago. But you see, Jacob, we didn't _know_. It might have been just +gossip. And then, besides"--she frowned and dropped her voice till it +was only just audible--"this horrid man hadn't made our Julie so--so +conspicuous, and Lady Henry hadn't turned out such a toad--and, +altogether, Jacob, I'm dreadfully worried." + +"Don't be," said Jacob, dryly. + +"And what a creature!" cried the Duchess, unheeding. "They say that poor +Moffatt child will soon have fretted herself ill, if the guardians don't +give way about the two years." + +"What two years?" + +"The two years that she must wait--till she is twenty-one. Oh, Jacob, +you know that!" exclaimed the Duchess, impatient with him. "I've told +you scores of times." + +"I'm not in the least interested in Miss Moffatt's affairs." + +"But you ought to be, for they concern Julie," cried the Duchess. "Can't +you imagine what kind of things people are saying? Lady Henry has spread +it about that it was all to see him she bribed the Bruton Street +servants to let her give the Wednesday party as usual--that she had been +flirting with him abominably for months, and using Lady Henry's name in +the most impertinent ways. And now, suddenly, everybody seems to know +_something_ about this Indian engagement. You may imagine it doesn't +look very well for our poor Julie. The other night at Chatton House I +was furious. I made Julie go. I wanted her to show herself, and keep up +her friends. Well, it was _horrid_! One or two old frights, who used to +be only too thankful to Julie for reminding Lady Henry to invite them, +put their noses in the air and behaved odiously. And even some of the +nicer ones seemed changed--I could see Julie felt it." + +"Nothing of all that will do her any real harm," said Jacob, rather +contemptuously. + +"Well, no. I know, of course, that her real friends will never forsake +her--never, never! But, Jacob"--the Duchess hesitated, her charming +little face furrowed with thought--"if only so much of it weren't true. +She herself--" + +"Please, Evelyn," said Delafield, with decision, "don't tell me anything +she may have said to you." + +The Duchess flushed. + +"I shouldn't have betrayed any confidence," she said, proudly. "And I +must consult with some one who cares about her. Dr. Meredith lunched +with me to-day, and he said a few words to me afterwards. He's quite +anxious, too--and unhappy. Captain Warkworth's always there--always! +Even I have been hardly able to see her the last few days. Last Sunday +they took the little lame child and went into the country for the +whole day--" + +"Well, what is there to object to in that?" cried Jacob. + +"I didn't say there was anything to object to," said the Duchess, +looking at him with eyes half angry, half perplexed. "Only it's so +unlike her. She had promised to be at home that afternoon for several +old friends, and they found her flown, without a word. And think how +sweet Julie is always about such things--what delicious notes she +writes, how she hates to put anybody out or disappoint them! And now, +not a word of excuse to anybody. And she looks so _ill_--so white, so +fixed--like a person in a dream which she can't shake off. I'm just +miserable about her. And I hate, _hate_ that man--engaged to her own +cousin all the time!" cried the little Duchess, under her breath, as she +passionately tore some violets at her waist to pieces and flung them out +of the carriage. Then she turned to Jacob. + +"But, of course, if you don't care twopence about all this, Jacob, it's +no good talking to you!" + +Her taunt fell quite unnoticed. Jacob turned to her with smiling +composure. + +"You have forgotten, my dear Evelyn, all this time, that Warkworth goes +away--to mid-Africa--in little more than two weeks." + +"I wish it was two minutes," said the Duchess, fuming. + +Delafield made no reply for a while. He seemed to be studying the effect +of a pale shaft of sunlight which had just come stealing down through +layers of thin gray cloud to dance upon the Serpentine. Presently, as +they left the Serpentine behind them, he turned to his companion with +more apparent sympathy. + +"We can't do anything, Evelyn, and we've no right whatever to talk of +alarm, or anxiety--to _talk_ of it, mind! It's--it's disloyal. Forgive +me," he added, hastily, "I know you don't gossip. But it fills me with +rage that other people should be doing it." + +The brusquerie of his manner disconcerted the little lady beside him. +She recovered herself, however, and said, with a touch of sarcasm, +tempered by a rather trembling lip: + +"Your rage won't prevent their gossiping, Mr. Jacob, I thought, perhaps, +your _friendship_ might have done something to stop it--to--to influence +Julie," she added, uncertainly. + +"My friendship, as you call it, is of no use whatever," he said, +obstinately. "Warkworth will go away, and if you and others do their +best to protect Miss Le Breton, talk will soon die out. Behave as if you +had never heard the man's name before--stare the people down. Why, good +Heavens! you have a thousand arts! But, of course, if the little flame +is to be blown into a blaze by a score of so-called friends--" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +The Duchess did not take his rebukes kindly, not having, in truth, +deserved them. + +"You are rude and unkind, Jacob," she said, almost with the tears in her +eyes. "And you don't understand--it is because I myself am so anxious--" + +"For that reason, play the part with all your might," he said, +unyieldingly. "Really, even you and I oughtn't to talk of it any more. +But there _is_ one thing I want very much to know about Miss Le Breton." + +He bent towards her, smiling, though in truth he was disgusted with +himself, vexed with her, and out of tune with all the world. + +The Duchess made a little face. + +"All very well, but after such a lecture as you have indulged in, I +think I prefer not to say any more about Julie." + +"Do. I'm ashamed of myself--except that I don't retract one word, not +one. Be kind, all the same, and tell me--if you know--has she spoken to +Lord Lackington?" + +The Duchess still frowned, but a few more apologetic expressions on his +part restored a temper that had always a natural tendency to peace. +Indeed, Jacob's _boutades_ never went long unpardoned. An only child +herself, he, her first cousin, had played the part of brother in her +life, since the days when she first tottered in long frocks, and he had +never played it in any mincing fashion. His words were often blunt. She +smarted and forgave--much more quickly than she forgave her husband. But +then, with him, she was in love. + +So she presently vouchsafed to give Jacob the news that Lord Lackington +at last knew the secret--that he had behaved well--had shown much +feeling, in fact--so that poor Julie-- + +But Jacob again cut short the sentimentalisms, the little touching +phrases in which the woman delighted. + +"What is he going to do for her?" he said, impatiently. "Will he make +any provision for her? Is there any way by which she can live in his +house--take care of him?" + +The Duchess shook her head. + +"At seventy-five one can't begin to explain a thing as big as that. +Julie perfectly understands, and doesn't wish it." + +"But as to money?" persisted Jacob. + +"Julie says nothing about money. How odd you are, Jacob! I thought that +was the last thing needful in your eyes." + +Jacob did not reply. If he had, he would probably have said that what +was harmful or useless for men might be needful for women--for the +weakness of women. But he kept silence, while the vague intensity of the +eyes, the pursed and twisted mouth, showed that his mind was full +of thoughts. + +Suddenly he perceived that the carriage was nearing Victoria Gate. He +called to the coachman to stop, and jumped out. + +"Good-bye, Evelyn. Don't bear me malice. You're a good friend," he said +in her ear--"a real good friend. But don't let people talk to you--not +even elderly ladies with the best intentions. I tell you it will be a +fight, and one of the best weapons is"--he touched his lips +significantly, smiled at her, and was gone. + +The Duchess passed out of the Park. Delafield turned as though in the +direction of the Marble Arch, but as soon as the carriage was out of +sight he paused and quickly retraced his steps towards Kensington +Gardens. Here, in this third week of March, some of the thorns and +lilacs were already in leaf. The grass was springing, and the chatter of +many sparrows filled the air. Faint patches of sun flecked the ground +between the trees, and blue hazes, already redeemed from the dreariness +of winter, filled the dim planes of distance and mingled with the low, +silvery clouds. He found a quiet spot, remote from nursery-maids and +children, and there he wandered to and fro, indefinitely, his hands +behind his back. All the anxieties for which he had scolded his cousin +possessed him, only sharpened tenfold; he was in torture, and he +was helpless. + +However, when at last he emerged from his solitude, and took a hansom to +the Chudleigh estate office in Spring Gardens, he resolutely shook off +the thoughts which had been weighing upon him. He took his usual +interest in his work, and did it with his usual capacity. + + * * * * * + +Towards five o'clock in the afternoon, Delafield found himself in +Cureton Street. As he turned down Heribert Street he saw a cab in front +of him. It stopped at Miss Le Breton's door, and Warkworth jumped out. +The door was quickly opened to him, and he went in without having turned +his eyes towards the man at the far corner of the street. + +Delafield paused irresolute. Finally he walked back to his club in +Piccadilly, where he dawdled over the newspapers till nearly seven. + +Then he once more betook himself to Heribert Street. + +"Is Miss Le Breton at home?" + +Therese looked at him with a sudden flickering of her clear eyes. + +"I think so, sir," she said, with soft hesitation, and she slowly led +him across the hall. + +The drawing-room door opened. Major Warkworth emerged. + +"Ah, how do you do?" he said, shortly, staring in a kind of bewilderment +as he saw Delafield. Then he hurriedly looked for his hat, ran down the +stairs, and was gone. + +"Announce me, please," said Delafield, peremptorily, to the little girl. +"Tell Miss Le Breton that I am here." And he drew back from the open +door of the drawing-room. Therese slipped in, and reappeared. + +"Please to walk in, sir," she said, in her shy, low voice, and Delafield +entered. From the hall he had caught one involuntary glimpse of Julie, +standing stiff and straight in the middle of the room, her hands clasped +to her breast--a figure in pain. When he went in, she was in her usual +seat by the fire, with her embroidery frame in front of her. + +"May I come in? It is rather late." + +"Oh, by all means! Do you bring me any news of Evelyn? I haven't seen +her for three days." + +He seated himself beside her. It was hard, indeed, for him to hide all +signs of the tumult within. But he held a firm grip upon himself. + +"I saw Evelyn this afternoon. She complained that you had had no time +for her lately." + +Julie bent over her work. He saw that her fingers were so unsteady that +she could hardly make them obey her. + +"There has been a great deal to do, even in this little house. Evelyn +forgets; she has an army of servants; we have only our hands and +our time." + +She looked up, smiling. He made no reply, and the smile died from her +face, suddenly, as though some one had blown out a light. She returned +to her work, or pretended to. But her aspect had left him inwardly +shaken. The eyes, disproportionately large and brilliant, were of an +emphasis almost ghastly, the usually clear complexion was flecked and +cloudy, the mouth dry-lipped. She looked much older than she had done a +fortnight before. And the fact was the more noticeable because in her +dress she had now wholly discarded the touch of stateliness--almost +old-maidishness--which had once seemed appropriate to the position of +Lady Henry's companion. She was wearing a little gown of her youth, a +blue cotton, which two years before had been put aside as too slight +and juvenile. Never had the form within it seemed so girlish, so +appealing. But the face was heart-rending. + +After a pause he moved a little closer to her. + +"Do you know that you are looking quite ill?" + +"Then my looks are misleading. I am very well." + +"I am afraid I don't put much faith in that remark. When do you mean to +take a holiday?" + +"Oh, very soon. Leonie, my little housekeeper, talks of going to Bruges +to wind up all her affairs there and bring back some furniture that she +has warehoused. I may go with her. I, too, have some property stored +there. I should go and see some old friends--the _soeurs_, for instance, +with whom I went to school. In the old days I was a torment to them, and +they were tyrants to me. But they are quite nice to me now--they give me +_patisserie_, and stroke my hands and spoil me." + +And she rattled on about the friends she might revisit, in a hollow, +perfunctory way, which set him on edge. + +"I don't see that anything of that kind will do you any good. You want +rest of mind and body. I expect those last scenes with Lady Henry cost +you more than you knew. There are wounds one does not notice at +the time--" + +"Which afterwards bleed inwardly?" She laughed. "No, no, I am not +bleeding for Lady Henry. By-the-way, what news of her?" + +"Sir Wilfrid told me to-day that he had had a letter. She is at Torquay, +and she thinks there are too many curates at Torquay. She is not at all +in a good temper." + +Julie looked up. + +"You know that she is trying to punish me. A great many people seem to +have been written to." + +"That will blow over." + +"I don't know. How confident I was at one time that, if there was a +breach, it would be Lady Henry that would suffer! It makes me hot to +remember some things I said--to Sir Wilfrid, in particular. I see now +that I shall not be troubled with society in this little house." + +"It is too early for you to guess anything of that kind." + +"Not at all! London is pretty full. The affair has made a noise. Those +who meant to stand by me would have called, don't you think?" + +The quivering bitterness of her face was most pitiful in Jacob's eyes. + +"Oh, people take their time," he said, trying to speak lightly. + +She shook her head. + +"It's ridiculous that I should care. One's self-love, I suppose--_that_ +bleeds! Evelyn has made me send out cards for a little house-warming. +She said I must. She made me go to that smart party at Chatton House the +other night. It was a great mistake. People turned their backs on me. +And this, too, will be a mistake--and a failure." + +"You were kind enough to send me a card." + +"Yes--and you must come?" + +She looked at him with a sudden nervous appeal, which made another tug +on his self-control. + +"Of course I shall come." + +"Do you remember your own saying--that awful evening--that I had devoted +friends? Well, we shall soon see." + +"That depends only on yourself," he replied, with gentle deliberation. + +She started--threw him a doubtful look. + +"If you mean that I must take a great deal of trouble, I am afraid I +can't. I am too tired." + +And she sank back in her chair. + +The sigh that accompanied the words seemed to him involuntary, +unconscious. + +"I didn't mean that--altogether," he said, after a moment. + +She moved restlessly. + +"Then, really, I don't know what you meant. I suppose all friendship +depends on one's self." + +She drew her embroidery frame towards her again, and he was left to +wonder at his own audacity. "Do you know," she said, presently, her eyes +apparently busy with her silks, "that I have told Lord Lackington?" + +"Yes. Evelyn gave me that news. How has the old man behaved?" + +"Oh, very well--most kindly. He has already formed a habit, almost, of +'dropping in' upon me at all hours. I have had to appoint him times and +seasons, or there would be no work done. He sits here and raves about +young Mrs. Delaray--you know he is painting her portrait, for the famous +series?--and draws her profile on the backs of my letters. He recites +his speeches to me; he asks my advice as to his fights with his tenants +or his miners. In short, I'm adopted--I'm almost the real thing." + +She smiled, and then again, as she turned over her silks, he heard her +sigh--a long breath of weariness. It was strange and terrible in his +ear--the contrast between this unconscious sound, drawn as it were from +the oppressed heart of pain, and her languidly, smiling words. + +"Has he spoken to you of the Moffatts?" he asked her, presently, not +looking at her. + +A sharp crimson color rushed over her face. + +"Not much. He and Lady Blanche are not great friends. And I have made +him promise to keep my secret from her till I give him leave to +tell it." + +"It will have to be known to her some time, will it not?" + +"Perhaps," she said, impatiently. "Perhaps, when I can make up my mind." + +Then she pushed aside her frame and would talk no more about Lord +Lackington. She gave him, somehow, the impression of a person +suffocating, struggling for breath and air. And yet her hand was icy, +and she presently went to the fire, complaining of the east wind; and as +he put on the coal he saw her shiver. + +"Shall I force her to tell me everything?" he thought to himself. + +Did she divine the obscure struggle in his mind? At any rate she seemed +anxious to cut short their _tete-a-tete_. She asked him to come and look +at some engravings which the Duchess had sent round for the +embellishment of the dining-room. Then she summoned Madame Bornier, and +asked him a number of questions on Leonie's behalf, with reference to +some little investment of the ex-governess's savings, which had been +dropping in value. Meanwhile, as she kept him talking, she leaned +herself against the lintel of the door, forgetting every now and then +that any one else was there, and letting the true self appear, like some +drowned thing floating into sight. Delafield disposed of Madame +Bornier's affairs, hardly knowing what he said, but showing in truth his +usual conscience and kindness. Then when Leonie was contented, Julie saw +the little cripple crossing the hall, and called to her. + +"Ah, ma cherie! How is the poor little foot?" + +And turning to Delafield, she explained volubly that Therese had given +herself a slight twist on the stairs that morning, pressing the child to +her side the while with a tender gesture. The child nestled against her. + +"Shall maman keep back supper?" Therese half whispered, looking at +Delafield. + +"No, no, I must go!" cried Delafield, rousing himself and looking for +his hat. + +"I would ask you to stay," said Julie, smiling, "just to show off +Leonie's cooking; but there wouldn't be enough for a great big man. And +you're probably dining with dukes." + +Delafield disclaimed any such intention, and they went back to the +drawing-room to look for his hat and stick. Julie still had her arm +round Therese and would not let the child go. She clearly avoided being +left alone with him; and yet it seemed, even to his modesty, that she +was loath to see him depart. She talked first of her little _menage_, as +though proud of their daily economies and contrivances; then of her +literary work and its prospects; then of her debt to Meredith. Never +before had she thus admitted him to her domestic and private life. It +was as though she leaned upon his sympathy, his advice, his mere +neighborhood. And her pale, changed face had never seemed to him so +beautiful--never, in fact, truly beautiful till now. The dying down of +the brilliance and energy of the strongly marked character, which had +made her the life of the Bruton Street salon, into this mildness, this +despondency, this hidden weariness, had left her infinitely more lovely +in his eyes. But how to restrain himself much longer from taking the +sad, gracious woman in his arms and coercing her into sanity and +happiness! + +At last he tore himself away. + +"You won't forget Wednesday?" she said to him, as she followed him into +the hall. + +"No. Is there anything else that you wish--that I could do?" + +"No, nothing. But if there is I will ask." + +Then, looking up, she shrank from something in his face--something +accusing, passionate, profound. + +He wrung her hand. + +"Promise that you will ask." + +She murmured something, and he turned away. + + * * * * * + +She came back alone into the drawing-room. + +"Oh, what a good man!" she said, sighing. "What a good man!" + +And then, all in a moment, she was thankful that he was gone--that she +was alone with and mistress of her pain. + +The passion and misery which his visit had interrupted swept back upon +her in a rushing swirl, blinding and choking every sense. Ah, what a +scene, to which his coming had put an end--scene of bitterness, of +recrimination, not restrained even by this impending anguish +of parting! + +It came as a close to a week during which she and Warkworth had been +playing the game which they had chosen to play, according to its +appointed rules--the delicacies and restraints of friendship masking, +and at the same time inflaming, a most unhappy, poisonous, and growing +love. And, finally, there had risen upon them a storm-wave of +feeling--tyrannous, tempestuous--bursting in reproach and agitation, +leaving behind it, bare and menacing, the old, ugly facts, unaltered and +unalterable. + +Warkworth was little less miserable than herself. That she knew. He +loved her, as it were, to his own anger and surprise. And he suffered in +deserting her, more than he had ever suffered yet through any human +affection. + +But his purpose through it all remained stubbornly fixed; that, also, +she knew. For nearly a year Aileen Moffatt's fortune and Aileen +Moffatt's family connections had entered into all his calculations of +the future. Only a few more years in the army, then retirement with +ample means, a charming wife, and a seat in Parliament. To jeopardize a +plan so manifestly desirable, so easy to carry out, so far-reaching in +its favorable effects upon his life, for the sake of those hard and +doubtful alternatives in which a marriage with Julie would involve him, +never seriously entered his mind. When he suffered he merely said to +himself, steadily, that time would heal the smart for both of them. + +"Only one thing would be absolutely fatal for all of us--that I should +break with Aileen." + +Julie read these obscure processes in Warkworth's mind with perfect +clearness. She was powerless to change them; but that afternoon she had, +at any rate, beaten her wings against the bars, and the exhaustion and +anguish of her revolt, her reproaches, were still upon her. + +The spring night had fallen. The room was hot, and she threw a window +open. Some thorns in the garden beneath had thickened into leaf. They +rose in a dark mass beneath the window. Overhead, beyond the haze of the +great city, a few stars twinkled, and the dim roar of London life beat +from all sides upon this quiet corner which still held Lady Mary's +old house. + +Julie's eyes strained into the darkness; her head swam with weakness and +weariness. Suddenly she gave a cry--she pressed her hands to her heart. +Upon the darkness outside there rose a face, so sharply drawn, so +life-like, that it printed itself forever upon the quivering tissues of +the brain. It was Warkworth's face, not as she had seen it last, but in +some strange extremity of physical ill--drawn, haggard, in a cold +sweat--the eyes glazed, the hair matted, the parched lips open as though +they cried for help. She stood gazing. Then the eyes turned, and the +agony in them looked out upon her. + +Her whole sense was absorbed by the phantom; her being hung upon it. +Then, as it faded on the quiet trees, she tottered to a chair and hid +her face. Common sense told her that she was the victim of her own tired +nerves and tortured fancy. But the memory of Cousin Mary Leicester's +second sight, of her "visions" in this very room, crept upon her and +gripped her heart. A ghostly horror seized her of the room, the house, +and her own tempestuous nature. She groped her way out, in blind and +hurrying panic--glad of the lamp in the hall, glad of the sounds in the +house, glad, above all, of Therese's thin hands as they once more stole +lovingly round her own. + + + +XVII + +The Duchess and Julie were in the large room of Burlington House. They +had paused before a magnificent Turner of the middle period, hitherto +unseen by the public, and the Duchess was reading from the catalogue in +Julie's ear. + +She had found Julie alone in Heribert Street, surrounded by books and +proofs, endeavoring, as she reported, to finish a piece of work for Dr. +Meredith. Distressed by her friend's pale cheeks, the Duchess had +insisted on dragging her from the prison-house and changing the current +of her thoughts. Julie, laughing, hesitating, indignant, had at last +yielded--probably in order to avoid another _tete-a-tete_ and another +scene with the little, impetuous lady, and now the Duchess had her safe +and was endeavoring to amuse her. + +But it was not easy. Julie, generally so instructed and sympathetic, so +well skilled in the difficult art of seeing pictures with a friend, +might, to-day, never have turned a phrase upon a Constable or a Romney +before. She tried, indeed, to turn them as usual; but the Duchess, +sharply critical and attentive where her beloved Julie was concerned, +perceived the difference acutely! Alack, what languor, what fatigue! +Evelyn became more and more conscious of an inward consternation. + +"But, thank goodness, he goes to-morrow--the villain! And when that's +over, it will be all right." + +Julie, meanwhile, knew that she was observed, divined, and pitied. Her +pride revolted, but it could wring from her nothing better than a +passive resistance. She could prevent Evelyn from expressing her +thoughts; she could not so command her own bodily frame that the Duchess +should not think. Days of moral and mental struggle, nights of waking, +combined with the serious and sustained effort of a new profession, had +left their mark. There are, moreover, certain wounds to self-love and +self-respect which poison the whole being. + +"Julie! you _must_ have a holiday!" cried the Duchess, presently, as +they sat down to rest. + +Julie replied that she, Madame Bornier, and the child were going to +Bruges for a week. + +"Oh, but that won't be comfortable enough! I'm sure I could arrange +something. Think of all our tiresome houses--eating their heads off!" + +Julie firmly refused. She was going to renew old friendships at Bruges; +she would be made much of; and the prospect was as pleasant as any one +need wish. + +"Well, of course, if you have made up your mind. When do you go?" + +"In three or four days--just before the Easter rush. And you?" + +"Oh, we go to Scotland to fish. We must, of course, be killing +something. How long, darling, will you be away?" + +"About ten days." Julie pressed the Duchess's little hand in +acknowledgment of the caressing word and look. + +"By-the-way, didn't Lord Lackington invite you? Ah, there he is!" + +And suddenly, Lord Lackington, examining with fury a picture of his own +which some rascally critic had that morning pronounced to be "Venetian +school" and not the divine Giorgione himself, lifted an angry +countenance to find the Duchess and Julie beside him. + +The start which passed through him betrayed itself. He could not yet see +Julie with composure. But when he had pressed her hand and inquired +after her health, he went back to his grievance, being indeed rejoiced +to have secured a pair of listeners. + +"Really, the insolence of these fellows in the press! I shall let the +Academy know what I think of it. Not a rag of mine shall they ever see +here again. Ears and little fingers, indeed! Idiots and owls!" + +Julie smiled. But it had to be explained to the Duchess that a wise man, +half Italian, half German, had lately arisen who proposed to judge the +authenticity of a picture by its ears, assisted by any peculiarities of +treatment in the little fingers. + +"What nonsense!" said the Duchess, with a yawn. "If I were an artist, I +should always draw them different ways." + +"Well, not exactly," said Lord Lackington, who, as an artist himself, +was unfortunately debarred from statements of this simplicity. "But the +_ludicrous_ way in which these fools overdo their little discoveries!" + +And he walked on, fuming, till the open and unmeasured admiration of the +two ladies for his great Rembrandt, the gem of his collection, now +occupying the place of honor in the large room of the Academy, restored +him to himself. + +"Ah, even the biggest ass among them holds his tongue about that!" he +said, exultantly. "But, hallo! What does that call itself?" He looked at +a picture in front of him, then at the catalogue, then at the Duchess. + +"That picture is ours," said the Duchess. "Isn't it a dear? It's a +Leonardo da Vinci." + +"Leonardo fiddlesticks!" cried Lord Lackington. "Leonardo, indeed! What +absurdity! Really, Duchess, you should tell Crowborough to be more +careful about his things. We mustn't give handles to these fellows." + +"What do you mean?" said the Duchess, offended. "If it isn't a Leonardo, +pray what is it?" + +"Why, a bad school copy, of course!" said Lord Lackington, hotly. "Look +at the eyes"--he took out a pencil and pointed--"look at the neck, look +at the fingers!" + +The Duchess pouted. + +"Oh!" she said. "Then there is something in fingers!" + +Lord Lackington's face suddenly relaxed. He broke into a shout of +laughter, _bon enfant_ that he was; and the Duchess laughed, too; but +under cover of their merriment she, mindful of quite other things, drew +him a little farther away from Julie. + +"I thought you had asked her to Nonpareil for Easter?" she said, in his +ear, with a motion of her pretty head towards Julie in the distance. + +"Yes, but, my dear lady, Blanche won't come home! She and Aileen put it +off, and put it off. Now she says they mean to spend May in +Switzerland--may perhaps be away the whole summer! I had counted on +them for Easter. I am dependent on Blanche for hostess. It is really too +bad of her. Everything has broken down, and William and I (he named his +youngest son) are going to the Uredales' for a fortnight." + +Lord Uredale, his eldest son, a sportsman and farmer, troubled by none +of his father's originalities, reigned over the second family "place," +in Herefordshire, beside the Wye. + +"Has Aileen any love affairs yet?" said the Duchess, abruptly, raising +her face to his. + +Lord Lackington looked surprised. + +"Not that I know of. However, I dare say they wouldn't tell me. I'm a +sieve, I know. Have you heard of any? Tell me." He stooped to her with +roguish eagerness. "I like to steal a march on Blanche." + +So he knew nothing--while half their world was talking! It was very +characteristic, however. Except for his own hobbies, artistic, medical, +or military, Lord Lackington had walked through life as a Johnny +Head-in-Air, from his youth till now. His children had not trusted him +with their secrets, and he had never discovered them for himself. + +"Is there any likeness between Julie and Aileen?" whispered the Duchess. + +Lord Lackington started. Both turned their eyes towards Julie, as she +stood some ten yards away from them, in front of a refined and +mysterious profile of the cinque-cento--some lady, perhaps, of the +d'Este or Sforza families, attributed to Ambrogio da Predis. In her +soft, black dress, delicately folded and draped to hide her excessive +thinness, her small toque fitting closely over her wealth of hair, her +only ornaments a long and slender chain set with uncut jewels which Lord +Lackington had brought her the day before, and a bunch of violets which +the Duchess had just slipped into her belt, she was as rare and delicate +as the picture. But she turned her face towards them, and Lord +Lackington made a sudden exclamation. + +"No! Good Heavens, no! Aileen was a dancing-sprite when I saw her last, +and this poor girl!--Duchess, why does she look like that? So sad, so +bloodless!" + +He turned upon her impetuously, his face frowning and disturbed. + +The Duchess sighed. + +"You and I have just got to do all we can for her," she said, relieved +to see that Julie had wandered farther away, as though it pleased her to +be left to herself. + +"But I would do anything--everything!" cried Lord Lackington. "Of +course, none of us can undo the past. But I offered yesterday to make +full provision for her. She has refused. She has the most Quixotic +notions, poor child!" + +"No, let her earn her own living yet awhile. It will do her good. +But--shall I tell you secrets?" The Duchess looked at him, knitting her +small brows. + +"Tell me what I ought to know--no more," he said, gravely, with a +dignity contrasting oddly with his school-boy curiosity in the matter of +little Aileen's lover. + +The Duchess hesitated. Just in front of her was a picture of the +Venetian school representing St. George, Princess Saba, and the dragon. +The princess, a long and slender victim, with bowed head and fettered +hands, reminded her of Julie. The dragon--perfidious, encroaching +wretch!--he was easy enough of interpretation. But from the blue +distance, thank Heaven! spurs the champion. Oh, ye heavenly powers, give +him wings and strength! "St. George--St. George to the rescue!" + +"Well," she said, slowly, "I can tell you of some one who is very +devoted to Julie--some one worthy of her. Come with me." + +And she took him away into the next room, still talking in his ear. + + * * * * * + +When they returned, Lord Lackington was radiant. With a new eagerness he +looked for Julie's distant figure amid the groups scattered about the +central room. The Duchess had sworn him to secrecy, indeed; and he meant +to be discretion itself. But--Jacob Delafield! Yes, that, indeed, would +be a solution. His pride was acutely pleased; his affection--of which he +already began to feel no small store for this charming woman of his own +blood, this poor granddaughter _de la main gauche_--was strengthened and +stimulated. She was sad now and out of spirits, poor thing, because, no +doubt, of this horrid business with Lady Henry, to whom, by-the-way, he +had written his mind. But time would see to that--time--gently and +discreetly assisted by himself and the Duchess. It was impossible that +she should finally hold out against such a good fellow--impossible, and +most unreasonable. No. Rose's daughter would be brought back safely to +her mother's world and class, and poor Rose's tragedy would at last work +itself out for good. How strange, romantic, and providential! + +In such a mood did he now devote himself to Julie. He chattered about +the pictures; he gossiped about their owners; he excused himself for +the absence of "that gad-about Blanche"; he made her promise him a +Whitsuntide visit instead, and whispered in her ear, "You shall have +_her_ room"; he paid her the most handsome and gallant attentions, +natural to the man of fashion _par excellence_, mingled with something +intimate, brusque, capricious, which marked her his own, and of the +family. Seventy-five!--with that step, that carriage of the shoulders, +that vivacity! Ridiculous! + +And Julie could not but respond. + +Something stole into her heart that had never yet lodged there. She must +love the old man--she did. When he left her for the Duchess her eyes +followed him--her dark-rimmed, wistful eyes. + +"I must be off," said Lord Lackington, presently, buttoning up his coat. +"This, ladies, has been dalliance. I now go to my duties. Read me in the +_Times_ to-morrow. I shall make a rattling speech. You see, I shall +rub it in." + +"Montresor?" said the Duchess. + +Lord Lackington nodded. That afternoon he proposed to strew the floor of +the House of Lords with the _debris_ of Montresor's farcical reforms. + +Suddenly he pulled himself up. + +"Duchess, look round you, at those two in the doorway. Isn't it--by +George, it is!--Chudleigh and his boy!" + +"Yes--yes, it is," said the Duchess, in some excitement. "Don't +recognize them. Don't speak to him. Jacob implored me not." + +And she hurried her companions along till they were well out of the +track of the new-comers; then on the threshold of another room she +paused, and, touching Julie on the arm, said, in a whisper: + +"Now look back. That's Jacob's Duke, and his poor, poor boy!" + +Julie threw a hurried glance towards the two figures; but that glance +impressed forever upon her memory a most tragic sight. + +A man of middle height, sallow, and careworn, with jet-black hair and +beard, supported a sickly lad, apparently about seventeen, who clung to +his arm and coughed at intervals. The father moved as though in a dream. +He looked at the pictures with unseeing, lustreless eyes, except when +the boy asked him a question. Then he would smile, stoop his head and +answer, only to resume again immediately his melancholy passivity. The +boy, meanwhile, his lips gently parted over his white teeth, his blue +eyes wide open and intent upon the pictures, his emaciated cheeks deeply +flushed, wore an aspect of patient suffering, of docile dependence, +peculiarly touching. + +It was evident the father and son thought of none but each other. From +time to time the man would make the boy rest on one of the seats in the +middle of the room, and the boy would look up and chatter to his +companion standing before him. Then again they would resume their walk, +the boy leaning on his father. Clearly the poor lad was marked for +death; clearly, also, he was the desire of his father's heart. + +"The possessor, and the heir, of perhaps the finest houses and the most +magnificent estates in England," said Lord Lackington, with a shrug of +pity. "And Chudleigh would gladly give them all to keep that +boy alive." + +Julie turned away. Strange thoughts had been passing and repassing +through her brain. + +Then, with angry loathing, she flung her thoughts from her. What did the +Chudleigh inheritance matter to her? That night she said good-bye to the +man she loved. These three miserable, burning weeks were done. Her +heart, her life, would go with Warkworth to Africa and the desert. If at +the beginning of this period of passion--so short in prospect, and, to +look back upon, an eternity--she had ever supposed that power or wealth +could make her amends for the loss of her lover, she was in no mood to +calculate such compensations to-day. Parting was too near, the anguish +in her veins too sharp. + +"Jacob takes them to Paris to-morrow," said the Duchess to Lord +Lackington. "The Duke has heard of some new doctor." + + * * * * * + +An hour or two later, Sir Wilfrid Bury, in the smoking-room of his club, +took out a letter which he had that morning received from Lady Henry +Delafield and gave it a second reading. + + "So I hear that mademoiselle's social prospects are not, + after all, so triumphant as both she and I imagined. I gave + the world credit for more fools than it seems actually to + possess; and she--well, I own I am a little puzzled. Has she + taken leave of her senses? I am told that she is constantly + seen with this man; that in spite of all denials there can be + no doubt of his engagement to the Moffatt girl; and that _en + somme_ she has done herself no good by the whole affair. But, + after all, poor soul, she is disinterested. She stands to + gain nothing, as I understand; and she risks a good deal. + From this comfortable distance, I really find something + touching in her behavior. + + "She gives her first 'Wednesday,' I understand, to-morrow. + 'Mademoiselle Le Breton at home!' I confess I am curious. By + all means go, and send me a full report. Mr. Montresor and + his wife will certainly be there. He and I have been + corresponding, of course. He wishes to persuade me that he + feels himself in some way responsible for mademoiselle's + position, and for my dismissal of her; that I ought to allow + him in consequence full freedom of action. I cannot see + matters in the same light. But, as I tell him, the change + will be all to his advantage. He exchanges a fractious old + woman, always ready to tell him unpleasant truths, for one + who has made flattery her _metier_. If he wants quantity she + will give it him. Quality he can dispense with--as I have + seen for some time past. + + "Lord Lackington has written me an impertinent letter. It + seems she has revealed herself, and _il s'en prend a moi_, + because I kept the secret from him, and because I have now + dared to dismiss his granddaughter. I am in the midst of a + reply which amuses me. He is to cast off his belongings as he + pleases; but when a lady of the Chantrey blood--no matter how + she came by it--condescends to enter a paid employment, + legitimate or illegitimate, she must be treated _en reine_, + or Lord L. will know the reason why. 'Here is one hundred + pounds a year, and let me hear no more of you,' he says to + her at sixteen. Thirteen years later I take her in, respect + his wishes, and keep the secret. She misbehaves herself, and + I dismiss her. Where is the grievance? He himself made her a + _lectrice_, and now complains that she is expected to do her + duty in that line of life. He himself banished her from the + family, and now grumbles that I did not at once foist her + upon him. He would like to escape the odium of his former + action by blaming me; but I am not meek, and I shall make him + regret his letter. + + "As for Jacob Delafield, don't trouble yourself to write me + any further news of him. He has insulted me lately in a way I + shall not soon forgive--nothing to do, however, with the lady + who says she refused him. Whether her report be veracious or + no matters nothing to me, any more than his chances of + succeeding to the Captain's place. He is one of the ingenious + fools who despise the old ways of ruining themselves, and in + the end achieve it as well as the commoner sort. He owes me a + good deal, and at one time it pleased me to imagine that he + was capable both of affection and gratitude. That is the + worst of being a woman; we pass from one illusion to another; + love is only the beginning; there are a dozen to come after. + + "You will scold me for a bitter tongue. Well, my dear + Wilfrid, I am not gay here. There are too many women, too + many church services, and I see too much of my doctor. I pine + for London, and I don't see why I should have been driven out + of it by an _intrigante_. + + "Write to me, my dear Wilfrid. I am not quite so bad as I + paint myself; say to yourself she has arthritis, she is + sixty-five, and her new companion reads aloud with a twang; + then you will only wonder at my moderation." + +Sir Wilfrid returned the letter to his pocket. That day, at luncheon +with Lady Hubert, he had had the curiosity to question Susan Delafield, +Jacob's fair-haired sister, as to the reasons for her brother's quarrel +with Lady Henry. + +It appeared that being now in receipt of what seemed to himself, at any +rate, a large salary as his cousin's agent, he had thought it his duty +to save up and repay the sums which Lady Henry had formerly spent upon +his education. + +His letter enclosing the money had reached that lady during the first +week of her stay at Torquay. It was, no doubt, couched in terms less +cordial or more formal than would have been the case before Miss Le +Breton's expulsion. "Not that he defends her altogether," said Susan +Delafield, who was herself inclined to side with Lady Henry; "but as +Lady Henry has refused to see him since, it was not much good being +friendly, was it?" + +Anyway, the letter and its enclosure had completed a breach already +begun. Lady Henry had taken furious offence; the check had been +insultingly returned, and had now gone to swell the finances of a +London hospital. + +Sir Wilfrid was just reflecting that Jacob's honesty had better have +waited for a more propitious season, when, looking up, he saw the War +Minister beside him, in the act of searching for a newspaper. + +"Released?" said Bury, with a smile. + +"Yes, thank Heaven. Lackington is, I believe, still pounding at me in +the House of Lords. But that amuses him and doesn't hurt me." + +"You'll carry your resolutions?" + +"Oh, dear, yes, with no trouble at all," said the Minister, almost with +sulkiness, as he threw himself into a chair and looked with distaste at +the newspaper he had taken up. + +Sir Wilfrid surveyed him. + +"We meet to-night?" he said, presently. + +"You mean in Heribert Street? I suppose so," said Montresor, without +cordiality. + +"I have just got a letter from her ladyship." + +"Well, I hope it is more agreeable than those she writes to me. A more +unreasonable old woman--" + +The tired Minister took up _Punch_, looked at a page, and flung it down +again. Then he said: + +"Are you going?" + +"I don't know. Lady Henry gives me leave, which makes me feel myself a +kind of spy." + +"Oh, never mind. Come along. Mademoiselle Julie will want all our +support. I don't hear her as kindly spoken of just now as I +should wish." + +"No. Lady Henry has more personal hold than we thought." + +"And Mademoiselle Julie less tact. Why, in the name of goodness, does +she go and get herself talked about with the particular man who is +engaged to her little cousin? You know, by-the-way, that the story of +her parentage is leaking out fast? Most people seem to know something +about it." + +"Well, that was bound to come. Will it do her good or harm?" + +"Harm, for the present. A few people are straitlaced, and a good many +feel they have been taken in. But, anyway, this flirtation is +a mistake." + +"Nobody really knows whether the man is engaged to the Moffatt girl or +no. The guardians have forbidden it." + +"At any rate, everybody is kind enough to say so. It's a blunder on +Mademoiselle Julie's part. As to the man himself, of course, there is +nothing to say. He is a very clever fellow." Montresor looked at his +companion with a sudden stiffness, as though defying contradiction. "He +will do this piece of work that we have given him to do extremely well." + +"The Mokembe mission?" + +Montresor nodded. + +"He had very considerable claims, and was appointed entirely on his +military record. All the tales as to Mademoiselle's influence--with me, +for instance--that Lady Henry has been putting into circulation are +either absurd fiction or have only the very smallest foundation +in fact." + +Sir Wilfrid smiled amicably and diverted the conversation. + +"Warkworth starts at once?" + +"He goes to Paris to-morrow. I recommended him to see Pattison, the +Military Secretary there, who was in the expedition of five years back." + + * * * * * + +"This hasn't gone as well as it ought," said Dr. Meredith, in the ear of +the Duchess. + +They were standing inside the door of Julie's little drawing-room. The +Duchess, in a dazzling frock of white and silver, which placed Clarisse +among the divinities of her craft, looked round her with a look +of worry. + +"What's the matter with the tiresome creatures? Why is everybody going +so early? And there are not half the people here who ought to be here." + +Meredith shrugged his shoulders. + +"I saw you at Chatton House the other night," he said, in the same tone. + +"Well?" said the Duchess, sharply. + +"It seemed to me there was something of a demonstration." + +"Against Julie? Let them try it!" said the little lady, with evasive +defiance. "We shall be too strong for them." + +"Lady Henry is putting her back into it. I confess I never thought she +would be either so venomous or so successful." + +"Julie will come out all right." + +"She would--triumphantly--if--" + +The Duchess glanced at him uneasily. + +"I believe you are overworking her. She looks skin and bone." + +Dr. Meredith shook his head. + +"On the contrary, I have been holding her back. But it seems she wants +to earn a good deal of money." + +"That's so absurd," cried the Duchess, "when there are people only +pining to give her some of theirs." + +"No, no," said the journalist, brusquely. "She is quite right there. Oh, +it would be all right if she were herself. She would make short work of +Lady Henry. But, Mademoiselle Julie"--for she glided past them, and he +raised his voice--"sit down and rest yourself. Don't take so +much trouble." + +She flung them a smile. + +"Lord Lackington is going," and she hurried on. + +Lord Lackington was standing in a group which contained Sir Wilfrid Bury +and Mr. Montresor. + +"Well, good-bye, good-bye," he said, as she came up to him. "I must go. +I'm nearly asleep." + +"Tired with abusing me?" said Montresor, nonchalantly, turning round +upon him. + +"No, only with trying to make head or tail of you," said Lackington, +gayly. Then he stooped over Julie. + +"Take care of yourself. Come back rosier--and _fatter_." + +"I'm perfectly well. Let me come with you." + +"No, don't trouble yourself." For she had followed him into the hall +and found his coat for him. All the arrangements for her little +"evening" had been of the simplest. That had been a point of pride with +her. Madame Bornier and Therese dispensing tea and coffee in the +dining-room, one hired parlor-maid, and she herself active and busy +everywhere. Certain French models were in her head, and memories of her +mother's bare little salon in Bruges, with its good talk, and its +thinnest of thin refreshments--a few cups of weak tea, or glasses of +_eau sucree_, with a plate of _patisserie_. + +The hired parlor-maid was whistling for a cab in the service of some +other departing guest; so Julie herself put Lord Lackington into his +coat, much to his discomfort. + +"I don't think you ought to have come," she said to him, with soft +reproach. "Why did you have that fainting fit before dinner?" + +"I say! Who's been telling tales?" + +"Sir Wilfrid Bury met your son, Mr. Chantrey, at dinner." + +"Bill can never hold his tongue. Oh, it was nothing; not with the proper +treatment, mind you. Of course, if the allopaths were to get their +knives into me--but, thank God! I'm out of that _galere_. Well, in a +fortnight, isn't it? We shall both be in town again. I don't like saying +good-bye." + +And he took both her hands in his. + +"It all seems so strange to me still--so strange!" he murmured. + +"Next week I shall see mamma's grave," said Julie, under her breath. +"Shall I put some flowers there for you?" + +The fine blue eyes above her wavered. He bent to her. + +"Yes. And write to me. Come back soon. Oh, you'll see. Things will all +come right, perfectly right, in spite of Lady Henry." + +Confidence, encouragement, a charming raillery, an enthusiastic +tenderness--all these beamed upon her from the old man's tone and +gesture. She was puzzled. But with another pressure of the hand he was +gone. She stood looking after him. And as the carriage drove away, the +sound of the wheels hurt her. It was the withdrawal of something +protecting--something more her own, when all was said, than anything +else which remained to her. + +As she returned to the drawing-room, Dr. Meredith intercepted her. + +"You want me to send you some work to take abroad?" he said, in a low +voice. "I shall do nothing of the kind." + +"Why?" + +"Because you ought to have a complete holiday." + +"Very well. Then I sha'n't be able to pay my way," she said, with a +tired smile. + +"Remember the doctor's bills if you fall ill." + +"Ill! I am never ill," she said, with scorn. Then she looked round the +room deliberately, and her gaze returned to her companion. "I am not +likely to be fatigued with society, am I?" she added, in a voice that +did not attempt to disguise the bitterness within. + +"My dear lady, you are hardly installed." + +"I have been here a month--the critical month. Now was the moment to +stand by me, or throw me over--n'est-ce pas? This is my first party, my +house-warming. I gave a fortnight's notice; I asked about sixty people, +whom I knew _well_. Some did not answer at all. Of the rest, half +declined--rather curtly, in many instances. And of those who accepted, +not all are here. And, oh, how it dragged!" + +Meredith looked at her rather guiltily, not knowing what to say. It was +true the evening had dragged. In both their minds there rose the memory +of Lady Henry's "Wednesdays," the beautiful rooms, the varied and +brilliant company, the power and consideration which had attended Lady +Henry's companion. + +"I suppose," said Julie, shrugging her shoulders, "I had been thinking +of the French _maitresses de salon_, like a fool; of Mademoiselle de +l'Espinasse--or Madame Mohl--imagining that people would come to _me_ +for a cup of tea and an agreeable hour. But in England, it seems, people +must be paid to talk. Talk is a business affair--you give it for a +consideration." + +"No, no! You'll build it up," said Meredith. In his heart of hearts he +said to himself that she had not been herself that night. Her wonderful +social instincts, her memory, her adroitness, had somehow failed her. +And from a hostess strained, conscious, and only artificially gay, the +little gathering had taken its note. + +"You have the old guard, anyway," added the journalist, with a smile, as +he looked round the room. The Duchess, Delafield, Montresor and his +wife, General McGill, and three or four other old _habitues_ of the +Bruton Street evenings were scattered about the little drawing-room. +General Fergus, too, was there--had arrived early, and was staying late. +His frank soldier's face, the accent, cheerful, homely, careless, with +which he threw off talk full of marrow, talk only possible--for all its +simplicity--to a man whose life had been already closely mingled with +the fortunes of his country, had done something to bind Julie's poor +little party together. Her eye rested on him with gratitude. Then she +replied to Meredith. + +"Mr. Montresor will scarcely come again." + +"What do you mean? Ungrateful lady! Montresor! who has already +sacrificed Lady Henry and the habits of thirty years to your +_beaux yeux_!" + +"That is what he will never forgive me," said Julie, sadly. "He has +satisfied his pride, and I--have lost a friend." + +"Pessimist! Mrs. Montresor seemed to me most friendly." + +Julie laughed. + +"_She_, of course, is enchanted. Her husband has never been her own till +now. She married him, subject to Lady Henry's rights. But all that she +will soon forget--and my existence with it." + +"I won't argue. It only makes you more stubborn," said Meredith. "Ah, +still they come!" + +For the door opened to admit the tall figure of Major Warkworth. + +"Am I very late?" he said, with a surprised look as he glanced at the +thinly scattered room. Julie greeted him, and he excused himself on the +ground of a dinner which had begun just an hour late, owing to the +tardiness of a cabinet minister. + +Meredith observed the young man with some attention, from the dark +corner in which Julie had left him. The gossip of the moment had +reached him also, but he had not paid much heed to it. It seemed to him +that no one knew anything first-hand of the Moffatt affair. And for +himself, he found it difficult to believe that Julie Le Breton was any +man's dupe. + +She must marry, poor thing! Of course she must marry. Since it had been +plain to him that she would never listen to his own suit, this +great-hearted and clear-brained man had done his best to stifle in +himself all small or grasping impulses. But this fellow--with his +inferior temper and morale--alack! why are the clever women such fools? + +If only she had confided in him--her old and tried friend--he thought he +could have put things before her, so as to influence without offending +her. But he suffered--had always suffered--from the jealous reserve +which underlay her charm, her inborn tendency to secretiveness +and intrigue. + +Now, as he watched her few words with Warkworth, it seemed to him that +he saw the signs of some hidden relation. How flushed she was suddenly, +and her eyes so bright! + +He was not allowed much time or scope, however, for observation. +Warkworth took a turn round the room, chatted a little with this person +and that, then, on the plea that he was off to Paris early on the +following morning, approached his hostess again to take his leave. + +"Ah, yes, you start to-morrow," said Montresor, rising. "Well, good luck +to you--good luck to you." + +General Fergus, too, advanced. The whole room, indeed, awoke to the +situation, and all the remaining guests grouped themselves round the +young soldier. Even the Duchess was thawed a little by this actual +moment of departure. After all, the man was going on his +country's service. + +"No child's play, this mission, I can assure you," General McGill had +said to her. "Warkworth will want all the powers he has--of mind +or body." + +The slim, young fellow, so boyishly elegant in his well-cut +evening-dress, received the ovation offered to him with an evident +pleasure which tried to hide itself in the usual English ways. He had +been very pale when he came in. But his cheek reddened as Montresor +grasped him by the hand, as the two generals bade him a cordial +godspeed, as Sir Wilfrid gave him a jesting message for the British +representative in Egypt, and as the ladies present accorded him those +flattering and admiring looks that woman keeps for valor. + +Julie counted for little in these farewells. She stood _apart_ and +rather silent. "_They_ have had their good-bye," thought the Duchess, +with a thrill she could not help. + +"Three days in Paris?" said Sir Wilfrid. "A fortnight to Denga--and then +how long before you start for the interior?" + +"Oh, three weeks for collecting porters and supplies. They're drilling +the escort already. We should be off by the middle of May." + +"A bad month," said General Fergus, shrugging his shoulders. + +"Unfortunately, affairs won't wait. But I am already stiff with +quinine," laughed Warkworth--"or I shall be by the time I get to Denga. +Good-bye--good-bye." + +And in another moment he was gone. Miss Le Breton had given him her +hand and wished him "Bon voyage," like everybody else. + +The party broke up. The Duchess kissed her Julie with peculiar +tenderness; Delafield pressed her hand, and his deep, kind eyes gave her +a lingering look, of which, however, she was quite unconscious; Meredith +renewed his half-irritable, half-affectionate counsels of rest and +recreation; Mrs. Montresor was conventionally effusive; Montresor alone +bade the mistress of the house a somewhat cold and perfunctory farewell. +Even Sir Wilfrid was a little touched, he knew not why; he vowed to +himself that his report to Lady Henry on the morrow should contain no +food for malice, and inwardly he forgave Mademoiselle Julie the old +romancings. + + + +XVIII + +It was twenty minutes since the last carriage had driven away. Julie was +still waiting in the little hall, pacing its squares of black-and-white +marble, slowly, backward and forward. + +There was a low knock on the door. + +She opened it. Warkworth appeared on the threshold, and the high moon +behind him threw a bright ray into the dim hall, where all but one faint +light had been extinguished. She pointed to the drawing-room. + +"I will come directly. Let me just go and ask Leonie to sit up." + +Warkworth went into the drawing-room. Julie opened the dining-room door. +Madame Bornier was engaged in washing and putting away the china and +glass which had been used for Julie's modest refreshments. + +"Leonie, you won't go to bed? Major Warkworth is here." + +Madame Bornier did not raise her head. + +"How long will he be?" + +"Perhaps half an hour." + +"It is already past midnight." + +"Leonie, he goes to-morrow." + +"Tres bien. Mais--sais-tu, ma chere, ce n'est pas convenable, ce que tu +fais la!" + +And the older woman, straightening herself, looked her foster-sister +full in the face. A kind of watch-dog anxiety, a sulky, protesting +affection breathed from her rugged features. + +Julie went up to her, not angrily, but rather with a pleading humility. + +The two women held a rapid colloquy in low tones--Madame Bornier +remonstrating, Julie softly getting her way. + +Then Madame Bornier returned to her work, and Julie went to the +drawing-room. + +Warkworth sprang up as she entered. Both paused and wavered. Then he +went up to her, and roughly, irresistibly, drew her into his arms. She +held back a moment, but finally yielded, and clasping her hands round +his neck she buried her face on his breast. + +They stood so for some minutes, absolutely silent, save for her hurried +breathing, his head bowed upon hers. + +"Julie, how can we say good-bye?" he whispered, at last. + +She disengaged herself, and, seeing his face, she tried for composure. + +"Come and sit down." + +She led him to the window, which he had thrown open as he entered the +room, and they sat beside it, hand in hand. A mild April night shone +outside. Gusts of moist air floated in upon them. There were dim lights +and shadows in the garden and on the shuttered facade of the +great house. + +"Is it forever?" said Julie, in a low, stifled voice. +"Good-bye--forever?" + +She felt his hand tremble, but she did not look at him. She seemed to +be reciting words long since spoken in the mind. + +"You will be away--perhaps a year? Then you go back to India, and +then--" + +She paused. + +Warkworth was physically conscious, as it were, of a letter he carried +in his coat-pocket--a letter from Lady Blanche Moffatt which had reached +him that morning, the letter of a _grande dame_, reduced to undignified +remonstrance by sheer maternal terror--terror for the health and life of +a child as fragile and ethereal as a wild rose in May. Reports had +reached her; but no--they could not be true! She bade him be thankful +that not a breath of suspicion had yet touched Aileen. As for herself, +let him write and reassure her at once. Otherwise-- + +And the latter part of the letter conveyed a veiled menace that +Warkworth perfectly understood. + +No--in that direction, no escape; his own past actions closed him in. +And henceforth, it was clear, he must walk more warily. + +But how blame himself for these feelings of which he was now conscious +towards Julie Le Breton--the strongest, probably, that a man not built +for passion would ever know. His relation towards her had grown upon him +unawares, and now their own hands were about to cut it at the root. What +blame to either of them? Fate had been at work; and he felt himself +glorified by a situation so tragically sincere, and by emotions of which +a month before he would have secretly held himself incapable. + +Resolutely, in this last meeting with Julie, he gave these emotions +play. He possessed himself of her cold hands as she put her desolate +question--"And then?"--and kissed them fervently. + +"Julie, if you and I had met a year ago, what happened in India would +never have happened. You know that!" + +"Do I? But it only hurts me to _think it away_ like that. There it +is--it has happened." + +She turned upon him suddenly. + +"Have you any picture of her?" + +He hesitated. + +"Yes," he said, at last. + +"Have you got it here?" + +"Why do you ask, dear one? This one evening is _ours_." + +And again he tried to draw her to him. But she persisted. + +"I feel sure you have it. Show it me." + +"Julie, you and you only are in my thoughts!" + +"Then do what I ask." She bent to him with a wild, entreating air; her +lips almost touched his cheek. Unwillingly he drew out a letter-case +from his breast-pocket, and took from it a little photograph which he +handed to her. + +She looked at it with eager eyes. A face framed, as it were, out of snow +and fire lay in her hand, a thing most delicate, most frail, yet steeped +in feeling and significance--a child's face with its soft curls of brown +hair, and the upper lip raised above the white, small teeth, as though +in a young wonder; yet behind its sweetness, what suggestions of a +poetic or tragic sensibility! The slender neck carried the little head +with girlish dignity; the clear, timid eyes seemed at once to shrink +from and trust the spectator. + +Julie returned the little picture, and hid her face with her hands. +Warkworth watched her uncomfortably, and at last drew her hands away. + +"What are you thinking of?" he said, almost with violence. "Don't shut +me out!" + +"I am not jealous now," she said, looking at him piteously. "I don't +hate her. And if she knew all--she couldn't--hate me." + +"No one could hate her. She is an angel. But she is not my Julie!" he +said, vehemently, and he thrust the little picture into his +pocket again. + +"Tell me," she said, after a pause, laying her hand on his knee, "when +did you begin to think of me--differently? All the winter, when we used +to meet, you never--you never loved me then?" + +"How, placed as I was, could I let myself think of love? I only knew +that I wanted to see you, to talk to you, to write to you--that the day +when we did not meet was a lost day. Don't be so proud!" He tried to +laugh at her. "You didn't think of me in any special way, either. You +were much too busy making bishops, or judges, or academicians. Oh, +Julie, I was so afraid of you in those early days!" + +"The first night we met," she said, passionately, "I found a carnation +you had worn in your button-hole. I put it under my pillow, and felt for +it in the dark like a talisman. You had stood between me and Lady Henry +twice. You had smiled at me and pressed my hand--not as others did, but +as though you understood _me_, myself--as though, at least, you wished +to understand. Then came the joy of joys, that I could help you--that I +could do something for you. Ah, how it altered life for me! I never +turned the corner of a street that I did not count on the chance of +seeing you beyond--suddenly--on my path. I never heard your voice that +it did not thrill me from head to foot. I never made a new friend or +acquaintance that I did not ask myself first how I could thereby serve +you. I never saw you come into the room that my heart did not leap. I +never slept but you were in my dreams. I loathed London when you were +out of it. It was paradise when you were there." + +Straining back from him as he still held her hands, her whole face and +form shook with the energy of her confession. Her wonderful hair, +loosened from the thin gold bands in which it had been confined during +the evening, fell in a glossy confusion about her brow and slender neck; +its black masses, the melting brilliance of the eyes, the tragic freedom +of the attitude gave both to form and face a wild and poignant beauty. + +Warkworth, beside her, was conscious first of amazement, then of a kind +of repulsion--a kind of fear--till all else was lost in a hurry of joy +and gratitude. + +The tears stood on his cheek. "Julie, you shame me--you trample me into +the earth!" + +He tried to gather her in his arms, but she resisted, Caresses were not +what those eyes demanded--eyes feverishly bright with the memory of her +own past dreams, Presently, indeed, she withdrew herself from him. She +rose and closed the window; she put the lamp in another place; she +brought her rebellious hair into order. + +"We must not be so mad," she said, with a quivering smile, as she again +seated herself, but at some distance from him. "You see, for me the +great question is "--her voice became low and rapid--"What am I going to +do with the future? For you it is all plain. We part to-night. You have +your career, your marriage. I withdraw from your life--absolutely. +But for me--" + +She paused. It was the manner of one trying to see her way in the dark. + +"Your social gifts," said Warkworth, in agitation, "your friends, +Julie--these will occupy your mind. Then, of course, you will, you must +marry! Oh, you'll soon forget me, Julie! I pray you may!" + +"My social gifts?" she repeated, disregarding the rest of his speech. "I +have told you already they have broken down. Society sides with Lady +Henry. I am to be made to know my place--I do know it!" + +"The Duchess will fight for you." + +She laughed. + +"The Duke won't let her--nor shall I." + +"You'll marry," he repeated, with emotion. "You'll find some one worthy +of you--some one who will give you the great position for which you +were born." + +"I could have it at any moment," she said, looking him quietly in the +eyes. + +Warkworth drew back, conscious of a disagreeable shock. He had been +talking in generalities, giving away the future with that fluent +prodigality, that easy prophecy which costs so little. What did +she mean? + +"_Delafield?"_ he cried. + +And he waited for her reply--which lingered--in a tense and growing +eagerness. The notion had crossed his mind once or twice during the +winter, only to be dismissed as ridiculous. Then, on the occasion of +their first quarrel, when Julie had snubbed him in Delafield's presence +and to Delafield's advantage, he had been conscious of a momentary +alarm. But Julie, who on that one and only occasion had paraded her +intimacy with Delafield, thenceforward said not a word of him, and +Warkworth's jealousy had died for lack of fuel. In relation to Julie, +Delafield had been surely the mere shadow and agent of his little cousin +the Duchess--a friendly, knight-errant sort of person, with a liking for +the distressed. What! the heir-presumptive of Chudleigh Abbey, and one +of the most famous of English dukedoms, when even he, the struggling, +penurious officer, would never have dreamed of such a match? + +Julie, meanwhile, heard only jealousy in his exclamation, and it +caressed her ear, her heart. She was tempted once more, woman-like, to +dwell upon the other lover, and again something compelling and delicate +in her feeling towards Delafield forbade. + +"No, you mustn't make me tell you any more," she said, putting the name +aside with a proud gesture. "It would be poor and mean. But it's true. I +have only to put out my hand for what you call 'a great position,' I +have refused to put it out. Sometimes, of course, it has dazzled me. +To-night it seems to me--dust and ashes. No; when we two have said +good-bye, I shall begin life again. And this time I shall live it in my +own way, for my own ends. I'm very tired. Henceforth 'I'll walk where my +own nature would be leading--it vexes me to choose another guide.'" + +And as she spoke the words of one of the chainless souls of history, in +a voice passionately full and rich, she sprang to her feet, and, drawing +her slender form to its full height, she locked her hands behind her, +and began to pace the room with a wild, free step. + +Every nerve in Warkworth's frame was tingling. He was carried out of +himself, first by the rebellion of her look and manner, then by this +fact, so new, so astounding, which her very evasion had confirmed. +During her whole contest with Lady Henry, and now, in her present +ambiguous position, she had Delafield, and through Delafield the English +great world, in the hollow of her hand? This nameless woman--no longer +in her first youth. And she had refused? He watched her in a speechless +wonder and incredulity. + +The thought leaped. "And this sublime folly--this madness--was for +_me_?" + +It stirred and intoxicated him. Yet she was not thereby raised in his +eyes. Nay, the contrary. With the passion which was rapidly mounting in +his veins there mingled--poor Julie!--a curious diminution of respect. + +"Julie!" He held out his hand to her peremptorily. "Come to me again. +You are so wonderful to-night, in that white dress--like a wild muse. I +shall always see you so. Come!" + +She obeyed, and gave him her hands, standing beside his chair. But her +face was still absorbed. + +"To be free," she said, under her breath--"free, like my parents, from +all these petty struggles and conventions!" + +Then she felt his kisses on her hands, and her expression changed. + +"How we cheat ourselves with words!" she whispered, trembling, and, +withdrawing one hand, she smoothed back the light-brown curls from his +brow with that protecting tenderness which had always entered into her +love for him. "To-night we are here--together--this one last night! And +to-morrow, at this time, you'll be in Paris; perhaps you'll be looking +out at the lights--and the crowds on the Boulevard--and the +chestnut-trees. They'll just be in their first leaf--I know so +well!--and the little thin leaves will be shining so green under the +lamps--and I shall be here--and it will be all over and done +with--forever. What will it matter whether I am free or not free? I +shall be _alone_! That's all a woman knows." + +Her voice died away. Warkworth rose. He put his arms round her, and she +did not resist. + +"Julie," he said in her ear, "why should you be alone?" + +A silence fell between them. + +"I--I don't understand," she said, at last. + +"Julie, listen! I shall be three days in Paris, but my business can be +perfectly done in one. What if you met me there after to-morrow? What +harm would it be? We are not babes, we two. We understand life. And who +would have any right to blame or to meddle? Julie, I know a little inn +in the valley of the Bievre, quite near Paris, but all wood and field. +No English tourists ever go there. Sometimes an artist or two--but this +is not the time of year. Julie, why shouldn't we spend our last two days +there--together--away from all the world, before we say good-bye? You've +been afraid here of prying people--of the Duchess even--of Madame +Bornier--how she scowls at me sometimes! Why shouldn't we sweep all that +away--and be happy! Nobody should ever--nobody _could_ ever know." His +voice dropped, became still more hurried and soft. "We might go as +brother and sister--that would be quite simple. You are practically +French. I speak French well. Who is to have an idea, a suspicion of our +identity? The spring there is mild and warm. The Bois de Verrieres close +by is full of flowers. When my father was alive, and I was a child, we +went once, to economize, for a year, to a village a mile or two away. +But I knew this place quite well. A lovely, green, quiet spot! With your +poetical ideas, Julie, you would delight in it. Two days--wandering in +the woods--together! Then I put you into the train for Brussels, and I +go my way. But to all eternity, Julie, those days will have been ours!" + +At the first words, almost, Julie had disengaged herself. Pushing him +from her with both hands, she listened to him in a dumb amazement. The +color first deserted her face, then returned in a flood. + +"So you despise me?" she said, catching her breath. + +"No. I adore you." + +She fell upon a chair and hid her eyes. He first knelt beside her, +arguing and soothing; then he paced up and down before her, talking very +fast and low, defending and developing the scheme, till it stood before +them complete and tempting in all its details. + +Julie did not look up, nor did she speak. At last, Warkworth, full of +tears, and stifled with his own emotions, threw open the window again in +a craving for air and coolness. A scent of fresh leaves and moistened +earth floated up from the shrubbery beneath the window. The scent, the +branching trees, the wide, mild spaces of air brought relief. He leaned +out, bathing his brow in the night. A tumult of voices seemed to be +echoing through his mind, dominated by one which held the rest +defiantly in check. + +"Is she a mere girl, to be 'led astray'? A moment of happiness--what +harm?--for either of us?" + +Then he returned to Julie. + +"Julie!" He touched her shoulder, trembling. Had she banished him +forever? It seemed to him that in these minutes he had passed through an +infinity of experience. Was he not the nobler, the more truly man? Let +the moralists talk. + +"Julie!" he repeated, in an anguish. + +She raised her head, and he saw that she had been crying. But there was +in her face a light, a wildness, a yearning that reassured him. She put +her arm round him and pressed her cheek to his. He divined that she, +too, had lived and felt a thousand hours in one. With a glow of ecstatic +joy he began to talk to her again, her head resting on his shoulder, her +slender hands crushed in his. + +And Julie, meanwhile, was saying to herself, "Either I go to him, as he +asks, or in a few minutes I must send him away--forever." + +And then as she clung to him, so warm and near, her strength failed her. +Nothing in the world mattered to her at that moment but this handsome, +curly head bowed upon her own, this voice that called her all the names +of love, this transformation of the man's earlier prudence, or ambition, +or duplicity, into this eager tenderness, this anguish in separation.... + +"Listen, dear!" He whispered to her. "All my business can be got through +the day before you come. I have two men to see. A day will be ample. I +dine at the Embassy to-morrow night--that is arranged; the day after I +lunch with the Military Secretary; then--a thousand regrets, but I must +hurry on to meet some friends in Italy. So I turn my back on Paris, and +for two days I belong to Julie--and she to me. Say yes, +Julie--my Julie!" + +He bent over her, his hands framing her face. + +"Say yes," he urged, "and put off for both of us that word--_alone_!" + +His low voice sank into her heart. He waited, till his strained sense +caught the murmured words which conveyed to him the madness and the +astonishment of victory. + + * * * * * + +Leonie had shut up the house, in a grim silence, and had taken her way +up-stairs to bed. + +Julie, too, was in her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, her head +drooped, her hands clasped before her absently, like Hope still +listening for the last sounds of the harp of life. The candle beside her +showed her, in the big mirror opposite, her grace, the white confusion +of her dress. + +She had expected reaction, but it did not come. She was still borne on a +warm tide of will and energy. All that she was about to do seemed to her +still perfectly natural and right. Petty scruples, conventional +hesitations, the refusal of life's great moments--these are what are +wrong, these are what disgrace! + +Romance beckoned to her, and many a secret tendency towards the lawless +paths of conduct, infused into her by the associations and affections of +her childhood. The _horror naturalis_ which protects the great majority +of women from the wilder ways of passion was in her weakened or dormant. +She was the illegitimate child of a mother who had defied law for love, +and of that fact she had been conscious all her life. + +A sharp contempt, indeed, arose within her for the interpretation that +the common mind would be sure to place upon her action. + +"What matter! I am my own mistress--responsible to no one. I choose for +myself--I dare for myself!" + +And when at last she rose, first loosening and then twisting the black +masses of her hair, it seemed to her that the form in the glass was that +of another woman, treading another earth. She trampled cowardice under +foot; she freed herself from--"was uns alle baendigt, das Gemeine!" + +Then as she stood before the oval mirror in a classical frame, which +adorned the mantel-piece of what had once been Lady Mary Leicester's +room, her eye was vaguely caught by the little family pictures and texts +which hung on either side of it. Lady Mary and her sister as children, +their plain faces emerging timidly from their white, high-waisted +frocks; Lady 'Mary's mother, an old lady in a white coif and kerchief, +wearing a look austerely kind; on the other side a clergyman, perhaps +the brother of the old lady, with a similar type of face, though +gentler--a face nourished on the _Christian Year_; and above and below +them two or three card-board texts, carefully illuminated by Lady Mary +Leicester herself: + +"Thou, Lord, knowest my down-sitting and my uprising." + +"Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." + +"Fear not, little flock. It is your Father's good pleasure to give you +the kingdom." + + * * * * * + +Julie observed these fragments, absently at first, then with repulsion. +This Anglican pietism, so well fed, so narrowly sheltered, which +measured the universe with its foot-rule, seemed to her quasi-Catholic +eye merely fatuous and hypocritical. It is not by such forces, she +thought, that the true world of men and women is governed. + +As she turned away she noticed two little Catholic pictures, such as she +had been accustomed in her convent days to carry in her books of +devotion, carefully propped up beneath the texts. + +"Ah, Therese!" she said to herself, with a sudden feeling of pain. "Is +the child asleep?" + +She listened. A little cough sounded from the neighboring room. Julie +crossed the landing. + +"Therese! tu ne dors pas encore?" + +A voice said, softly, in the darkness, "Je t'attendais, mademoiselle." + +Julie went to the child's bed, put down her candle, and stooped to kiss +her. + +The child's thin hand caressed her cheek. + +"Ah, it will be good--to be in Bruges--with mademoiselle." + +Julie drew herself away. + +"I sha'n't be there to-morrow, dear." + +"Not there! Oh, mademoiselle!" + +The child's voice was pitiful. + +"I shall join you there. But I find I must go to Paris first. I--I have +some business there." + +"But maman said--" + +"Yes, I have only just made up my mind. I shall tell maman to-morrow +morning," + +"You go alone, mademoiselle?" + +"Why not, dear goose?" + +"Vous etes fatiguee. I would like to come with you, and carry your cloak +and the umbrellas." + +"You, indeed!" said Julie. "It would end, wouldn't it, in my carrying +you--besides the cloak and the umbrellas?" + +Then she knelt down beside the child and took her in her arms. + +"Do you love me, Therese?" + +The child drew a long breath. With her little, twisted hands she stroked +the beautiful hair so close to her. + +"Do you, Therese?" + +A kiss fell on Julie's cheek. + +"Ce soir, j'ai beaucoup prie la Sainte Vierge pour vous!" she said, in a +timid and hurried whisper. + +Julie made no immediate reply. She rose from her knees, her hand still +clasped in that of the crippled girl. + +"Did you put those pictures on my mantel-piece, Therese?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +The child hesitated. + +"It does one good to look at them--n'est-ce pas?--when one is sad?" + +"Why do you suppose I am sad?" + +Therese was silent a moment; then she flung her little skeleton arms +round Julie, and Julie felt her crying. + +"Well, I won't be sad any more," said Julie, comforting her. "When we're +all in Bruges together, you'll see." + +And smiling at the child, she tucked her into her white bed and left +her. + +Then from this exquisite and innocent affection she passed back into the +tumult of her own thoughts and plans. Through the restless night her +parents were often in her mind. She was the child of revolt, and as she +thought of the meeting before her she seemed to be but entering upon a +heritage inevitable from the beginning. A sense of enfranchisement, of +passionate enlargement, upheld her, as of a life coming to its fruit. + + * * * * * + +"Creil!" + +A flashing vision of a station and its lights, and the Paris train +rushed on through cold showers of sleet and driving wind, a return of +winter in the heart of spring. + +On they sped through the half-hour which still divided them from the +Gare du Nord. Julie, in her thick veil, sat motionless in her corner. +She was not conscious of any particular agitation. Her mind was strained +not to forget any of Warkworth's directions. She was to drive across +immediately to the Gare de Sceaux, in the Place Denfert-Rochereau, where +he would meet her. They were to dine at an obscure inn near the station, +and go down by the last train to the little town in the wooded valley of +the Bievre, where they were to stay. + +She had her luggage with her in the carriage. There would be no +custom-house delays. + +Ah, the lights of Paris beginning! She peered into the rain, conscious +of a sort of home-coming joy. She loved the French world and the French +sights and sounds--these tall, dingy houses of the _banlieue_, the dregs +of a great architecture; the advertisements; the look of the streets. + +The train slackened into the Nord Station. The blue-frocked porters +crowded into the carriages. + +"C'est tout, madame? Vous n'avez pas de grands bagages?" + +"No, nothing. Find me a cab at once." + +There was a great crowd outside. She hurried on as quickly as she could, +revolving what was to be said if any acquaintance were to accost her. By +great good luck, and by travelling second class both in the train and on +the boat, she had avoided meeting anybody she knew. But the Nord Station +was crowded with English people, and she pushed her way through in a +nervous terror. + +"Miss Le Breton!" + +She turned abruptly. In the white glare of the electric lights she did +not at first recognize the man who had spoken to her. Then she drew +back. Her heart beat wildly. For she had distinguished the face of Jacob +Delafield. + +He came forward to meet her as she passed the barrier at the end of the +platform, his aspect full of what seemed to her an extraordinary +animation, significance, as though she were expected. + +"Miss Le Breton! What an astonishing, what a fortunate meeting! I have a +message for you from Evelyn." + +"From Evelyn?" She echoed the words mechanically as she shook hands. + +"Wait a moment," he said, leading her aside towards the waiting-room, +while the crowd that was going to the _douane_ passed them by. Then he +turned to Julie's porter. + +"Attendez un instant." + +The man sulkily shook his head, dropped Julie's bag at their feet, and +hurried off in search of a more lucrative job. + +"I am going back to-night," added Delafield, hurriedly. "How strange +that I should have met you, for I have very sad news for you! Lord +Lackington had an attack this morning, from which he cannot recover. The +doctors give him perhaps forty-eight hours. He has asked for +you--urgently. The Duchess tells me so in a long telegram I had from her +to-day. But she supposed you to be in Bruges. She has wired there. You +will go back, will you not?" + +"Go back?" said Julie, staring at him helplessly. "Go back to-night?" + +"The evening train starts in little more than an hour. You would be just +in time, I think, to see the old man alive." + +She still looked at him in bewilderment, at the blue eyes under the +heavily moulded brows, and the mouth with its imperative, and yet +eager--or tremulous?--expression. She perceived that he hung upon +her answer. + +She drew her hand piteously across her eyes as though to shut out the +crowds, the station, and the urgency of this personality beside her. +Despair was in her heart. How to consent? How to refuse? + +"But my friends," she stammered--"the friends with whom I was going to +stay--they will be alarmed." + +"Could you not telegraph to them? They would understand, surely. The +office is close by." + +She let herself be hurried along, not knowing what to do. Delafield +walked beside her. If she had been able to observe him, she must have +been struck afresh by the pale intensity, the controlled agitation +of his face. + +"Is it really so serious?" she asked, pausing a moment, as though in +resistance. + +"It is the end. Of that there can be no question. You have touched his +heart very deeply. He longs to see her, Evelyn says. And his daughter +and granddaughter are still abroad--Miss Moffatt, indeed, is ill at +Florence with a touch of diphtheria. He is alone with his two sons. +You will go?" + +Even in her confusion, the strangeness of it all was borne in upon +her--his insistence, the extraordinary chance of their meeting, his +grave, commanding manner. + +"How could you know I was here?" she said, in bewilderment. + +"I didn't know," he said, slowly. "But, thank God, I have met you. I +dread to think of your fatigue, but you will be glad just to see him +again--just to give him his last wish--won't you?" he said, pleadingly. +"Here is the telegraph-office. Shall I do it for you?" + +"No, thank you. I--I must think how to word it. Please wait." + +She went in alone. As she took the pencil into her hands a low groan +burst from her lips. The man writing in the next compartment turned +round in astonishment. She controlled herself and began to write. There +was no escape. She must submit; and all was over. + +She telegraphed to Warkworth, care of the Chef de Gare, at the Sceaux +Station, and also to the country inn. + +"Have met Mr. Delafield by chance at Nord Station. Lord Lackington +dying. Must return to-night. Where shall I write? Good-bye." + +When it was done she could hardly totter out of the office. Delafield +made her take his arm. + +"You must have some food. Then I will go and get a sleeping-car for you +to Calais. There will be no crowd to-night. At Calais I will look after +you if you will allow me." + +"You are crossing to-night?" she said, vaguely. Her lips framed the +words with difficulty. + +"Yes. I came over with my cousins yesterday." + +She asked nothing more. It did not occur to her to notice that he had no +luggage, no bag, no rug, none of the paraphernalia of travel. In her +despairing fatigue and misery she let him guide her as he would. + +He made her take some soup, then some coffee, all that she could make +herself swallow. There was a dismal period of waiting, during which she +was hardly conscious of where she was or of what was going on round her. + +Then she found herself in the sleeping-car, in a reserved compartment, +alone. Once more the train moved through the night. The miles flew +by--the miles that forever parted her from Warkworth. + + + +XIX + +The train was speeding through the forest country of Chantilly. A pale +moon had risen, and beneath its light the straight forest roads, +interminably long, stretched into the distance; the vaporous masses of +young and budding trees hurried past the eye of the traveller; so, also, +the white hamlets, already dark and silent; the stations with their +lights and figures; the great wood-piles beside the line. + +Delafield, in his second-class carriage, sat sleepless and erect. The +night was bitterly cold. He wore the light overcoat in which he had left +the Hotel du Rhin that afternoon for a stroll before dinner, and had no +other wrap or covering. But he felt nothing, was conscious of nothing +but the rushing current of his own thoughts. + +The events of the two preceding days, the meaning of them, the +significance of his own action and its consequences--it was with these +materials that his mind dealt perpetually, combining, interpreting, +deducing, now in one way, now in another. His mood contained both +excitement and dread. But with a main temper of calmness, courage, +invincible determination, these elements did not at all interfere. + +The day before, he had left London with his cousins, the Duke of +Chudleigh, and young Lord Elmira, the invalid boy. They were bound to +Paris to consult a new doctor, and Jacob had offered to convey them +there. In spite of all the apparatus of servants and couriers with which +they were surrounded, they always seemed to him, on their journeys, a +singularly lonely and hapless pair, and he knew that they leaned upon +him and prized his company. + +On the way to Paris, at the Calais buffet, he had noticed Henry +Warkworth, and had given him a passing nod. It had been understood the +night before in Heribert Street that they would both be crossing on +the morrow. + +On the following day--the day of Julie's journey--Delafield, who was +anxiously awaiting the return of his two companions from their interview +with the great physician they were consulting, was strolling up the Rue +de la Paix, just before luncheon, when, outside the Hotel Mirabeau, he +ran into a man whom he immediately perceived to be Warkworth. + +Politeness involved the exchange of a few sentences, although a secret +antagonism between the two men had revealed itself from the first day of +their meeting in Lady Henry's drawing-room. Each word of their short +conversation rang clearly through Delafield's memory. + +"You are at the 'Rhin'?" said Warkworth. + +"Yes, for a couple more days. Shall we meet at the Embassy to-morrow?" + +"No. I dined there last night. My business here is done. I start for +Rome to-night." + +"Lucky man. They have put on a new fast train, haven't they?" + +"Yes. You leave the Gare de Lyon at 7.15, and you are at Rome the second +morning, in good time." + +"Magnificent! Why don't we all rush south? Well, good-bye again, and +good luck." + +They touched hands perfunctorily and parted. + +This happened about mid-day. While Delafield and his cousins were +lunching, a telegram from the Duchess of Crowborough was handed to +Jacob. He had wired to her early in the morning to ask for the address +in Paris of an old friend of his, who was also a cousin of hers. The +telegram contained: + + "Thirty-six Avenue Friedland. Lord Lackington heart-attack + this morning. Dying. Has asked urgently for Julie. Blanche + Moffatt detained Florence by daughter's illness. All + circumstances most sad. Woman Heribert Street gave me Bruges + address. Have wired Julie there." + +The message set vibrating in Delafield's mind the tender memory which +already existed there of his last talk with Julie, of her strange +dependence and gentleness, her haunting and pleading personality. He +hoped with all his heart she might reach the old man in time, that his +two sons, Uredale and William, would treat her kindly, and that it would +be found when the end came that he had made due provision for her as his +granddaughter. + +But he had small leisure to give to thoughts of this kind. The +physician's report in the morning had not been encouraging, and his two +travelling companions demanded all the sympathy and support he could +give them. He went out with them in the afternoon to the Hotel de la +Terrasse at St. Germain. The Duke, a nervous hypochondriac, could not +sleep in the noise of Paris, and was accustomed to a certain apartment +in this well-known hotel, which was often reserved for him. Jacob left +them about six o'clock to return to Paris. He was to meet one of the +Embassy attaches--an old Oxford friend--at the Cafe Gaillard for dinner. +He dressed at the "Rhin," put on an overcoat, and set out to walk to the +Rue Gaillard about half-past seven. As he approached the "Mirabeau," he +saw a cab with luggage standing at the door. A man came out with the +hotel _concierge_. To his astonishment, Delafield recognized Warkworth. + +The young officer seemed in a hurry and out of temper. At any rate, he +jumped into the cab without taking any notice of the two _sommeliers_ +and the _concierge_ who stood round expectant of francs, and when the +_concierge_ in his stiffest manner asked where the man was to drive, +Warkworth put his head out of the window and said, hastily, to +the _cocher_: + +"D'abord, a la Gare de Sceaux! Puis, je vous dirai. Mais depechez-vous!" + +The cab rolled away, and Delafield walked on. + +Half-past seven, striking from all the Paris towers! And Warkworth's +intention in the morning was to leave the Gare de Lyon at 7.15. But it +seemed he was now bound, at 7.30, for the Gare de Sceaux, from which +point of departure it was clear that no reasonable man would think of +starting for the Eternal City. + +"_D'abord,_ a la Gare de Sceaux!" + +Then he was not catching a train?--at any rate, immediately. He had some +other business first, and was perhaps going to the station to deposit +his luggage? + +Suddenly a thought, a suspicion, flashed through Delafield's mind, which +set his heart thumping in his breast. In after days he was often puzzled +to account for its origin, still more for the extraordinary force with +which it at once took possession of all his energies. In his more +mystical moments of later life he rose to the secret belief that God had +spoken to him. + +At any rate, he at once hailed a cab, and, thinking no more of his +dinner engagement, he drove post-haste to the Nord Station. In those +days the Calais train arrived at eight. He reached the station a few +minutes before it appeared. When at last it drew up, amid the crowd on +the platform it took him only a few seconds to distinguish the dark and +elegant head of Julie Le Breton. + +A pang shot through him that pierced to the very centre of life. He was +conscious of a prayer for help and a clear mind. But on his way to the +station he had rapidly thought out a plan on which to act should this +mad notion in his brain turn out to have any support in reality. + +It had so much support that Julie Le Breton was there--in Paris--and not +at Bruges, as she had led the Duchess to suppose. And when she turned +her startled face upon him, his wild fancy became, for himself, a +certainty. + + * * * * * + +"Amiens! Cinq minutes d'arret." + +Delafield got out and walked up and down the platform. He passed the +closed and darkened windows of the sleeping-car; and it seemed to his +abnormally quickened sense that he was beside her, bending over her, and +that he said to her: + +"Courage! You are saved! Let us thank God!" + +A boy from the refreshment-room came along, wheeling a barrow on which +were tea and coffee. + +Delafield eagerly drank a cup of tea and put his hand into his pocket to +pay for it. He found there three francs and his ticket. After paying for +the tea he examined his purse. That contained an English half-crown. + +So he had had with him just enough to get his own second-class ticket, +her first-class, and a sleeping-car. That was good fortune, seeing that +the bulk of his money, with his return ticket, was reposing in his +dressing-case at the Hotel du Rhin. + +"En voiture! En voiture, s'il vous plait!" + +He settled himself once more in his corner, and the train rushed on. +This time it was the strange hour at the Gare du Nord which he lived +through again, her white face opposite to him in the refreshment-room, +the bewilderment and misery she had been so little able to conceal, her +spasmodic attempts at conversation, a few vague words about Lord +Lackington or the Duchess, and then pauses, when her great eyes, haggard +and weary, stared into vacancy, and he knew well enough that her +thoughts were with Warkworth, and that she was in fierce rebellion +against his presence there, and this action into which he had +forced her. + +As for him, he perfectly understood the dilemma in which she stood. +Either she must accept the duty of returning to the death-bed of the old +man, her mother's father, or she must confess her appointment with +Warkworth. + +Yet--suppose he had been mistaken? Well, the telegram from the Duchess +covered his whole action. Lord Lackington _was_ dying; and apart from +all question of feeling, Julie Le Breton's friends must naturally desire +that he should see her, acknowledge her before his two sons, and, with +their consent, provide for her before his death. + +But, ah, he had not been mistaken! He remembered her hurried refusal +when he had asked her if he should telegraph for her to her Paris +"friends"--how, in a sudden shame, he had turned away that he might not +see the beloved false face as she spoke, might not seem to watch or +suspect her. + +He had just had time to send off a messenger, first to his friend at the +Cafe Gaillard, and then to the Hotel du Rhin, before escorting her to +the sleeping-car. + +Ah, how piteous had been that dull bewilderment with which she had +turned to him! + +"But--my ticket?" + +"Here they are. Oh, never mind--we will settle in town. Try to sleep. +You must be very tired." + +And then it seemed to him that her lips trembled, like those of a +miserable child; and surely, surely, she must hear that mad beating of +his pulse! + +Boulogne was gone in a flash. Here was the Somme, stretched in a pale +silver flood beneath the moon--a land of dunes and stunted pines, of +wide sea-marshes, over which came the roar of the Channel. Then again +the sea was left behind, and the rich Picard country rolled away to +right and left. Lights here and there, in cottage or villa--the lights, +perhaps, of birth or death--companions of hope or despair. + +Calais! + +The train moved slowly up to the boat-side. Delafield jumped out. The +sleeping-car was yielding up its passengers. He soon made out the small +black hat and veil, the slender form in the dark travelling-dress. + +Was she fainting? For she seemed to him to waver as he approached her, +and the porter who had taken her rugs and bag was looking at her in +astonishment. In an instant he had drawn her arm within his, and was +supporting her as he best could, + +"The car was very hot, and I am so tired. I only want some air." + +They reached the deck. + +"You will go down-stairs?" + +"No, no--some air!" she murmured, and he saw that she could hardly keep +her feet. + +But in a few moments they had reached the shelter on the upper deck +usually so well filled with chairs and passengers on a day crossing. Now +it was entirely deserted. The boat was not full, the night was cold and +stormy, and the stream of passengers had poured down into the shelter of +the lower deck. + +Julie sank into a chair. Delafield hurriedly loosened the shawl she +carried with her from its attendant bag and umbrella, and wrapped it +round her. + +"It will be a rough crossing," he said, in her ear. "Can you stand it on +deck?" + +"I am a good sailor. Let me stay here." + +Her eyes closed. He stooped over her in an anguish. One of the boat +officials approached him. + +"Madame ferait mieux de descendre, monsieur. La traversee ne sera pas +bonne." + +Delafield explained that the lady must have air, and was a good sailor. +Then he pressed into the man's hand his three francs, and sent him for +brandy and an extra covering of some kind. The man went unwillingly. + +During the whole bustle of departure, Delafield saw nothing but Julie's +helpless and motionless form; he heard nothing but the faint words by +which, once or twice, she tried to convey to him that she was not +unconscious. + +The brandy came. The man who brought it again objected to Julie's +presence on deck. Delafield took no heed. He was absorbed in making +Julie swallow some of the brandy. + +At last they were off. The vessel glided slowly out of the old harbor, +and they were immediately in rough water. + +Delafield was roused by a peremptory voice at his elbow. + +"This lady ought not to stay here, sir. There is plenty of room in the +ladies' cabin." + +Delafield looked up and recognized the captain of the boat, the same man +who, thirty-six hours before, had shown special civilities to the Duke +of Chudleigh and his party. + +"Ah, you are Captain Whittaker," he said. + +The shrewd, stout man who had accosted him raised his eyebrows in +astonishment. + +Delafield drew him aside a moment. After a short conversation the +captain lifted his cap and departed, with a few words to the subordinate +officer who had drawn his attention to the matter. Henceforward they +were unmolested, and presently the officer brought a pillow and striped +blanket, saying they might be useful to the lady. Julie was soon +comfortably placed, lying down on the seat under the wooden shelter. +Delicacy seemed to suggest that her companion should leave her +to herself. + +Jacob walked up and down briskly, trying to shake off the cold which +benumbed him. Every now and then he paused to look at the lights on the +receding French coast, at its gray phantom line sweeping southward under +the stormy moon, or disappearing to the north in clouds of rain. There +was a roar of waves and a dashing of spray. The boat, not a large one, +was pitching heavily, and the few male passengers who had at first +haunted the deck soon disappeared. + +Delafield hung over the surging water in a strange exaltation, half +physical, half moral. The wild salt strength and savor of the sea +breathed something akin to that passionate force of will which had +impelled him to the enterprise in which he stood. No mere man of the +world could have dared it; most men of the world, as he was well aware, +would have condemned or ridiculed it. But for one who saw life and +conduct _sub specie aeternitatis_ it had seemed natural enough. + +The wind blew fierce and cold. He made his way back to Julie's side. To +his surprise, she had raised herself and was sitting propped up against +the corner of the seat, her veil thrown back. + +"You are better?" he said, stooping to her, so as to be heard against +the boom of the waves. "This rough weather does not affect you?" + +She made a negative sign. He drew his camp-stool beside her. Suddenly +she asked him what time it was. The haggard nobleness of her pale face +amid the folds of black veil, the absent passion of the eye, thrilled to +his heart. Where were her thoughts? + +"Nearly four o'clock." He drew out his watch. "You see it is beginning +to lighten," + +And he pointed to the sky, in which that indefinable lifting of the +darkness which precedes the dawn was taking place, and to the far +distances of sea, where a sort of livid clarity was beginning to absorb +and vanquish that stormy play of alternate dark and moonlight which had +prevailed when they left the French shore. + +He had hardly spoken, when he felt that her eyes were fixed upon him. + +To look at his watch, he had thrown open his long Newmarket coat, +forgetting that in so doing he disclosed the evening-dress in which he +had robed himself at the Hotel du Rhin for his friend's dinner at the +Cafe Gaillard. + +He hastily rebuttoned his coat, and turned his face seaward once more. +But he heard her voice, and was obliged to come close to her that he +might catch the words. + +"You have given me your wraps," she said, with difficulty. "You will +suffer." + +"Not at all. You have your own rug, and one that the captain provided. I +keep myself quite warm with moving about." + +There was a pause. His mind began to fill with alarm. He was not of the +men who act a part with ease; but, having got through so far, he had +calculated on preserving his secret. + +Flight was best, and he was just turning away when a gesture of hers +arrested him. Again he stooped till their faces were near enough to let +her voice reach him. + +"Why are you in evening-dress?" + +"I had intended to dine with a friend. There was not time to change." + +"Then you did not mean to cross to-night?" + +He delayed a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. + +"Not when I dressed for dinner, but some sudden news decided me." + +Her head fell back wearily against the support behind it. The eyes +closed, and he, thinking she would perhaps sleep, was about to rise from +his seat, when the pressure of her hand upon his arm detained him. He +sat still and the hand was withdrawn. + +There was a lessening of the roar in their ears. Under the lee of the +English shore the wind was milder, the "terror-music" of the sea less +triumphant. And over everything was stealing the first discriminating +touch of the coming light. Her face was clear now; and Delafield, at +last venturing to look at her, saw that her eyes were open again, and +trembled at their expression. There was in them a wild suspicion. +Secretly, steadily, he nerved himself to meet the blow that he foresaw. + +"Mr. Delafield, have you told me all the truth?" + +She sat up as she spoke, deadly pale but rigid. With an impatient hand +she threw off the wraps which had covered her. Her face commanded +an answer. + +"Certainly I have told you the truth." + +"Was it the whole truth? It seems--it seems to me that you were not +prepared yourself for this journey--that there is some mystery--which I +do not understand--which I resent!" + +"But what mystery? When I saw you, I of course thought of Evelyn's +telegram." + +"I should like to see that telegram." + +He hesitated. If he had been more skilled in the little falsehoods of +every day he would simply have said that he had left it at the hotel. +But he lost his chance. Nor at the moment did he clearly perceive what +harm it would do to show it to her. The telegram was in his pocket, and +he handed it to her. + +There was a dim oil-lamp in the shelter. With difficulty she held the +fluttering paper up and just divined the words. Then the wind carried it +away and blew it overboard. He rose and leaned against the edge of the +shelter, looking down upon her. There was in his mind a sense of +something solemn approaching, round which this sudden lull of blast and +wave seemed to draw a "wind-warm space," closing them in. + +"Why did you come with me?" she persisted, in an agitation she could now +scarcely control. "It is evident you had not meant to travel. You have +no luggage, and you are in evening-dress. And I remember now--you sent +two letters from the station!" + +"I wished to be your escort." + +Her gesture was almost one of scorn at the evasion. + +"Why were you at the station at all? Evelyn had told you I was at +Bruges. And--you were dining out. I--I can't understand!" + +She spoke with a frowning intensity, a strange queenliness, in which was +neither guilt nor confusion. + +A voice spoke in Delafield's heart. "Tell her!" it said. + +He bent nearer to her. + +"Miss Le Breton, with what friends were you going to stay in Paris?" + +She breathed quick. + +"I am not a school-girl, I think, that I should be asked questions of +that kind." + +"But on your answer depends mine." + +She looked at him in amazement. His gentle kindness had disappeared. She +saw, instead, that Jacob Delafield whom her instinct had divined from +the beginning behind the modest and courteous outer man, the Jacob +Delafield of whom she had told the Duchess she was afraid. + +But her passion swept every other thought out of its way. With dim agony +and rage she began to perceive that she had been duped. + +"Mr. Delafield"--she tried for calm--"I don't understand your attitude, +but, so far as I do understand it, I find it intolerable. If you have +deceived me--" + +"I have not deceived you. Lord Lackington is dying." + +"But that is not why you were at the station," she repeated, +passionately. "Why did you meet the English train?" + +Her eyes, clear now in the cold light, shone upon him imperiously. + +Again the inner voice said: "Speak--get away from conventionalities. +Speak--soul to soul!" + +He sat down once more beside her. His gaze sought the ground. Then, with +sharp suddenness, he looked her in the face. + +"Miss Le Breton, you were going to Paris to meet Major Warkworth?" + +She drew back. + +"And if I was?" she said, with a wild defiance. + +"I had to prevent it, that was all." + +His tone was calm and resolution itself. + +"Who--who gave you authority over me?" + +"One may save--even by violence. You were too precious to be allowed to +destroy yourself." + +His look, so sad and strong, the look of a deep compassion, fastened +itself upon her. He felt himself, indeed, possessed by a force not his +own, that same force which in its supreme degree made of St. Francis +"the great tamer of souls." + +"Who asked you to be our judge? Neither I nor Major Warkworth owe you +anything." + +"No. But I owed you help--as a man--as your friend. The truth was +somehow borne in upon me. You were risking your honor--I threw myself +in the way." + +Every word seemed to madden her. + +"What--what could you know of the circumstances?" cried her choked, +laboring voice. "It is unpardonable--an outrage! You know nothing either +of him or of me." + +She clasped her hands to her breast in a piteous, magnificent gesture, +as though she were defending her lover and her love. + +"I know that you have suffered much," he said, dropping his eyes before +her, "but you would suffer infinitely more if--" + +"If you had not interfered." Her veil had fallen over her face again. +She flung it back in impatient despair. "Mr. Delafield, I can do without +your anxieties." + +"But not"--he spoke slowly--"without your own self-respect." + +Julie's face trembled. She hid it in her hands. + +"Go!" she said. "Go!" + +He went to the farther end of the ship and stood there motionless, +looking towards the land but seeing nothing. On all sides the darkness +was lifting, and in the distance there gleamed already the whiteness +that was Dover. His whole being was shaken with that experience which +comes so rarely to cumbered and superficial men--the intimate wrestle of +one personality with another. It seemed to him he was not worthy of it. + +After some little time, when only a quarter of an hour lay between the +ship and Dover pier, he went back to Julie. + +She was sitting perfectly still, her hands clasped in front of her, her +veil drawn down. + +"May I say one word to you?" he said, gently. + +She did not speak. + +"It is this. What I have confessed to you to-night is, of course, buried +between us. It is as though it had never been said. I have given you +pain. I ask your pardon from the bottom of my heart, and, at the same +time"--his voice trembled--"I thank God that I had the courage to +do it!" + +She threw him a glance that showed her a quivering lip and the pallor of +intense emotion. + +"I know you think you were right," she said, in a voice dull and +strained, "but henceforth we can only be enemies. You have tyrannized +over me in the name of standards that you revere and I reject. I can +only beg you to let my life alone for the future." + +He said nothing. She rose, dizzily, to her feet. They were rapidly +approaching the pier. + +[Illustration: "HER HANDS CLASPED IN FRONT OF HER"] + +With the cold aloofness of one who feels it more dignified to submit +than to struggle, she allowed him to assist her in landing. He put her +into the Victoria train, travelling himself in another carriage. + +As he walked beside her down the platform of Victoria Station, she said +to him: + +"I shall be obliged if you will tell Evelyn that I have returned." + +"I go to her at once." + +She suddenly paused, and he saw that she was looking helplessly at one +of the newspaper placards of the night before. First among its items +appeared: "Critical state of Lord Lackington." + +He hardly knew how far she would allow him to have any further +communication with her, but her pale exhaustion made it impossible not +to offer to serve her. + +"It would be early to go for news now," he said, gently. "It would +disturb the house. But in a couple of hours from now"--the station clock +pointed to 6.15--"if you will allow me, I will leave the morning +bulletin at your door." + +She hesitated. + +"You must rest, or you will have no strength for nursing," he continued, +in the same studiously guarded tone. "But if you would prefer another +messenger--" + +"I have none," and she raised her hand to her brow in mute, unconscious +confession of an utter weakness and bewilderment. + +"Then let me go," he said, softly. + +It seemed to him that she was so physically weary as to be incapable +either of assent or resistance. He put her into her cab, and gave the +driver his directions. She looked at him uncertainly. But he did not +offer his hand. From those blue eyes of his there shot out upon her one +piercing glance--manly, entreating, sad. He lifted his hat and was gone. + + + +XX + +"Jacob, what brings you back so soon?" The Duchess ran into the room, a +trim little figure in her morning dress of blue-and-white cloth, with +her small spitz leaping beside her. + +Delafield advanced. + +"I came to tell you that I got your telegram yesterday, and that in the +evening, by an extraordinary and fortunate chance, I met Miss Le Breton +in Paris--" + +"You met Julie in Paris?" echoed the Duchess, in astonishment. + +"She had come to spend a couple of days with some friends there before +going on to Bruges. I gave her the news of Lord Lackington's illness, +and she at once turned back. She was much fatigued and distressed, and +the night was stormy. I put her into the sleeping-car, and came back +myself to see if I could be any assistance to her. And at Calais I was +of some use. The crossing was very rough." + +"Julie was in Paris?" repeated the Duchess, as though she had heard +nothing else of what he had been saying. + +Her eyes, so blue and large in her small, irregular face, sought those +of her cousin and endeavored to read them. + +"It seems to have been a rapid change of plan. And it was a great stroke +of luck my meeting her." + +"But how--and where?" + +"Oh, there is no time for going into that," said Delafield, impatiently. +"But I knew you would like to know that she was here--after your message +yesterday. We arrived a little after six this morning. About nine I went +for news to St. James's Square. There is a slight rally." + +"Did you see Lord Uredale? Did you say anything about Julie?" asked the +Duchess, eagerly. + +"I merely asked at the door, and took the bulletin to Miss Le Breton. +Will you see Uredale and arrange it? I gather you saw him yesterday." + +"By all means," said the Duchess, musing. "Oh, it was so curious +yesterday. Lord Lackington had just told them. You should have seen +those two men." + +"The sons?" + +The Duchess nodded. + +"They don't like it. They were as stiff as pokers. But they will do +absolutely the right thing. They see at once that she must be provided +for. And when he asked for her they told me to telegraph, if I could +find out where she was. Well, of all the extraordinary chances." + +She looked at him again, oddly, a spot of red on either small cheek. +Delafield took no notice. He was pacing up and down, apparently +in thought. + +"Suppose you take her there?" he said, pausing abruptly before her. + +"To St. James's Square? What did you tell her?" + +"That he was a trifle better, and that you would come to her." + +"Yes, it would be hard for her to go alone," said the Duchess, +reflectively. She looked at her watch. "Only a little after eleven. +Ring, please, Jacob." + +The carriage was ordered. Meanwhile the little lady inquired eagerly +after her Julie. Had she been exhausted by the double journey? Was she +alone in Paris, or was Madame Bornier with her? + +Jacob had understood that Madame Bornier and the little girl had gone +straight to Bruges. + +The Duchess looked down and then looked up. + +"Did--did you come across Major Warkworth?" + +"Yes, I saw him for a moment in the Rue de la Paix, He was starting for +Rome." + +The Duchess turned away as though ashamed of her question, and gave her +orders for the carriage. Then her attention was suddenly drawn to her +cousin. "How pale you look, Jacob," she said, approaching him. "Won't +you have something--some wine?" + +Delafield refused, declaring that all he wanted was an hour or two's +sleep. + +"I go back to Paris to-morrow," he said, as he prepared to take his +leave. "Will you be here to-night if I look in?" + +"Alack! we go to Scotland to-night! It was just a piece of luck that you +found me this morning. Freddie is fuming to get away." + +Delafield paused a moment. Then he abruptly shook hands and went. + +"He wants news of what happens at St. James's Square," thought the +Duchess, suddenly, and she ran after him to the top of the stairs. +"Jacob! If you don't mind a horrid mess to-night, Freddie and I shall be +dining alone--of course we must have something to eat. Somewhere about +eight. Do look in. There'll be a cutlet--on a trunk--anyway." + +Delafield laughed, hesitated, and finally accepted. + +The Duchess went back to the drawing-room, not a little puzzled and +excited. + +"It's very, _very_ odd," she said to herself. "And what _is_ the matter +with Jacob?" + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later she drove to the splendid house in St. James's Square +where Lord Lackington lay dying. + +She asked for Lord Uredale, the eldest son, and waited in the library +till he came. + +He was a tall, squarely built man, with fair hair already gray, and +somewhat absent and impassive manners. + +At sight of him the Duchess's eyes filled with tears. She hurried to +him, her soft nature dissolved in sympathy. + +"How is your father?" + +"A trifle easier, though the doctors say there is no real improvement. +But he is quite conscious--knows us all. I have just been reading him +the debate." + +"You told me yesterday he had asked for Miss Le Breton," said the +Duchess, raising herself on tiptoe as though to bring her low tones +closer to his ear. "She's here--in town, I mean. She came back from +Paris last night." + +Lord Uredale showed no emotion of any kind. Emotion was not in his line. + +"Then my father would like to see her," he said, in a dry, ordinary +voice, which jarred upon the sentimental Duchess. + +"When shall I bring her?" + +"He is now comfortable and resting. If you are free--" + +The Duchess replied that she would go to Heribert Street at once. As +Lord Uredale took her to her carriage a young man ran down the steps +hastily, raised his hat, and disappeared. + +Lord Uredale explained that he was the husband of the famous young +beauty, Mrs. Delaray, whose portrait Lord Lackington had been engaged +upon at the time of his seizure. Having been all his life a skilful +artist, a man of fashion, and a harmless haunter of lovely women, Lord +Lackington, as the Duchess knew, had all but completed a gallery of a +hundred portraits, representing the beauty of the reign. Mrs. Delaray's +would have been the hundredth in a series of which Mrs. Norton was +the first. + +"He has been making arrangements with the husband to get it finished," +said Lord Uredale; "it has been on his mind." + +The Duchess shivered a little. + +"He knows he won't finish it?" + +"Quite well." + +"And he still thinks of those things?" + +"Yes--or politics," said Lord Uredale, smiling faintly. "I have written +to Mr. Montresor. There are two or three points my father wants to +discuss with him." + +"And he is not depressed, or troubled about himself?" + +"Not in the least. He will be grateful if you will bring him Miss Le +Breton." + + * * * * * + +"Julie, my darling, are you fit to come with me?" + +The Duchess held her friend in her arms, soothing and caressing her. +How forlorn was the little house, under its dust-sheets, on this rainy, +spring morning! And Julie, amid the dismantled drawing-room, stood +spectrally white and still, listening, with scarcely a word in reply, to +the affection, or the pity, or the news which the Duchess poured +out upon her. + +"Shall we go now? I am quite ready." + +And she withdrew herself from the loving grasp which held her, and put +on her hat and gloves. + +"You ought to be in bed," said the Duchess. "Those night journeys are +too abominable. Even Jacob looks a wreck. But what an extraordinary +chance, Julie, that Jacob should have found you! How did you come across +each other?" + +"At the Nord Station," said Julie, as she pinned her veil before the +glass over the mantel-piece. + +Some instinct silenced the Duchess. She asked no more questions, and +they started for St. James's Square. + +"You won't mind if I don't talk?" said Julie, leaning back and closing +her eyes. "I seem still to have the sea in my ears." + +The Duchess looked at her tenderly, clasping her hand close, and the +carriage rolled along. But just before they reached St. James's Square, +Julie hastily raised the fingers which held her own and kissed them. + +"Oh, Julie," said the Duchess, reproachfully, "I don't like you to do +that!" + +She flushed and frowned. It was she who ought to pay such acts of +homage, not Julie. + + * * * * * + +"Father, Miss Le Breton is here." + +"Let her come in, Jack--and the Duchess, too." + +Lord Uredale went back to the door. Two figures came noiselessly into +the room, the Duchess in front, with Julie's hand in hers. + +Lord Lackington was propped up in bed, and breathing fast. But he smiled +as they approached him. + +"This is good-bye, dear Duchess," he said, in a whisper, as she bent +over him. Then, with a spark of his old gayety in the eyes, "I should be +a cur to grumble. Life has been very agreeable. Ah, Julie!" + +Julie dropped gently on her knees beside him and laid her cheek against +his arm. At the mention of her name the old man's face had clouded as +though the thoughts she called up had suddenly rebuked his words to the +Duchess. He feebly moved his hands towards hers, and there was silence +in the room for a few moments. + +"Uredale!" + +"Yes, father." + +"This is Rose's daughter." + +His eyes lifted themselves to those of his son. + +"I know, father. If Miss Le Breton will allow us, we will do what we can +to be of service to her." + +Bill Chantrey, the younger brother, gravely nodded assent. They were +both men of middle age, the younger over forty. They did not resemble +their father, nor was there any trace in either of them of his wayward +fascination. They were a pair of well-set-up, well-bred Englishmen, +surprised at nothing, and quite incapable of showing any emotion in +public; yet just and kindly men. As Julie entered the house they had +both solemnly shaken hands with her, in a manner which showed at once +their determination, as far as they were concerned, to avoid anything +sentimental or in the nature of a scene, and their readiness to do what +could be rightly demanded of them. + +Julie hardly listened to Lord Uredale's little speech. She had eyes and +ears only for her grandfather. As she knelt beside him, her face bowed +upon his hand, the ice within her was breaking up, that dumb and +straitening anguish in which she had lived since that moment at the Nord +Station in which she had grasped the meaning and the implications of +Delafield's hurried words. Was everything to be swept away from her at +once--her lover, and now this dear old man, to whom her heart, crushed +and bleeding as it was, yearned with all its strength? + +Lord Lackington supposed that she was weeping. + +"Don't grieve, my dear," he murmured. "It must come to an end some +time--'_cette charmante promenade a travers la realite_!'" + +And he smiled at her, agreeably vain to the last of that French accent +and that French memory which--so his look implied--they two could +appreciate, each in the other. Then he turned to the Duchess. + +"Duchess, you knew this secret before me. But I forgive _you_, and thank +you. You have been very good to Rose's child. Julie has told me--and--I +have observed--" + +"Oh, dear Lord Lackington!" Evelyn bent over him. "Trust her to me," she +said, with a lovely yearning to comfort and cheer him breathing from her +little face. + +He smiled. + +"To you--and--" + +He did not finish the sentence. + +After a pause he made a little gesture of farewell which the Duchess +understood. She kissed his hand and turned away weeping. + +"Nurse--where is nurse?" said Lord Lackington. + +Both the nurse and the doctor, who had withdrawn a little distance from +the family group, came forward. + +"Doctor, give me some strength," said the laboring voice, not without +its old wilfulness of accent. + +He moved his arm towards the young homoeopath, who injected strychnine. +Then he looked at the nurse. + +"Brandy--and--lift me." + +All was done as he desired. + +"Now go, please," he said to his sons. "I wish to be left with Julie." + + * * * * * + +For some moments, that seemed interminable to Julie, Lord Lackington lay +silent. A feverish flush, a revival of life in the black eyes had +followed on the administration of the two stimulants. He seemed to be +gathering all his forces. + +At last he laid his hand on her arm. "You shouldn't be alone," he said, +abruptly. + +His expression had grown anxious, even imperious. She felt a vague pang +of dread as she tried to assure him that she had kind friends, and that +her work would be her resource. + +Lord Lackington frowned. + +"That won't do," he said, almost vehemently. "You have great talents, +but you are weak--you are a woman--you must marry." + +Julie stared at him, whiter even than when she had entered his +room--helpless to avert what she began to foresee. + +"Jacob Delafield is devoted to you. You should marry him, dear--you +should marry him." + +The room seemed to swim around her. But his face was still plain--the +purpled lips and cheeks, the urgency in the eyes, as of one pursued by +an overtaking force, the magnificent brow, the crown of white hair. + +She summoned all her powers and told him hurriedly that he was +mistaken--entirely mistaken. Mr. Delafield had, indeed, proposed to her, +but, apart from her own unwillingness, she had reason to know that his +feelings towards her were now entirely changed. He neither loved her nor +thought well of her. + +Lord Lackington lay there, obstinate, patient, incredulous. At last he +interrupted her. + +"You make yourself believe these things. But they are not true. +Delafield is attached to you. I know it." + +He nodded to her with his masterful, affectionate look. And before she +could find words again he had resumed. + +"He could give you a great position. Don't despise it. We English +big-wigs have a good time." + +A ghostly, humorous ray shot out upon her; then he felt for her hand. + +"Dear Julie, why won't you?" + +"If you were to ask him," she cried, in despair, "he would tell you as I +do." + +And across her miserable thoughts there flashed two mingled +images--Warkworth waiting, waiting for her at the Sceaux Station, and +that look of agonized reproach in Delafield's haggard face as he had +parted from her in the dawn of this strange, this incredible day. + +And here beside her, with the tyranny of the dying, this dear babbler +wandered on in broken words, with painful breath, pleading, scolding, +counselling. She felt that he was exhausting himself. She begged him to +let her recall nurse and doctor. He shook his head, and when he could no +longer speak, he clung to her hand, his gaze solemnly, insistently, +fixed upon her. + +Her spirit writhed and rebelled. But she was helpless in the presence of +this mortal weakness, this affection, half earthly, half beautiful, on +its knees before her. + +A thought struck her. Why not content him? Whatever pledges she gave +would die with him. What did it matter? It was cruelty to deny him the +words--the mere empty words--he asked of her. + +"I--I would do anything to please you!" she said, with a sudden burst of +uncontrollable tears, as she laid her head down beside him on the +pillow. "If he _were_ to ask me again, of course, for your sake, I would +consider it once more. Dear, dear friend, won't that satisfy you?" + +Lord Lackington was silent a few moments, then he smiled. + +"That's a promise?" + +She raised herself and looked at him, conscious of a sick movement of +terror. What was there in his mind, still so quick, fertile, ingenious, +under the very shadow of death? + +He waited for her answer, feebly pressing her hand. + +"Yes," she said, faintly, and once more hid her face beside him. + +Then, for some little time, the dying man neither stirred nor spoke. At +last Julie heard: + +"I used to be afraid of death--that was in middle life. Every night it +was a torment. But now, for many years, I have not been afraid at +all.... Byron--Lord Byron--said to me, once, he would not change +anything in his life; but he would have preferred not to have lived at +all. I could not say that. I have enjoyed it all--being an Englishman, +and an English peer--pictures, politics, society--everything. Perhaps it +wasn't fair. There are so many poor devils." + +Julie pressed his hand to her lips. But in her thoughts there rose the +sudden, sharp memory of her mother's death--of that bitter stoicism and +abandonment in which the younger life had closed, in comparison with +this peace, this complacency. + +Yet it was a complacency rich in sweetness. His next words were to +assure her tenderly that he had made provision for her. "Uredale and +Bill--will see to it. They're good fellows. Often--they've thought me--a +pretty fool. But they've been kind to me--always." + +Then, after another interval, he lifted himself in bed, with more +strength than she had supposed he could exert, looked at her earnestly, +and asked her, in the same painful whisper, whether she believed in +another life. + +"Yes," said Julie. But her shrinking, perfunctory manner evidently +distressed him. He resumed, with a furrowed brow: + +"You ought. It is good for us to believe it." + +"I must hope, at any rate, that I shall see you again--and mamma," she +said, smiling on him through her tears. + +"I wonder what it will be like," he replied, after a pause. His tone and +look implied a freakish, a whimsical curiosity, yet full of charm. +Then, motioning to her to come nearer, and speaking into her ear: + +"Your poor mother, Julie, was never happy--never! There must be laws, +you see--and churches--and religious customs. It's because--we're made +of such wretched stuff. My wife, when she died--made me promise to +continue going to church--and praying. And--without it--I should have +been a bad man. Though I've had plenty of sceptical thoughts--plenty. +Your poor parents rebelled--against all that. They suffered--they +suffered. But you'll make up--you're a noble woman--you'll make up." + +He laid his hand on her head. She offered no reply; but through the +inner mind there rushed the incidents, passions, revolts of the +preceding days. + +But for that strange chance of Delafield's appearance in her path--a +chance no more intelligible to her now, after the pondering of several +feverish hours, than it had been at the moment of her first +suspicion--where and what would she be now? A dishonored woman, perhaps, +with a life-secret to keep; cut off, as her mother had been, from the +straight-living, law-abiding world. + +The touch of the old man's hand upon her hair roused in her a first +recoil, a first shattering doubt of the impulse which had carried her to +Paris. Since Delafield left her in the early dawn she had been pouring +out a broken, passionate heart in a letter to Warkworth. No misgivings +while she was writing it as to the all-sufficing legitimacy of love! + +But here, in this cold neighborhood of the grave--brought back to gaze +in spirit; on her mother's tragedy--she shrank, she trembled. Her proud +intelligence denied the stain, and bade her hate and despise her +rescuer. And, meanwhile, things also inherited and inborn, the fruit of +a remoter ancestry, rising from the dimmest and deepest caverns of +personality, silenced the clamor of the naturalist mind. One moment she +felt herself seized with terror lest anything should break down the veil +between her real self and this unsuspecting tenderness of the dying man; +the next she rose in revolt against her own fear. Was she to find +herself, after all, a mere weak penitent--meanly grateful to Jacob +Delafield? Her heart cried out to Warkworth in a protesting anguish. + +So absorbed in thought was she that she did not notice how long the +silence had lasted. + +"He seems to be sleeping," said a low voice beside her. + +She looked up to see the doctor, with Lord Uredale. Gently releasing +herself, she kissed Lord Lackington's forehead, and rose to her feet. + +Suddenly the patient opened his eyes, and as he seemed to become aware +of the figures beside him, he again lifted himself in bed, and a gleam +most animated, most vivacious, passed over his features. + +"Brougham's not asked," he said, with a little chuckle of amusement. +"Isn't it a joke?" + +The two men beside him looked at each other. Lord Uredale approached the +bed. + +"Not asked to what, father?" he said, gently. + +"Why, to the Queen's fancy ball, of course," said Lord Lackington, still +smiling. "Such a to-do! All the elderly sticks practising minuets for +their lives!" + +A voluble flow of talk followed--hardly intelligible. The words +"Melbourne" and "Lady Holland" emerged--the fragment, apparently, of a +dispute with the latter, in which "Allen" intervened--the names of +"Palmerston" and "that dear chap, Villiers." + +Lord Uredale sighed. The young doctor looked at him interrogatively. + +"He is thinking of his old friends," said the son. "That was the Queen's +ball, I imagine, of '42. I have often heard him describe my +mother's dress." + +But while he was speaking the fitful energy died away. The old man +ceased to talk; his eyelids fell. But the smile still lingered about his +mouth, and as he settled himself on his pillows, like one who rests, the +spectators were struck by the urbane and distinguished beauty of his +aspect. The purple flush had died again into mortal pallor. Illness had +masked or refined the weakness of mouth and chin; the beautiful head and +countenance, with their characteristic notes of youth, impetuosity, a +kind of gay detachment, had never been more beautiful. + +The young doctor looked stealthily from the recumbent figure to the tall +and slender woman standing absorbed and grief-stricken beside the bed. +The likeness was as evident to him as it had been, in the winter, to Sir +Wilfrid Bury. + + * * * * * + +As he was escorting her down-stairs, Lord Uredale said to his companion, +"Foster thinks he may still live twenty-four hours." + +"If he asks for me again," said Julie, now shrouded once more behind a +thick, black veil, "you will send?" + +He gravely assented. + +"It is a great pity," he said, with a certain stiffness--did it +unconsciously mark the difference between her and his legitimate +kindred?--"that my sister Lady Blanche and her daughter cannot be +with us." + +"They are in Italy?" + +"At Florence. My niece has had an attack of diphtheria. She could +neither travel nor could her mother leave her." + +Then pausing in the hall, he added in a low voice, and with some +embarrassment: + +"My father has told you, I believe, of the addition he has made to his +will?" + +Julie drew back. + +"I neither asked for it nor desired it," she said, in her coldest and +clearest voice. + +"That I quite understand," said Lord Uredale. "But--you cannot hurt him +by refusing." + +She hesitated. + +"No. But afterwards--I must be free to follow my own judgment." + +"We cannot take what does not belong to us," he said, with some +sharpness. "My brother and I are named as your trustees. Believe me, we +will do our best." + +Meanwhile the younger brother had come out of the library to bid her +farewell. She felt that she was under critical observation, though both +pairs of gray eyes refrained from any appearance of scrutiny. Her pride +came to her aid, and she did not shrink from the short conversation +which the two brothers evidently desired. When it was over, and the +brothers returned to the hall after putting her into the Duchess's +carriage, the younger said to the elder: + +"She can behave herself, Johnnie." + +They looked at each other, with their hands in their pockets. A little +nod passed between them--an augur-like acceptance of this new and +irregular member of the family. + +"Yes, she has excellent manners," said Uredale. "And really, after the +tales Lady Henry has been spreading--that's something!" + +"Oh, I always thought Lady Henry an old cat," said Bill, tranquilly. +"That don't matter." + +The Chantrey brothers had not been among Lady Henry's _habitues_. In her +eyes, they were the dull sons of an agreeable father. They were +humorously aware of it, and bore her little malice. + +"No," said Uredale, raising his eyebrows; "but the 'affaire Warkworth'? +If there's any truth in what one hears, that's deuced unpleasant." + +Bill Chantrey whistled. + +"It's hard luck on that poor child Aileen that it should be her own +cousin interfering with her preserves. By-the-way"--he stooped to look +at the letters on the hall table--"do you see there's a letter for +father from Blanche? And in a letter I got from her by the same post, +she says that she has told him the whole story. According to her, +Aileen's too ill to be thwarted, and she wants the governor to see the +guardians. I say, Johnnie"--he looked at his brother--"we'll not trouble +the father with it now?" + +"Certainly not," said Uredale, with a sigh. "I saw one of the +trustees--Jack Underwood--yesterday. He told me Blanche and the child +were more infatuated than ever. Very likely what one hears is a pack of +lies. If not, I hope this woman will have the good taste to drop it. +Father has charged me to write to Blanche and tell her the whole story +of poor Rose, and of this girl's revealing herself. Blanche, it appears, +is just as much in the dark as we were." + +"If this gossip has got round to her, her feelings will be mixed. Oh, +well, I've great faith in the money," said Bill Chantrey, carelessly, as +they began to mount the stairs again. "It sounds disgusting; but if the +child wants him I suppose she must have him. And, anyway, the man's off +to Africa for a twelvemonth at least. Miss Le Breton will have time to +forget him. One can't say that either he or she has behaved with +delicacy--unless, indeed, she knew nothing of Aileen, which is quite +probable." + +"Well, don't ask me to tackle her," said Uredale. "She has the ways of +an empress." + +Bill Chantrey shrugged his shoulders. "And, by George! she looks as if +she could fall in love," he said, slowly. "Magnificent eyes, Johnnie. I +propose to make a study of our new niece." + +"Lord Uredale!" said a voice on the stairs. + +The young doctor descended rapidly to meet them. + +"His lordship is asking for some one," he said. "He seems excited. But I +cannot catch the name." + +Lord Uredale ran up-stairs. + + * * * * * + +Later in the day a man emerged from Lackington House and walked rapidly +towards the Mall. It was Jacob Delafield. + +He passed across the Mall and into St. James's Park. There he threw +himself on the first seat he saw, in an absorption so deep that it +excited the wondering notice of more than one passer-by. + +After about half an hour he roused himself, and walked, still in the +same brown study, to his lodgings in Jermyn Street. There he found a +letter which he eagerly opened. + + * * * * * + +"DEAR JACOB,--Julie came back this morning about one o'clock. I waited +for her--and at first she seemed quite calm and composed. But suddenly, +as I was sitting beside her, talking, she fainted away in her chair, and +I was terribly alarmed. We sent for a doctor at once. He shakes his head +over her, and says there are all the signs of a severe strain of body +and mind. No wonder, indeed--our poor Julie! Oh, how I _loathe_ some +people! Well, there she is in bed, Madame Bornier away, and everybody. I +simply _can't_ go to Scotland. But Freddie is just mad. Do, Jacob, +there's a dear, go and dine with him to-night and cheer him up. He vows +he won't go north without me. _Perhaps_ I'll come to-morrow. I could no +more leave Julie to-night than fly. + +"She'll be ill for weeks. What I ought to do is to take her abroad. +She's _very_ dear and good; but, oh, Jacob, as she lies there I _feel_ +her heart's broken. And it's not Lord Lackington. Oh no! though I'm sure +she loved him. _Do_ go to Freddie, there's a dear." + + * * * * * + +"No, that I won't!" said Delafield, with a laugh that choked him, as he +threw the letter down. + +He tried to write an answer, but could not achieve even the simplest +note. Then he began a pacing of his room, which lasted till he dropped +into his chair, worn out with the sheer physical exhaustion of the night +and day. When his servant came in he found his master in a heavy sleep. +And, at Crowborough House, the Duke dined and fumed alone. + + + +XXI + +"Why does any one stay in England who _can_ make the trip to Paradise?" +said the Duchess, as she leaned lazily back in the corner of the boat +and trailed her fingers in the waters of Como. + +It was a balmy April afternoon, and she and Julie were floating through +a scene enchanted, incomparable. When spring descends upon the shores of +the Lago di Como, she brings with her all the graces, all the beauties, +all the fine, delicate, and temperate delights of which earth and sky +are capable, and she pours them forth upon a land of perfect loveliness. +Around the shores of other lakes--Maggiore, Lugano, Garda--blue +mountains rise, and the vineyards spread their green and dazzling +terraces to the sun. Only Como can show in unmatched union a main +composition, incomparably grand and harmonious, combined with every +jewelled, or glowing, or exquisite detail. Nowhere do the mountains lean +towards each other in such an ordered splendor as that which bends round +the northern shores of Como. Nowhere do buttressed masses rise behind +each other, to right and left of a blue water-way, in lines statelier or +more noble than those kept by the mountains of the Lecco Lake, as they +marshal themselves on either hand, along the approaches to Lombardy and +Venetia; bearing aloft, as though on the purple pillars of some majestic +gateway, the great curtain of dazzling cloud which, on a sunny day, +hangs over the Brescian plain--a glorious drop-scene, interposed between +the dwellers on the Como Mountains, and those marble towns, Brescia, +Verona, Padua, which thread the way to Venice. + +And within this divine frame-work, between the glistening snows which +still, in April, crown and glorify the heights, and those reflections of +them which lie encalmed in the deep bosom of the lake, there's not a +foot of pasture, not a shelf of vineyard, not a slope of forest where +the spring is not at work, dyeing the turf with gentians, starring it +with narcissuses, or drawing across it the first golden net-work of the +chestnut leaves; where the mere emerald of the grass is not in itself a +thing to refresh the very springs of being; where the peach-blossom and +the wild-cherry and the olive are not perpetually weaving patterns on +the blue, which ravish the very heart out of your breast. And already +the roses are beginning to pour over the walls; the wistaria is climbing +up the cypresses; a pomp of camellias and azaleas is in all the gardens; +while in the grassy bays that run up into the hills the primrose banks +still keep their sweet austerity, and the triumph of spring over the +just banished winter is still sharp and new. + +And in the heart and sense of Julie Le Breton, as she sat beside the +Duchess, listening absently to the talk of the old boatman, who, with +his oars resting idly in his hands, was chattering to the ladies, a +renewing force akin to that of the spring was also at its healing and +life-giving work. She had still the delicate, tremulous look of one +recovering from a sore wrestle with physical ill; but in her aspect +there were suggestions more intimate, more moving than this. Those who +have lain down and risen up with pain; those who have been face to face +with passion and folly and self-judgment; those who have been forced to +seek with eagerness for some answer to those questions which the +majority of us never ask, "Whither is my life leading me--and what is it +worth to me or to any other living soul?"--these are the men and women +who now and then touch or startle us with the eyes and the voice of +Julie, if, at least, we have the capacity that responds. Sir Wilfrid +Bury, for instance, prince of self-governed and reasonable men, was not +to be touched by Julie. For him, in spite of her keen intelligence, she +was the _type passionne_, from which he instinctively recoiled--the Duke +of Crowborough the same. Such men feel towards such women as Julie Le +Breton hostility or satire; for what they ask, above all, of the women +of their world is a kind of simplicity, a kind of lightness which makes +life easier for men. + +But for natures like Evelyn Crowborough--or Meredith--or Jacob +Delafield--the Julie-type has perennial attractions. For these are all +_children of feeling_, allied in this, however different in intelligence +or philosophy. They are attracted by the storm-tossed temperament in +itself; by mere sensibility; by that which, in the technical language of +Catholicism, suggests or possesses "the gift of tears." At any rate, +pity and love for her poor Julie--however foolish, however faulty--lay +warm in Evelyn Crowborough's breast; they had brought her to Como; they +kept her now battling on the one hand with her husband's angry letters +and on the other with the melancholy of her most perplexing, most +appealing friend. + +"I had often heard" [wrote the sore-tried Duke] "of the ravages wrought +in family life by these absurd and unreasonable female friendships, but +I never thought that it would be you, Evelyn, who would bring them home +to me. I won't repeat the arguments I have used a hundred times in vain. +But once again I implore and demand that you should find some kind, +responsible person to look after Miss Le Breton--I don't care what you +pay--and that you yourself should come home to me and the children and +the thousand and one duties you are neglecting. + +"As for the spring month in Scotland, which I generally enjoy so much, +that has been already entirely ruined. And now the season is apparently +to be ruined also. On the Shropshire property there is an important +election coming on, as I am sure you know; and the Premier said to me +only yesterday that he hoped you were already up and doing. The Grand +Duke of C---- will be in London within the next fortnight. I +particularly want to show him some civility. But what can I do without +you--and how on earth am I to explain your absence? + +"Once more, Evelyn, I beg and I demand that you should come home." + +To which the Duchess had rushed off a reply without a post's delay. + +"Oh, Freddie, you are such a wooden-headed darling! As if I hadn't +explained till I'm black in the face. I'm glad, anyway, you didn't say +command; that would really have made difficulties. + +"As for the election, I'm sure if I was at home I should think it very +good fun. Out here I am extremely doubtful whether we ought to do such +things as you and Lord M---- suggest. A duke shouldn't interfere in +elections. Anyway, I'm sure it's good for my character to consider it a +little--though I quite admit you may lose the election. + +"The Grand Duke is a horrid wretch, and if he wasn't a grand duke you'd +be the first to cut him. I had to spend a whole dinner-time last year in +teaching him his proper place. It was very humiliating, and not at all +amusing. You can have a men's dinner for him. That's all he's fit for. + +"And as for the babies, Mrs. Robson sends me a telegram every morning. I +can't make out that they have had a finger-ache since I went away, and I +am sure mothers are entirely superfluous. All the same, I think about +them a great deal, especially at night. Last night I tried to think +about their education--if only I wasn't such a sleepy creature! But, at +any rate, I never in my life tried to think about it at home. So that's +so much to the good. + +"Indeed, I'll come back to you soon, you poor, forsaken, old thing! But +Julie has no one in the world, and I feel like a Newfoundland dog who +has pulled some one out of the water. The water was deep; and the life's +only just coming back; and the dog's not much good. But he sits there, +for company, till the doctor comes, and that's just what I'm doing. + +"I know you don't approve of the notions I have in my head now. But +that's because you don't understand. Why don't you come out and join us? +Then you'd like Julie as much as I do; everything would be quite simple; +and I shouldn't be in the least jealous. + +"Dr. Meredith is coming here, probably to-night, and Jacob should arrive +to-morrow on his way to Venice, where poor Chudleigh and his boy are." + + * * * * * + +The _breva_, or fair-weather wind, from the north was blowing freshly +yet softly down the lake. The afternoon sun was burning on Bellaggio, on +the long terrace of the Melzi villa, on the white mist of fruit-blossom +that lay lightly on the green slopes above San Giovanni. + +Suddenly the Duchess and the boatman left the common topics of every day +by which the Duchess was trying to improve her Italian--such as the +proposed enlargement of the Bellevue Hotel, the new villas that were +springing up, the gardens of the Villa Carlotta, and so forth. Evelyn +had carelessly asked the old man whether he had been in any of the +fighting of '59, and in an instant, under her eyes, he became another +being. Out rolled a torrent of speech; the oars lay idly on the water; +and through the man's gnarled and wrinkled face there blazed a high and +illumining passion. Novara and its beaten king, in '49; the ten years of +waiting, when a whole people bode its time, in a gay, grim silence; the +grudging victory of Magenta; the fivefold struggle that wrenched the +hills of San Martino from the Austrians; the humiliations and the rage +of Villafranca--of all these had this wasted graybeard made a part. And +he talked of them with the Latin eloquence and facility, as no veteran +of the north could have talked; he was in a moment the equal of these +great affairs in which he had mingled; so that one felt in him the son +of a race which had been rolled and polished--a pebble, as it were, from +rocks which had made the primeval frame-work of the world--in the main +course and stream of history. + +Then from the campaign of '59 he fell back on the Five Days of Milan in +'48--the immortal days, when a populace drove out an army, and what +began almost in jest ended in a delirium, a stupefaction of victory. His +language was hot, broken, confused, like the street fighting it +chronicled. Afterwards--a further sharpening and blanching of the old +face--and he had carried them deep into the black years of Italy's +patience and Austria's revenge. Throwing out a thin arm, he pointed +towards town after town on the lake shores, now in the brilliance of +sunset, now in the shadow of the northern slope--Gravedona, Varenna, +Argegno--towns which had each of them given their sons to the Austrian +bullet and the Austrian lash for the ransom of Italy. + +He ran through the sacred names--Stazzonelli, Riccini, Crescieri, +Ronchetti, Ceresa, Previtali--young men, almost all of them, shot for +the possession of a gun or a knife, for helping their comrades in the +Austrian army to desert, for "insulting conduct" towards an Austrian +soldier or officer. + +Of one of these executions, which he had himself witnessed at +Varese--the shooting of a young fellow of six-and-twenty, his own friend +and kinsman--he gave an account which blanched the Duchess's cheeks and +brought the big tears into her eyes. Then, when he saw the effect he had +produced, the old man trembled. + +"Ah, eccellenza," he cried, "but it had to be! The Italians had to show +they knew how to die; then God let them live. Ecco, eccellenza!" + +And he drew from his breast-pocket, with shaking hands, an old envelope +tied round with string. When he had untied it, a piece of paper emerged, +brown with age and worn with much reading. It was a rudely printed +broadsheet containing an account of the last words and sufferings of the +martyrs of Mantua--those conspirators of 1852--from whose graves and +dungeons sprang, tenfold renewed, the regenerating and liberating forces +which, but a few years later, drove out the Austrian with the Bourbon, +together. + +"See here, eccellenza," he said, as he tenderly spread out its tattered +folds and gave it into the Duchess's hand. "Have the goodness to look +where is that black mark. There you will find the last words of Don +Enrico Tazzoli, the half-brother of my father. He was a priest, +eccellenza. Ah, it was not then as it is now! The priests were then for +Italy. They hanged three of them at Mantua alone. As for Don Enrico, +first they stripped him of his priesthood, and then they hanged him. And +those were his last words, and the last words of Scarsellini also, who +suffered with him. _Veda eccellenza_! As for me, I know them from +a boy." + +And while the Duchess read, the old man repeated tags and fragments +under his breath, as he once more resumed the oars and drove the boat +gently towards Menaggio. + +"_The multitude of victims has not robbed us of courage in the past, nor +will it so rob us in the future--till victory dawns. The cause of the +people is like the cause of religion--it triumphs only through its +martyrs.... You--who survive--will conquer, and in your victory we, the +dead, shall live_.... + +"_Take no thought for us; the blood of the forerunners is like the seed +which the wise husbandman scatters on the fertile ground_.... _Teach our +young men how to adore and how to suffer for a great idea. Work +incessantly at that; so shall our country come to birth; and grieve not +for us!... Yes, Italy shall be one! To that all things point._ WORK! +_There is no obstacle that cannot be overcome, no opposition that cannot +be destroyed. The_ HOW _and the_ WHEN _only remain to be solved. You, +more fortunate than we, will find the clew to the riddle, when all +things are accomplished, and the times are ripe.... Hope!--my parents, +and my brothers--hope always!--waste no time in weeping_." + +The Duchess read aloud the Italian, and Julie stooped over her shoulder +to follow the words. + +"Marvellous!" said Julie, in a low voice, as she sank back into her +place. "A youth of twenty-seven, with the rope round his neck, and he +comforts himself with 'Italy.' What's 'Italy' to him, or he to 'Italy'?" +Not even an immediate paradise. "Is there anybody capable of it now?" + +Her face and attitude had lost their languor. As the Duchess returned +his treasure to the old man she looked at Julie with joy. Not since her +illness had there been any such sign of warmth and energy. + +And, indeed, as they floated on, past the glow of Bellaggio, towards the +broad gold and azure of the farther lake, the world-defying passion that +breathed from these words of dead and murdered Italians played as a +bracing and renewing power on Julie's still feeble being. It was akin to +the high snows on those far Alps that closed in the lake--to the pure +wind that blew from them--to the "gleam, the shadow, and the peace +supreme," amid which their little boat pressed on towards the shore. + +"What matter," cried the intelligence, but as though through sobs--"what +matter the individual struggle and misery? These can be lived down. The +heart can be silenced--nerves steadied--strength restored. Will and idea +remain--the eternal spectacle of the world, and the eternal thirst of +man to see, to know, to feel, to realize himself, if not in one passion, +then in another. If not in love, then in patriotism--art--thought." + + * * * * * + +The Duchess and Julie landed presently beneath the villa of which they +were the passing tenants. The Duchess mounted the double staircase where +the banksia already hung in a golden curtain over the marble balustrade. +Her face was thoughtful. She had to write her daily letter to the absent +and reproachful Duke. + +Julie parted from her with a caress, and paused awhile to watch the +small figure till it mounted out of sight. Her friend had become very +dear to her. A new humility, a new gratitude filled her heart. Evelyn +should not sacrifice herself much longer. When she had insisted on +carrying her patient abroad, Julie had neither mind nor will wherewith +to resist. But now--the Duke should soon come to his own again. + +She herself turned inland for that short walk by which each day she +tested her returning strength. She climbed the winding road to Criante, +the lovely village above Cadenabbia; then, turning to the left, she +mounted a path that led to the woods which overhang the famous gardens +of the Villa Carlotta. + +Such a path! To the left hand, and, as it seemed, steeply beneath her +feet, all earth and heaven--the wide lake, the purple mountains, the +glories of a flaming sky. On the calm spaces of water lay a shimmer of +crimson and gold, repeating the noble splendor of the clouds; the +midgelike boats crept from shore to shore; and, midway between Bellaggio +and Cadenabbia, the steam-boat, a white speck, drew a silver furrow. To +her right a green hill-side--each blade of grass, each flower, each +tuft of heath, enskied, transfigured, by the broad light that poured +across it from the hidden west. And on the very hill-top a few scattered +olives, peaches, and wild cherries scrawled upon the blue, their bare, +leaning stems, their pearly whites, their golden pinks and feathery +grays all in a glory of sunset that made of them things enchanted, +aerial, fantastical, like a dance of Botticelli angels on the height. + +And presently a sheltered bank in a green hollow, where Julie sat down +to rest. But nature, in this tranquil spot, had still new pageants, new +sorceries wherewith to play upon the nerves of wonder. Across the hollow +a great crag clothed in still leafless chestnut-trees reared itself +against the lake. The innumerable lines of stem and branch, warm brown +or steely gray, were drawn sharp on silver air, while at the very summit +of the rock one superb tree with branching limbs, touched with intense +black, sprang high above the rest, the proud plume or ensign of the +wood. Through the trunks the blaze of distant snow and the purples of +craggy mountains; in front the glistening spray of peach or cherry +blossom, breaking the still wintry beauty of that majestic grove. And in +all the air, dropping from the heaven, spread on the hills, or +shimmering on the lake, a diffusion of purest rose and deepest blue, +lake and cloud and mountain each melting into the other, as though +heaven and earth conspired merely to give value and relief to the year's +new birth, to this near sparkle of young leaf and blossom which shone +like points of fire on the deep breast of the distance. + +On the green ledge which ran round the hollow were children tugging at a +goat. Opposite was a _contadino's_ house of gray stone. A water-wheel +turned beside it, and a stream, brought down from the hills, ran +chattering past, a white and dancing thread of water. Everything was +very still and soft. The children and the river made their voices heard; +and there were nightingales singing in the woods below. Otherwise all +was quiet. With a tranquil and stealthy joy the spring was taking +possession. Nay--the Angelus! It swung over the lake and rolled from +village to village.... + +The tears were in Julie's eyes. Such beauty as this was apt now to crush +and break her. All her being was still sore, and this appeal of nature +was sometimes more than she could bear. + +Only a few short weeks since Warkworth had gone out of her life--since +Delafield at a stroke had saved her from ruin--since Lord Lackington had +passed away. + +One letter had reached her from Warkworth, a wild and incoherent letter, +written at night in a little room of a squalid hotel near the Gare de +Sceaux. Her telegram had reached him, and for him, as for her, all +was over. + +But the letter was by no means a mere cry of baffled passion. There was +in it a new note of moral anguish, as fresh and startling in her ear, +coming from him, as the cry of passion itself. In the language of +religion, it was the utterance of a man "convicted of sin." + + "How long is it since that man gave me your telegram? I was + pacing up and down the departure platform, working myself + into an agony of nervousness and anxiety as the time went by, + wondering what on earth had happened to you, when the _chef + de gare_ came up: 'Monsieur attend une depeche?' There were + some stupid formalities--at last I got it. It seemed to me I + had already guessed what it contained. + + "So it was _Delafield_ who met you--Delafield who turned you + back? + + "I saw him outside the hotel yesterday, and we exchanged a + few words. I have always disliked his long, pale face and his + high and mighty ways--at any rate, towards plain fellows, who + don't belong to the classes, like me. Yesterday I was more + than usually anxious to get rid of him. + + "So he guessed? + + "It can't have been chance. In some way he guessed. And you + have been torn from me. My God! If I could only reach him--if + I could fling his contempt in his face! And yet-- + + "I have been walking up and down this room all night. The + longing for you has been the sharpest suffering I suppose + that I have ever known. For I am not one of the many people + who enjoy pain. I have kept as free of it as I could. This + time it caught and gripped me. Yet that isn't all. There has + been something else. + + "What strange, patched creatures we are! Do you know, Julie, + that by the time the dawn came I was on my knees--thanking + God that we were parted--that you were on your way + home--safe--out of my reach? Was I mad, or what? I can't + explain it. I only know that one moment I hated Delafield as + a mortal enemy--whether he was conscious of what he had done + or no--and the next I found myself blessing him! + + "I understand now what people mean when they talk of + conversion. It seems to me that in the hours I have just + passed through things have come to light in me that I myself + never suspected. I came of an Evangelical stock--I was + brought up in a religious household. I suppose that one + can't, after all, get away from the blood and the life that + one inherits. My poor, old father--I was a bad son, and I + know I hastened his death--was a sort of Puritan saint, with + very stern ideas. I seem to have been talking with him this + night, and shrinking under his condemnation. I could see his + old face, as he put before me the thoughts I had dared to + entertain, the risks I had been ready to take towards the + woman I loved--the woman to whom I owed a deep debt of + eternal gratitude. + + "Julie, it is strange how this appointment affects me. Last + night I saw several people at the Embassy--good fellows--who + seemed anxious to do all they could for me. Such men never + took so much notice of me before. It is plain to me that this + task will make or mar me. I may fail. I may die. But if I + succeed England will owe me something, and these men at the + top of the tree-- + + "Good God! how can I go on writing this to you? It's because + I came back to the hotel and tossed about half the night + brooding over the difference between what these men--these + honorable, distinguished fellows--were prepared to think of + me, and the blackguard I knew myself to be. What, take + everything from a woman's hand, and then turn and try and + drag her in the mire--propose to her what one would shoot a + man for proposing to one's sister! Thief and cur. + + "Julie--kind, beloved Julie--forget it all! For God's sake, + let's cast it all behind us! As long as I live, your name, + your memory will live in my heart. We shall not meet, + probably, for many years. You'll marry and be happy yet. Just + now I know you're suffering. I seem to see you in the + train--on the steamer--your pale face that has lighted up + life for me--your dear, slender hands that folded so easily + into one of mine. You are in pain, my darling. Your nature is + wrenched from its natural supports. And you gave me all your + fine, clear mind, and all your heart. I ought to be damned to + the deepest hell! + + "Then, again, I say to myself, if only she were here! If only + I had her _here_, with her arms round my neck, surely I might + have found the courage and the mere manliness to extricate + both herself and me from these entanglements. Aileen might + have released and forgiven one. + + "No, no! It's all over! I'll go and do my task. You set it + me. You sha'n't be ashamed of me there. + + "Good-bye, Julie, my love--good-bye--forever!" + +These were portions of that strange document composed through the +intervals of a long night, which showed in Warkworth's mind the survival +of a moral code, inherited from generations of scrupulous and +God-fearing ancestors, overlaid by selfish living, and now revived under +the stress, the purification partly of deepening passion, partly of a +high responsibility. The letter was incoherent, illogical; it showed now +the meaner, now the nobler elements of character; but it was human; it +came from the warm depths of life, and it had exerted in the end a +composing and appeasing force upon the woman to whom it was addressed. +He had loved her--if only at the moment of parting--he had loved her! At +the last there had been feeling, sincerity, anguish, and to these all +things may be forgiven. + +And, indeed, what in her eyes there was to forgive, Julie had long +forgiven. Was it his fault if, when they met first, he was already +pledged--for social and practical reasons which her mind perfectly +recognized and understood--to Aileen Moffatt? Was it his fault if the +relations between herself and him had ripened into a friendship which in +its turn could only maintain itself by passing into love? No! It was +she, whose hidden, insistent passion--nourished, indeed, upon a tragic +ignorance--had transformed what originally he had a perfect right to +offer and to feel. + +So she defended him; for in so doing she justified herself. And as to +the Paris proposal, he had a right to treat her as a woman capable of +deciding for herself how far love should carry her; he had a right to +assume that her antecedents, her training, and her circumstances were +not those of the ordinary sheltered girl, and that for her love might +naturally wear a bolder and wilder aspect than for others. He blamed +himself too severely, too passionately; but for this very blame her +heart remembered him the more tenderly. For it meant that his mind was +torn and in travail for her, that his thoughts clung to her in a +passionate remorse; and again she felt herself loved, and forgave with +all her heart. + +All the same, he was gone out of her life, and through the strain and +the unconscious progress to other planes and phases of being, wrought by +sickness and convalescence, her own passion for him even was now a +changed and blunted thing. + +Was she ashamed of the wild impulse which had carried her to Paris? It +is difficult to say. She was often seized with the shuddering +consciousness of an abyss escaped, with wonder that she was still in the +normal, accepted world, that Evelyn might still be her companion, that +Therese still adored her more fervently than any saint in the calendar. +Perhaps, if the truth were known, she was more abased in her own eyes by +the self-abandonment which had preceded the assignation with Warkworth. +She had much intellectual arrogance, and before her acquaintance with +Warkworth she had been accustomed to say and to feel that love was but +one passion among many, and to despise those who gave it too great a +place. And here she had flung herself into it, like any dull or foolish +girl for whom a love affair represents the only stirring in the pool of +life that she is ever likely to know. + +Well, she must recapture herself and remake her life. As she sat there +in the still Italian evening she thought of the old boatman, and those +social and intellectual passions to which his burst of patriotism had +recalled her thoughts. Society, literature, friends, and the ambitions +to which these lead--let her go back to them and build her days afresh. +Dr. Meredith was coming. In his talk and companionship she would once +more dip and temper the tools of mind and taste. No more vain +self-arraignment, no more useless regrets. She looked back with +bitterness upon a moment of weakness when, in the first stage of +convalescence, in mortal weariness and loneliness, she had slipped one +evening into the Farm Street church and unburdened her heart in +confession. As she had told the Duchess, the Catholicism instilled into +her youth by the Bruges nuns still laid upon her at times its ghostly +and compelling hand. Now in her renewed strength she was inclined to +look upon it as an element of weakness and disintegration in her nature. +She resolved, in future, to free herself more entirely from a useless +_Aberglaube_. + +But Meredith was not the only visitor expected at the villa in the next +few days. She was already schooling herself to face the arrival of Jacob +Delafield. + +It was curious how the mere thought of Delafield produced an agitation, +a shock of feeling, which seemed to spread through all the activities of +being. The faint, renascent glamour which had begun to attach to +literature and social life disappeared. She fell into a kind of +brooding, the sombre restlessness of one who feels in the dark the +recurrent presence of an attacking and pursuing power, and is in a +tremulous uncertainty where or how to meet it. + +The obscure tumult within her represented, in fact, a collision between +the pagan and Christian conceptions of life. In self-dependence, in +personal pride, in her desire to refer all things to the arbitrament of +reason, Julie, whatever her practice, was theoretically a stoic and a +pagan. But Delafield's personality embodied another "must," another +"ought," of a totally different kind. And it was a "must" which, in a +great crisis of her life, she also had been forced to obey. There was +the thought which stung and humiliated. And the fact was irreparable; +nor did she see how she was ever to escape from the strange, silent, +penetrating relation it had established between her and the man who +loved her and had saved her, against her will. + +During her convalescence at Crowborough House, Delafield had been often +admitted. It would have been impossible to exclude him, unless she had +confided the whole story of the Paris journey to the Duchess. And +whatever Evelyn might tremblingly guess, from Julie's own mouth she knew +nothing. So Delafield had come and gone, bringing Lord Lackington's last +words, and the account of his funeral, or acting as intermediary in +business matters between Julie and the Chantrey brothers. Julie could +not remember that she had ever asked him for these services. They fell +to him, as it were, by common consent, and she had been too weak +to resist. + +At first, whenever he entered the room, whenever he approached her, her +sense of anger and resentment had been almost unbearable. But little by +little his courtesy, tact, and coolness had restored a relation between +them which, if not the old one, had still many of the outward characters +of intimacy. Not a word, not the remotest allusion reminded her of what +had happened. The man who had stood before her transfigured on the deck +of the steamer, stammering out, "I thank God I had the courage to do +it!"--it was often hard for her to believe, as she stole a look at +Delafield, chatting or writing in the Duchess's drawing-room, that such +a scene had ever taken place. + + * * * * * + +The evening stole on. How was it that whenever she allowed the thought +of Delafield to obtain a real lodgment in the mind, even the memory of +Warkworth was for the time effaced? Silently, irresistibly, a wild heat +of opposition would develop within her. These men round whom, as it +were, there breathes an air of the heights; in whom one feels the secret +guard that religion keeps over thoughts and words and acts--her +passionate yet critical nature flung out against them. How are they +better than others, after all? What right have they over the wills +of others? + +Nevertheless, as the rose of evening burned on the craggy mountain face +beyond Bellaggio, retreating upward, step by step, till the last +glorious summit had died into the cool and already starlit blues of +night, Julie, held, as it were, by a reluctant and half-jealous +fascination, sat dreaming on the hill-side, not now of Warkworth, not of +the ambitions of the mind, or society, but simply of the goings and +comings, the aspects and sayings of a man in whose eyes she had once +read the deepest and sternest things of the soul--a condemnation and an +anguish above and beyond himself. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Meredith arrived in due time, a jaded Londoner athirst for idleness +and fresh air. The Duchess and Julie carried him hither and thither +about the lake in the four-oar boat which had been hired for the +Duchess's pleasure. Here, enthroned between the two ladies, he passed +luxurious hours, and his talk of politics, persons, and books brought +just that stimulus to Julie's intelligence and spirits for which the +Duchess had been secretly longing. + +A first faint color returned to Julie's cheeks. She began to talk again; +to resume certain correspondences; to show herself once more--at any +rate intermittently--the affectionate, sympathetic, and +beguiling friend. + +As for Meredith, he knew little, but he suspected a good deal. There +were certain features in her illness and convalescence which suggested +to him a mental cause; and if there were such a cause, it must, of +course, spring from her relations to Warkworth. + +The name of that young officer was never mentioned. Once or twice +Meredith was tempted to introduce it. It rankled in his mind that Julie +had never been frank with him, freely as he had poured his affection at +her feet. But a moment of languor or of pallor disarmed him. + +"She is better," he said to the Duchess one day, abruptly. "Her mind is +full of activity. But why, at times, does she still look so +miserable--like a person without hope or future?" + +The Duchess looked pensive. They were sitting in the corner of one of +the villa's terraced walks, amid a scented wilderness of flowers. Above +them was a canopy of purple and yellow--rose and wistaria; while through +the arches of the pergola which ran along the walk gleamed all those +various blues which make the spell of Como--the blue and white of the +clouds, the purple of the mountains, the azure of the lake. + +"Well, she was in love with him. I suppose it takes a little time," said +the Duchess, sighing. + +"Why was she in love with him?" said Meredith, impatiently. "As to the +Moffatt engagement, naturally, she was kept in the dark?" + +"At first," said the Duchess, hesitating. "And when she knew, poor dear, +it was too late!" + +"Too late for what?" + +"Well, when one falls in love one doesn't all at once shake it off +because the man deceives you." + +"One _should_," said Meredith, with energy. "Men are not worth all that +women spend upon them." + +"Oh, that's true!" cried the Duchess--"so dreadfully true! But what's +the good of preaching? We shall go on spending it to the end of time." + +"Well, at any rate, don't choose the dummies and the frauds." + +"Ah, there you talk sense," said the Duchess. "And if only we had the +French system in England! If only one could say to Julie: 'Now look +here, _there's_ your husband! It's all settled--down to plate and +linen--and you've _got_ to marry him!' how happy we should all be." + +Dr. Meredith stared. + +"You have the man in your eye," he said. + +The Duchess hesitated. + +"Suppose you come a little walk with me in the wood," she said, at last, +gathering up her white skirts. + +Meredith obeyed her. They were away for half an hour, and when they +returned the journalist's face, flushed and furrowed with thought, was +not very easy to read. + +Nor was his temper in good condition. It required a climb to the very +top of Monte Crocione to send him back, more or less appeased, a +consenting player in the Duchess's game. For if there are men who are +flirts and egotists--who ought to be, yet never are, divined by the +sensible woman at a glance--so also there are men too well equipped for +this wicked world, too good, too well born, too desirable. + +It was in this somewhat flinty and carping mood that Meredith prepared +himself for the advent of Jacob Delafield. + + * * * * * + +But when Delafield appeared, Meredith's secret antagonisms were soon +dissipated. There was certainly no challenging air of prosperity about +the young man. + +At first sight, indeed, he was his old cheerful self, always ready for a +walk or a row, on easy terms at once with the Italian servants or +boatmen. But soon other facts emerged--stealthily, as it were, from the +concealment in which a strong man was trying to keep them. + +"That young man's youth is over," said Meredith, abruptly, to the +Duchess one evening. He pointed to the figure of Delafield, who was +pacing, alone with his pipe, up and down one of the lower terraces of +the garden. + +The Duchess showed a teased expression. + +"It's like something wearing through," she said, slowly. "I suppose it +was always there, but it didn't show." + +"Name your 'it.'" + +"I can't." But she gave a little shudder, which made Meredith look at +her with curiosity. + +"You feel something ghostly--unearthly?" + +She nodded assent; crying out, however, immediately afterwards, as +though in compunction, that he was one of the dearest and best +of fellows. + +"Of course he is," said Meredith. "It is only the mystic in him coming +out. He is one of the men who have the sixth sense." + +"Well, all I know is, he has the oddest power over people," said Evelyn, +with another shiver. "If Freddie had it, my life wouldn't be worth +living. Thank goodness, he hasn't a vestige!" + +"At bottom it's the power of the priest," said Meredith. "And you women +are far too susceptible towards it. Nine times out of ten it plays the +mischief." + +The Duchess was silent a moment. Then she bent towards her companion, +finger on lip, her charming eyes glancing significantly towards the +lower terrace. The figures on it were now two. Julie and Delafield +paced together. + +"But this is the tenth!" she said, in an eager whisper. + +Meredith smiled at her, then flung her a dubious "Chi sa?" and changed +the subject. + + * * * * * + +Delafield, who was a fine oar, had soon taken command of the lake +expeditions; and by the help of two stalwart youths from Tremezzo, the +four-oar was in use from morning till night. Through the broad lake +which lies between Menaggio and Varenna it sped northward to Gravedona; +or beneath the shadowy cliffs of the Villa Serbelloni it slipped over +deep waters, haunted and dark, into the sunny spaces of Lecco; or it +coasted along the steep sides of Monte Primo, so that the travellers in +it might catch the blue stain of the gentians on the turf, where it +sloped into the lucent wave below, or watch the fishermen on the rocks, +spearing their prey in the green or golden shallows. + +The weather was glorious--a summer before its time. The wild cherries +shook down their snow upon the grass; but the pears were now in bridal +white, and a warmer glory of apple-blossom was just beginning to break +upon the blue. The nights were calm and moonlit; the dawns were visions +of mysterious and incredible beauty, wherein mountain and forest and +lake were but the garments, diaphanous, impalpable, of some delicate, +indwelling light and fire spirit, which breathed and pulsed through the +solidity of rock, no less visibly than through the crystal leagues of +air or the sunlit spaces of water. + +Yet presently, as it were, a hush of waiting, of tension, fell upon +their little party. Nature offered her best; but there was only an +apparent acceptance of her bounties. Through the outward flow of talk +and amusement, of wanderings on lake or hill, ugly hidden forces of pain +and strife, regret, misery, resistance, made themselves rarely yet +piercingly felt. + +Julie drooped again. Her cheeks were paler even than when Meredith +arrived. Delafield, too, began to be more silent, more absent. He was +helpful and courteous as ever, but it began to be seen that his gayety +was an effort, and now and then there were sharp or bitter notes in +voice or manner, which jarred, and were not soon forgotten. + +Presently, Meredith and the Duchess found themselves looking on, +breathless and astonished, at the struggle of two personalities, the +wrestle between two wills. They little knew that it was a renewed +struggle--second wrestle. But silently, by a kind of tacit agreement, +they drew away from Delafield and Julie. They dimly understood that he +pursued and she resisted; and that for him life was becoming gradually +absorbed into the two facts of her presence and her resistance. + +"_On ne s'appuie que sur ce qui resiste_." For both of them these words +were true. Fundamentally, and beyond all passing causes of grief and +anger, each was fascinated by the full strength of nature in the other. +Neither could ever forget the other. The hours grew electric, and every +tiny incident became charged with spiritual meaning. + +Often for hours together Julie would try to absorb herself in talk with +Meredith. But the poor fellow got little joy from it. Presently, at a +word or look of Delafield's she would let herself be recaptured, as +though with a proud reluctance; they wandered away together; and once +more Meredith and the Duchess became the merest by-standers. + +The Duchess shrugged her shoulders over it, and, though she laughed, +sometimes the tears were in her eyes. She felt the hovering of passion, +but it was no passion known to her own blithe nature. + +And if only this strange state of things might end, one way or other, +and set her free to throw her arms round her Duke's neck, and beg his +pardon for all these weeks of desertion! She said to herself, ruefully, +that her babies would indeed have forgotten her. + + * * * * * + +Yet she stood stoutly to her post, and the weeks passed quickly by. It +was the dramatic energy of the situation--so much more dramatic in truth +than either she or Meredith suspected--that made it such a strain upon +the onlookers. + +One evening they had left the boat at Tremezzo, that they might walk +back along that most winning of paths that skirts the lake between the +last houses of Tremezzo and the inn at Cadenabbia. The sunset was nearly +over, but the air was still suffused with its rose and pearl, and +fragrant with the scent of flowering laurels. Each mountain face, each +white village, either couched on the water's edge or grouped about its +slender campanile on some shoulder of the hills, each house and tree and +figure seemed still penetrated with light, the glorified creatures of +some just revealed and already fading world. The echoes of the evening +bell were floating on the lake, and from a boat in front, full of +peasant-folk, there rose a sound of singing, some litany of saint or +virgin, which stole in harmonies, rudely true, across the water. + +"They have been to the pilgrimage church above Lenno," said Julie, +pointing to the boat, and in order to listen to the singing, she found a +seat on a low wall above the lake. + +There was no reply, and, looking round her, she saw with a start that +only Delafield was beside her, that the Duchess and Meredith had +already rounded the corner of the Villa Carlotta and were out of sight. + +Delafield's gaze was fixed upon her. He was very pale, and suddenly +Julie's breath seemed to fail her. + +"I don't think I can bear it any longer," he said, as he came close to +her. + +"Bear what?" + +"That you should look as you do now." + +Julie made no reply. Her eyes, very sad and bitter, searched the blue +dimness of the lake in silence. + +Delafield sat down on the wall beside her. Not a soul was in sight. At +the Cadenabbia Hotel, the _table d'hote_ had gathered in the visitors; a +few boats passed and repassed in the distance, but on land all +was still. + +Suddenly he took her hand with a firm grasp. + +"Are you never going to forgive me?" he said, in a low voice. + +"I suppose I ought to bless you." + +Her face seemed to him to express the tremulous misery of a heart +deeply, perhaps irrevocably, wounded. Emotion rose in a tide, but he +crushed it down. + +He bent over her, speaking with deliberate tenderness. + +"Julie, do you remember what you promised Lord Lackington when he was +dying?" + +"Oh!" cried Julie. + +She sprang to her feet, speechless and suffocated. Her eyes expressed a +mingled pride and terror. + +He paused, confronting her with a pale resolution. + +"You didn't know that I had seen him?" + +"Know!" + +She turned away fiercely, choking with sobs she could hardly control, +as the memory of that by-gone moment returned upon her. + +"I thought as much," said Delafield, in a low voice. "You hoped never to +hear of your promise again." + +She made no answer; but she sank again upon the seat beside the lake, +and supporting herself on one delicate hand, which clung to the coping +of the wall, she turned her pale and tear-stained face to the lake and +the evening sky. There was in her gesture an unconscious yearning, a +mute and anguished appeal, as though from the oppressions of human +character to the broad strength of nature, that was not lost on +Delafield. His mind became the centre of a swift and fierce debate. One +voice said: "Why are you persecuting her? Respect her weakness and her +grief." And another replied: "It is because she is weak that she must +yield--must allow herself to be guided and adored." + +He came close to her again. Any passer-by might have supposed that they +were both looking at the distant boat and listening to the +pilgrimage chant. + +"Do you think I don't understand why you made that promise?" he said, +very gently, and the mere self-control of his voice and manner carried a +spell with it for the woman beside him. "It was wrung out of you by +kindness for a dying man. You thought I should never know, or I should +never claim it. Well, I am selfish. I take advantage. I do claim it. I +saw Lord Lackington only a few hours before his death. 'She mustn't be +alone,' he said to me, several times. And then, almost at the last, 'Ask +her again. She'll consider it--she promised.'" + +Julie turned impetuously. + +"Neither of us is bound by that--neither of us." + +Delafield smiled. + +"Does that mean that I am asking you now because he bade me?" + +A pause. Julie must needs raise her eyes to his. She flushed red and +withdrew them. + +"No," he said, with a long breath, "you don't mean that, and you don't +think it. As for you--yes, you are bound! Julie, once more I bring you +my plea, and you must consider it." + +"How can I be your wife?" she said, her breast heaving. "You know all +that has happened. It would be monstrous." + +"Not at all," was his quiet reply. "It would be natural and right. +Julie, it is strange that I should be talking to you like this. You're +so much cleverer than I--in some ways, so much stronger. And yet, in +others--you'll let me say it, won't you?--I could help you. I could +protect you. It's all I care for in the world." + +"How can I be your wife?" she repeated, passionately, wringing her +hands. + +"Be what you will--at home. My friend, comrade, housemate. I ask nothing +more--_nothing_." His voice dropped, and there was a pause. Then he +resumed. "But, in the eyes of the world, make me your servant and +your husband!" + +"I can't condemn you to such a fate," she cried. "You know where my +heart is." + +Delafield did not waver. + +"I know where your heart was," he said, with firmness. "You will banish +that man from your thoughts in time. He has no right to be there. I take +all the risks--all." + +"Well, at least for you, I am no hypocrite," she said, with a quivering +lip. "You know what I am." + +"Yes, I know, and I am at your feet." + +The tears dropped from Julie's eyes. She turned away and hid her face +against one of the piers of the wall. + +Delafield attempted no caress. He quietly set himself to draw the life +that he had to offer her, the comradeship that he proposed to her. Not a +word of what the world called his "prospects" entered in. She knew very +well that he could not bring himself to speak of them. Rather, a sort of +ascetic and mystical note made itself heard in all he said of the +future, a note that before now had fascinated and controlled a woman +whose ambition was always strangely tempered with high, poetical +imagination. + +Yet, ambitious she was, and her mind inevitably supplied what his voice +left unsaid. + +"He will have to fill his place whether he wishes it or no," she said to +herself. "And if, in truth, he desires my help--" + +Then she shrank from her own wavering. Look where she would into her +life, it seemed to her that all was monstrous and out of joint. + +"You don't realize what you ask," she said, at last, in despair. "I am +not what you call a good woman--you know it too well. I don't measure +things by your standards. I am capable of such a journey as you found me +on. I can't find in my own mind that I repent it at all. I can tell a +lie--you can't. I can have the meanest and most sordid thoughts--you +can't. Lady Henry thought me an intriguer--I am one. It is in my blood. +And I don't know whether, in the end, I could understand your language +and your life. And if I don't, I shall make you miserable." + +She looked up, her slender frame straightening under what was, in truth, +a noble defiance. + +Delafield bent over her and took both her hands forcibly in his own. + +"If all that were true, I would rather risk it a thousand times over +than go out of your life again--a stranger. Julie, you have done mad +things for love--you should know what love is. Look in my +face--there--your eyes in mine! Give way! The dead ask it of you--and it +is God's will." + +And as, drawn by the last, low-spoken words, Julie looked up into his +face, she felt herself enveloped by a mystical and passionate tenderness +that paralyzed her resistance. A force, superhuman, laid its grasp upon +her will. With a burst of tears, half in despair, half in revolt, she +submitted. + + + +XXII + +In the first week of May, Julie Le Breton married Jacob Delafield in the +English Church at Florence. The Duchess was there. So was the Duke--a +sulky and ill-resigned spectator of something which he believed to be +the peculiar and mischievous achievement of his wife. + +At the church door Julie and Delafield left for Camaldoli. + +"Well, if you imagine that I intend to congratulate you or anybody else +upon that performance you are very much mistaken," said the Duke, as he +and his wife drove back to the "Grand Bretagne" together. + +"I don't deny it's--risky," said the Duchess, her hands on her lap, her +eyes dreamily following the streets. + +"Risky!" repeated the Duke, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, I don't want +to speak harshly of your friends, Evelyn, but Miss Le Breton--" + +"Mrs. Delafield," said the Duchess. + +"Mrs. Delafield, then"--the name was evidently a difficult +mouthful--"seems to me a most undisciplined and unmanageable woman. Why +does she look like a tragedy queen at her marriage? Jacob is twice too +good for her, and she'll lead him a life. And how you can reconcile it +to your conscience to have misled me so completely as you have in this +matter, I really can't imagine." + +"Misled you?" said Evelyn. + +Her innocence was really a little hard to bear, and not even the beauty +of her blue eyes, now happily restored to him, could appease the mentor +at her side. + +"You led me plainly to believe," he repeated, with emphasis, "that if I +helped her through the crisis of leaving Lady Henry she would relinquish +her designs on Delafield." + +"Did I?" said the Duchess. And putting her hands over her face she +laughed rather hysterically. "But that wasn't why you lent her the +house, Freddie." + +"You coaxed me into it, of course," said the Duke. + +"No, it was Julie herself got the better of you," said Evelyn, +triumphantly. "You felt her spell, just as we all do, and wanted to do +something for her." + +"Nothing of the sort," said the Duke, determined to admit no +recollection to his disadvantage. "It was your doing entirely." + +The Duchess thought it discreet to let him at least have the triumph of +her silence, smiling, and a little sarcastic though it were. + +"And of all the undeserved good fortune!" he resumed, feeling in his +irritable disapproval that the moral order of the universe had been +somehow trifled with. "In the first place, she is the daughter of people +who flagrantly misconducted themselves--_that_ apparently does her no +harm. Then she enters the service of Lady Henry in a confidential +position, and uses it to work havoc in Lady Henry's social relations. +That, I am glad to say, _has_ done her a little harm, although not +nearly as much as she deserves. And finally she has a most discreditable +flirtation with a man already engaged--to her own cousin, please +observe!--and pulls wires for him all over the place in the most +objectionable and unwomanly manner." + +"As if everybody didn't do that!" cried the Duchess. "You know, Freddie, +that your own mother always used to boast that she had made six bishops +and saved the Establishment." + +The Duke took no notice. + +"And yet there she is! Lord Lackington has left her a fortune--a +competence, anyway. She marries Jacob Delafield--rather a fool, I +consider, but all the same one of the best fellows in the world. And at +any time, to judge from what one hears of the health both of Chudleigh +and his boy, she may find herself Duchess of Chudleigh." + +The Duke threw himself back in the carriage with the air of one who +waits for Providence to reply. + +"Oh, well, you see, you can't make the world into a moral tale to please +you," said the Duchess, absently. + +Then, after a pause, she asked, "Are you still going to let them have +the house, Freddie?" + +"I imagine that if Jacob Delafield applies to me to let it to _him_, +that I shall not refuse him," said the Duke, stiffly. + +The Duchess smiled behind her fan. Yet her tender heart was not in +reality very happy about her Julie. She knew well enough that it was a +strange marriage of which they had just been witnesses--a marriage +containing the seeds of many untoward things only too likely to develop +unless fate were kinder than rash mortals have any right to expect. + +"I wish to goodness Delafield weren't so religious," murmured the +Duchess, fervently, pursuing her own thoughts. + +"Evelyn!" + +"Well, you see, Julie isn't, at all," she added, hastily. + +"You need not have troubled yourself to tell me that," was the Duke's +indignant reply. + + * * * * * + +After a fortnight at Camaldoli and Vallombrosa the Delafields turned +towards Switzerland. Julie, who was a lover of Rousseau and Obermann, +had been also busy with the letters of Byron. She wished to see with her +own eyes St. Gingolphe and Chillon, Bevay and Glion. + +So one day at the end of May they found themselves at Montreux. But +Montreux was already hot and crowded, and Julie's eyes turned in longing +to the heights. They found an old inn at Charnex, whereof the garden +commanded the whole head of the lake, and there they settled themselves +for a fortnight, till business, in fact, should recall Delafield to +England. The Duke of Chudleigh had shown all possible kindness and +cordiality with regard to the marriage, and the letter in which he +welcomed his cousin's new wife had both touched Julie's feelings and +satisfied her pride. "You are marrying one of the best of men," wrote +this melancholy father of a dying son. "My boy and I owe him more than +can be written. I can only tell you that for those he loves he grudges +nothing--no labor, no sacrifice of himself. There are no half-measures +in his affections. He has spent himself too long on sick and sorry +creatures like ourselves. It is time he had a little happiness on his +own account. You will give it him, and Mervyn and I will be most +grateful to you. If joy and health can never be ours, I am not yet so +vile as to grudge them to others. God bless you! Jacob will tell you +that my house is not a gay one; but if you and he will sometimes visit +it, you will do something to lighten its gloom." + +Julie wondered, as she wrote her very graceful reply, how much the Duke +might know about herself. Jacob had told his cousin, as she knew, the +story of her parentage and of Lord Lackington's recognition of his +granddaughter. But as soon as the marriage was announced it was not +likely that Lady Henry had been able to hold her tongue. + +A good many interesting tales of his cousin's bride had, indeed, reached +the melancholy Duke. Lady Henry had done all that she conceived it her +duty to do, filling many pages of note-paper with what the Duke regarded +as most unnecessary information. + +At any rate, he had brushed it all aside with the impatience of one for +whom nothing on earth had now any savor or value beyond one or two +indispensable affections. "What's good enough for Jacob is good for me," +he wrote to Lady Henry, "and if I may offer you some advice, it is that +you should not quarrel with Jacob about a matter so vital as his +marriage. Into the rights and wrongs of the story you tell me, I really +cannot enter; but rather than break with Jacob I would welcome _anybody_ +he chose to present to me. And in this case I understand the lady is +very clever, distinguished, and of good blood on both sides. Have you +had no trouble in your life, my dear Flora, that you can make quarrels +with a light heart? If so, I envy you; but I have neither the energy nor +the good spirits wherewith to imitate you." + +Julie, of course, knew nothing of this correspondence, though from the +Duke's letters to Jacob she divined that something of the kind had taken +place. But it was made quite plain to her that she was to be spared all +the friction and all the difficulty which may often attend the entrance +of a person like herself within the circle of a rich and important +family like the Delafields. With Lady Henry, indeed, the fight had still +to be fought. But Jacob's mother, influenced on one side by her son and +on the other by the head of the family, accepted her daughter-in-law +with the facile kindliness and good temper that were natural to her; +while his sister, the fair-haired and admirable Susan, owed her brother +too much and loved him too well to be other than friendly to his wife. + +No; on the worldly side all was smooth. The marriage had been carried +through with ease and quietness The Duke, in spite of Jacob's +remonstrances, had largely increased his cousin's salary, and Julie was +already enjoying the income left her by Lord Lackington. She had only to +reappear in London as Jacob's wife to resume far more than her old +social ascendency. The winning cards had all passed into her hands, and +if now there was to be a struggle with Lady Henry, Lady Henry would +be worsted. + +All this was or should have been agreeable to the sensitive nerves of a +woman who knew the worth of social advantages. It had no effect, +however, on the mortal depression which was constantly Julie's portion +during the early weeks of her marriage. + +As for Delafield, he had entered upon this determining experiment of his +life--a marriage, which was merely a legalized comradeship, with the +woman he adored--in the mind of one resolved to pay the price of what he +had done. This graceful and stately woman, with her high intelligence +and her social gifts, was now his own property. She was to be the +companion of his days and the mistress of his house. But although he +knew well that he had a certain strong hold upon her, she did not love +him, and none of the fusion of true marriage had taken place or could +take place. So be it. He set himself to build up a relation between them +which should justify the violence offered to natural and spiritual law. +His own delicacy of feeling and perception combined with the strength of +his passion to make every action of their common day a symbol and +sacrament. That her heart regretted Warkworth, that bitterness and +longing, an unspent and baffled love, must be constantly overshadowing +her--these things he not only knew, he was forever reminding himself of +them, driving them, as it were, into consciousness, as the ascetic +drives the spikes into his flesh. His task was to comfort her, to make +her forget, to bring her back to common peace and cheerfulness of mind. + +To this end he began with appealing as much as possible to her +intelligence. He warmly encouraged her work for Meredith. From the first +days of their marriage he became her listener, scholar, and critic. +Himself interested mainly in social, economical, or religious +discussion, he humbly put himself to school in matters of +_belles-lettres_. His object was to enrich Julie's daily life with new +ambitions and new pleasures, which might replace the broodings of her +illness and convalescence, and then, to make her feel that she had at +hand, in the companion of that life, one who felt a natural interest in +all her efforts, a natural pride in all her successes. + +Alack! the calculation was too simple--and too visible. It took too +little account of the complexities of Julie's nature, of the ravages and +the shock of passion. Julie herself might be ready enough to return to +the things of the mind, but they were no sooner offered to her, as it +were, in exchange for the perilous delights of love, than she grew +dumbly restive. She felt herself, also, too much observed, too much +thought over, made too often, if the truth were known, the subject of +religious or mystical emotion. + +More and more, also, was she conscious of strangeness and eccentricity +in the man she had married. It often seemed to that keen and practical +sense which in her mingled so oddly with the capacity for passion that, +as they grew older, and her mind recovered tone and balance, she would +probably love the world disastrously more and he disastrously less. And +if so, the gulf between them, instead of closing, could but widen. + +One day--a showery day in early June--she was left alone for an hour, +while Delafield went down to Montreux to change some circular notes. +Julie took a book from the table and strolled out along the lovely road +that slopes gently downward from Charnex to the old field-embowered +village of Brent. + +The rain was just over. It had been a cold rain, and the snow had crept +downward on the heights, and had even powdered the pines of the Cubly. +The clouds were sweeping low in the west. Towards Geneva the lake was +mere wide and featureless space--a cold and misty water, melting into +the fringes of the rain-clouds. But to the east, above the Rhone +valley, the sky was lifting; and as Julie sat down upon a midway seat +and turned herself eastward, she was met by the full and unveiled glory +of the higher Alps--the Rochers de Naye, the Velan, the Dent du Midi. On +the jagged peaks of the latter a bright shaft of sun was playing, and +the great white or rock-ribbed mass raised itself above the mists of the +lower world, once more unstained and triumphant. + +But the cold _bise_ was still blowing, and Julie, shivering, drew her +wrap closer round her. Her heart pined for Como and the south; perhaps +for the little Duchess, who spoiled and petted her in the common, +womanish ways. + +The spring--a second spring--was all about her; but in this chilly +northern form it spoke to her with none of the ravishment of Italy. In +the steep fields above her the narcissuses were bent and bowed with +rain; the red-browns of the walnuts glistened in the wet gleams of sun; +the fading apple-blossom beside her wore a melancholy beauty; only in +the rich, pushing grass, with its wealth of flowers and its branching +cow-parsley, was there the stubborn life and prophecy of summer. + +Suddenly Julie caught up the book that lay beside her and opened it with +a hasty hand. It was one of that set of Saint-Simon which had belonged +to her mother, and had already played a part in her own destiny. + +She turned to the famous "character" of the Dauphin, of that model +prince, in whose death Saint-Simon, and Fenelon, and France herself, saw +the eclipse of all great hopes. + +"A prince, affable, gentle, humane, patient, modest, full of +compunctions, and, as much as his position allowed--sometimes beyond +it--humble, and severe towards himself." + +Was it not to the life? "_Affable, doux, humain--patient, +modeste--humble et austere pour soi_"--beyond what was expected, beyond, +almost, what was becoming? + +She read on to the mention of the Dauphine, terrified, in her human +weakness, of so perfect a husband, and trying to beguile or tempt him +from the heights; to the picture of Louis Quatorze, the grandfather, +shamed in his worldly old age by the presence beside him of this saintly +and high-minded youth; of the Court, looking forward with dismay to the +time when it should find itself under the rule of a man who despised and +condemned both its follies and its passions, until she reached that +final rapture, where, in a mingled anguish and adoration, Saint-Simon +bids eternal farewell to a character and a heart of which France was +not worthy. + +The lines passed before her, and she was conscious, guiltily conscious, +of reading them with a double mind. + +Then she closed the book, held by the thought of her husband--in a +somewhat melancholy reverie. + +There is a Catholic word with which in her convent youth she had been +very familiar--the word _recueilli_--"recollected." At no time +had it sounded kindly in her ears; for it implied fetters and +self--suppressions--of the voluntary and spiritual sort--wholly +unwelcome to and unvalued by her own temperament. But who that knew him +well could avoid applying it to Delafield? A man of "recollection" +living in the eye of the Eternal; keeping a guard over himself in the +smallest matters of thought and action; mystically possessed by the +passion of a spiritual ideal; in love with charity, purity, +simplicity of life. + +She bowed her head upon her hands in dreariness of spirit. Ultimately, +what could such a man want with her? What had she to give him? In what +way could she ever be _necessary_ to him? And a woman, even in +friendship, must feel herself that to be happy. + +Already this daily state in which she found herself--of owing everything +and giving nothing--produced in her a secret irritation and repulsion; +how would it be in the years to come? + +"He never saw me as I am," she thought to herself, looking fretfully +back to their past acquaintance. "I am neither as weak as he thinks +me--nor as clever. And how strange it is--this _tension_ in which +he lives!" + +And as she sat there idly plucking at the wet grass, her mind was +overrun with a motley host of memories--some absurd, some sweet, some of +an austerity that chilled her to the core. She thought of the difficulty +she had in persuading Delafield to allow himself even necessary comforts +and conveniences; a laugh, involuntary, and not without tenderness, +crossed her face as she recalled a tale he had told her at Camaldoli, of +the contempt excited in a young footman of a smart house by the +mediocrity and exiguity of his garments and personal appointments +generally. "I felt I possessed nothing that he would have taken as a +gift," said Delafield, with a grin. "It was chastening." + +Yet though he laughed, he held to it; and Julie was already so much of +the wife as to be planning how to coax him presently out of a +portmanteau and a top-hat that were in truth a disgrace to +their species. + +And all the time _she_ must have the best of everything--a maid, +luxurious travelling, dainty food. They had had one or two wrestles on +the subject already. "Why are you to have all the high thinking and +plain living to yourself?" she had asked him, angrily, only to be met by +the plea, "Dear, get strong first--then you shall do what you like." + +But it was at La Verna, the mountain height overshadowed by the memories +of St. Francis, that she seemed to have come nearest to the ascetic and +mystical tendency in Delafield. He went about the mountain-paths a +transformed being, like one long spiritually athirst who has found the +springs and sources of life. Julie felt a secret terror. Her impression +was much the same as Meredith's--as of "something wearing through" to +the light of day. Looking back she saw that this temperament, now so +plain to view, had been always there; but in the young and capable agent +of the Chudleigh property, in the Duchess's cousin, or Lady Henry's +nephew, it had passed for the most part unsuspected. How remarkably it +had developed!--whither would it carry them both in the future? When +thinking about it, she was apt to find herself seized with a sudden +craving for Mayfair, "little dinners," and good talk. + +"What a pity you weren't born a Catholic!--you might have been a +religious," she said to him one night at La Verna, when he had been +reading her some of the _Fioretti_ with occasional comments of his own. + +But he had shaken his head with a smile. + +"You see, I have no creed--or next to none." + +The answer startled her. And in the depths of his blue eyes there seemed +to her to be hovering a swarm of thoughts that would not let themselves +loose in her presence, but were none the less the true companions of his +mind. She saw herself a moment as Elsa, and her husband as a modern +Lohengrin, coming spiritually she knew not whence, bound on some quest +mysterious and unthinkable. + +"What will you do," she said, suddenly, "when the dukedom comes to you?" + +Delafield's aspect darkened in an instant. If he could have shown anger +to her, anger there would have been. + +"That is a subject I never think of or discuss, if I can help it," he +said, abruptly; and, rising to his feet, he pointed out that the sun was +declining fast towards the plain of the Casentino, and they were far +from their hotel. + +"Inhuman!--unreasonable!" was the cry of the critical sense in her as +she followed him in silence. + + * * * * * + +Innumerable memories of this kind beat on Julie's mind as she sat +dreamily on her bench among the Swiss meadows. How natural that in the +end they should sweep her by reaction into imaginations wholly +indifferent--of a drum-and-trumpet history, in the actual +fighting world. + +... Far, far in the African desert she followed the march of Warkworth's +little troop. + +Ah, the blinding light--the African scrub and sand--the long, single +line--the native porters with their loads--the handful of English +officers with that slender figure at their head--the endless, waterless +path with its palms and mangoes and mimosas--the scene rushed upon the +inward eye and held it. She felt the heat, the thirst, the weariness of +bone and brain--all the spell and mystery of the unmapped, +unconquered land. + +Did he think of her sometimes, at night, under the stars, or in the +blaze and mirage of noon? Yes, yes; he thought of her. Each to the other +their thoughts must travel while they lived. + +In Delafield's eyes, she knew, his love for her had been mere outrage +and offence. + +Ah, well, _he_, at least, had needed her. He had desired only very +simple, earthy things--money, position, success--things it was possible +for a woman to give him, or get for him; and at the last, though it were +only as a traitor to his word and his _fiancee_, he had asked for +love--asked commonly, hungrily, recklessly, because he could not help +it--and then for pardon! And those are things the memory of which lies +deep, deep in the pulsing, throbbing heart. + +At this point she hurriedly checked and scourged herself, as she did a +hundred times a day. + +No, no, _no_! It was all over, and she and Jacob would still make a fine +thing of their life together. Why not? + +And all the time there were burning hot tears in her eyes; and as the +leaves of Saint-Simon passed idly through her fingers, the tears blotted +out the meadows and the flowers, and blurred the figure of a young girl +who was slowly mounting the long slope of road that led from the village +of Brent towards the seat on which Julie was sitting. + + * * * * * + +Gradually the figure approached. The mist cleared from Julie's eyes. +Suddenly she found herself giving a close and passionate attention to +the girl upon the road. + +Her form was slight and small; under her shady hat there was a gleam of +fair hair arranged in smooth, shining masses about her neck and temples. +As she approached Julie she raised her eyes absently, and Julie saw a +face of singular and delicate beauty, marred, however, by the suggestion +of physical fragility, even sickliness, which is carried with it. One +might have thought it a face blanched by a tropical climate, and for the +moment touched into faint color by the keen Alpine air. The eyes, +indeed, were full of life; they were no sooner seen but they defined and +enforced a personality. Eager, intent, a little fretful, they expressed +a nervous energy out of all proportion to their owner's slender +physique. In this, other bodily signs concurred. As she perceived Julie +on the bench, for instance, the girl's slight, habitual frown sharply +deepened; she looked at the stranger with keen observation, both glance +and gesture betraying a quick and restless sensibility. + +As for Julie, she half rose as the girl neared her. Her cheeks were +flushed, her lips parted; she had the air of one about to speak. The +girl looked at her in a little surprise and passed on. + +She carried a book under her arm, into which were thrust a few +just-opened letters. She had scarcely passed the bench when an envelope +fell out of the book and lay unnoticed on the road. + +Julie drew a long breath. She picked up the envelope. It lay in her +hand, and the name she had expected to see was written upon it. + +For a moment she hesitated. Then she ran after the owner of the letter. + +"You dropped this on the road." + +The girl turned hastily. + +"Thank you very much. I am sorry to have given you the trouble--" + +Then she paused, arrested evidently by the manner in which Julie stood +regarding her. + +"Did--did you wish to speak to me?" she said, uncertainly. + +"You are Miss Moffatt?" + +"Yes. That is my name. But, excuse me. I am afraid I don't remember +you." The words were spoken with a charming sweetness and timidity. + +"I am Mrs. Delafield." + +The girl started violently. + +"Are you? I--I beg your pardon!" + +She stood in a flushed bewilderment, staring at the lady who had +addressed her, a troubled consciousness possessing itself of her face +and manner more and more plainly with every moment. + +Julie asked herself, hurriedly: "How much does she know? What has she +heard?" But aloud she gently said: "I thought you must have heard of me. +Lord Uredale told me he had written--his father wished it--to Lady +Blanche. Your mother and mine were sisters." + +The girl shyly withdrew her eyes. + +"Yes, mother told me." + +There was a moment's silence. The mingled fear and recklessness which +had accompanied Julie's action disappeared from her mind. In the girl's +manner there was neither jealousy nor hatred, only a young shrinking +and reserve. + +"May I walk with you a little?" + +"Please do. Are you staying at Montreux?" + +"No; we are at Charnex--and you?" + +"We came up two days ago to a little _pension_ at Brent. I wanted to be +among the fields, now the narcissuses are out. If it were warm weather +we should stay, but mother is afraid of the cold for me. I have +been ill." + +"I heard that," said Julie, in a voice gravely kind and winning. "That +was why your mother could not come home." + +The girl's eyes suddenly filled with tears. + +"No; poor mother! I wanted her to go--we had a good nurse--but she would +not leave me, though she was devoted to my grandfather. She--" + +"She is always anxious about you?" + +"Yes. My health has been a trouble lately, and since father died--" + +"She has only you." + +They walked on a few paces in silence. Then the girl looked up eagerly. + +"You saw grandfather at the last? Do tell me about it, please. My uncles +write so little." + +Julie obeyed with difficulty. She had not realized how hard it would be +for her to talk of Lord Lackington. But she described the old man's +gallant dying as best she could; while Aileen Moffatt listened with that +manner at once timid and rich in feeling which seemed to be her +characteristic. + +As they neared the top of the hill where the road begins to incline +towards Charnex, Julie noticed signs of fatigue in her companion. + +"You have been an invalid," she said. "You ought not to go farther. May +I take you home? Would your mother dislike to see me?" + +The girl paused perceptibly. "Ah, there she is!" + +They had turned towards Brent, and Julie saw coming towards them, with +somewhat rapid steps, a small, elderly lady, gray-haired, her features +partly hidden by her country hat. + +A thrill passed through Julie. This was the sister whose name her mother +had mentioned in her last hour. It was as though something of her +mother, something that must throw light upon that mother's life and +being, were approaching her along this Swiss road. + +But the lady in question, as she neared them, looked with surprise, not +unmingled with hauteur, upon her daughter and the stranger beside her. + +"Aileen, why did you go so far? You promised me only to be a quarter of +an hour." + +"I am not tired, mother. Mother, this is Mrs. Delafield. You remember, +Uncle Uredale wrote--" + +Lady Blanche Moffatt stood still. Once more a fear swept through Julie's +mind, and this time it stayed. After an evident hesitation, a hand was +coldly extended. + +"How do you do? I heard from my brothers of your marriage, but they said +you were in Italy." + +"We have just come from there." + +"And your husband?" + +"He has gone down to Montreux, but he should be home very soon now. We +are only a few steps from our little inn. Would you not rest there? Miss +Moffatt looks very tired." + +There was a pause. Lady Blanche was considering her daughter. Julie saw +the trembling of her wide, irregular mouth, of which the lips were +slightly turned outward. Finally she drew her daughter's hand into her +arm, and bent anxiously towards her, scrutinizing her face. + +"Thank you. We will rest a quarter of an hour. Can we get a carriage at +Charnex?" + +"Yes, I think so, if you will wait a little on our balcony." + +They walked on towards Charnex. Lady Blanche began to talk resolutely of +the weather, which was, indeed, atrocious. She spoke as she would have +done to the merest acquaintance. There was not a word of her father; not +a word, either, of her brother's letter, or of Julie's relationship to +herself. Julie accepted the situation with perfect composure, and the +three kept up some sort of a conversation till they reached the paved +street of Charnex and the old inn at its lower end. + +Julie guided her companions through its dark passages, till they reached +an outer terrace where there were a few scattered seats, and among them +a deck-chair with cushions. + +"Please," said Julie, as she kindly drew the girl towards it. Aileen +smiled and yielded. Julie placed her among the cushions, then brought +out a shawl, and covered her warmly from the sharp, damp air. Aileen +thanked her, and lightly touched her hand. A secret sympathy seemed to +have suddenly sprung up between them. + +Lady Blanche sat stiffly beside her daughter, watching her face. The +warm touch of friendliness in Aileen's manner towards Mrs. Delafield +seemed only to increase the distance and embarrassment of her own. Julie +appeared to be quite unconscious. She ordered tea, and made no further +allusion of any kind to the kindred they had in common. She and Lady +Blanche talked as strangers. + +Julie said to herself that she understood. She remembered the evening at +Crowborough House, the spinster lady who had been the Moffatts' friend, +her own talk with Evelyn. In that way, or in some other, the current +gossip about herself and Warkworth, gossip they had been too mad and +miserable to take much account of, had reached Lady Blanche. Lady +Blanche probably abhorred her; though, because of her marriage, there +was to be an outer civility. Meanwhile no sign whatever of any angry or +resentful knowledge betrayed itself in the girl's manner. Clearly the +mother had shielded her. + +Julie felt the flutter of an exquisite relief. She stole many a look at +Aileen, comparing the reality with that old, ugly notion her jealousy +had found so welcome--of the silly or insolent little creature, +possessing all that her betters desired, by the mere brute force of +money or birth. And all the time the reality was _this_--so soft, +suppliant, ethereal! Here, indeed, was the child of Warkworth's +picture--the innocent, unknowing child, whom their passion had +sacrificed and betrayed. She could see the face now, as it lay piteous, +in Warkworth's hand. Then she raised her eyes to the original. And as it +looked at her with timidity and nascent love her own heart beat wildly, +now in remorse, now in a reviving jealousy. + +Secretly, behind this mask of convention, were they both thinking of +him? A girl's thoughts are never far from her lover; and Julie was +conscious, this afternoon, of a strange and mysterious preoccupation, +whereof Warkworth was the centre. + + * * * * * + +Gradually the great mountains at the head of the lake freed themselves +from the last wandering cloud-wreaths. On the rock faces of the Rochers +de Naye the hanging pine-woods, brushed with snow, came into sight. The +white walls of Glion shone faintly out, and a pearly gold, which was but +a pallid reflection of the Italian glory, diffused itself over mountain +and lake. The sun was grudging; there was no caress in the air. Aileen +shivered a little in her shawls, and when Julie spoke of Italy the +girl's enthusiasm and longing sprang, as it were, to meet her, and both +were conscious of another slight link between them. + +Suddenly a sound of steps came to them from below. + +"My husband," said Julie, rising, and, going to the balustrade, she +waved to Delafield, who had come up from Montreux by one of the steep +vineyard paths. "I will tell him you are here," she added, with what +might have been taken for the shyness of the young wife. + +She ran down the steps leading from the terrace to the lower garden. +Aileen looked at her mother. + +"Isn't she wonderful?" she said, in an ardent whisper. "I could watch +her forever. She is the most graceful person I ever saw. Mother, is she +like Aunt Rose?" + +Lady Blanche shook her head. + +"Not in the least," she said, shortly. "She has too much manner for me." + +"Oh, mother!" And the girl caught her mother's hand in caressing +remonstrance, as though to say: "Dear little mother, you must like her, +because I do; and you mustn't think of Aunt Rose, and all those +terrible things, except for pity." + +"Hush!" said Lady Blanche, smiling at her a little excitedly. "Hush; +they're coming!" + +Delafield and Julie emerged from the iron staircase. Lady Blanche turned +and looked at the tall, distinguished pair, her ugly lower lip hardening +ungraciously. But she and Delafield had a slight previous acquaintance, +and she noticed instantly the charming and solicitous kindness with +which he greeted her daughter. + +"Julie tells me Miss Moffatt is still far from strong," he said, +returning to the mother. + +Lady Blanche only sighed for answer. He drew a chair beside her, and +they fell into the natural talk of people who belong to the same social +world, and are travelling in the same scenes. + +Meanwhile Julie was sitting beside the heiress. Not much was said, but +each was conscious of a lively interest in the other, and every now and +then Julie would put out a careful hand and draw the shawls closer about +the girl's frail form. The strain of guilty compunction that entered +into Julie's feeling did but make it the more sensitive. She said to +herself in a vague haste that now she would make amends. If only Lady +Blanche were willing-- + +But she should be willing! Julie felt the stirrings of the old +self-confidence, the old trust in a social ingenuity which had, in +truth, rarely failed her. Her intriguing, managing instinct made itself +felt--the mood of Lady Henry's companion. + + * * * * * + +Presently, as they were talking, Aileen caught sight of an English +newspaper which Delafield had brought up from Montreux. It lay still +unopened on one of the tables of the terrace. + +"Please give it me," said the girl, stretching out an eager hand. "It +will have Tiny's marriage, mamma! A cousin of mine," she explained to +Julie, who rose to hand it to her. "A very favorite cousin. Oh, +thank you." + +She opened the paper. Julie turned away, that she might relieve Lady +Blanche of her teacup. + +Suddenly a cry rang out--a cry of mortal anguish. Two ladies who had +just stepped out upon the terrace from the hotel drawing-room turned in +terror; the gardener who was watering the flower-boxes at the farther +end stood arrested. + +"Aileen!" shrieked Lady Blanche, running to her. "What--what is it?" + +The paper had dropped to the floor, but the child still pointed to it, +gasping. + +"Mother--mother!" + +Some intuition woke in Julie. She stood dead-white and dumb, while Lady +Blanche threw herself on her daughter. + +"Aileen, darling, what is it?" + +The girl, in her agony, threw her arms frantically round her mother, and +dragged herself to her feet. She stood tottering, her hand over +her eyes. + +"He's dead, mother! He's--dead!" + +The last word sank into a sound more horrible even than the first cry. +Then she swayed out of her mother's arms. It was Julie who caught her, +who laid her once more on the deck-chair--a broken, shrunken form, in +whom all the threads and connections of life had suddenly, as it were, +fallen to ruin. Lady Blanche hung over her, pushing Julie away, +gathering the unconscious girl madly in her arms. Delafield rushed for +water-and-brandy. Julie snatched the paper and looked at the telegrams. + +High up in the first column was the one she sought. + + "CAIRO, _June_ 12.--Great regret is felt here at the sudden + and tragic news of Major Warkworth's death from fever, which + seems to have occurred at a spot some three weeks' distance + from the coast, on or about May 25. Letters from the officer + who has succeeded him in the command of the Mokembe + expedition have now reached Denga. A fortnight after leaving + the coast Major Warkworth was attacked with fever; he made a + brave struggle against it, but it was of a deadly type, and + in less than a week he succumbed. The messenger brought also + his private papers and diaries, which have been forwarded to + his representatives in England. Major Warkworth was a most + promising and able officer, and his loss will be keenly + felt." + +Julie fell on her knees beside her swooning cousin. Lady Blanche, +meanwhile, was loosening her daughter's dress, chafing her icy hands, or +moaning over her in a delirium of terror. + +"My darling--my darling! Oh, my God! Why did I allow it? Why did I ever +let him come near her? It was my fault--my fault! And it's killed her!" + +And clinging to her child's irresponsive hands, she looked down upon her +in a convulsion of grief, which included not a shadow of regret, not a +gleam of pity for anything or any one else in the world but this bone of +her bone and flesh of her flesh, which lay stricken there. + +But Julie's mind had ceased to be conscious of the tragedy beside her. +It had passed for the second time into the grasp of an illusion which +possessed itself of the whole being and all its perceptive powers. +Before her wide, terror-stricken gaze there rose once more the same +piteous vision which had tortured her in the crisis of her love for +Warkworth. Against the eternal snows which close in the lake the phantom +hovered in a ghastly relief--emaciated, with matted hair, and purpled +cheeks, and eyes--not to be borne!--expressing the dumb anger of a man, +still young, who parts unwillingly from life in a last lonely spasm of +uncomforted pain. + + + +XXIII + +It was midnight in the little inn at Charnex. The rain which for so many +nights in this miserable June had been beating down upon the village had +at last passed away. The night was clear and still--a night when the +voice of mountain torrents, far distant, might reach the ear +suddenly--sharply pure--from the very depths of silence. + +Julie was in bed. She had been scarcely aware of her maid's help in +undressing. The ordinary life was, as it were, suspended. Two scenes +floated alternately before her--one the creation of memory, the other of +imagination; and the second was, if possible, the more vivid, the more +real of the two. Now she saw herself in Lady Henry's drawing-room; Sir +Wilfrid Bury and a white-haired general were beside her. The door opened +and Warkworth entered--young, handsome, soldierly, with that boyish, +conquering air which some admired and others disliked. His eyes met +hers, and a glow of happiness passed through her. + +Then, at a stroke, the London drawing-room melted away. She was in a low +bell-tent. The sun burned through its sides; the air was stifling. She +stood with two other men and the doctor beside the low camp-bed; her +heart was wrung by every movement, every sound; she heard the clicking +of the fan in the doctor's hands, she saw the flies on the poor, +damp brow. + +And still she had no tears. Only, existence seemed to have ended in a +gulf of horror, where youth and courage, repentance and high resolve, +love and pleasure were all buried and annihilated together. + +That poor girl up-stairs! It had not been possible to take her home. She +was there with nurse and doctor, her mother hanging upon every difficult +breath. The attack of diphtheria had left a weakened heart and nervous +system; the shock had been cruel, and the doctor could promise nothing +for the future. + +"Mother--mother!... _Dead!_" + +The cry echoed in Julie's ears. It seemed to fill the old, low-ceiled +room in which she lay. Her fancy, preternaturally alive, heard it thrown +back from the mountains outside--returned to her in wailing from the +infinite depths of the lake. She was conscious of the vast forms and +abysses of nature, there in the darkness, beyond the walls of her room, +as something hostile, implacable.... + +And while he lay there dead, under the tropical sand, she was still +living and breathing here, in this old Swiss inn--Jacob Delafield's +wife, at least in name. + +There was a knock at her door. At first she did not answer it. It seemed +to be only one of the many dream sounds which tormented her nerves. Then +it was repeated. Mechanically she said "Come in." + +The door opened, and Delafield, carrying a light, which he shaded with +his hand, stood on the threshold. + +"May I come and talk to you?" he said, in a low voice. "I know you are +not sleeping." + +It was the first time he had entered his wife's room. Through all her +misery, Julie felt a strange thrill as her husband's face was thus +revealed to her, brightly illumined, in the loneliness of the night. +Then the thrill passed into pain--the pain of a new and sharp +perception. + +Delafield, in truth, was some two or three years younger than Warkworth. +But the sudden impression on Julie's mind, as she saw him thus, was of a +man worn and prematurely aged--markedly older and graver, even, since +their marriage, since that memorable evening by the side of Como when, +by that moral power of which he seemed often to be the mere channel and +organ, he had overcome her own will and linked her life with his. + +She looked at him in a kind of terror. Why was he so pale--an embodied +grief? Warkworth's death was not a mortal stroke for _him_. + +He came closer, and still Julie's eyes held him. Was it her fault, +this--this shadowed countenance, these suggestions of a dumb strain and +conflict, which not even his strong youth could bear without betrayal? +Her heart cried out, first in a tragic impatience; then it melted within +her strangely, she knew not how. + +She sat up in bed and held out her hands. He thought of that evening in +Heribert Street, after Warkworth had left her, when she had been so sad +and yet so docile. The same yearning, the same piteous agitation was in +her attitude now. + +He knelt down beside the bed and put his arms round her. She clasped her +hands about his neck and hid her face on his shoulder. There ran through +her the first long shudder of weeping. + +"He was so young!" he heard her say through sobs. "So young!" + +He raised his hand and touched her hair tenderly. + +"He died serving his country," he said, commanding his voice with +difficulty. "And you grieve for him like this! I can't pity him +so much." + +"You thought ill of him--I know you did." She spoke between deep, +sobbing breaths. "But he wasn't--he wasn't a bad man." + +She fell back on her pillow and the tears rained down her cheeks. + +Delafield kissed her hand in silence. + +"Some day--I'll tell you," she said, brokenly. + +"Yes, you shall tell me. It would help us both." + +"I'll prove to you he wasn't vile. When--when he proposed that to me he +was distracted. So was I. How could he break off his engagement? Now you +see how she loved him. But we couldn't part--we couldn't say good-bye. +It had all come on us unawares. We wanted to belong to each other--just +for two days--and then part forever. Oh, I'll tell you--" + +"You shall tell me all--here!" he said, firmly, crushing her delicate +hands in his own against his breast, so that she felt the beating of +his heart. + +"Give me my hand. I'll show you his letter--his last letter to me." And, +trembling, she drew from under her pillow that last scrawled letter, +written from the squalid hotel near the Gare de Sceaux. + +No sooner, however, had she placed it in Delafield's hands than she was +conscious of new forces of feeling in herself which robbed the act of +its simplicity. She had meant to plead her lover's cause and her own +with the friend who was nominally her husband. Her action had been a +cry for sympathy, as from one soul to another. + +But as Delafield took the letter and began to read, her pulses began to +flutter strangely. She recalled the phrases of passion which the letter +contained. She became conscious of new fears, new compunctions. + +For Delafield, too, the moment was one of almost intolerable complexity. +This tender intimacy of night--the natural intimacy of husband and wife; +this sense, which would not be denied, however sternly he might hold it +in check, of her dear form beside him; the little refinements and +self-revelations of a woman's room; his half-rights towards her, +appealing at once to love, and to the memory of that solemn pledge by +which he had won her--what man who deserved the name but must be +conscious, tempestuously conscious, of such thoughts and facts? + +And then, wrestling with these smarts, these impulses, belonging to the +natural, physical life, the powers of the moral being--compassion, +self-mastery, generosity; while strengthening and directing all, the man +of faith was poignantly aware of the austere and tender voices +of religion. + +Amid this play of influences he read the letter, still kneeling beside +her and holding her fingers clasped in his. She had closed her eyes and +lay still, save for the occasional tremulous movement of her free hand, +which dried the tears on her cheek. + +"Thank you," he said, at last, with a voice that wavered, as he put the +letter down. "Thank you. It was good of you to let me see it. It changes +all my thoughts of him henceforward. If he had lived--" + +"But he's dead! He's dead!" cried Julie, in a sudden agony, wrenching +her hand from his and burying her face in the pillow. "Just when he +wanted to live. Oh, my God--my God! No, there's no God--nothing that +cares--that takes any notice!" + +She was shaken by deep, convulsive weeping. Delafield soothed her as +best he could. And presently she stretched out her hand with a quick, +piteous gesture, and touched his face. + +"You, too! What have I done to you? How you looked, just now! I bring a +curse. Why did you want to marry me? I can't tear this out of my +heart--I can't!" + +And again she hid herself from him. Delafield bent over her. + +"Do you imagine that I should be poor-souled enough to ask you?" + +Suddenly a wild feeling of revolt ran through Julie's mind. The +loftiness of his mood chilled her. An attitude more weakly, passionately +human, a more selfish pity for himself would, in truth, have served him +better. Had the pain of the living man escaped his control, avenging +itself on the supremacy that death had now given to the lover, Delafield +might have found another Julie in his arms. As it was, her husband +seemed to her perhaps less than man, in being more; she admired +unwillingly, and her stormy heart withdrew itself. + +And when at last she controlled her weeping, and it became evident to +him that she wished once more to be alone, his sensitiveness perfectly +divined the secret reaction in her. He rose from his place beside her +with a deep, involuntary sigh. She heard it, but only to shrink away. + +"You will sleep a little?" he said, looking down upon her. + +"I will try, _mon ami_." + +"If you don't sleep, and would like me to read to you, call me. I am in +the next room." + +She thanked him faintly, and he went away. At the door he paused and +came back again. + +"To-night"--he hesitated--"while the doctors were here, I ran down to +Montreux by the short path and telegraphed. The consul at Zanzibar is an +old friend of mine. I asked him for more particulars at once, by wire. +But the letters can't be here for a fortnight." + +"I know. You're very, very good." + + * * * * * + +Hour after hour Delafield sat motionless in his room, till "high in the +Valais depths profound" he "saw the morning break." + +There was a little balcony at his command, and as he noiselessly stepped +out upon it, between three and four o'clock, he felt himself the +solitary comrade of the mist-veiled lake, of those high, rosy mountains +on the eastern verge, the first throne and harbor of the light--of the +lower forest-covered hills that "took the morning," one by one, in a +glorious and golden succession. All was fresh, austere, and vast--the +spaces of the lake, the distant hollows of high glaciers filled with +purple shadow, the precipices of the Rochers de Naye, where the new snow +was sparkling in the sun, the cool wind that blew towards him from the +gates of Italy, down the winding recesses of that superb valley which +has been a thoroughfare of nations from the beginning of time. + +Not a boat on the wide reaches of the lake; not a voice or other sound +of human toil, either from the vineyards below or the meadows above. +Meanwhile some instinct, perhaps also some faint movements in her room, +told him that Julie was no less wakeful than himself. And was not that a +low voice in the room above him--the trained voice and footsteps of a +nurse? Ah, poor little heiress, she, too, watched with sorrow! + +A curious feeling of shame, of self-depreciation crept into his heart. +Surely he himself of late had been lying down with fear and rising up +with bitterness? Never a day had passed since they had reached +Switzerland but he, a man of strong natural passions, had bade himself +face the probable truth that, by a kind of violence, he had married a +woman who would never love him--had taken irrevocably a false step, only +too likely to be fatal to himself, intolerable to her. + +Nevertheless, steeped as he had been in sadness, in foreboding, and, +during this by-gone night, in passionate envy of the dead yet beloved +Warkworth, he had never been altogether unhappy. That mysterious +_It_--that other divine self of the mystic--God--the enwrapping, +sheltering force--had been with him always. It was with him now--it +spoke from the mysterious color and light of the dawn. + +How, then, could he ever equal Julie in _experience_, in the true and +poignant feeling of any grief whatever? His mind was in a strange, +double state. It was like one who feels himself unfairly protected by a +magic armor; he would almost throw it aside in a remorseful eagerness +to be with his brethren, and as his brethren, in the sore weakness and +darkness of the human combat; and then he thinks of the hand that gave +the shield, and his heart melts in awe. + +"_Friend of my soul and of the world, make me thy tool--thy instrument! +Thou art Love! Speak through me! Draw her heart to mine_." + +At last, knowing that there was no sleep in him, and realizing that he +had brooded enough, he made his way out of the hotel and up through the +fresh and dew-drenched meadows, where the haymakers were just appearing, +to the Les Avants stream. A plunge into one of its cool basins +retempered the whole man. He walked back through the scented +field-paths, resolutely restraining his mind from the thoughts of the +night, hammering out, indeed, in his head a scheme for the establishment +of small holdings on certain derelict land in Wiltshire belonging to +his cousin. + +As he was descending on Charnex, he met the postman and took his +letters. One among them, from the Duke of Chudleigh, contained a most +lamentable account of Lord Elmira. The father and son had returned to +England, and an angry, inclement May had brought a touch of pneumonia to +add to all the lad's other woes. In itself it was not much--was, indeed, +passing away. "But it has used up most of his strength," said the Duke, +"and you know whether he had any to waste. Don't forget him. He +constantly thinks and talks of you." + +Delafield restlessly wondered when he could get home. But he realized +that Julie would now feel herself tragically linked to the Moffatts, and +how could he leave her? He piteously told himself that here, and now, +was his chance with her. As he bore himself now towards her, in this +hour of her grief for Warkworth, so, perhaps, would their future be. + +Yet the claims of kindred were strong. He suffered much inward distress +as he thought of the father and son, and their old touching dependence +upon him. Chudleigh, as Jacob knew well, was himself incurably ill. +Could he long survive his poor boy? + +And so that other thought, which Jacob spent so much ingenuity in +avoiding, rushed upon him unawares. The near, inevitable expectation of +the famous dukedom, which, in the case of almost any other man in +England, must at least have quickened the blood with a natural +excitement, produced in Delafield's mind a mere dull sense of +approaching torment. Perhaps there was something non-sane in his +repulsion, something that linked itself with his father's "queerness," +or the bigotry and fanaticism of his grandmother, the Evangelical +Duchess, with her "swarm of parsons," as Sir Wilfrid remembered her. The +oddity, which had been violent or brutal in earlier generations, showed +itself in him, one might have said, in a radical transposition of +values, a singularity of criterion, which the ordinary robust Englishman +might very well dismiss with impatience as folly or cant. + +Yet it was neither; and the feeling had, in truth, its own logic and +history. He had lived from his youth up among the pageants of rank and +possession. They had no glamour for him; he realized their burdens, +their ineffectiveness for all the more precious kinds of happiness--how +could he not, with these two forlorn figures of Chudleigh and his boy +always before him? As for imagination and poetry, Delafield, with a +mind that was either positive or mystical--the mind, one might say, of +the land-agent or the saint--failed to see where they came in. Family +tradition, no doubt, carries a thrill. But what thrill is there in the +mere possession of a vast number of acres of land, of more houses, new +and old, than any human being can possibly live in, of more money than +any reasonable man can ever spend, and more responsibilities than he can +ever meet? Such things often seemed to Delafield pure calamity--mere +burdens upon life and breath. That he could and must be forced, some +time, by law and custom, to take them up, was nothing but a social +barbarity. + +Mingled with all which, of course, was his passionate sense of spiritual +democracy. To be throned apart, like a divine being, surrounded by the +bought homage of one's fellows, and possessed of more power than a man +can decently use, was a condition which excited in Delafield the same +kind of contemptuous revolt that it would have excited in St. Francis. +"Be not ye called master"--a Christian even of his transcendental and +heterodox sort, if he _were_ a Christian, must surely hold these words +in awe, at least so far as concerned any mastery of the external or +secular kind. To masteries of another order the saint has never been +disinclined. + +As he once more struck the village street, this familiar whirl of +thoughts was buzzing in Delafield's mind, pierced, however, by one +sharper and newer. Julie! Did he know--had he ever dared to find +out--how she regarded this future which was overtaking them? She had +tried to sound _him_; she had never revealed herself. + +In Lady Henry's house he had often noticed in Julie that she had an +imaginative tenderness for rank or great fortune. At first it had seemed +to him a woman's natural romanticism; then he explained it to himself as +closely connected with her efforts to serve Warkworth. + +But suppose he were made to feel that there, after all, lay her +compensation? She had submitted to a loveless marriage and lost her +lover; but the dukedom was to make amends. He knew well that it would be +so with nine women out of ten. But the bare thought that it might be so +with Julie maddened him. He then was to be for her, in the future, the +mere symbol of the vulgarer pleasures and opportunities, while Warkworth +held her heart? + +Nay! + +He stood still, strengthening in himself the glad and sufficient answer. +She had refused him twice--knowing all his circumstances. At this moment +he adored her doubly for those old rebuffs. + + * * * * * + +Within twenty-four hours Delafield had received a telegram from his +friend at Zanzibar. For the most part it recapitulated the news already +sent to Cairo, and thence transmitted to the English papers. But it +added the information that Warkworth had been buried in the neighborhood +of a certain village on the caravan route to Mokembe, and that special +pains had been taken to mark the spot. And the message concluded: "Fine +fellow. Hard luck. Everybody awfully sorry here." + +These words brought Delafield a sudden look of passionate gratitude from +Julie's dark and sunken eyes. She rested her face against his sleeve and +pressed his hand. + +Lady Blanche also wept over the telegram, exclaiming that she had +always believed in Henry Warkworth, and now, perhaps, those busybodies +who at Simla had been pleased to concern themselves with her affairs and +Aileen's would see cause to be ashamed of themselves. + +To Delafield's discomfort, indeed, she poured out upon him a stream of +confidences he would have gladly avoided. He had brought the telegram to +her sitting-room. In the room adjoining it was Aileen, still, according +to her mother's account, very ill, and almost speechless. Under the +shadow of such a tragedy it seemed to him amazing that a mother could +find words in which to tell her daughter's story to a comparative +stranger. Lady Blanche appeared to him an ill-balanced and foolish +woman; a prey, on the one hand, to various obscure jealousies and +antagonisms, and on the other to a romantic and sentimental temper +which, once roused, gloried in despising "the world," by which she +generally meant a very ordinary degree of prudence. + +She was in chronic disagreement, it seemed, with her daughter's +guardians, and had been so from the first moment of her widowhood, the +truth being that she was jealous of their legal powers over Aileen's +fortune and destiny, and determined, notwithstanding, to have her own +way with her own child. The wilfulness and caprice of the father, which +had taken such strange and desperate forms in Rose Delaney, appeared +shorn of all its attraction and romance in the smaller, more +conventional, and meaner egotisms of Lady Blanche. + +And yet, in her own way, she was full of heart. She lost her head over a +love affair. She could deny Aileen nothing. That was what her casual +Indian acquaintances meant by calling her "sweet." When Warkworth's +attentions, pushed with an ardor which would have driven any prudent +mother to an instant departure from India, had made a timid and charming +child of eighteen the talk of Simla, Lady Blanche, excited and +dishevelled--was it her personal untidiness which accounted for the +other epithet of "quaint," which had floated to the Duchess's ear, and +been by her reported to Julie?--refused to break her daughter's heart. +Warkworth, indeed, had begun long before by flattering the mother's +vanity and sense of possession, and she now threw herself hotly into his +cause as against Aileen's odious trustees. + +They, of course, always believed the worst of everybody. As for her, all +she wanted for the child was a good husband. Was it not better, in a +world of fortune-hunters, that Aileen, with her half-million, should +marry early? Of money, she had, one would think, enough. It was only the +greed of certain persons which could possibly desire more. Birth? The +young man was honorably born, good-looking, well mannered. What did you +want more? _She_ accepted a democratic age; and the obstacles thrown by +Aileen's guardians in the way of an immediate engagement between the +young people appeared to her, so she declared, either vulgar or +ridiculous. + +Well, poor lady, she had suffered for her whims. First of all, her +levity had perceived, with surprise and terror, the hold that passion +was taking on the delicate and sensitive nature of Aileen. This young +girl, so innocent and spotless in thought, so virginally sweet in +manner, so guileless in action, developed a power of loving, an +absorption of the whole being in the beloved, such as our modern world +but rarely sees. + +She lived, she breathed for Warkworth. Her health, always frail, +suffered from their separation. She became a thin and frail vision--a +"gossamer girl" indeed. The ordinary life of travel and society lost all +hold upon her; she passed through it in a mood of weariness and distaste +that was in itself a danger to vital force. The mother became +desperately alarmed, and made a number of flurried concessions. Letters, +at any rate, should be allowed, in spite of the guardians, and without +their knowledge. Yet each letter caused emotions which ran like a +storm-wind through the child's fragile being, and seemed to exhaust the +young life at its source. Then came the diphtheria, acting with +poisonous effect on a nervous system already overstrained. + +And in the midst of the mother's anxieties there burst upon her the +sudden, incredible tale that Warkworth--to whom she herself was writing +regularly, and to whom Aileen, from her bed, was sending little +pencilled notes, sweetly meant to comfort a sighing lover--had been +entangling himself in London with another, a Miss Le Breton, positively +a nobody, as far as birth and position were concerned, the paid +companion of Lady Henry Delafield, and yet, as it appeared, a handsome, +intriguing, unscrupulous hussy, just the kind of hawk to snatch a morsel +from a dove's mouth--a woman, in fact, with whom a little +bread-and-butter girl like Aileen might very well have no chance. + +Emily Lawrence's letter, in the tone of the candid friend, written after +her evening at Crowborough House, had roused a mingled anguish and fury +in the mother's breast. She lifted her eyes from it to look at Aileen, +propped up in bed, her head thrown back against the pillow, and her +little hands closed happily over Warkworth's letters; and she went +straight from that vision to write to the traitor. + +The traitor defended and excused himself by return of post. He implored +her to pay no attention to the calumnious distortion of a friendship +which had already served Aileen's interests no less than his own. It was +largely to Miss Le Breton's influence that he owed the appointment which +was to advance him so materially in his career. At the same time he +thought it would be wise if Lady Blanche kept not only the silly gossip +that was going about, but even this true and innocent fact, from +Aileen's knowledge. One never knew how a girl would take such things, +and he would rather explain it himself at his own time. + +Lady Blanche had to be content. And meanwhile the glory of the Mokembe +appointment was a strong factor in Aileen's recovery. She exulted over +it by day and night, and she wrote the letters of an angel. + +The mother watched her writing them with mixed feelings. As to +Warkworth's replies, which she was sometimes allowed to see, Lady +Blanche, who had been a susceptible girl, and the heroine of several +"affairs," was secretly and strongly of opinion that men's love-letters, +at any rate, were poor things nowadays, compared with what they +had been. + +But Aileen was more than satisfied with them. How busy he must be, and +with such important business! Poor, harassed darling, how good of him to +write her a word--to give her a thought! + + * * * * * + +And now Lady Blanche beheld her child crushed and broken, a nervous +wreck, before her life had truly begun. The agonies which the mother +endured were very real, and should have been touching. But she was not a +touching person. All her personal traits--her red-rimmed eyes, her +straggling hair, the slight, disagreeable twist in her nose and +mouth--combined, with her signal lack of dignity and reticence, to stir +the impatience rather than the sympathy of the by-stander. + +"And mamma was so fond of her," Julie would say to herself sometimes, in +wonder, proudly contrasting the wild grace and originality of her +disgraced mother with the awkward, slipshod ways of the sister who had +remained a great lady. + +Meanwhile, Lady Blanche was, indeed, perpetually conscious of her +strange niece, perpetually thinking of the story her brothers had told +her, perpetually trying to recall the sister she had lost so young, and +then turning from all such things to brood angrily over the Lawrence +letter, and the various other rumors which had reached her of +Warkworth's relations to Miss Le Breton. + +What was in the woman's mind now? She looked pale and tragic enough. But +what right had she to grieve--or, if she did grieve, to be pitied? + +Jacob Delafield had been fool enough to marry her, and fate would make +her a duchess. So true it is that they who have no business to flourish +do flourish, like green bay-trees. + +As to poor Rose--sometimes there would rise on Lady Blanche's mind the +sudden picture of herself and the lost, dark-eyed sister, scampering on +their ponies through the country lanes of their childhood; of her +lessons with Rose, her worship of Rose; and then of that black curtain +of mystery and reprobation which for the younger child of sixteen had +suddenly descended upon Rose and all that concerned her. + +But Rose's daughter! All one could say was that she had turned out as +the child of such proceedings might be expected to turn out--a minx. The +aunt's conviction as to that stood firm. And while Rose's face and fate +had sunk into the shadows of the past, even for her sister, Aileen was +_here_, struggling for her delicate, threatened life, her hand always in +the hand of this woman who had tried to steal her lover from her, her +soft, hopeless eyes, so tragically unconscious, bent upon the bold +intriguer. + +What possessed the child? Warkworth's letters, Julie's company--those +seemed to be all she desired. + +And at last, in the June beauty and brilliance, when a triumphant summer +had banished the pitiful spring, when the meadows were all perfume and +color, and the clear mountains, in a clear sky, upheld the ever-new and +never-ending pomp of dawn and noon and night, the little, wasted +creature looked up into Julie's face, and, without tears, gasped out +her story. + +"These are his letters. Some day I'll--I'll read you some of them; and +this--is his picture. I know you saw him at Lady Henry's. He mentioned +your name. Will you please tell me everything--all the times you saw +him, and what he talked of? You see I am much stronger. I can bear +it all now." + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, for Delafield, this fortnight of waiting--waiting for the +African letters, waiting for the revival of life in Aileen--was a period +of extraordinary tension, when all the powers of nerve and brain seemed +to be tested and tried to the utmost. He himself was absorbed in +watching Julie and in dealing with her. + +In the first place, as he saw, she could give no free course to grief. +The tragic yearning, the agonized tenderness and pity which consumed +her, must be crushed out of sight as far as possible. They would have +been an offence to Lady Blanche, a bewilderment to Aileen. And it was on +her relation to her new-found cousin that, as Delafield perceived, her +moral life for the moment turned. This frail girl was on the brink of +perishing because death had taken Warkworth from her. And Julie knew +well that Warkworth had neither loved her nor deserved her--that he had +gone to Africa and to death with another image in his heart. + +There was a perpetual and irreparable cruelty in the situation. And from +the remorse of it Julie could not escape. Day by day she was more +profoundly touched by the clinging, tender creature, more sharply +scourged by the knowledge that the affection developing between them +could never be without its barrier and its mystery, that something must +always remain undisclosed, lest Aileen cast her off in horror. + +It was a new moral suffering, in one whose life had been based hitherto +on intellect, or passion. In a sense it held at bay even her grief for +Warkworth, her intolerable compassion for his fate. In sheer dread lest +the girl should find her out and hate her, she lost insensibly the first +poignancy of sorrow. + +These secrets of feeling left her constantly pale and silent. Yet her +grace had never been more evident. All the inmates of the little +_pension_, the landlord's family, the servants, the visitors, as the +days passed, felt the romance and thrill of her presence. Lady Blanche +evoked impatience of ennui. She was inconsiderate; she was meddlesome; +she soon ceased even to be pathetic. But for Julie every foot ran, every +eye smiled. + +Then, when the day was over, Delafield's opportunity began. Julie could +not sleep. He gradually established the right to read with her and talk +with her. It was a relation very singular, and very intimate. She would +admit him at his knock, and he would find her on her sofa, very sad, +often in tears, her black hair loose upon her shoulders. Outwardly there +was often much ceremony, even distance between them; inwardly, each was +exploring the other, and Julie's attitude towards Delafield was becoming +more uncertain, more touched with emotion. + +What was, perhaps, most noticeable in it was a new timidity, a touch of +anxious respect towards him. In the old days, what with her literary +cultivation and her social success, she had always been the flattered +and admired one of their little group. Delafield felt himself clumsy and +tongue-tied beside her. It was a superiority on her part very natural +and never ungraceful, and it was his chief delight to bring it forward, +to insist upon it, to take it for granted. + +But the relation between them had silently shifted. + +"You _judge_--you are always judging," she had said once, impatiently, +to Delafield. And now it was round these judgments, these inward +verdicts of his, on life or character, that she was perpetually +hovering. She was infinitely curious about them. She would wrench them +from him, and then would often shiver away from him in resentment. + +He, meanwhile, as he advanced further in the knowledge of her strange +nature, was more and more bewildered by her--her perversities and +caprices, her brilliancies and powers, her utter lack of any standard or +scheme of life. She had been for a long time, as it seemed to him, the +creature of her exquisite social instincts--then the creature of +passion. But what a woman through it all, and how adorable, with those +poetic gestures and looks, those melancholy, gracious airs that ravished +him perpetually! And now this new attitude, as of a child leaning, +wistfully looking in your face, asking to be led, to be wrestled and +reasoned with. + +The days, as they passed, produced in him a secret and mounting +intoxication. Then, perhaps for a day or two, there would be a reaction, +both foreseeing that a kind of spiritual tyranny might arise from their +relation, and both recoiling from it.... + +One night she was very restless and silent. There seemed to be no means +of approach to her true mind. Suddenly he took her hand--it was some +days since they had spoken of Warkworth--and almost roughly reminded her +of her promise to tell him all. + +She rebelled. But his look and manner held her, and the inner misery +sought an outlet. Submissively she began to speak, in her low, murmuring +voice; she went back over the past--the winter in Bruton Street; the +first news of the Moffatt engagement; her efforts for Warkworth's +promotion; the history of the evening party which had led to her +banishment; the struggle in her own mind and Warkworth's; the sudden mad +schemes of their last interview; the rush of the Paris journey. + +The mingled exaltation and anguish, the comparative absence of regret +with which she told the story, produced an astonishing effect on +Delafield. And in both minds, as the story proceeded, there emerged ever +more clearly the consciousness of that imperious act by which he had +saved her. + +Suddenly she stopped. + +"I know you can find no excuse for it all," she said, in excitement. + +"Yes; for all--but for one thing," was his low reply. + +She shrank, her eyes on his face. + +"That poor child," he said, under his breath. + +She looked at him piteously. + +"Did you ever realize what you were doing?" he asked her, raising her +hand to his lips. + +"No, no! How could I? I thought of some one so different--I had never +seen her--" + +She paused, her wide--seeking gaze fixed upon him through tears, as +though she pleaded with him to find explanations--palliatives. + +But he gently shook his head. + +Suddenly, shaken with weeping, she bowed her face upon the hands that +held her own. It was like one who relinquishes all pleading, all +defence, and throws herself on the mercy of the judge. + +He tenderly asked her pardon if he had wounded her. But he shrank from +offering any caress. The outward signs of life's most poignant and most +beautiful moments are generally very simple and austere. + + + +XXIV + +"You have had a disquieting letter?" + +The voice was Julie's. Delafield was standing, apparently in thought, at +the farther corner of the little, raised terrace of the hotel. She +approached him with an affectionate anxiety, of which he was instantly +conscious. + +"I am afraid I may have to leave you to-night," he said, turning towards +her, and holding out the letter in his hand. + +It contained a few agitated lines from the Duke of Chudleigh. + +"They tell me my lad can't get over this. He's made a gallant fight, but +this beats us. A week or two--no more. Ask Mrs. Delafield to let you +come. She will, I know. She wrote to me very kindly. Mervyn keeps +talking of you. You'd come, if you heard him. It's ghastly--the cruelty +of it all. Whether I can live without him, that's the point." + +"You'll go, of course?" said Julie, returning it. + +"To-night, if you allow it." + +"Of course. You ought." + +"I hate leaving you alone, with this trouble on your hands," said Jacob, +in some agitation. "What are your plans?" + +"I could follow you next week. Aileen comes down to-day. And I should +like to wait here for the mail." + +"In five days, about, it should be here," said Delafield. + +There was a silence. She dropped into a chair beside the balustrade of +the terrace, which was wreathed in wistaria, and looked out upon the +vast landscape of the lake. His thought was, "How can the mail matter to +her? She cannot suppose that he had written--" + +Aloud he said, in some embarrassment, "You expect letters yourself?" + +"I expect nothing," she said, after a pause. "But Aileen is living on +the chance of letters." + +"There may be nothing for her--except, indeed, her letters to him--poor +child!" + +"She knows that. But the hope keeps her alive." + +"And you?" thought Delafield, with an inward groan, as he looked down +upon her pale profile. He had a moment's hateful vision of himself as +the elder brother in the parable. Was Julie's mind to be the home of an +eternal antithesis between the living husband and the dead lover--in +which the latter had forever the _beau role_? + +Then, impatiently, Jacob wrenched himself from mean thoughts. It was as +though he bared his head remorse-fully before the dead man. + +"I will go to the Foreign Office," he said, in her ear, "as I pass +through town. They will have letters. All the information I can get you +shall have at once." + +"Thank you, _mon ami_", she said, almost inaudibly. + +Then she looked up, and he was startled by her eyes. Where he had +expected grief, he saw a shrinking animation. + +"Write to me often," she said, imperiously. + +"Of course. But don't trouble to answer much. Your hands are so full +here." + +She frowned. + +"Trouble! Why do you spoil me so? Demand--insist--that I should write!" + +"Very well," he said, smiling, "I demand--I insist!" + +She drew a long breath, and went slowly away from him into the house. +Certainly the antagonism of her secret thoughts, though it persisted, +was no longer merely cold or critical. For it concerned one who was not +only the master of his own life, but threatened unexpectedly to become +the master of hers. + +She had begun, indeed, to please her imagination with the idea of a +relation between them, which, while it ignored the ordinary relations of +marriage, should yet include many of the intimacies and refinements of +love. More and more did the surprises of his character arrest and occupy +her mind. She found, indeed, no "plaster saint." Her cool intelligence +soon detected the traces of a peevish or stubborn temper, and of a +natural inertia, perpetually combated, however, by the spiritual energy +of a new and other self exfoliating from the old; a self whose acts and +ways she watched, sometimes with the held breath of fascination, +sometimes with a return of shrinking or fear. That a man should not only +appear but be so good was still in her eyes a little absurd. Perhaps her +feeling was at bottom the common feeling of the sceptical nature. "We +should listen to the higher voices; but in such a way that if another +hypothesis were true, we should not have been too completely duped." + +She was ready, also, to convict him of certain prejudices and +superstitions which roused in her an intellectual impatience. But when +all was said, Delafield, unconsciously, was drawing her towards him, as +the fowler draws a fluttering bird. It was the exquisite refinement of +those spiritual insights and powers he possessed which constantly +appealed, not only to her heart, but--a very important matter in Julie's +case--to her taste, to her own carefully tempered instinct for the rare +and beautiful. + +He was the master, then, she admitted, of a certain vein of spiritual +genius. Well, here should he lead--and even, if he pleased, command her. +She would sit at his feet, and he should open to her ranges of feeling, +delights, and subtleties of moral sensation hitherto unknown to her. + +Thus the feeling of ennui and reaction which had marked the first weeks +of her married life had now wholly disappeared. Delafield was no longer +dull or pedantic in her eyes. She passed alternately from moments of +intolerable smart and pity for the dead to moments of agitation and +expectancy connected with her husband. She thought over their meeting of +the night before; she looked forward to similar hours to come. + +Meanwhile his relation towards her in many matters was still naively +ignorant and humble--determined by the simplicity of a man of some real +greatness, who never dreamed of claiming tastes or knowledge he did not +possess, whether in small things or large. This phase, however, only +gave the more value to one which frequently succeeded it. For suddenly +the conversation would enter regions where he felt himself peculiarly at +home, and, with the same unconsciousness on his part, she would be made +to feel the dignity and authority which surrounded his ethical and +spiritual life. And these contrasts--this weakness and this +strength--combined with the man-and-woman element which is always +present in any situation of the kind, gave rise to a very varied and +gradually intensifying play of feeling between them. Feeling only +possible, no doubt, for the _raffines_ of this world; but for them full +of strange charm, and even of excitement. + + * * * * * + +Delafield left the little inn for Montreux, Lausanne, and London that +afternoon. He bent to kiss his wife at the moment of his departure, in +the bare sitting-room that had been improvised for them on the ground +floor of the hotel, and as she let her face linger ever so little +against his she felt strong arms flung round her, and was crushed +against his breast in a hungry embrace. When he released her with a +flush and a murmured word of apology she shook her head, smiling sadly +but saying nothing. The door closed on him, and at the sound she made a +hasty step forward. + +"Jacob! Take me with you!" + +But her voice died in the rattle and bustle of the diligence outside, +and she was left trembling from head to foot, under a conflict of +emotions that seemed now to exalt, now to degrade her. + +Half an hour after Delafield's departure there appeared on the terrace +of the hotel a tottering, emaciated form--Aileen Moffatt, in a black +dress and hat, clinging to her mother's arm. But she refused the +deck--chair, which they had spread with cushions and shawls. + +"No; let me sit up." And she took an ordinary chair, looking round upon +the lake and the little flowery terrace with a slow, absorbed look, like +one trying to remember. Suddenly she bowed her head on her hands. + +"Aileen!" cried Lady Blanche, in an agony. + +But the girl motioned her away. "Don't, mummy. I'm all right." + +And restraining any further emotion, she laid her arms on the balustrade +and gazed long and calmly into the purple depths and gleaming snows of +the Rhone valley. Her hat oppressed her and she took it off, revealing +the abundance of her delicately golden hair, which, in its lack of +lustre and spring, seemed to share in the physical distress and loss of +the whole personality. + +The face was that of a doomed creature, incapable now of making any +successful struggle for the right to live. What had been sensibility had +become melancholy; the slight, chronic frown was deeper, the pale lips +more pinched. Yet intermittently there was still great sweetness, the +last effort of a "beautiful soul" meant for happiness, and withered +before its time. + +As Julie stood beside her, while Lady Blanche had gone to fetch a book +from the salon, the poor child put out her hand and grasped that +of Julie. + +"It is quite possible I may get the letter to-night," she said, in a +hurried whisper. "My maid went down to Montreux--there is a clever man +at the post-office who tried to make it out for us. He thinks it'll be +to-night." + +"Don't be too disappointed if nothing comes," said Julie, caressing the +hand. Its thinness, its icy and lifeless touch, dismayed her. Ah, how +easily might this physical wreck have been her doing! + + * * * * * + +The bells of Montreux struck half-past six. A restless and agonized +expectation began to show itself in all the movements of the invalid. +She left her chair and began to pace the little terrace on Julie's arm. +Her dragging step, the mournful black of her dress, the struggle between +youth and death in her sharpened face, made her a tragic presence. Julie +could hardly bear it, while all the time she, too, was secretly and +breathlessly waiting for Warkworth's last words. + +Lady Blanche returned, and Julie hurried away. + +She passed through the hotel and walked down the Montreux road. The post +had already reached the first houses of the village, and the postman, +who knew her, willingly gave her the letters. + +Yes, a packet for Aileen, addressed in an unknown hand to a London +address, and forwarded thence. It bore the Denga postmark. + +And another for herself, readdressed from London by Madame Bornier. She +tore off the outer envelope; beneath was a letter of which the address +was feebly written in Warkworth's hand: "Mademoiselle Le Breton, 3 +Heribert Street, London." + +She had the strength to carry her own letter to her room, to call +Aileen's maid and send her with the other packet to Lady Blanche. Then +she locked herself in.... + +Oh, the poor, crumpled page, and the labored hand-writing! + +"Julie, I am dying. They are such good fellows, but they can't save me. +It's horrible. + +"I saw the news of your engagement in a paper the day before I left +Denga. You're right. He'll make you happy. Tell him I said so. Oh, my +God, I shall never trouble you again! I bless you for the letter you +wrote me. Here it is.... No, I can't--can't read it. Drowsy. No pain--" + +And here the pen had dropped from his hand. Searching for something +more, she drew from the envelope the wild and passionate letter she had +written him at Heribert Street, in the early morning after her return +from Paris, while she was waiting for Delafield to bring her the news of +Lord Lackington's state. + + * * * * * + +The small _table d'hote_ of the Hotel Michel was still further +diminished that night. Lady Blanche was with her daughter, and Mrs. +Delafield did not appear. + +But the moon was hanging in glory over the lake when Julie, unable to +bear her room and her thoughts any longer, threw a lace scarf about her +head and neck, and went blindly climbing through the upward paths +leading to Les Avants. The roads were silver in the moonlight; so was +the lake, save where the great mountain shadows lay across the eastern +end. And suddenly, white, through pine-trees, "Jaman, delicately tall!" + +The air cooled her brow, and from the deep, enveloping night her torn +heart drew balm, and a first soothing of the pulse of pain. Every now +and then, as she sat down to rest, a waking dream overshadowed her. She +seemed to be supporting Warkworth in her arms; his dying head lay upon +her breast, and she murmured courage and love into his ear. But not as +Julie Le Breton. Through all the anguish of what was almost an illusion +of the senses, she still felt herself Delafield's wife. And in that +flood of silent speech she poured out on Warkworth, it was as though she +offered him also Jacob's compassion, Jacob's homage, mingled with +her own. + +Once she found herself sitting at the edge of a meadow, environed by the +heavy scents of flowers. Some apple-trees with whitened trunks rose +between her and the lake a thousand feet below. The walls of Chillon, +the houses of Montreux, caught the light; opposite, the deep forests of +Bouveret and St. Gingolphe lay black upon the lake; above them rode the +moon. And to the east the high Alps, their pure lines a little effaced +and withdrawn, as when a light veil hangs over a sanctuary. + +Julie looked out upon a vast freedom of space, and by a natural +connection she seemed to be also surveying her own world of life and +feeling, her past and her future. She thought of her childhood and her +parents, of her harsh, combative youth, of the years with Lady Henry, of +Warkworth, of her husband, and the life into which his strong hand had +so suddenly and rashly drawn her. Her thoughts took none of the +religious paths so familiar to his. And yet her reverie was so far +religious that her mind seemed to herself to be quivering under the +onset of affections, emotions, awes, till now unknown, and that, looking +back, she was conscious of a groping sense of significance, of purpose, +in all that had befallen her. Yet to this sense she could put no words. +Only, in the end, through the constant action of her visualizing +imagination, it connected itself with Delafield's face, and with the +memory of many of his recent acts and sayings. + +It was one of those hours which determine the history of a man or woman. +And the august Alpine beauty entered in, so that Julie, in this sad and +thrilling act of self-probing, felt herself in the presence of powers +and dominations divine. + +Her face, stained with tears, took gradually some of the calm, the +loftiness of the night. Yet the close-shut, brooding mouth would slip +sometimes into a smile exquisitely soft and gentle, as though the heart +remembered something which seemed to the intelligence at once folly and +sweetness. + +What was going on within her was, to her own consciousness, a strange +thing. It appeared to her as a kind of simplification, a return to +childhood; or, rather, was it the emergence in the grown mind, tired +with the clamor of its own egotistical or passionate life, of some +instincts, natural to the child, which she, nevertheless, as a child had +never known; instincts of trust, of self-abandonment, steeped, perhaps, +in those tears which are themselves only another happiness?... + +But hush! What are our poor words in the presence of these nobler +secrets of the wrestling and mounting spirit! + + * * * * * + +On the way down she saw another figure emerge from the dark. + +"Lady Blanche!" + +Lady Blanche stood still. + +"The hotel was stifling," she said, in a voice that vainly tried for +steadiness. + +Julie perceived that she had been weeping. + +"Aileen is asleep?" + +"Perhaps. They have given her something to make her sleep." + +They walked on towards the hotel. + +Julie hesitated. + +"She was not disappointed?" she said, at last, in a low voice. + +"No!" said the mother, sharply. "But one knew, of course, there must be +letters for her. Thank God, she can feel that his very last thought was +for her! The letters which have reached her are dated the day before the +fatal attack began--giving a complete account of his march--most +interesting--showing how he trusted her already--though she is such a +child. It will tranquillize her to feel how completely she possessed his +heart--poor fellow!" + +Julie said nothing, and Lady Blanche, with bitter satisfaction, felt +rather than saw what seemed to her the just humiliation expressed in the +drooping and black-veiled figure beside her. + +Next day there was once more a tinge of color on Aileen's cheeks. Her +beautiful hair fell round her once more in a soft life and confusion, +and the roses which her mother had placed beside her on the bed were not +in too pitiful contrast with her frail loveliness. + +"Read it, please," she said, as soon as she found herself alone with +Julie, pushing her letter tenderly towards her. "He tells me +everything--everything! All he was doing and hoping--consults me in +everything. Isn't it an honor--when I'm so ignorant and childish? I'll +try to be brave--try to be worthy--" + +And while her whole frame was shaken with deep, silent sobs, she +greedily watched Julie read the letter. + +"Oughtn't I to try and live," she said, dashing away her tears, as Julie +returned it, "when he loved me so?" + +Julie kissed her with a passionate and guilty pity. The letter might +have been written to any friend, to any charming child for whom a much +older man had a kindness. It gave a business-like account of their +march, dilated on one or two points of policy, drew some humorous +sketches of his companions, and concluded with a few affectionate and +playful sentences. + +But when the wrestle with death began, Warkworth wrote but one last +letter, uttered but one cry of the heart, and it lay now in +Julie's bosom. + + * * * * * + +A few days passed. Delafield's letters were short and full of sadness. +Elmira still lived; but any day or hour might see the end. As for the +father--But the subject was too tragic to be written of, even to her. +Not to feel, not to realize; there lay the only chance of keeping one's +own courage, and so of being any help whatever to two of the most +miserable of human beings. + +At last, rather more than a week after Delafield's departure, came +two telegrams. One was from Delafield--"Mervyn died this morning. +Duke's condition causes great anxiety." The other from Evelyn +Crowborough--"Elmira died this morning. Going down to Shropshire to +help Jacob." + +Julie threw down the telegrams. A rush of proud tears came to her eyes. +She swept to the door of her room, opened it, and called her maid. + +The maid came, and when she saw the sparkling looks and strained bearing +of her mistress, wondered what crime she was to be rebuked for. Julie +merely bade her pack at once, as it was her intention to catch the +eight o'clock through train at Lausanne that night for England. + + * * * * * + +Twenty hours later the train carrying Julie to London entered Victoria +Station. On the platform stood the little Duchess, impatiently +expectant. Julie was clasped in her arms, and had no time to wonder at +the pallor and distraction of her friend before she was hurried into the +brougham waiting beyond the train. + +"Oh, Julie!" cried the Duchess, catching the traveller's hands, as they +drove away. "Julie, darling!" + +Julie turned to her in amazement. The blue eyes fixed upon her had no +tears, but in them, and in the Duchess's whole aspect, was expressed a +vivid horror and agitation which struck at Julie's heart. + +"What is it?" she said, catching her breath. "What is it?" + +"Julie, I was going to Faircourt this morning. First your telegram +stopped me. I thought I'd wait and go with you. Then came another, from +Delafield. The Duke! The poor Duke!" + +Julie's attitude changed unconsciously--instantly. + +"Yes; tell me!" + +"It's in all the papers to-night--on the placards--don't look out!" And +the Duchess lifted her hand and drew down the blinds of the brougham. +"He was in a most anxious state yesterday, but they thought him calmer +at night, and he insisted on being left alone. The doctors still kept a +watch, but he managed in some mysterious way to evade them all, and this +morning he was missed. After two hours they found him--in the river +that runs below the house!" + +There was a silence. + +"And Jacob?" said Julie, hoarsely. + +"That's what I'm so anxious about," exclaimed the Duchess. "Oh, I am +thankful you've come! You know how Jacob's always felt about the Duke +and Mervyn--how he's hated the notion of succeeding. And Susan, who went +down yesterday, telegraphed to me last night--before this horror--that +he was 'terribly strained and overwrought.'" + +"Succeeding?" said Julie, vaguely. Mechanically she had drawn up the +blind again, and her eyes followed the dingy lines of the Vauxhall +Bridge Road, till suddenly they turned away from the placards outside a +small stationer's shop which announced: "Tragic death of the Duke of +Chudleigh and his son." + +The Duchess looked at her curiously without replying. Julie seemed to be +grappling with some idea which escaped her, or, rather, was presently +expelled by one more urgent. + +"Is Jacob ill?" she said, abruptly, looking her companion full in the +face. + +"I only know what I've told you. Susan says 'strained and overwrought.' +Oh, it'll be all right when he gets you!" + +Julie made no reply. She sat motionless, and the Duchess, stealing +another glance at her, must needs, even in this tragic turmoil, allow +herself the reflection that she was a more delicate study in +black-and-white, a more refined and accented personality than ever. + +"You won't mind," said Evelyn, timidly, after a pause; "but Lady Henry +is staying with me, and also Sir Wilfrid Bury, who had such a bad cold +in his lodgings that I went down there a week ago, got the doctor's +leave, and carried him off there and then. And Mr. Montresor's coming +in. He particularly wanted, he said, just to press your hand. But they +sha'n't bother you if you're tired. Our train goes at 10.10, and Freddie +has got the express stopped for us at Westonport--about three in +the morning." + +The carriage rolled into Grosvenor Square, and presently stopped before +Crowborough House. Julie alighted, looked round her at the July green of +the square, at the brightness of the window-boxes, and then at the groom +of the chambers who was taking her wraps from her--the same man who, in +the old days, used to feed Lady Henry's dogs with sweet biscuit. It +struck her that he was showing her a very particular and eager +attention. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile in the Duchess's drawing--room a little knot of people was +gathered--Lady Henry, Sir Wilfrid Bury, and Dr. Meredith. Their demeanor +illustrated both the subduing and the exciting influence of great +events. Lady Henry was more talkative than usual. Sir Wilfrid +more silent. + +Lady Henry seemed to have profited by her stay at Torquay. As she sat +upright in a stiff chair, her hands resting on her stick, she presented +her characteristic aspect of English solidity, crossed by a certain free +and foreign animation. She had been already wrangling with Sir Wilfrid, +and giving her opinion freely on the "socialistic" views on rank and +property attributed to Jacob Delafield. "If _he_ can't digest the cake, +that doesn't mean it isn't good," had been her last impatient remark, +when Sir Wilfrid interrupted her. + +"Only a few minutes more," he said, looking at his watch. "Now, then, +what line do we take? How much is our friend likely to know?" + +"Unless she has lost her eyesight--which Evelyn has not reported--she +will know most of what matters before she has gone a hundred yards from +the station," said Lady Henry, dryly. + +"Oh, the streets! Yes; but persons are often curiously dazed by such a +gallop of events." + +"Not Julie Le Breton!" + +"I should like to be informed as to the part you are about to play," +said Sir Wilfrid, in a lower voice, "that I may play up to it. Where +are you?" + +Both looked at Meredith, who had walked to a distant window and was +standing there looking out upon the square. Lady Henry was well aware +that _he_ had not forgiven her, and, to tell the truth, was rather +anxious that he should. So she, too, dropped her voice. + +"I bow to the institutions of my country," she said, a little sparkle in +the strong, gray eye. + +"In other words, you forgive a duchess?" + +"I acknowledge the head of the family, and the greater carries the +less." + +"Suppose Jacob should be unforgiving?" + +"He hasn't the spirit." + +"And she?" + +"Her conscience will be on my side." + +"I thought it was your theory that she had none?" + +"Jacob, let us hope, will have developed some. He has a good deal to +spare." + +Sir Wilfrid laughed. "So it is you who will do the pardoning?" + +"I shall offer an armed and honorable peace. The Duchess of Chudleigh +may intrigue and tell lies, if she pleases. I am not giving her a +hundred a year." + +There was a pause. + +"Why, if I may ask," said Sir Wilfrid, at the end of it, "did you +quarrel with Jacob? I understand there was a separate cause:" + +Lady Henry hesitated. + +"He paid me a debt," she said, at last, and a sudden flush rose in her +old, blanched cheek. + +"And that annoyed you? You have the oddest code!" + +Lady Henry bit her lip. + +"One does not like one's money thrown in one's face." + +"Most unreasonable of women!" + +"Never mind, Wilfrid. We all have our feelings." + +"Precisely. Well, no doubt Jacob will make peace. As for--Ah, here comes +Montresor!" + +A visible tremor passed through Lady Henry. The door was thrown open, +and the footman announced the Minister for War. + +"Her grace, sir, is not yet returned." + +Montresor stumbled into the room, and even with his eye-glasses +carefully adjusted, did not at once perceive who was in it. + +Sir Wilfrid went towards him. + +"Ah, Bury! Convalescent, I hope?" + +"Quite. The Duchess has gone to meet Mrs. Delafield." + +"Mrs.--?" Montresor's mouth opened. "But, of course, you know?" + +"Oh yes, I know. But one's tongue has to get oiled. You see Lady Henry?" + +Montresor started. + +"I am glad to see Lady Henry," he replied, stiffly. + +Lady Henry slowly rose and advanced two steps. She quietly held out her +hand to him, and, smiling, looked him in the face. + +"Take it. There is no longer any cause of quarrel between us. I raise +the embargo." + +The Minister took the hand, and shook his head. + +"Ah, but you had no right to impose it," he said, with energy. + +"Oh, for goodness sake, meet me half-way," cried Lady Henry, "or I shall +never hold out!" + +Sir Wilfrid, whose half-embarrassed gaze was bent on the ground, looked +up and was certain that he saw a gleam of moisture in those +wrinkled eyes. + +"Why have you held out so long? What does it matter to me whether Miss +Julie be a duchess or no? That doesn't make up to me for all the months +you've shut your door on me. And I was always given to understand, +by-the-way, that it wouldn't matter to you." + +"I've had three months at Torquay," said Lady Henry, raising her +shoulders. + +"I hope it was dull to distraction." + +"It was. And my doctor tells me the more I fret the more gout I may +expect." + +"So all this is not generosity, but health?" + +"Kiss my hand, sir, and have done with it! You are all avenged. At +Torquay I had four companions in seven weeks." + +"More power to them!" said Montresor. "Meredith, come here. Shall we +accept the pleas?" + +Meredith came slowly from the window, his hands behind his back. + +"Lady Henry commands and we obey," he said, slowly. "But to-day begins a +new world--founded in ruin, like the rest of them." + +He raised his fine eyes, in which there was no laughter, rather a dreamy +intensity. Lady Henry shrank. + +"If you're thinking of Chudleigh," she said, uncertainly, "be glad for +him. It was release. As for Henry Warkworth--" + +"Ah, poor fellow!" said Montresor, perfunctorily. "Poor fellow!" + +He had dropped Lady Henry's hand, but he now recaptured it, enclosing +the thin, jewelled fingers in his own. + +"Well, well, then it's peace, with all my heart." He stooped and lightly +kissed the fingers. "And now, when do you expect our friend?" + +"At any moment," said Lady Henry. + +She seated herself, and Montresor beside her. + +"I am told," said Montresor, "that this horror will not only affect +Delafield personally, but that he will regard the dukedom as a +calamity." + +"Hm!--and you believe it?" said Lady Henry. + +"I try to," was the Minister's laughing reply. "Ah, surely, here they +are!" + +Meredith turned from the window, to which he had gone back. + +"The carriage has just arrived," he announced, and he stood fidgeting, +standing first on one foot, then on the other, and running his hand +through his mane of gray hair. His large features were pale, and any +close observer would have detected the quiver of emotion. + +A sound of voices from the anteroom, the Duchess's light tones floating +to the top. At the same time a door on the other side of the +drawing-room opened and the Duke of Crowborough appeared. + +"I think I hear my wife," he said, as he greeted Montresor and hurriedly +crossed the room. + +There was a rustle of quick steps, and the little Duchess entered. + +"Freddie, here is Julie!" + +Behind appeared a tall figure in black. Everybody in the room advanced, +including Lady Henry, who, however, after a few steps stood still behind +the others, leaning on her stick. + +Julie looked round the little circle, then at the Duke of Crowborough, +who had gravely given her his hand. The suppressed excitement already in +the room clearly communicated itself to her. She did not lose her +self-command for an instant, but her face pleaded. + +"Is it really true? Perhaps there is some mistake?" + +"I fear there can be none," said the Duke, sadly. "Poor Chudleigh had +been long dead when they found him." + +"Freddie," said the Duchess, interrupting, "I have told Greswell we +shall want the carriage at half-past nine for Euston. Will that do?" + +"Perfectly." + +Greswell, the handsome groom of the chambers, approached Julie. + +"Your grace's maid wishes to know whether it is your grace's wish that +she should go round to Heribert Street before taking the luggage +to Euston?" + +Julie looked at the man, bewildered. Then a stormy color rushed into her +cheeks. + +"Does he mean my maid?" she said to the Duke, piteously. + +"Certainly. Will you give your orders?" + +She gave them, and then, turning again to the Duke, she covered her eyes +with her hands a moment. + +"What does it all mean?" she said, faltering. "It seems as though we +were all mad." + +"You understand, of course, that Jacob succeeds?" said the Duke, not +without coldness; and he stood still an instant, gazing at this woman, +who must now, he supposed, feel herself at the very summit of her +ambitions. + +Julie drew a long breath. Then she perceived Lady Henry. Instantly, +impetuously, she crossed the room. But as she reached that composed and +formidable figure, the old timidity, the old fear, seized her. She +paused abruptly, but she held out her hand. + +Lady Henry took it. The two women stood regarding each other, while the +other persons in the room instinctively turned away from their meeting. +Lady Henry's first look was one of curiosity. Then, before the +indefinable, ennobling change in Julie's face, now full of the pale +agitation of memory, the eyes of the older woman wavered and dropped. +But she soon recovered herself. + +"We meet again under very strange circumstances," she said, quietly; +"though I have long foreseen them. As for our former experience, we were +in a false relation, and it made fools of us both. You and Jacob are now +the heads of the family. And if you like to make friends with me on this +new footing, I am ready. As to my behavior, I think it was natural; but +if it rankles in your mind, I apologize." + +The personal pride of the owner, curbed in its turn by the pride of +tradition and family, spoke strangely from these words. Julie stood +trembling, her chest heaving. + +"I, too, regret--and apologize," she said, in a low voice. + +"Then we begin again. But now you must let Evelyn take you to rest for +an hour or two. I am sorry you have this hurried journey to-night." + +Julie pressed her hands to her breast with one of those dramatic +movements that were natural to her. + +"Oh, I must see Jacob!" she said, under her breath--"I must see Jacob!" + +And she turned away, looking vaguely round her. Meredith approached. + +"Comfort yourself," he said, very gently, pressing her hand in both of +his. "It has been a great shock, but when you get there he'll be +all right." + +"Jacob?" + +Her expression, the piteous note in her voice, awoke in him an answering +sense of pain. He wondered how it might be between the husband and wife. +Yet it was borne in upon him, as upon Lady Henry, that her marriage, +however interpreted, had brought with it profound and intimate +transformation. A different woman stood before him. And when, after a +few more words, the Duchess swept down upon them, insisting that Julie +must rest awhile, Meredith stood looking after the retreating figures, +filled with the old, bitter sense of human separateness, and the +fragmentariness of all human affections. Then he made his farewells to +the Duke and Lady Henry, and slipped away. He had turned a page in the +book of life; and as he walked through Grosvenor Square he applied his +mind resolutely to one of the political "causes" with which, as a +powerful and fighting journalist, he was at that moment occupied. + +Lady Henry, too, watched Julie's exit from the room. + +"So now she supposes herself in love with Jacob?" she thought, with +amusement, as she resumed her seat. + +"What if Delafield refuses to be made a duke?" said Sir Wilfrid, in her +ear. + +"It would be a situation new to the Constitution," said Lady Henry, +composedly. "I advise you, however, to wait till it occurs." + + * * * * * + +The northern express rushed onward through the night. Rugby, Stafford, +Crewe had been left behind. The Yorkshire valleys and moors began to +show themselves in pale ridges and folds under the moon. Julie, wakeful +in her corner opposite the little, sleeping Duchess, was conscious of an +interminable rush of images through a brain that longed for a few +unconscious and forgetful moments. She thought of the deferential +station-master at Euston; of the fuss attending their arrival on the +platform; of the arrangements made for stopping the express at the +Yorkshire Station, where they were to alight. + +Faircourt? Was it the great Early-Georgian house of which she had heard +Jacob speak--the vast pile, half barrack, half palace, in which, +according to him, no human being could be either happy or at home? + +And this was now his--and hers? Again the whirl of thoughts swept and +danced round her. + +A wild, hill country. In the valleys, the blackness of thick trees, the +gleam of rivers, the huge, lifeless factories; and beyond, the high, +silver edges, the sharp shadows of the moors.... The train slackened, +and the little Duchess woke at once. + +"Ten minutes to three. Oh, Julie, here we are!" + +The dawn was just coldly showing as they alighted. Carriages and +servants were waiting, and various persons whose identity and function +it was not easy to grasp. One of them, however, at once approached Julie +with a privileged air, and she perceived that he was a doctor. + +"I am very glad that your grace has come," he said, as he raised his +hat. "The trouble with the Duke is shock, and want of sleep." + +Julie looked at him, still bewildered. + +"How long has my husband been ill?" + +He walked on beside her, describing in as few words as possible the +harrowing days preceding the death of the boy, Delafield's attempts to +soothe and control the father, the stratagem by which the poor Duke had +outwitted them all, and the weary hours of search through the night, +under a drizzling rain, which had resulted, about dawn, in the discovery +of the Duke's body in one of the deeper holes of the river. + +"When the procession returned to the house, your husband"--the speaker +framed the words uncertainly--"had a long fainting-fit. It was probably +caused by the exhaustion of the search--many hours without food--and +many sleepless nights. We kept him in his room all day. But towards +evening he insisted on getting up. The restlessness he shows is itself a +sign of shock. I trust, now you are here, you may be able to persuade +him to spare himself. Otherwise the consequences might be grave." + +The drive to the house lay mainly through a vast park, dotted with stiff +and melancholy woods. The morning was cloudy; even the wild roses in the +hedges and the daisies in the grass had neither gayety nor color. Soon +the house appeared--an immense pile of stone, with a pillared centre, +and wings to east and west, built in a hollow, gray and sunless. The +mournful blinds drawn closely down made of it rather a mausoleum for the +dead than a home for the living. + +At the approach of the carriage, however, doors were thrown open, +servants appeared, and on the steps, trembling and heavy-eyed, stood +Susan Delafield. + +She looked timidly at Julie, and then, as they passed into the great +central hall, the two kissed each other with tears. + +"He is in his room, waiting for you. The doctors persuaded him not to +come down. But he is dressed, and reading and writing. We don't believe +he has slept at all for a week." + + * * * * * + +"Through there," said Susan Delafield, stepping back. "That is the +door." + +[Illustration: "SHE FOUND HERSELF KNEELING BESIDE HIM"] + +Julie softly opened it, and closed it behind her. Delafield had heard +her approach, and was standing by the table, supporting himself upon it. +His aspect filled Julie with horror. She ran to him and threw her +arms round him. He sank back into his chair, and she found herself +kneeling beside him, murmuring to him, while his head rested upon +her shoulder. + +"Jacob, I am here! Oh, I ought to have been here all through! It's +terrible--terrible! But, Jacob, you won't suffer so--now I'm here--now +we're together--now I love you, Jacob?" + +Her voice broke in tears. She put back the hair from his brow, kissing +him with a tenderness in which there was a yearning and lovely humility. +Then she drew a little away, waiting for him to speak, in an agony. + +But for a time he seemed unable to speak. He feebly released himself, as +though he could not bear the emotion she offered him, and his +eyes closed. + +"Jacob, come and lie down!" she said, in terror. "Let me call the +doctors." + +He shook his head, and a faint pressure from his hand bade her sit +beside him. + +"I shall be better soon. Give me time. I'll tell you--" + +Then silence again. She sat holding his hand, her eyes fixed upon him. +Time passed, she knew not how. Susan came into the room--a small +sitting-room in the east wing--to tell her that the neighboring bedroom +had been prepared for herself. Julie only looked up for an instant with +a dumb sign of refusal. A doctor came in, and Delafield made a painful +effort to take the few spoonfuls of food and stimulant pressed upon him. +Then he buried his face in the side of the arm-chair. + +"Please let us be alone," he said, with a touch of his old +peremptoriness, and both Susan and the doctor obeyed. + +But it was long before he could collect energy enough to talk. When he +did, he made an effort to tell her the story of the boy's death, and the +father's self-destruction. He told it leaning forward in his chair, his +eyes on the ground, his hands loosely joined, his voice broken and +labored. Julie listened, gathering from his report an impression of +horror, tragic and irremediable, similar to that which had shaken the +balance of his own mind. And when he suddenly looked up with the words, +"And now _I_ am expected to take their place--to profit by their deaths! +What rightful law of God or man binds me to accept a life and a +responsibility that I loathe?" Julie drew back as though he had struck +her. His face, his tone were not his own--there was a violence, a threat +in them, addressed, as it were, specially to _her_. "If it were not for +you," his eyes seemed to say, "I could refuse this thing, which will +destroy me, soul and body." + +She was silent, her pulses fluttering, and he resumed, speaking like one +groping his way: + +"I could have done the work, of course--I have done it for five years. I +could have looked after the estate and the people. But the money, the +paraphernalia, the hordes of servants, the mummery of the life! Why, +Julie, should we be forced into it? What happiness--I ask you--what +happiness can it bring to either of us?" + +And again he looked up, and again it seemed to Julie that his expression +was one of animated hostility and antagonism--antagonism to her, as +embodying for the moment all the arguments--of advantage, custom, +law--he was, in his own mind, fighting and denying. With a failing heart +she felt herself very far from him. Was there not also something in his +attitude, unconsciously, of that old primal antagonism of the man to +the woman, of the stronger to the weaker, the more spiritual to the +more earthy? + +"You think, no doubt," he said, after a pause, "that it is my duty to +take this thing, even if I _could_ lay it down?" + +"I don't know what I think," she said, hurriedly. "It is very strange, +of course, what you say. We ought to discuss it thoroughly. Let me have +a little time." + +He gave an impatient sigh, then suddenly rose. + +"Will you come and look at them?" + +She, too, rose and put her hand in his. + +"Take me where you will." + +"It is not horrible," he said, shading his eyes a moment. "They are at +peace." + +With a feeble step, leaning on her arm, he guided her through the great, +darkened house. Julie was dimly aware of wide staircases, of galleries +and high halls, of the pictures of past Delafields looking down upon +them. The morning was now far advanced. Many persons were at work in the +house, but Julie was conscious of them only as distant figures that +vanished at their approach. They walked alone, guarded from all +intrusion by the awe and sympathy of the unseen human beings +around them. + +Delafield opened the closed door. + +The father and son lay together, side by side, the boy's face in a very +winning repose, which at first sight concealed the traces of his long +suffering; the father's also--closed eyes and sternly shut +mouth--suggesting, not the despair which had driven him to his death, +but, rather, as in sombre triumph, the all-forgetting, all-effacing +sleep which he had won from death. + +They stood a moment, till Delafield fell on his knees. Julie knelt +beside him. She prayed for a while; then she wearied, being, indeed, +worn out with her journey. But Delafield was motionless, and it seemed +to Julie that he hardly breathed. + +She rose to her feet, and found her eyes for the first time flooded with +tears. Never for many weeks had she felt so lonely, or so utterly +unhappy. She would have given anything to forget herself in comforting +Jacob. But he seemed to have no need of her, no thought of her. + +As she vaguely looked round her, she saw that beside the dead man was a +table holding some violets--the only flowers in the room--some +photographs, and a few well--worn books. Softly she took up one. It was +a copy of the _Meditations of Marcus Aurelius_, much noted and +underlined. It would have seemed to her sacrilege to look too close; but +she presently perceived a letter between its pages, and in the morning +light, which now came strongly into the room through a window looking on +the garden, she saw plainly that it was written on thin, foreign paper, +that it was closed, and addressed to her husband. + +"Jacob!" + +She touched him softly on the shoulder, alarmed by his long immobility. + +He looked up, and it appeared to Julie as though he were shaking off +with difficulty some abnormal and trancelike state. But he rose, looking +at her strangely. + +"Jacob, this is yours." + +He took the book abruptly, almost as if she had no right to be holding +it. Then, as he saw the letter, the color rushed into his face. He took +it, and after a moment's hesitation walked to the window and opened it. + +She saw him waver, and ran to his support. But he put out a hand which +checked her. + +"It was the last thing he wrote," he said; and then, uncertainly, and +without reading any but the first words of the letter, he put it into +his pocket. + +Julie drew back, humiliated. His gesture said that to a secret so +intimate and sacred he did not propose to admit his wife. + +They went back silently to the room from which they had come. Sentence +after sentence came to Julie's lips, but it seemed useless to say them, +and once more, but in a totally new way, she was "afraid" of the man +beside her. + + * * * * * + +She left him shortly after, by his own wish. + +"I will lie down, and you must rest," he said, with decision. + +So she bathed and dressed, and presently she allowed the kind, +fair-haired Susan to give her food, and pour out her own history of the +death-week which she and Jacob had passed through. But in all that was +said, Julie noticed that Susan spoke of her brother very little, and of +his inheritance and present position not at all. And once or twice she +noticed a wondering or meditative expression in the girl's charming eyes +as they rested on herself, and realized that the sense of mystery, of +hushed expectancy, was not confined to her own mind. + +When Susan left her at nine o'clock, it was to give a number of +necessary orders in the house. The inquest was to be held in the +morning, and the whole day would be filled with arrangements for the +double funeral. The house would be thronged with officials of all sorts. +"Poor Jacob!" said the sister, sighing, as she went away. + +But the tragic tumult had not yet begun. The house was still quiet, and +Julie was for the first time alone. + +She drew up the blinds, and stood gazing out upon the park, now flooded +with light; at the famous Italian garden beneath the windows, with its +fountains and statues; at the wide lake which filled the middle +distance; and the hills beyond it, with the plantations and avenues +which showed the extension of the park as far as the eye could see. + +Julie knew very well what it all implied. Her years with Lady Henry, in +connection with her own hidden sense of birth and family, had shown her +with sufficient plainness the conditions under which the English noble +lives. She _was_ actually, at that moment, Duchess of Chudleigh; her +strong intelligence faced and appreciated the fact; the social scope and +power implied in those three words were all the more vivid to her +imagination because of her history and up-bringing. She had not grown to +maturity _inside_, like Delafield, but as an exile from a life which was +yet naturally hers--an exile, full, sometimes, of envy, and the +passions of envy. + +It had no terrors for her--quite the contrary--this high social state. +Rather, there were moments when her whole nature reached out to it, in a +proud and confident ambition. Nor had she any mystical demurrer to make. +The originality which in some ways she richly possessed was not +concerned in the least with the upsetting of class distinctions, and as +a Catholic she had been taught loyally to accept them. + +The minutes passed away. Julie sank deeper and deeper into reverie, her +head leaning against the side of the window, her hands clasped before +her on her black dress. Once or twice she found the tears dropping from +her eyes, and once or twice she smiled. + +She was not thinking of the tragic circumstances amid which she stood. +From that short trance of feeling even the piteous figures of the dead +father and son faded away. Warkworth entered into it, but already +invested with the passionless and sexless beauty of a world +where--whether it be to us poetry or reality--"they neither marry nor +are given in marriage." Her warm and living thoughts spent themselves on +one theme only--the redressing of a spiritual balance. She was no longer +a beggar to her husband; she had the wherewithal to give. She had been +the mere recipient, burdened with debts beyond her paying; now-- + +And then it was that her smiles came--tremluous, fugitive, exultant. + + * * * * * + +A bell rang in the long corridor, and the slight sound recalled her to +life and action. She walked towards the door which separated her from +the sitting-room where she had left her husband, and opened it +without knocking. + +Delafield was sitting at a writing-table in the window. He had +apparently been writing; but she found him in a moment of pause, playing +absently with the pen he still held. + +As she entered he looked up, and it seemed to her that his aspect and +his mood had changed. Her sudden and indefinable sense of this made it +easier for her to hasten to him, and to hold out her hands to him. + +"Jacob, you asked me a question just now, and I begged you to give me +time. But I am here to answer it. If it would be to your happiness to +refuse the dukedom, refuse it. I will not stand in your way, and I will +never reproach you. I suppose"--she made herself smile upon him--"there +are ways of doing such a strange thing. You will be much criticised, +perhaps much blamed. But if it seems to you right, do it. I'll just +stand by you and help you. Whatever makes you happy shall make me happy, +if only--" + +Delafield had risen impetuously and held her by both hands. His breast +heaved, and the hurrying of her own breath would now hardly let +her speak. + +"If only what?" he said, hoarsely. + +She raised her eyes. + +"If only, _mon ami_"--she disengaged one hand and laid it gently on his +shoulder--"you will give me your trust, and"--her voice +dropped--"your love!" + +They gazed at each other. Between them, around them hovered thoughts of +the past--of Warkworth, of the gray Channel waves, of the spiritual +relation which had grown up between them in Switzerland, mingled with +the consciousness of this new, incalculable present, and of the growth +and change in themselves. + +"You'd give it all up?" said Delafield, gently, still holding her at +arm's-length. + +"Yes," she nodded to him, with a smile. + +"For me? For my sake?" + +She smiled again. He drew a long breath, and turning to the table +behind him, took up a letter which was lying there. + +"I want you to read that," he said, holding it out to her. + +She drew back, with a little, involuntary frown. + +He understood. + +"Dearest," he cried, pressing her hand passionately, "I have been in the +grip of all the powers of death! Read it--be good to me!" + +Standing beside him, with his arm round her, she read the melancholy +Duke's last words: + + "My Dear Jacob,--I leave you a heavy task, which I know well + is, in your eyes, a mere burden. But, for my sake, accept it. + The man who runs away has small right to counsel courage. But + you know what my struggle has been. You'll judge me + mercifully, if no one else does. There is in you, too, the + little, bitter drop that spoils us all; but you won't be + alone. You have your wife, and you love her. Take my place + here, care for our people, speak of us sometimes to your + children, and pray for us. I bless you, dear fellow. The only + moments of comfort I have ever known this last year have come + from you. I would live on if I could, but I must--_must_ have + sleep." + +Julie dropped the paper. She turned to look at her husband. + +"Since I read that," he said, in a low voice, "I have been sitting here +alone--or, rather, it is my belief that I have not been alone. But"--he +hesitated--"it is very difficult for me to speak of that--even to you. +At any rate, I have felt the touch of discipline, of command. My poor +cousin deserted. I, it seems"--he drew a long and painful breath--"must +keep to the ranks." + +"Let us discuss it," said Julie; and sitting down, hand in hand, they +talked quietly and gravely. + +Suddenly, Delafield turned to her with renewed emotion. + +"I feel already the energy, the honorable ambition you will bring to it. +But still, you'd have given it up, Julie? You'd have given it up?" + +Julie chose her words. + +"Yes. But now that we are to keep it, will you hate me if, some +day--when we are less sad--I get pleasure from it? I sha'n't be able to +help it. When we were at La Verna, I felt that you ought to have been +born in the thirteenth century, that you were really meant to wed +poverty and follow St. Francis. But now you have got to be horribly, +hopelessly rich. And I, all the time, am a worldling, and a modern. What +you'll suffer from, I shall perhaps--enjoy." + +The word fell harshly on the darkened room. Delafield shivered, as +though he felt the overshadowing dead. Julie impetuously took his hand. + +"It will be my part to be a worldling--for your sake," she said, her +breath wavering. Their eyes met. From her face shone a revelation, a +beauty that enwrapped them both. Delafield fell on his knees beside her, +and laid his head upon her breast. The exquisite gesture with which she +folded her arms about him told her inmost thought. At last he needed +her, and the dear knowledge filled and tamed her heart. + + +THE END + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Lady Rose's Daughter, by Mrs. Humphry Ward + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 13782.txt or 13782.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/8/13782/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +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. 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