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diff --git a/14126-h/14126-h.htm b/14126-h/14126-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..08dadad --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/14126-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15320 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Marriage, by Mrs. Humphry +Ward.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14126 ***</div> + +<div><a name="image-000.jpg" id="image-000.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-000.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-000.jpg" width="50%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>LADY KITTY BRISTOL</b> +<br /></p> +<div> +<h1>The Marriage<br /> +of<br /> +William Ashe</h1> +<br /> +<br /> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>MRS. HUMPHRY WARD</h2> +<h5>Author of "Lady Rose's Daughter" "Eleanor" etc.</h5> +<br /> +<br /> +<h4>ILLUSTRATED BY<br /> +ALBERT STERNER</h4> +<br /> +<p class="figcenter"><img src="images/image-002.jpg" width="15%" +alt="" /></p> +</div> +<h5>1905</h5> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Contents</h2> +<div class="figcenter"> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td><a href="#PART_I"><b>PART I. ACQUAINTANCE</b></a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#PART_I">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>[<a href="#I"><b>I</b></a>] [<a href="#II"><b>II</b></a>] +[<a href="#III"><b>III</b></a>] [<a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a>] +[<a href="#V"><b>V</b></a>] [<a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a>]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#PART_II"><b>PART II. THREE YEARS AFTER</b></a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#PART_II">125</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>[<a href="#VII"><b>VII</b></a>] [<a href= +"#VIII"><b>VIII</b></a>] [<a href="#IX"><b>IX</b></a>] [<a href= +"#X"><b>X</b></a>] [<a href="#XI"><b>XI</b></a>] [<a href= +"#XII"><b>XII</b></a>] [<a href="#XIII"><b>XIII</b></a>]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#PART_III"><b>PART III. DEVELOPMENT</b></a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#PART_III">293</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>[<a href="#XIV"><b>XIV</b></a>] [<a href="#XV"><b>XV</b></a>] +[<a href="#XVI"><b>XVI</b></a>]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#PART_IV"><b>PART IV. STORM</b></a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#PART_IV">365</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>[<a href="#XVII"><b>XVII</b></a>] [<a href= +"#XVIII"><b>XVIII</b></a>] [<a href="#XIX"><b>XIX</b></a>] +[<a href="#XX"><b>XX</b></a>] [<a href="#XXI"><b>XXI</b></a>] +[<a href="#XXII"><b>XXII</b></a>]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#PART_V"><b>PART V. REQUIESCAT</b></a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#PART_V">511</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>[<a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII</b></a>] [<a href= +"#XXIV"><b>XXIV</b></a>]</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>TO</h3> +<p class="figcenter">D.M.W.<br /> +<br /> +DAUGHTER AND FRIEND<br /> +<br /> +I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +MARCH, 1905</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Illustrations</h2> +<div class="figcenter"> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-000.jpg">LADY KITTY BRISTOL</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-000.jpg">_Frontispiece_</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-006.jpg">LADY TRANMORE AND MARY LYSTER</a></td> +<td align="right"><i>Facing page</i> <a href= +"#image-006.jpg">6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-044.jpg">"A SLIM GIRL IN WHITE AT THE FAR END +OF THE LARGE ROOM"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-044.jpg">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-200.jpg">THE FINISHING TOUCHES</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-200.jpg">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-278.jpg">"HE GATHERED HER IN HIS ARMS"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-278.jpg">278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"THE ACTRESS PAUSED TO STARE AT LADY KITTY"</td> +<td align="right">438</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-474.jpg">"SHE THOUGHT OF CLIFFE STANDING BESIDE +THE DOOR OF THE GREAT HALL"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-474.jpg">474</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image-556.jpg">"HE DREW SOME CHAIRS TOGETHER BEFORE +THE FIRE"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-556.jpg">556</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I</h2> +<h3>ACQUAINTANCE</h3> +<p class="figcenter">"Just oblige me and touch<br /> +With your scourge that minx Chloe, but don't hurt her much."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>The Marriage of William Ashe</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> +<p>"He ought to be here," said Lady Tranmore, as she turned away +from the window.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster laid down her work. It was a fine piece of church +embroidery, which, seeing that it had been designed for her by no +less a person than young Mr. Burne Jones himself, made her the envy +of her pre-Raphaelite friends.</p> +<p>"Yes, indeed. You made out there was a train about twelve."</p> +<p>"Certainly. They can't have taken more than an hour to speechify +after the declaration of the poll. And I know William meant to +catch that train if he possibly could."</p> +<p>"And take his seat this evening?"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore nodded. She moved restlessly about the room, +fidgeting with a book here and there, and evidently full of +thoughts. Mary Lyster watched her a little longer, then quietly +took up her work again. Her air of well-bred sympathy, the measured +ease of her movements, contrasted with Lady Tranmore's impatience. +Yet in truth she was listening no less sharply than her companion +to the sounds in the street outside.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore made her way to the window, and stood there +looking out on the park. It was the week before Easter, and the +plane-trees were not yet in leaf. But a few thorns inside the park +railings were already lavishly green and there was a glitter of +spring flowers beside the park walks, not showing, however, in such +glorious abundance as became the fashion a few years later. It was +a mild afternoon and the drive was full of carriages. From the +bow-window of the old irregular house in which she stood, Lady +Tranmore could watch the throng passing and repassing, could see +also the traffic in Park Lane on either side. London, from this +point of sight, wore a cheerful, friendly air. The dim sunshine, +the white-clouded sky, the touches of reviving green and flowers, +the soft air blowing in from a farther window which was open, +brought with them impressions of spring, of promise, and rebirth, +which insensibly affected Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>"Well, I wonder what William will do, this time, in Parliament!" +she said, as she dropped again into her seat by the fire and began +to cut the pages of a new book.</p> +<p>"He is sure to do extremely well," said Miss Lyster.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore shrugged her shoulders. "My dear—do you know +that William has been for eight years—since he left +Trinity—one of the idlest young men alive?"</p> +<p>"He had one brief!"</p> +<p>"Yes—somewhere in the country, where all the juniors get +one in turn," said Lady Tranmore. "That was the year he was so keen +and went on circuit, and never missed a sessions. Next year nothing +would induce him to stir out of town. What has he done with himself +all these eight years? I can't imagine."</p> +<p>"He has grown—uncommonly handsome," said Mary Lyster, with +a momentary hesitation as she threaded her needle afresh.</p> +<p>"I never remember him anything else," said Lady Tranmore. "All +the artists who came here and to Narroways wanted to paint him. I +used to think it would make him a spoiled little ape. But nothing +spoiled him."</p> +<p>Miss Lyster smiled. "You know, Cousin Elizabeth—and you +may as well confess it at once!—that you think him the +ablest, handsomest, and charmingest of men!"</p> +<p>"Of course I do," said Lady Tranmore, calmly. "I am certain, +moreover—now—that he will be Prime Minister. And as for +idleness, that, of course, is only a <i>façon de parler</i>. +He has worked hard enough at the things which please him."</p> +<p>"There—you see!" said Mary Lyster, laughing.</p> +<p>"Not politics, anyway," said the elder lady, reflectively. "He +went into the House to please me, because I was a fool and wanted +to see him there. But I must say when his constituents turned him +out last year I thought they would have been a mean-spirited set if +they hadn't. They knew very well he'd never done a stroke for them. +Attendances—divisions—perfectly scandalous!"</p> +<p>"Well, here he is, in triumphantly for somewhere else—with +all sorts of delightful prospects!"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore sighed. Her white fingers paused in their +task.</p> +<p>"That, of course, is because—now—he's a personage. +Everything'll be made easy for him now. My dear Mary, they talk of +England's being a democracy!"</p> +<p>The speaker raised her handsome shoulders; then, as though to +shake off thoughts of loss and grief which had suddenly assailed +her, she abruptly changed the subject.</p> +<p>"Well—work or no work—the first thing we've got to +do is to marry him."</p> +<p>She looked up sharply. But not the smallest tremor could she +detect in Mary Lyster's gently moving hand. There was, however, no +reply to her remark.</p> +<p>"Don't you agree, Polly?" said Lady Tranmore, smiling.</p> +<p>Her smile—which still gave great beauty to her +face—was charming, but a little sly, as she observed her +companion.</p> +<p>"Why, of course," said Miss Lyster, inclining her head to one +side that she might judge the effect of some green shades she had +just put in. "But that surely will be made easy for him, too."</p> +<p>"Well, after all, the girls can't propose! And I never saw him +take any interest in a girl yet—outside his own family, of +course," added Lady Tranmore, hastily.</p> +<p>"No—he does certainly devote himself to the married +women," replied Miss Lyster, in the half-absent tone of one more +truly interested in her embroidery than in the conversation.</p> +<p>"He would sooner have an hour with Madame d'Estrées than +a week with the prettiest miss in London. That's quite true, but I +vow it's the girls' own fault! They should stand on their +dignity—snub the creatures more! In my young days—"</p> +<div><a name="image-006.jpg" id="image-006.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-006.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-006.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>LADY TRANMORE AND MARY LYSTER</b></p> +<p>"Ah, there wasn't a glut of us then," said Mary, calmly. +"Listen!"—she held up her hand.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Lady Tranmore, springing up. "There he is."</p> +<p>She stood waiting. The door flew open, and in came a tall young +man.</p> +<p>"William, how late you are!" said Lady Tranmore, as she flew +into his arms.</p> +<p>"Well, mother, are you pleased?"</p> +<p>Her son held her at arm's-length, smiling kindly upon her.</p> +<p>"Of course I am," said Lady Tranmore. "And you—are you +horribly tired?"</p> +<p>"Not a bit. Ah, Mary!—how do you do?"</p> +<p>Miss Lyster had risen, and the cousins shook hands.</p> +<p>"But I don't deny it's very jolly to come back—out of all +that beastly scrimmage," said the new member, as he threw himself +into an arm-chair by the fire with his hands behind his head, while +Lady Tranmore prepared him a cup of tea.</p> +<p>"I expect you've enjoyed it," said Miss Lyster, also moving +towards the fire.</p> +<p>"Well, when you're in it there's a certain excitement in +wondering how you're going to come out of it! But one might say +that, of course, of the infernal regions."</p> +<p>"Not quite," said Mary Lyster, smiling demurely.</p> +<p>"Polly! you <i>are</i> a Tory. Everybody else's hell has +moved—but yours! Thank you, mother," as Lady Tranmore gave +him tea. Then, stretching out his great frame in lazy satisfaction, +he turned his brown eyes from one lady to the other. "I say, +mother, I haven't seen anything as good-looking as you—or +Polly there, if she'll forgive me—for weeks."</p> +<p>"Hold your tongue, goose," said his mother, as she replenished +the teapot. "What—there were no pretty girls—not +one?"</p> +<p>"Well, they didn't come my way," said William, contentedly +munching at bread-and-butter. "I have gone through all the usual +humbug—and perjured my soul in all the usual +ways—without any consolation worth speaking of."</p> +<p>"Don't talk nonsense, sir," said Lady Tranmore. "You know you +like speaking—and you like compliments—and you've had +plenty of both."</p> +<p>"You didn't read me, mother!"</p> +<p>"Didn't I?" she said, smiling. He groaned, and took another +piece of tea-cake.</p> +<p>"My own family at least, don't you think, might omit that?"</p> +<p>"H'm, sir—So you didn't believe a word of your own +speeches?" said Lady Tranmore, as she stood behind him and smoothed +his hair back from his forehead.</p> +<p>"Well, who does?" He looked up gayly and kissed the tips of her +fingers.</p> +<p>"And it's in that spirit you're going back into the House?" Mary +Lyster threw him the question—with a slight pinching of the +lips—as she resumed her work.</p> +<p>"Spirit? What do you mean, Polly? One plays the game, of +course—and it has its moments—its hot corners, so to +speak—or I suppose no one would play it!"</p> +<p>"And the goal?" She lifted a gently disapproving face, in a +movement which showed anew the large comeliness of head and +neck.</p> +<p>"Why—to keep the other fellows out, of course!" He lifted +an arm and drew his mother down to sit on the edge of his +chair.</p> +<p>"William, you're not to talk like that," said Lady Tranmore, +decidedly, laying her cheek, however, against his hand the while. +"It was all very well when you were quite a free-lance—but +now—Oh! never mind Mary—she's discreet—and she +knows all about it."</p> +<p>"What—that they're thinking of giving me Hickson's place? +Parham has just written to me—I found the letter +down-stairs—to ask me to go and see him."</p> +<p>"Oh! it's come?" said Lady Tranmore, with a start of pleasure. +Lord Parham was the Prime Minister. "Now don't be a humbug, +William, and pretend you're not pleased. But you'll have to work, +mind!" She held up an admonishing finger. "You'll have to answer +letters, mind!—you'll have to keep appointments, mind!"</p> +<p>"Shall I?... Ah!—Hudson—"</p> +<p>He turned. The butler was in the room.</p> +<p>"His lordship, my lady, would like to see Mr. William before +dinner if he could make it convenient."</p> +<p>"Certainly, Hudson, certainly," said the young man. "Tell his +lordship I'll be with him in ten minutes."</p> +<p>Then, as the butler departed—"How's father, mother?"</p> +<p>"Oh! much as usual," said Lady Tranmore, sadly.</p> +<p>"And you?"</p> +<p>He laid his arm boyishly round her waist, and looked up at her, +his handsome face all affection and life. Mary Lyster, observing +them, thought them a remarkable pair—he in the very prime and +heyday of brilliant youth, she so beautiful still, in spite of the +filling-out of middle life—which, indeed, was at the moment +somewhat toned and disguised by the deep mourning, the sweeping +crape and dull silk in which she was dressed.</p> +<p>"I'm all right, dear," she said, quietly, putting her hand on +his shoulder. "Now, go on with your tea. Mary—feed him! I'll +go and talk to father till you come."</p> +<p>She disappeared, and William Ashe approached his cousin.</p> +<p>"She <i>is</i> better?" he said, with an anxiety that became +him.</p> +<p>"Oh yes! Your election has been everything to her—and your +letters. You know how she adores you, William."</p> +<p>Ashe drew a long breath.</p> +<p>"Yes—isn't it bad luck?"</p> +<p>"William!"</p> +<p>"For her, I mean. Because, you know—I can't live up to it. +I know it's her doing—bless her!—that old Parham's +going to give me this thing. And it's a perfect scandal!"</p> +<p>"What nonsense, William!"</p> +<p>"It is!" he maintained, springing up and standing before her, +with his hands in his pockets. "They're going to offer me the +Under-Secretaryship for Foreign Affairs, and I shall take it, I +suppose, and be thankful. And do you know"—he dropped out the +words with emphasis—"that I don't know a word of +German—and I can't talk to a Frenchman for half an hour +without disgracing myself. There—that's how we're +governed!"</p> +<p>He stood staring at her with his bright large eyes—amused, +yet strangely detached—as though he had very little to do +with what he was talking about.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster met his look in some bewilderment, conscious all the +time that his neighborhood was very agreeable and stirring.</p> +<p>"But every one says—you speak so well on foreign +subjects."</p> +<p>"Well, any fool can get up a Blue Book. Only—luckily for +me—all the fools don't. That's how I've scored sometimes. Oh! +I don't deny that—I've scored!" He thrust his hands deeper +into his pockets, his whole tall frame vibrant, as it seemed to +her, with will and good-humor.</p> +<p>"And you'll score again," she said, smiling. "You've got a +wonderful opportunity, William. That's what the Bishop says."</p> +<p>"Much obliged to him!"</p> +<p>Ashe looked down upon her rather oddly.</p> +<p>"He told me he had never believed you were such an idler as +other people thought you—that he felt sure you had great +endowments, and that you would use them for the good of your +country, and"—she hesitated slightly—"of the Church. I +wish you'd talk to him sometimes, William. He sees so clearly."</p> +<p>"Oh! does he?" said Ashe.</p> +<p>Mary had dropped her work, and her face—a little too +broad, with features a trifle too strongly marked—was raised +towards him. Its pale color had passed into a slight blush. But the +more strenuous expression had somehow not added to her charm, and +her voice had taken a slightly nasal tone.</p> +<p>Through the mind of William Ashe, as he stood looking down upon +her, passed a multitude of flying impressions. He knew perfectly +well that Mary Lyster was one of the maidens whom it would be +possible for him to marry. His mother had never pressed her upon +him, but she would certainly acquiesce. It would have been mere +mock modesty on his part not to guess that Mary would probably not +refuse him. And she was handsome, well provided, well +connected—oppressively so, indeed; a man might quail a little +before her relations. Moreover, she and he had always been good +friends, even when as a boy he could not refrain from teasing her +for a slow-coach. During his electoral weeks in the country the +thought of "Polly" had often stolen kindly upon his rare moments of +peace. He must marry, of course. There was no particular excitement +or romance about it. Now that his elder brother was dead and he had +become the heir, it simply had to be done. And Polly was very +nice—quite sweet-tempered and intelligent. She looked well, +moved well, would fill the position admirably.</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, as these half-thoughts rushed through his brain, +a breath of something cold and distracting—a wind from the +land of <i>ennui</i>—seemed to blow upon them and scatter +them. Was it the mention of the Bishop—tiresome, pompous +fellow—or her slightly pedantic tone—or the +infinitesimal hint of "management" that her speech implied? Who +knows? But in that moment perhaps the scales of life inclined.</p> +<p>"Much obliged to the Bishop," he repeated, walking up and down. +"I am afraid, however, I don't take things as seriously as he does. +Oh, I hope I shall behave decently—but, good Lord, what a +comedy it is! You know the sort of articles"—he turned +towards her—"our papers will be writing to-morrow on my +appointment. They'll make me out no end of a fine +fellow—you'll see! And, of course, the real truth is, as you +and I know perfectly well, that if it hadn't been for poor Freddy's +death—and mother—and her dinners—and the chaps +who come here—I might have whistled for anything of the sort. +And then I go down to Ledmenham and stand as a Liberal, and get all +the pious Radicals to work for me! It's a humbugging +world—isn't it?"</p> +<p>He returned to the fireplace, and stood looking down upon +her—grinning.</p> +<p>Mary had resumed her embroidery. She, too, was dimly conscious +of something disappointing.</p> +<p>"Of course, if you choose to take it like that, you can," she +said, rather tartly. "Of course, everything can be made +ridiculous."</p> +<p>"Well, that's a blessing, anyway!" said Ashe, with his merry +laugh. "But look here, Mary, tell me about yourself. What have you +been doing?—dancing—riding, eh?"</p> +<p>He threw himself down beside her, and began an elder-brotherly +cross-examination, which lasted till Lady Tranmore returned and +begged him to go at once to his father.</p> +<p>When he returned to the drawing-room, Ashe found his mother +alone. It was growing dark, and she was sitting idle, her hands in +her lap, waiting for him.</p> +<p>"I must be off, dear," he said to her. "You won't come down and +see me take my seat?"</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>"I think not. What did you think of your father?"</p> +<p>"I don't see much change," he said, hesitating.</p> +<p>"No, he's much the same."</p> +<p>"And you?" He slid down on the sofa beside her and threw his arm +round her. "Have you been fretting?"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore made no reply. She was a self-contained woman, not +readily moved to tears. But he felt her hand tremble as he pressed +it.</p> +<p>"I sha'n't fret now"—she said after a moment—"now +that you've come back."</p> +<p>Ashe's face took a very soft and tender expression.</p> +<p>"Mother, you know—you think a great deal too much of +me—you're too ambitious for me."</p> +<p>She gave a sound between a laugh and a sob, and, raising her +hands, she smoothed back his curly hair and held his face between +them.</p> +<p>"When do you see Lord Parham?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Eight o'clock—in his room at the House. I'll send you up +a note."</p> +<p>"You'll be home early?"</p> +<p>"No—don't wait for me."</p> +<p>She dropped her hands, after giving him a kiss on the cheek.</p> +<p>"I know where you're going! It's Madame d'Estrées' +evening."</p> +<p>"Well—you don't object?"</p> +<p>"Object?" She shrugged her shoulders. "So long as it amuses +you—You won't find <i>one</i> woman there to-night."</p> +<p>"Last time there were two," he said, smiling, as he rose from +the sofa.</p> +<p>"I know—Lady Quantock—and Mrs. Mallory. Now they've +deserted her, I hear. What fresh gossip has turned up I don't know. +Of course," she sighed, "I've been out of the world. But I believe +there have been developments."</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know anything about it—and I don't think I +want to know. She's very agreeable, and one meets everybody +there."</p> +<p>"<i>Everybody</i>. Ungallant creature!" she said, giving a +little pull to his collar, the set of which did not please her.</p> +<p>"Sorry! Mother!"—his laughing eyes pursued her—"Do +you want to marry me off directly?—I know you do!"</p> +<p>"I want nothing but what you yourself should want. Of course, +you must marry."</p> +<p>"The young women don't care twopence about me!"</p> +<p>"William!—be a bear if you like, but not an idiot!"</p> +<p>"Perfectly true," he declared; "not the dazzlers and the +high-fliers, anyway—the only ones it would be an excitement +to carry off."</p> +<p>"You know very well," she said, slowly, "that now you might +marry anybody."</p> +<p>He threw his head back rather haughtily.</p> +<p>"Oh! I wasn't thinking about money, and that kind of thing. +Well, give me time, mother—don't hurry me! And now I'd better +stop talking nonsense, change my clothes, and be off. Good-bye, +dear—you shall hear when the job's perpetrated!"</p> +<p>"William, really!—don't say these things—at least to +anybody but me. You understand very well"—she drew herself up +rather finely—"that if I hadn't known, in spite of your +apparent idleness, you would do any work they <i>set</i> you to do, +to your own credit and the country's, I'd never have lifted a +finger for you!"</p> +<p>William Ashe laughed out.</p> +<p>"Oh! intriguing mother!" he said, stooping again to kiss her. +"So you admit you did it?"</p> +<p>He went off gayly, and she heard him flying up-stairs three +steps at a time, as though he were still an untamed Eton boy, and +there were no three weeks' hard political fighting behind him, and +no interview which might decide his life before him.</p> +<p>He entered his own sitting-room on the second floor, shut the +door behind him, and glanced round him with delight. It was a large +room looking on a side street, and obliquely to the park. Its walls +were covered with books—books which almost at first sight +betrayed to the accustomed eye that they were the familiar +companions of a student. Almost every volume had long paper slips +inside it, and when opened would have been found to contain notes +and underlinings in a somewhat reckless and destructive abundance. +A large table, also loaded untidily with books and papers, stood in +the centre of the room; many of them were note-books, stored with +evidences of the most laborious and patient work; a Cambridge text +lay beside them face downward, as he had left it on departure. His +mother's housekeeper, who had been one of his best friends from +babyhood, was the only person allowed to dust his room—but on +the strict condition that she replaced everything as she found +it.</p> +<p>He took up the volume, and plunged a moment headlong into the +Greek chorus that met his eye. "<i>Jolly!</i>" he said, putting it +down with a sigh of regret. "These beastly politics!"</p> +<p>And he went muttering to his dressing-room, summoning his valet +almost with ill-temper. Yet half his library was the library of a +politician, admirably chosen and exhaustively read.</p> +<p>The footman who answered his call understood his moods and +served him at a look. Ashe complained hotly of the brushing of his +dress-clothes, and worked himself into a fever over the set of his +tie. Nevertheless, before he left he had managed to get from the +young man the whole story of his engagement to the under-housemaid, +giving him thereupon some bits of advice, jocular but trenchant, +which James accepted with a readiness quite unlike his normal +behavior in the circles of his class.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> +<p>Ashe took his seat, dined, and saw the Prime Minister. These +things took time, and it was not till past eleven that he presented +himself in the hall of Madame d'Estrées' house in St. +James's Place. Most of her guests were already gathered, but he +mounted the stairs together with an old friend and an old +acquaintance, Philip Darrell, one of the ablest writers of the +moment, and Louis Harman, artist and man of fashion, the friend of +duchesses and painter of portraits, a person much in request in +many worlds.</p> +<p>"What a <i>cachet</i> they have, these houses!" said Harman, +looking round him. "St. James's Place is the top!"</p> +<p>"Where else would you expect to find Madame d'Estrées?" +asked Darrell, smiling.</p> +<p>"Yes—what taste she has! However, it was I really who +advised her to take the house."</p> +<p>"Naturally," said Darrell.</p> +<p>Harman threw a dubious look at him, then stopped a moment, and +with a complacent proprietary air straightened an engraving on the +staircase wall.</p> +<p>"I suppose the dear lady has a hundred slaves of the lamp, as +usual," said Ashe. "You advise her about her house—somebody +else helps her to buy her wine—"</p> +<p>"Not at all, my dear fellow," said Harman, offended—"as if +I couldn't do that!"</p> +<p>"Hullo!" said Darrell, as they neared the drawing-room door. +"What a crowd there is!"</p> +<p>For as the butler announced them, the din of talk which burst +through the door implied indeed a multitude—much at their +ease.</p> +<p>They made their way in with difficulty, shaping their course +towards that corner in the room where they knew they should find +their hostess. Ashe was greeted on all sides with friendly words +and congratulations, and a passage was opened for him to the famous +"blue sofa" where Madame d'Estrées sat enthroned.</p> +<p>She looked up with animation, broke off her talk with two +elderly diplomats who seemed to have taken possession of her, and +beckoned Ashe to a seat beside her.</p> +<p>"So you're in? Was it a hard fight?"</p> +<p>"A hard fight? Oh no! One would have had to be a great fool not +to get in."</p> +<p>"They say you spoke very well. I suppose you promised them +everything they wanted—from the crown downward?"</p> +<p>"Yes—all the usual harmless things," said Ashe.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées laughed; then looked at him across the +top of her fan.</p> +<p>"Well!—and what else?"</p> +<p>"You can't wait for your newspaper?" he said, smiling, after a +moment's pause.</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders good-humoredly.</p> +<p>"Oh! I <i>know</i>—of course I know. Is it as good as you +expected?"</p> +<p>"As good as—" The young man opened his mouth in wonder. +"What right had I to expect anything?"</p> +<p>"How modest! All the same, they want you—and they're very +glad to get you. But you can't save them."</p> +<p>"That's not generally expected of Under-Secretaries, is it?"</p> +<p>"A good deal's expected of <i>you</i>. I talked to Lord Parham +about you last night."</p> +<p>William Ashe flushed a little.</p> +<p>"Did you? Very kind of you."</p> +<p>"Not at all. I didn't flatter you in the least. Nor did he. But +they're going to give you your chance!"</p> +<p>She bent forward and lightly patted the sleeve of his coat with +the fingers of a very delicate hand. In this sympathetic aspect, +Madame d'Estrées was no doubt exceedingly attractive. There +were, of course, many people who were not moved by it; to whom it +was the conjuring of an arch pretender. But these were generally of +the female sex. Men, at any rate, lent themselves to the illusion. +Ashe, certainly, had always done so. And to-night the spell still +worked; though as her action drew his particular attention to her +face and expression, he was aware of slight changes in her which +recalled his mother's words of the afternoon. The eyes were tired; +at last he perceived in them some slight signs of years and harass. +Up till now her dominating charm had been a kind of timeless +softness and sensuousness, which breathed from her whole +personality—from her fair skin and hair, her large, smiling +eyes. She put, as it were, the question of age aside. It was +difficult to think of her as a child; it had been impossible to +imagine her as an old woman.</p> +<p>"Well, this is all very surprising," said Ashe, "considering +that four months ago I did not matter an old shoe to anybody."</p> +<p>"That was your own fault. You took no trouble. And +besides—there was your poor brother in the way."</p> +<p>Ashe's brow contracted.</p> +<p>"No, that he never was," he said, with energy. "Freddy was never +in anybody's way—least of all in mine."</p> +<p>"You know what I mean," she said, hastily. "And you know what +friends he and I were—poor Freddy! But, after all, the +world's the world."</p> +<p>"Yes—we all grow on somebody's grave," said Ashe. Then, +just as she became conscious that she had jarred upon him, and must +find a new opening, he himself found it. "Tell me!" he said, +bending forward with a sudden alertness—"who is that +lady?"</p> +<p>He pointed out a little figure in white, sitting in the opening +of the second drawing-room; a very young girl apparently, +surrounded by a group of men.</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Madame d'Estrées—"I was coming to +that—that's my girl Kitty—"</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty!" said Ashe, in amazement. "She's left school? I +thought she was quite a little thing."</p> +<p>"She's eighteen. Isn't she a darling? Don't you think her very +pretty?"</p> +<p>Ashe looked a moment.</p> +<p>"Extraordinarily bewitching!—unlike other people?" he +said, turning to the mother.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées raised her eyebrows a little, in +apparent amusement.</p> +<p>"I'm not going to describe Kitty. She's indescribable. +Besides—you must find her out. Do go and talk to her. She's +to be half with me, half with her aunt—Lady Grosville."</p> +<p>Ashe made some polite comment.</p> +<p>"Oh! don't let's be conventional!" said Madame d'Estrées, +flirting her fan with a little air of weariness—"It's an +odious arrangement. Lady Grosville and I, as you probably know, are +not on terms. She says atrocious things of me—and I—" +the fair head fell back a little, and the white shoulders rose, +with the slightest air of languid disdain—"well, bear me +witness that I don't retaliate! It's not worth while. But I know +that Grosville House can help Kitty. So!—" Her gesture, half +ironical, half resigned, completed the sentence.</p> +<p>"Does Lady Kitty like society?"</p> +<p>"Kitty likes anything that flatters or excites her."</p> +<p>"Then of course she likes society. Anybody as pretty as +that—"</p> +<p>"Ah! how sweet of you!" said Madame d'Estrées, +softly—"how sweet of you! I like you to think her pretty. I +like you to say so."</p> +<p>Ashe felt and looked a trifle disconcerted, but his companion +bent forward and added—"I don't know whether I want you to +flirt with her! You must take care. Kitty's the most fantastic +creature. Oh! my life now'll be very different. I find she takes +all my thoughts and most of my time!"</p> +<p>There was something extravagant in the sweetness of the smile +which emphasized the speech, and altogether, Madame +d'Estrées, in this new maternal aspect, was not as agreeable +as usual. Part of her charm perhaps had always lain in the fact +that she had no domestic topics of her own, and so was endlessly +ready for those of other people. Those, indeed, who came often to +her house were accustomed to speak warmly of her +"unselfishness"—by which they meant the easy patience with +which she could listen, smile, and flatter.</p> +<p>Perhaps Ashe made this tacit demand upon her, no less than other +people. At any rate, as she talked cooingly on about her daughter, +he would have found her tiresome for once but for some arresting +quality in that small, distant figure. As it was, he followed what +she said with attention, and as soon as she had been recaptured by +the impatient Italian Ambassador, he moved off, intending slowly to +make his way to Lady Kitty. But he was caught in many +congratulations by the road, and presently he saw that his friend +Darrell was being introduced to her by the old habitué of +the house, Colonel Warington, who generally divided with the +hostess the "lead" of these social evenings.</p> +<p>Lady Kitty nodded carelessly to Mr. Darrell, and he sat down +beside her.</p> +<p>"That's a cool hand for a girl of eighteen!" thought Ashe. "She +has the airs of a princess—except for the chatter."</p> +<p>Chatter indeed! Wherever he moved, the sound of the light +hurrying voice made itself persistently heard through the hum of +male conversation.</p> +<p>Yet once, Ashe, looking round to see if Darrell could be +dislodged, caught the chatterer silent, and found himself all at +once invaded by a slight thrill, or shock.</p> +<p>What did the girl's expression mean?—what was she thinking +of? She was looking intently at the crowded room, and it seemed to +Ashe that Darrell's talk, though his lips moved quickly, was not +reaching her at all. The dark brows were drawn together, and +beneath them the eyes looked sorely out. The delicate lips were +slightly, piteously open, and the whole girlish form in its young +beauty appeared, as he watched, to shrink together. Suddenly the +girl's look, so wide and searching, caught that of Ashe; and he +moved impulsively forward.</p> +<p>"Present me, please, to Lady Kitty," he said, catching +Warington's arm.</p> +<p>"Poor child!" said a low voice in his ear.</p> +<p>Ashe turned and saw Louis Harman. The tone, +however—allusive, intimate, patronizing—in which Harman +had spoken, annoyed him, and he passed on without taking any +notice.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty," said Warington, "Mr. Ashe wishes to be presented +to you. He is an old friend of your mother's. Congratulate +him—he has just got into Parliament."</p> +<p>Lady Kitty drew herself up, and all trace of the look which Ashe +had observed disappeared. She bowed, not carelessly as she had +bowed to Darrell, but with a kind of exaggerated stateliness, not +less girlish.</p> +<p>"I never congratulate anybody," she said, shaking her head, +"till I know them."</p> +<p>Ashe opened his eyes a little.</p> +<p>"How long must I wait?" he said, smiling, as he drew a chair +beside her.</p> +<p>"That depends. Are you difficult to know?" She looked up at him +audaciously, and he on his side could not take his eyes from her, +so singular was the small, sparkling face. The hair and skin were +very fair, like her mother's, the eyes dark and full of fire, the +neck most daintily white and slender, the figure undeveloped, the +feet and hands extremely small. But what arrested him was, so to +speak, the embodied contradiction of the personality—as +between the wild intelligence of the eyes and the extreme youth, +almost childishness, of the rest.</p> +<p>He asked her if she had ever known any one confess to being +easy, to know.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm easy to know," she said, carelessly, leaning back; +"but, then, I'm not worth knowing."</p> +<p>"Is one allowed to find out?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes—of course! Do you know—when you were over +there, I <i>willed</i> that you should come and talk to me, and you +came. Only," she sat up with animation, and began to tick off her +sentences on her fingers—"Don't ask me how long I've been in +town. Don't ask where I was in Paris. Don't inquire whether I like +balls! You see, I warn you at once"—she looked up +frankly—"that we mayn't lose time."</p> +<p>"Well, then, I don't see how I'm ever to find out," said Ashe, +stoutly.</p> +<p>"Whether I'm worth knowing?" She considered, then bent forward +eagerly. "Look here! I'll just tell you everything in a lump, and +then that'll do—won't it? Listen. I'm just eighteen. I was +sent to the Soeurs Blanches when I was thirteen—the year papa +died. I <i>didn't</i> like papa—I'm very sorry, but I didn't! +However, that's by-the-way. In all those years I have only seen +maman once—she doesn't like children. But my aunt Grosville +has some French relations—very, <i>very</i> 'comme il faut,' +you understand—and I used to go and stay with them for the +holidays. Tell me!—did you ever hunt in France?"</p> +<p>"Never," said Ashe, startled and amused by the sudden glance of +enthusiasm that lit up the face and expressed itself in the clasped +hands.</p> +<p>"Oh! it's such heaven," she said, lifting her shoulders with an +extravagant gesture—"such <i>heaven</i>! First there are the +old dresses—the men look such darlings!—and then the +horns, and the old ways they have—<i>si noble!—si +distingué!</i>—not like your stupid English hunting. +And then the dogs! Ah! the <i>dogs</i>"—the shoulders went +higher still; "do you know my cousin Henri actually gave me a puppy +of the great breed—<i>the</i> breed, you know—the Dogs +of St. Hubert. Or at least he <i>would</i> if maman would have let +me bring it over. And she wouldn't! Just think of that! When there +are thousands of people in France who'd give the eyes out of their +head for one. I cried all one night—Allons!—faut pas y +penser!"—she shook back the hair from her eyes with an +impatient gesture. "My cousins have got a château, you know, +in the Seine-et-Oise. They've promised to ask me next +year—when the Grand-Duke Paul comes—if I'll promise to +behave. You see, I'm not a bit like French girls—I had so +many affairs!"</p> +<p>Her eyes flashed with laughter.</p> +<p>Ashe laughed too.</p> +<p>"Are you going to tell me about them also?"</p> +<p>She drew herself up.</p> +<p>"No! I play fair, always—ask anybody! Oh, I <i>do</i> want +to go back to France so badly!" Once more she was all appeal and +childishness. "Anyway, I won't stay in England! I have made up my +mind to that!"</p> +<p>"How long has it taken?"</p> +<p>"A fortnight," she said, slowly—"just a fortnight."</p> +<p>"That hardly seems time enough—does it?" said Ashe. "Give +us a little longer."</p> +<p>"No—I—I hate you!" said Lady Kitty, with a strange +drop in her voice. Her little fingers began to drum on the table +near her, and to Ashe's intense astonishment he saw her eyes fill +with tears.</p> +<p>Suddenly a movement towards the other room set in around them. +Madame d'Estrées could be heard giving directions. A space +was made in the large drawing-room—a little table appeared in +it, and a footman placed thereon a glass of water.</p> +<p>Lady Kitty looked up.</p> +<p>"Oh, that <i>detestable</i> man!" she said, drawing back. +"No—I can't, I can't bear it. Come with me!" and beckoning to +Ashe she fled with precipitation into the farther part of the inner +drawing-room, out of her mother's sight. Ashe followed her, and she +dropped panting and elate into a chair.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the outer room gathered to hear the recitation of some +<i>vers de société</i>, fondly believed by their +author to be of a very pretty and Praedian make. They certainly +amused the company, who laughed and clapped as each neat +personality emerged. Lady Kitty passed the time either in a running +commentary on the reciter, which occasionally convulsed her +companion, or else in holding her small hands over her ears.</p> +<p>When it was over, she drew a long breath.</p> +<p>"How maman <i>can!</i> Oh! how <i>bête</i> you English are +to applaud such a man! You have only <i>one</i> poet, haven't +you—one living poet? Ah! I shouldn't have laughed if it had +been he!"</p> +<p>"I suppose you mean Geoffrey Cliffe?" said Ashe, amused. "Nobody +abroad seems ever to have heard of any one else."</p> +<p>"Well, of course, I just long to know him! Every one says he is +so dangerous!—he makes all the women fall in love with him. +That's <i>delicious</i>! He shouldn't make me! Do you know +him?"</p> +<p>"I knew him at Eton. We were 'swished' together," said Ashe.</p> +<p>She inquired what the phrase might mean, and when informed, +flushed hotly, denouncing the English school system as quite unfit +for gentlemen and men of honor. Her French cousins would sooner die +than suffer such a thing. Then in the midst of her tirade she +suddenly paused, and fixing Ashe with her brilliant eyes, she asked +him a surprising question, in a changed and steady voice:</p> +<p>"Is Lady Tranmore not well?"</p> +<p>Ashe was fairly startled.</p> +<p>"Thank you, I left her quite well. Have you—"</p> +<p>"Did maman ask her to come to-night?"</p> +<p>It was Ashe's turn to redden.</p> +<p>"I don't know. But—we are in mourning, you see, for my +brother."</p> +<p>Her face changed and softened instantly.</p> +<p>"Are you? I'm so sorry. I—I always say something stupid. +Then—Lady Tranmore used to come to maman's +parties—before—"</p> +<p>She had grown quite pale; it seemed to him that her hand shook. +Ashe felt an extraordinary pang of pity and concern.</p> +<p>"It's I, you see, to whom your mother has been kind," he said, +gently. "We're an independent family; we each make our own +friends."</p> +<p>"No—" she said, drawing a deep breath. "No, it's not that. +Look at that room."</p> +<p>Following her slight gesture, Ashe looked. It was an old, +low-ceiled room, panelled in white and gold, showing here and there +an Italian picture—saint, or holy family, agreeable +school-work—from which might be inferred the tastes if not +the <i>expertise</i> of Madame d'Estrées' first husband, +Lord Blackwater. The floor was held by a plentiful collection of +seats, neither too easy nor too stiff; arranged by one who +understood to perfection the physical conditions at least which +should surround the "great art" of conversation. At this moment +every seat was full. A sea of black coats overflowed on the farther +side, into the staircase landing, where through the open door +several standing groups could be seen; and in the inner room, where +they sat, there was but little space between its margin and +themselves. It was a remarkable sight; and in his past visits to +the house Ashe had often said to himself that the elements of which +it was made up were still more remarkable. Ministers and +Opposition; ambassadors, travellers, journalists; the men of +fashion and the men of reform; here a French republican official, +and beyond him, perhaps, a man whose ancestors were already of the +most ancient <i>noblesse</i> in Saint-Simon's day; artists, great +and small, men of letters good and indifferent; all these had been +among the guests of Madame d'Estrées, brought to the house, +each of them, for some quality's sake, some power of keeping up the +social game.</p> +<p>But now, as he looked at the room, not to please himself but to +obey Lady Kitty, Ashe became aware of a new impression. The crowd +was no less, numerically, than he had seen it in the early winter; +but it seemed to him less distinguished, made up of coarser and +commoner items. He caught the face of a shady financier long since +banished from Lady Tranmore's parties; beyond him a red-faced +colonel, conspicuous alike for doubtful money-matters and +matrimonial trouble; and in a farther corner the sallow profile of +a writer whose books were apt to rouse even the man of the world to +a healthy and contemptuous disgust. Surely these persons had never +been there of old; he could not remember one of them.</p> +<p>He looked again, more closely. Was it fancy, or was the +gathering itself aware of the change which had passed over it? As a +whole, it was certainly noisier than of old; the shouting and +laughter were incessant. But within the general uproar certain +groups had separated from other groups, and were talking with a +studied quiet. Most of the habitué's were still there; but +they held themselves apart from their neighbors. Were the old +intimacy and solidarity beginning to break up?—and with them +the peculiar charm of these "evenings," a charm which had so far +defied a social boycott that had been active from the first?</p> +<p>He glanced back uncertainly at Lady Kitty, and she looked at +him.</p> +<p>"Why are there no ladies?" she said, abruptly.</p> +<p>He collected his thoughts.</p> +<p>"It—it has always been a men's gathering. Perhaps for some +men here—I'm sorry there are such barbarians, Lady +Kitty!—that makes the charm of it. Look at that old fellow +there! He is a most famous old boy. Everybody invites him—but +he never stirs out of his den but to come here. My mother can't get +him—though she has tried often."</p> +<p>And he pointed to a dishevelled, gray-haired gentleman, short in +stature, round in figure, something, in short, like an animated +egg, who was addressing a group not far off.</p> +<p>Lady Kitty's face showed a variety of expressions.</p> +<p>"Are there many parties like this in London? Are the ladies +asked, and don't come? I—I don't—understand!"</p> +<p>Ashe looked at her kindly.</p> +<p>"There is no other hostess in London as clever as your mother," +he declared, and then tried to change the subject; but she paid no +heed.</p> +<p>"The other day, at Aunt Grosville's," she said, slowly, "I asked +if my two cousins might come to-night, and they looked at me as +though I were mad! Oh, <i>do</i> talk to me!" She came impulsively +nearer, and Ashe noticed that Darrell, standing against the doorway +of communication, looked round at them in amusement. "I liked your +face—the very first moment when I saw you across the room. Do +you know—you're—you're very handsome!" She drew back, +her eyes fixed gravely, intently upon him.</p> +<p>For the first time Ashe was conscious of annoyance.</p> +<p>"I hope you won't mind my saying so"—his tone was a little +short—"but in this country we don't say those things. They're +not—quite polite."</p> +<p>"Aren't they?" Her eyebrows arched themselves and her lips fell +in penitence. "I always called my French cousin, Henri la Fresnay, +<i>beau!</i> I am sure he liked it!" The accent was almost +plaintive.</p> +<p>Ashe's natural impulse was to say that if so the French cousin +must be an ass. But all in a moment he found himself seized with a +desire to take her little hands in his own and press them—she +looked such a child, so exquisite, and so forlorn. And he did in +fact bend forward confidentially, forgetting Darrell.</p> +<p>"I want you to come and see my mother?" he said, smiling at her. +"Ask Lady Grosville to bring you."</p> +<p>"May I? But—" She searched his face, eager still to pour +out the impulsive, uncontrolled confidences that were in her mind. +But his expression stopped her, and she gave a little, resentful +sigh.</p> +<p>"Yes—I'll come. <i>We</i>—you and I—are a +little bit cousins too—aren't we? We talked about you at the +Grosvilles."</p> +<p>"Was our 'great-great' the same person?" he said, laughing. +"Hope it was a decent 'great-great.' Some of mine aren't much to +boast of. Well, at any rate, let's <i>be</i> cousins—whether +we are or no, shall we?"</p> +<p>She assented, her whole face lighting up.</p> +<p>"And we're going to meet—the week after next!" she said, +triumphantly, "in the country."</p> +<p>"Are we?—at Grosville Park. That's delightful."</p> +<p>"And <i>then</i> I'll ask your advice—I'll make you tell +me—a hundred things! That's a bargain—mind!"</p> +<p>"Kitty! Come and help me with tea—there's a darling!"</p> +<p>Lady Kitty turned. A path had opened through the crowd, and +Madame d'Estrées, much escorted, a vision of diamonds and +pale-pink satin, appeared, leading the way to the supper-room, and +the light "refection," accompanied by much champagne, which always +closed these evenings.</p> +<p>The girl rose, as did her companion also. Madame +d'Estrées threw a quick, half-satirical glance at Ashe, but +he had eyes only for Lady Kitty, and her transformation at the +touch of her mother's voice. She followed Madame d'Estrées +with a singular and conscious dignity, her white skirts sweeping, +her delicately fine head thrown back on her thin neck and +shoulders. The black crowd closed about her; and Ashe's eyes +pursued the slender figure till it disappeared.</p> +<p>Extreme youth—innocence—protest—pain—was +it with these touching and pleading impressions, after all, that +his first talk with Kitty Bristol had left him? Yet what a little +<i>étourdie</i>! How lacking in the reserves, the natural +instincts and shrinkings of the well-bred English girl!</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Darrell and Ashe walked home together, through a windy night +which was bringing out April scents even from the London grass and +lilac-bushes.</p> +<p>"Well," said Darrell, as they stepped into the Green Park, "so +you're safely in. Congratulate you, old fellow. Anything else?"</p> +<p>"Yes. They've offered me Hickson's place. More fools they, don't +you think?"</p> +<p>"Good! Upon my word, Bill, you've got your foot in the stirrup +now! Hope you'll continue to be civil to poor devils like me."</p> +<p>The speaker looked up smiling, but neither the tone nor the +smile was really cordial. Ashe felt the embarrassment that he had +once or twice felt before in telling Darrell news of good fortune. +There seemed to be something in Darrell that resented +it—under an outer show of felicitation.</p> +<p>However, they went on talking of the political moment and its +prospects, and of Ashe's personal affairs. As to the last, Darrell +questioned, and Ashe somewhat reluctantly replied. It appeared that +his allowance was to be largely raised, that his paralyzed father, +in fact, was anxious to put him in possession of a substantial +share in the income of the estates, that one of the country-houses +was to be made over to him, and so on.</p> +<p>"Which means, of course, that they want you to marry," said +Darrell. "Well, you've only to throw the handkerchief."</p> +<p>They were passing a lamp as he spoke, and the light shone on his +long, pale face—a face of discontent—with its large +sunken eyes and hollow cheeks.</p> +<p>Ashe treated the remark as "rot," and endeavored to get away +from his own affairs by discussing the party they had just +left.</p> +<p>"How does she get all those people together? It's +astonishing!"</p> +<p>"Well, I always liked Madame d'Estrées well enough," said +Darrell, "but, upon my word, she has done a beastly mean thing in +bringing that girl over."</p> +<p>"You mean?"—Ashe hesitated—"that her own position is +too doubtful?"</p> +<p>"Doubtful, my dear fellow!" Darrell laughed unpleasantly. "I +never really understood what it all meant till the other night when +old Lady Grosville took and told me—more at any rate than I +knew before. The Grosvilles are on the war-path, and they regard +the coming of this poor child as the last straw."</p> +<p>"Why?" said Ashe.</p> +<p>Darrell gave a shrug. "Well, you know the story of Madame +d'Estrées' step-daughter—old Blackwater's +daughter?"</p> +<p>"Ah! by his first marriage? I knew it was something about the +step-daughter," said Ashe, vaguely.</p> +<p>Darrell began to repeat his conversation with Lady Grosville. +The tale threatened presently to become a black one indeed; and at +last Ashe stood still in the broad walk crossing the Green +Park.</p> +<p>"Look here," he said, resolutely, "don't tell me any more. I +don't want to hear any more."</p> +<p>"Why?" asked Darrell, in amazement.</p> +<p>"Because"—Ashe hesitated a moment. "Well, I don't want it +to be made impossible for me to go to Madame d'Estrées' +again. Besides, we've just eaten her salt."</p> +<p>"You're a good friend!" said Darrell, not without something of a +sneer.</p> +<p>Ashe was ruffled by the tone, but tried not to show it. He +merely insisted that he knew Lady Grosville to be a bit of an old +cat; that of course there was something up; but it seemed a shame +for those at least who accepted Madame d'Estrées' +hospitality to believe the worst. There was a curious mixture of +carelessness and delicacy in his remarks, very characteristic of +the man. It appeared as though he was at once too indolent to go +into the matter, and too chivalrous to talk about it.</p> +<p>Darrell presently maintained a rather angry silence. No man +likes to be checked in his story, especially when the check implies +something like a snub from his best friend. Suddenly, memory +brought before him the little picture of Ashe and Lady Kitty +together—he bending over her, in his large, handsome +geniality, and she looking up. Darrell felt a twinge of +jealousy—then disgust. Really, men like Ashe had the world +too easily their own way. That they should pose, besides, was too +much.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> +<p>Rather more than a fortnight after the evening at Madame +d'Estrées', William Ashe found himself in a Midland train on +his way to the Cambridgeshire house of Lady Grosville. While the +April country slipped past him—like some blanched face to +which life and color are returning—Ashe divided his time +between an idle skimming of the Saturday papers and a no less idle +dreaming of Kitty Bristol. He had seen her two or three times since +his first introduction to her—once at a ball to which Lady +Grosville had taken her, and once on the terrace of the House of +Commons, where he had strolled up and down with her for a most +amusing and stimulating hour, while her mother entertained a group +of elderly politicians. And the following day she had come +alone—her own choice—to take tea with Lady Tranmore, on +that lady's invitation, as prompted by her son. Ashe himself had +arrived towards the end of the visit, and had found a Lady Kitty in +the height of the fashion, stiff mannered, and flushed to a deep +red by her own consciousness that she could not possibly be making +a good impression. At sight of him she relaxed, and talked a great +deal, but not wisely; and when she was gone, Ashe could get very +little opinion of any kind from his mother, who had, however, +expressed a wish that she should come and visit them in the +country.</p> +<p>Since then he frankly confessed to himself that in the intervals +of his new official and administrative work he had been a good deal +haunted by memories of this strange child, her eyes, her +grace—even in her fits of proud shyness—and the way in +which, as he had put her into her cab after the visit to Lady +Tranmore, her tiny hand had lingered in his, a mute, astonishing +appeal. Haunted, too, by what he heard of her fortunes and +surroundings. What was the real truth of Madame d'Estrées' +situation? During the preceding weeks some ugly rumors had reached +Ashe of financial embarrassment in that quarter, of debts risen to +mountainous height, of crisis and possible disappearance. Then +these rumors were met by others, to the effect that Colonel +Warington, the old friend and support of the d'Estrées' +household, had come to the rescue, that the crisis had been +averted, and that the three weekly evenings, so well known and so +well attended, would go on; and with this phase of the story there +mingled, as Ashe was well aware, not the slightest breath of +scandal, in a case where, so to speak, all was scandal.</p> +<p>And meanwhile what new and dolorous truths had Lady Kitty been +learning as to her mother's history and her mother's position? By +Jove! it <i>was</i> hard upon the girl. Darrell was right. Why not +leave her to her French friends and relations?—or relinquish +her to Lady Grosville? Madame d'Estrées had seen little or +nothing of her for years. She could not, therefore, be necessary to +her mother's happiness, and there was a real cruelty in thus +claiming her, at the very moment of her entrance into society, +where Madame d'Estrées could only stand in her way. For +although many a man whom the girl might profitably marry was to be +found among the mother's guests, the influences of Madame +d'Estrées' "evenings" were certainly not matrimonial. Still +the unforeseen was surely the probable in Lady Kitty's case. What +sort of man ought she to marry—what sort of man could safely +take the risks of marrying her—with that mother in the +background?</p> +<p>He descended at the way-side station prescribed to him, and +looked round him for fellow-guests—much as the card-player +examines his hand. Mary Lyster, a cabinet minister—filling an +ornamental office and handed on from ministry to ministry as a kind +of necessary appendage, the public never knew why—the +minister's second wife, an attaché from the Austrian +embassy, two members of Parliament, and a well-known +journalist—Ashe said to himself flippantly that so far the +trumps were not many. But he was always reasonably glad to see +Mary, and he went up to her, cared for her bag, and made her put on +her cloak, with cousinly civility. In the omnibus on the way to the +house he and Mary gossiped in a corner, while the cabinet minister +and the editor went to sleep, and the two members of Parliament +practised some courageous French on the Austrian +attaché.</p> +<p>"Is it to be a large party?" he asked of his companion.</p> +<p>"Oh! they always fill the house. A good many came down +yesterday."</p> +<p>"Well, I'm not curious," said Ashe, "except as to one +person."</p> +<p>"Who?"</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty Bristol."</p> +<p>Mary Lyster smiled.</p> +<p>"Yes, poor child, I heard from the Grosville girls that she was +to be here."</p> +<p>"Why 'poor child'?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Quite the wrong expression, I admit. It should be +'poor hostess.'"</p> +<p>"Oh!—the Grosvilles complain?"</p> +<p>"No. They're only on tenter-hooks. They never know what she will +do next."</p> +<p>"How good for the Grosvilles!"</p> +<p>"You think society is the better for shocks?"</p> +<p>"Lady Grosville can do with them, anyway. What a masterful +woman! But I'll back Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>"I haven't seen her yet," said Mary. "I hear she is a very +odd-looking little thing."</p> +<p>"Extremely pretty," said Ashe.</p> +<p>"Really?" Mary lifted incredulous eyebrows. "Well, now I shall +know what you admire."</p> +<p>"Oh, my tastes are horribly catholic—I admire so many +people," said Ashe, with a glance at the well-dressed elegance +beside him. Mary colored a little, unseen; and the rattle of the +carriage as it entered the covered porch of Grosville Park cut +short their conversation.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Well, I'm glad you got in," said Lady Grosville, in her full, +loud voice, "because we are connections. But of course I regard the +loss of a seat to our side just now as a great disaster."</p> +<p>"Very grasping, on your part!" said Ashe. "You've had it all +your own way lately. Think of Portsmouth!"</p> +<p>Lady Grosville, however, as she met his bantering look, did not +find herself at all inclined to think of Portsmouth. She was much +more inclined to think of William Ashe. What a good-looking fellow +he had grown! She heaved an inward sigh, of mingled envy and +appreciation, directed towards Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>Poor Susan indeed had suffered terribly in the death of her +eldest son. But the handsomer and abler of the two brothers still +remained to her—and the estate was safe. Lady Grosville +thought of her own three daughters, plain and almost dowerless; and +of that conceited young man, the heir, whom she could hardly +persuade her husband to invite, once a year, for appearance +sake.</p> +<p>"Why are we so early?" said Ashe, looking at his watch. "I +thought I should be disgracefully late."</p> +<p>For he and Lady Grosville had the library to themselves. It was +a fine, book-walled room, with giallo antico columns and Adam +decoration; and in its richly colored lamp-lit space, the seated +figure—stiffly erect—of Lady Grosville, her profile, +said by some to be like a horse and by others to resemble +Savonarola, the cap of old Venice point that crowned her grizzled +hair, her black velvet dress, and the long-fingered, ugly, yet +distinguished hands which lay upon her lap, told significantly; +especially when contrasted with the negligent ease and +fresh-colored youth of her companion.</p> +<p>Grosville Park was rich in second-rate antiques; and there was a +Greco-Roman head above the bookcase with which Ashe had been often +compared. As he stood now leaning against the fireplace, the +close-piled curls, and eyes—somewhat "à fleur de +tête"—of the bust were undoubtedly repeated with some +closeness in the living man. Those whom he had offended by some +social carelessness or other said of him when they wished to run +him down, that he was "floridly" handsome; and there was some truth +in it.</p> +<p>"Didn't you get the message about dinner?" said Lady Grosville. +Then, as he shook his head: "Very remiss of Parkin. I always tell +him he loses his head directly the party goes into double figures. +We had to put off dinner a quarter of an hour because of Kitty +Bristol, who missed her train at St. Pancras, and only arrived half +an hour ago. By-the-way, I suppose you have already seen +her—at that woman's?"</p> +<p>"I met her a week or two ago, at Madame d'Estrées'," said +Ashe, apparently preoccupied with something wrong in the set of his +white waistcoat.</p> +<p>"What did you think of her?"</p> +<p>"A charming young lady," said Ashe, smiling. "What else should I +think?"</p> +<p>"A lamb thrown to the wolves," said Lady Grosville, grimly. "How +that woman <i>could</i> do such a thing!"</p> +<p>"I saw nothing lamblike about Lady Kitty," said Ashe. "And do +you include me among the wolves?"</p> +<p>Lady Grosville hesitated a moment, then stuck to her colors.</p> +<p>"You shouldn't go to such a house," she said, boldly—"I +suppose I may say that without offence, William, as I've known you +from a boy."</p> +<p>"Say anything you like, my dear Lady Grosville! So +you—believe evil things—of Madame +d'Estrées?"</p> +<p>His tone was light, but his eyes sought the distant door, as +though invoking some fellow-guest to appear and protect him.</p> +<p>Lady Grosville did not answer. Ashe's look returned to her, and +he was startled by the expression of her face. He had always known +and unwillingly admired her for a fine Old Testament Christian, one +from whom the language of the imprecatory Psalms with regard to her +enemies, personal and political, might have flowed more naturally +than from any other person he knew, of the same class and breeding. +But this loathing—this passion of contempt—this heat of +memory!—these were new indeed, and the fire of them +transfigured the old, gray face.</p> +<p>"I have known a fair number of bad people," said Lady Grosville, +in a low voice—"and a good many wicked women. But for +meanness and vileness combined, the things I know of the woman who +was Blackwater's wife have no equal in my experience!"</p> +<p>There was a moment's pause. Then Ashe said, in a voice as +serious as her own:</p> +<p>"I am sorry to hear you say that, partly because I like Madame +d'Estrées, and partly—because—I was particularly +attracted by Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>Lady Grosville looked up sharply. "Don't marry her, +William!—don't marry her! She comes of a bad stock."</p> +<p>Ashe recovered his gayety.</p> +<p>"She is your own niece. Mightn't a man dare—on that +guarantee?"</p> +<p>"Not at all," said Lady Grosville, unappeased. "I was a hop out +of kin. Besides—a Methodist governess saved me; she converted +me, at eighteen, and I owe her everything. But my +brothers—and all the rest of us!" She threw up her eyes and +hands. "What's the good of being mealy mouthed about it? All the +world knows it. A good many of us were mad—and I sometimes +think I see more than eccentricity in Kitty."</p> +<p>"Who was Madame d'Estrées?" said Ashe. Why should he +wince so at the girl's name?—in that hard mouth?</p> +<p>Lady Grosville smiled.</p> +<p>"Well, I can tell you a good deal about that," she said. +"Ah!—another time!"</p> +<p>For the door opened, and in came a group of guests, with a gush +of talk and a rustling of silks and satins.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Everybody was gathered; dinner had been announced; and the +white-haired and gouty Lord Grosville was in a state of seething +impatience that not even the mild-voiced Dean of the neighboring +cathedral, engaged in complimenting him on his speech at the +Diocesan Conference, could restrain.</p> +<p>"Adelina, need we wait any longer?" said the master of the +house, turning an angry eye upon his wife.</p> +<p>"Certainly not—she has had ample time," said Lady +Grosville, and rang the bell beside her.</p> +<p>Suddenly there was a whirlwind of noise in the hall, the angry +barking of a small dog, the sound of a girl's voice laughing and +scolding, the swish of silk skirts. A scandalized butler, obeying +Lady Grosville's summons, threw the door open, and in burst Lady +Kitty.</p> +<p>"Oh! I'm so sorry," said the new-comer, in a tone of despair. +"But I couldn't leave him up-stairs, Aunt Lina! He'd eaten one of +my shoes, and begun upon the other. And Julie's afraid of him. He +bit her last week. <i>May</i> he sit on my knee? I know I can keep +him quiet!"</p> +<div><a name="image-044.jpg" id="image-044.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-044.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-044.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"A SLIM GIRL IN WHITE AT THE FAR END OF THE LARGE ROOM"</b></p> +<p>Every conversation in the library stopped. Twenty amazed persons +turned to look. They beheld a slim girl in white at the far end of +the large room struggling with a gray terrier puppy which she held +under her left arm, and turning appealing eyes towards Lady +Grosville. The dog, half frightened, half fierce, was barking +furiously. Lady Kitty's voice could hardly be heard through the +din, and she was crimson with the effort to control her charge. Her +lips laughed; her eyes implored. And to add to the effect of the +apparition, a marked strangeness of dress was at once perceived by +all the English eyes turned upon her. Lady Kitty was robed in the +extreme of French fashion, which at that moment was a fashion of +flounces; she was much <i>décolletée;</i> and her +fair, abundant hair, carried to a great height, and arranged with a +certain calculated wildness around her small face, was surmounted +by a large scarlet butterfly which shone defiantly against the dark +background of books.</p> +<p>"Kitty!" said Lady Grosville, advancing indignantly, "what a +dreadful noise! Pray give the dog to Parkin at once."</p> +<p>Lady Kitty only held the struggling animal tighter.</p> +<p>"<i>Please</i>, Aunt Lina!—I'm afraid he'll bite! But +he'll be quite good with me."</p> +<p>"Why <i>did</i> you bring him, Kitty? We can't have such a +creature at dinner!" said Lady Grosville, angrily.</p> +<p>Lord Grosville advanced behind his wife.</p> +<p>"How do you do, Kitty? Hadn't you better put down the dog and +come and be introduced to Mr. Rankine, who is to take you in to +dinner?"</p> +<p>Lady Kitty shook her fair head, but advanced, still clinging to +the dog, gave a smile and a nod to Ashe, and a bow to the young +Tory member presented to her.</p> +<p>"You don't mind him?" she said, a flash of laughter in her dark +eyes. "We'll manage him between us, won't we?"</p> +<p>The young man, dazzled by her prettiness and her strangeness, +murmured a hopeful assent. Lord Grosville, with the air of a man +determined on dinner though the skies fall, offered his arm to Lady +Edith Manley, the wife of the cabinet minister, and made for the +dining-room. The stream of guests followed; when suddenly the +puppy, perceiving on the floor a ball of wool which had rolled out +of Lady Grosville's work-table, escaped in an ecstasy of mischief +from his mistress's arm and flew upon the ball. Kitty rushed after +him; the wool first unrolled, then caught; the table overturned and +all its contents were flung pell-mell in the path of Lady +Grosville, who, on the arm of the amused and astonished minister, +was waiting in restrained fury till her guests should pass.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"I shall never get over this," said Lady Kitty, as she leaned +back in her chair, still panting, and quite incapable of eating any +of the foods that were being offered to her in quick +succession.</p> +<p>"I don't know that you deserve to," said Ashe, turning a face +upon her which was as grave as he could make it. The attention of +every one else round the room was also in truth occupied with his +companion. There was, indeed, a general buzz of conversation and a +general pretence that Lady Kitty's proceedings might now be +ignored. But in reality every guest, male or female, kept a +stealthy watch on the red butterfly and the sparkling face beneath +it; and Ashe was well aware of it.</p> +<p>"I vow it was not my fault," said Kitty, with dignity. "I was +not allowed to have the dog I should have had. You'd never have +found a dog of St. Hubert condescending to bedroom slippers! But as +I had to have a dog—and Colonel Warington gave me this one +three days ago—and he has already ruined half maman's things, +and no one could manage him but me, I just had to bring him, and +trust to Providence."</p> +<p>"I have been here a good many times," said Ashe, "and I never +yet saw a dog in the sanctuary. Do you know that Pitt once wrote a +speech in the library?"</p> +<p>"Did he? I'm sure it never made such a stir as Ponto did." +Kitty's face suddenly broke into laughter, and she hid it a moment +in her hands.</p> +<p>"You brazen it out," said Ashe; "but how are you going to +appease Lady Grosville?"</p> +<p>Kitty ceased to laugh. She drew herself up, and looked +seriously, observantly at her aunt.</p> +<p>"I don't know. But I must do it somehow. I don't want any more +worries."</p> +<p>So changed were her tone and aspect that Ashe turned a friendly +examining look upon her.</p> +<p>"Have you been worried?" he said, in a lower voice.</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and made no reply. But presently she +impatiently reclaimed his attention, snatching him from the lady he +had taken in to dinner, with no scruple at all.</p> +<p>"Will you come a walk with me to-morrow morning?"</p> +<p>"Proud," said Ashe. "What time?"</p> +<p>"As soon as we can get rid of these people," she said, her eye +running round the table. Then as it paused and lingered on the face +of Mary Lyster opposite, she abruptly asked him who that lady might +be.</p> +<p>Ashe informed her.</p> +<p>"Your cousin?" she said, looking at him with a slight frown. +"Your cousin? I don't—well, I don't think I shall like +her."</p> +<p>"That's a great pity," said Ashe.</p> +<p>"For me?" she said, distrustfully.</p> +<p>"For both, of course! My mother's very fond of Miss Lyster. +She's often with us."</p> +<p>"Oh!" said Kitty, and looked again at the face opposite. Then he +heard her say behind her fan, half to herself and half to him:</p> +<p>"She does not interest me in the least! She has no ideas! I'm +sure she has no ideas. Has she?"</p> +<p>She turned abruptly to Ashe.</p> +<p>"Every one calls her very clever."</p> +<p>Kitty looked contempt.</p> +<p>"That's nothing to do with it. It's not the clever people who +have ideas."</p> +<p>Ashe bantered her a little on the meaning of her words, till he +presently found that she was too young and unpractised to be able +to take his thrusts and return them, with equanimity. She could +make a daring sally or reply; but it was still the raw material of +conversation; it wanted ease and polish. And she was evidently +conscious of it herself, for presently her cheek flushed and her +manner wavered.</p> +<p>"I suppose you—everybody—thinks her very agreeable?" +she said, sharply, her eyes returning to Miss Lyster.</p> +<p>"She is a most excellent gossip," said Ashe. "I always go to her +for the news."</p> +<p>Kitty glanced again.</p> +<p>"I can see that already she detests me."</p> +<p>"In half an hour?"</p> +<p>The girl nodded.</p> +<p>"She has looked at me twice—about. But she has made up her +mind—and she never changes." Then with an abrupt alteration +of note she looked round the room. "I suppose your English +dining-rooms are all like this? One might be sitting in a hearse. +And the pictures—no! <i>Quelles horreurs</i>!"</p> +<p>She raised her shoulders again impetuously, frowning at a huge +full-length opposite of Lord Grosville as M.F.H., a masterpiece +indeed of early Victorian vulgarity.</p> +<p>Then suddenly, hastily, with that flashing softness which so +often transformed her expression, she turned towards him, trying to +make amends.</p> +<p>"But the library—that was <i>bien</i>—ah! +<i>tr-rès, tr-rès bien</i>!"</p> +<p>Her r's rolled a little as she spoke, with a charming effect, +and she looked at him radiantly, as though to strike and to make +amends were equally her prerogative, and she asked no man's +leave.</p> +<p>"You've not yet seen what there is to see here," said Ashe, +smiling. "Look behind you."</p> +<p>The girl turned her slim neck and exclaimed. For behind Ashe's +chair was the treasure of the house. It was a "Dance of Children," +by one of the most famous of the eighteenth-century masters. From +the dark wall it shone out with a flower-like brilliance, a vision +of color and of grace. The children danced through a golden air, +their bodies swaying to one of those "unheard melodies" of art, +sweeter than all mortal tunes; their delicate faces alive with joy. +The sky and grass and trees seemed to caress them; a soft sunlight +clothed them; and flowers brushed their feet.</p> +<p>Kitty turned back again and was silent. Was it Ashe's fancy, or +had she grown pale?</p> +<p>"Did you like it?" he asked her. She turned to him, and for the +second time in their acquaintance he saw her eyes floating in +tears.</p> +<p>"It is too beautiful!" she said, with an effort—almost an +angry effort. "I don't want to see it again."</p> +<p>"I thought it would give you pleasure," said Ashe, gently, +suddenly conscious of a hope that she was not aware of the slight +look of amusement with which Mary Lyster was contemplating them +both.</p> +<p>"So it did," said Kitty, furtively applying her lace +handkerchief to her tears; "but"—her voice +dropped—"when one's unhappy—very unhappy—things +like that—things like <i>Heaven</i>—hurt! Oh, what a +<i>fool</i> I am!" And she sat straightly up, looking round +her.</p> +<p>There was a pause; then Ashe said, in another voice:</p> +<p>"Look here, you know this won't do. I thought we were to be +cousins."</p> +<p>"Well?" said Kitty, indifferently, not looking at him.</p> +<p>"And I understood that I was to be taken into respectable +cousinly counsel?"</p> +<p>"Well?" said Kitty again, crumbling her bread. "I can't do it +here, can I?"</p> +<p>Ashe laughed.</p> +<p>"Well, anyhow, we're going to sample the garden to-morrow +morning, aren't we?"</p> +<p>"I suppose so," said Kitty. Then, after a moment, she looked at +her right-hand neighbor, the young politician to whom as yet she +had scarcely vouchsafed a word.</p> +<p>"What's his name?" she asked, under her breath. Ashe repeated +it.</p> +<p>"Perhaps I ought to talk to him?"</p> +<p>"Of course you ought," said Ashe, with smiling decision, and +turning to the lady whom he had brought in he left her free.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When the ladies rose, Lady Grosville led the way to the large +drawing-room, a room which, like the library, had some character, +and a thin elegance of style, not, however, warmed and harmonized +by the delightful presence of books. The walls, blue and white in +color, were panelled in stucco relief. A few family portraits, +stiff handlings of stiff people, were placed each in the exact +centre of its respective panel. There were a few cases of china and +a few polished tables. A crimson Brussels carpet, chosen by Lady +Grosville for its "cheerfulness," covered the floor, and there was +a large white sheepskin rug before the fireplace. A few hyacinths +in pots, and the bright fire supplied the only gay and living +notes—before the ladies arrived.</p> +<p>Still, for an English eye, the room had a certain cold charm, +was moreover full of <i>history</i>. It hardly deserved at any rate +the shiver with which Kitty Bristol looked round it.</p> +<p>But she had little time to dwell upon the room and its meanings, +for Lady Grosville approached her with a manner which still showed +signs of the catastrophe before dinner.</p> +<p>"Kitty, I think you don't know Miss Lyster yet—Mary +Lyster—she wants to be introduced to you."</p> +<p>Mary advanced smiling; Kitty held out a limp hand, and they +exchanged a few words standing in the centre of the floor, while +the other guests found seats.</p> +<p>"What a charming contrast!" said Lady Edith Manley in Lady +Grosville's ear. She nodded smiling towards the standing +pair—struck by the fine straight lines of Mary's satin dress, +the roundness of her fine figure, the oval of her head and face, +and then by the little, vibrating, tempestuous creature beside her, +so distinguished, in spite of the billowing flounces and ribbons, +so direct and significant, amid all the elaboration.</p> +<p>"Kitty is ridiculously overdressed," said Lady Grosville. "I +hope we shall soon change that. My girls are going to take her to +their woman."</p> +<p>Lady Edith put up her eye-glass slowly and looked at the two +Grosville girls; then back at Kitty.</p> +<p>Meanwhile a few perfunctory questions and answers were passing +between Miss Lyster and her companion. Mary's aspect as she talked +was extremely amiable; one might have called it indulgent, perhaps +even by an adjective that implied a yet further shade of delicate +superiority. Kitty met it by the same "grand manner" that Ashe had +several times observed in her, a manner caught perhaps from some +French model, and caricatured in the taking. Her eyes meanwhile +took note of Mary's face and dress, and while she listened her +small teeth tormented her under-lip, as though she restrained +impatience. All at once in the midst of some information that Miss +Lyster was lucidly giving, Kitty made an impetuous turn. She had +caught some words on the farther side of the room; and she looked +hard, eagerly, at the speaker.</p> +<p>"Who is that?" she inquired.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster, with a sharp sense of interruption, replied that +she believed the lady in question was the Grosville's French +governess. But in the very midst of her sentence Kitty deserted +her, left her standing in the centre of the drawing-room, while the +deserter fled across it, and sinking down beside the astonished +mademoiselle took the Frenchwoman's hand by assault and held it in +both her own.</p> +<p>"Vous parlez Français?—vous êtes +Française? Ah! ça me fait tant de bien! Voyons! +voyons!—causons un peu!"</p> +<p>And bending forward, she broke into a cataract of French, all +the elements of her strange, small beauty rushing, as it were, into +flame and movement at the swift sound and cadence of the words, +like a dancer kindled by music. The occasion was of the slightest; +the Frenchwoman might well show a natural bewilderment. But into +the slight occasion the girl threw an animation, a passion, that +glorified it. It was like the leap of a wild rain-stream on the +mountains, that pours into the first channel which presents +itself.</p> +<p>"What beautiful French!" said Lady Edith, softly, to Mary +Lyster, who had found a seat beside her.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster smiled.</p> +<p>"She has been at school, of course, in a French convent." +Somehow the tone implied that the explanation disposed of all merit +in the performance.</p> +<p>"I am afraid these French convent schools are not at all what +they should be," said Lady Grosville.</p> +<p>And rising to a pyramidal height, her ample moiré dress +swelling behind her, her gray head magnificently crowned by its +lace cap and black velvet <i>bandeau</i>, she swept across the room +to where the Dean's wife, Mrs. Winston, sat in fascinated silence +observing Lady Kitty. The silence and the attention annoyed her +hostess. The first thing to be done with girls of this type, it +seemed to Lady Grosville, was to prove to them that they would +<i>not</i> be allowed to monopolize society.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>There are natural monopolies, however, and they are not easy to +deal with.</p> +<p>As soon as the gentlemen returned, Mr. Rankine, whom she had +treated so badly at dinner, the young agent of the estate, the +clergyman of the parish, the Austrian attaché, the cabinet +minister, and the Dean, all showed a strong inclination to that +side of the room which seemed to be held in force by Lady Kitty. +The Dean especially was not to be gainsaid. He placed himself in +the seat shyly vacated by the French governess, and crossed his +thin, stockinged legs with the air of one who means to take his +ease. There was even a certain curious resemblance between him and +Kitty, as was noticed from a distance by Ashe. The Dean, who was +very much a man of the world, and came of an historic family, was, +in his masculine degree, planned on the same miniature scale and +with the same fine finish as the girl of eighteen. And he carried +his knee-breeches, his apron, and his exquisite white head with a +natural charm and energy akin to hers—mellowed though it were +by time, and dignified by office. He began eagerly to talk to her +of Paris. His father had been ambassador for a time under Louis +Philippe, and he had boyish memories of the great house in the +Faubourg St. Honoré, and of the Orleanist ministers and men +of letters. And lo! Kitty met him at once, in a glow and sparkle +that enchanted the old man. Moreover, it appeared that this +much-beflounced young lady could talk; that she had heard of the +famous names and the great affairs to which the Dean made allusion; +that she possessed indeed a native and surprising interest in +matter of the sort; and a manner, above all, with the old, +alternately soft and daring, calculated, as Lady Grosville would no +doubt have put it, merely to make fools of them.</p> +<p>In her cousins' house, it seemed, she had talked with old +people, survivors of the Orleanist and Bourbon +régimes—even of the Empire; had sat at their feet, a +small, excited hero-worshipper; and had then rushed blindly into +the memoirs and books that concerned them. So, in this French world +the child had found time for other things than hunting, and the +flattery of her cousin Henri? Ashe was supposed to be devoting +himself to the Dean's wife; but both he and she listened most of +the time to the sallies and the laughter of the circle where Kitty +presided.</p> +<p>"My dear young lady," cried the delighted Dean, "I never find +anybody who can talk of these things—it is really +astonishing. Ah, <i>now</i>, we English know nothing of +France—nor they of us. Why, I was a mere school-boy then, and +I had a passion for their society, and their books—for their +<i>plays</i>—dare I confess it?"—he lowered his voice +and glanced at his hostess—"their plays, above all!"</p> +<p>Kitty clapped her hands. The Dean looked at her, and ran on:</p> +<p>"My mother shared it. When I came over for my Eton holidays, she +and I lived at the Théâtre-Français. Ah, those +were days! <i>I</i> remember Mademoiselle Mars in 'Hernani.'"</p> +<p>Kitty bounded in her seat. Whereupon it appeared that just +before she left Paris she had been taken by a friend to see the +reigning idol of the Comédie-Française, the young and +astonishing actress, Sarah Bernhardt, as Doña Sol. And there +began straightway an excited duet between her and the Dean; a +comparison of old and new, a rivalry of heroines, a hot and +critical debate that presently silenced all other conversation in +the room, and brought Lord Grosville to stand gaping and astounded +behind the Dean, reflecting no doubt that this was not precisely +the Dean of the Diocesan Conference.</p> +<p>The old man indeed forgot his age, the girl her youth; they met +as equals, on poetic ground, till suddenly Kitty, springing up, and +to prove her point, began an imitation of Sarah in the great +love-scene of the last act, before arresting fate, in the person of +Don Ruy, breaks in upon the rapture of the lovers. She absolutely +forgot the Grosville drawing-room, the staring Grosville girls, the +other faces, astonished or severe, neutral or friendly. Out rolled +the tide of tragic verse, fine poetry, and high passion; and though +it be not very much to say, it must at least be said that never had +such recitation, in such French, been heard before within the walls +of Grosville Park. Nor had the lips of any English girl ever dealt +there with a poetic diction so unchastened and unashamed. Lady +Grosville might well feel as though the solid frame of things were +melting and cracking round her.</p> +<p>Kitty ceased. She fell back upon her chair, smitten with a +sudden perception.</p> +<p>"You made me!" she said, reproachfully, to the Dean.</p> +<p>The Dean said another "Brava!" and gave another clap. Then, +becoming aware of Lord Grosville's open mouth and eye, he sat up, +caught his wife's expression, and came back to prose and the +present.</p> +<p>"My dear young lady," he began, "you have the most extraordinary +talent—" when Lady Grosville advanced upon him. Standing +before him, she majestically signalled to her husband across his +small person.</p> +<p>"William, kindly order Mrs. Wilson's carriage."</p> +<p>Lord Grosville awoke from his stupor with a jerk, and did as he +was told. Mrs. Wilson, the agent's timid wife, who was not at all +aware that she had asked for her carriage, rose obediently. Then +the mistress of the house turned to Lady Kitty.</p> +<p>"You recite very well, Kitty," she said, with cold and stately +emphasis, "but another time I will ask you to confine yourself to +Racine and Corneille. In England we have to be very careful about +French writers. There are, however, if I remember right, some fine +passages in 'Athalie.'"</p> +<p>Kitty said nothing. The Austrian attaché who had been +following the little incident with the liveliest interest, retired +to a close inspection of the china. But the Dean, whose temper was +of the quick and chivalrous kind, was roused.</p> +<p>"She recites wonderfully! And Victor Hugo is a classic, please, +my lady—just as much as the rest of them. Ah, well, no doubt, +no doubt, there might be things more suitable." And the old man +came wavering down to earth, as the enthusiasm which Kitty had +breathed into him escaped, like the gas from a balloon. "But, do +you know, Lady Kitty "—he struck into a new subject with +eagerness, partly to cover the girl, partly to silence Lady +Grosville—"you reminded me all the time so +remarkably—in your voice—certain inflections—of +your sister—your step-sister, isn't it?—Lady Alice? You +know, of course, she is close to you to-day—just the other +side the park—with the Sowerbys?"</p> +<p>The Dean's wife sprang to her feet in despair. In general it was +to her a matter for fond complacency that her husband had no memory +for gossip, and was in such matters as innocent and as dangerous as +a child. But this was too much. At the same moment Ashe came +quickly forward.</p> +<p>"My sister?" said Kitty. "My sister?"</p> +<p>She spoke low and uncertainly, her eyes fixed upon the Dean.</p> +<p>He looked at her with a sudden odd sense of something unusual, +then went on, still floundering:</p> +<p>"We met her at St. Pancras on our way down. If I had only known +we were to have had the pleasure of meeting you—Do you know, +I think she is looking decidedly better?"</p> +<p>His kindly expression as he rose expected a word of sisterly +assent. Meanwhile even Lady Grosville was paralyzed, and the words +with which she had meant to interpose failed on her lips.</p> +<p>Kitty, too, rose, looking round for something, which she seemed +to find in the face of William Ashe, for her eyes clung there.</p> +<p>"My sister," she repeated, in the same low, strained voice. "My +sister Alice? I—I don't know. I have never seen her."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Ashe could not remember afterwards precisely how the incident +closed. There was a bustle of departing guests, and from the midst +of it Lady Kitty slipped away. But as he came down-stairs in +smoking trim, ten minutes later, he overheard the injured Dean +wrestling with his wife, as she lit a candle for him on the +landing.</p> +<p>"My dear, what did you look at me like that for? What did the +child mean? And what on <i>earth</i> is the matter?"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> +<p>After the ladies had gone to bed, on the night of Lady Kitty's +recitation, William Ashe stayed up till past midnight talking with +old Lord Grosville. When relieved of the presence of his +women-kind, who were apt either to oppress him, in the person of +his wife, or to puzzle him, in the persons of his daughters, Lord +Grosville was not by any means without value as a talker. He +possessed that narrow but still most serviceable fund of human +experience which the English land-owner, while our English +tradition subsists, can hardly escape, if he will. As guardsman, +volunteer, magistrate, lord-lieutenant, member—for the sake +of his name and his acres—of various important commissions, +as military <i>attaché</i> even, for a short space, to an +important embassy, he had acquired, by mere living, that for which +his intellectual betters had often envied him—a certain +shrewdness, a certain instinct, as to both men and affairs, which +were often of more service to him than finer brains to other +persons. But, like most accomplishments, these also brought their +own conceit with them. Lord Grosville having, in his own opinion, +done extremely well without much book education himself, had but +little appreciation for it in others.</p> +<p>Nevertheless he rarely missed a chance of conversation with +William Ashe, not because the younger man, in spite of his past +indolence, was generally held to be both able and accomplished, but +because the elder found in him an invincible taste for men and +women, their fortunes, oddities, catastrophes—especially the +latter—similar to his own.</p> +<p>Like Mary Lyster, both were good gossips; but of a much more +disinterested type than she. Women indeed as gossips are too apt to +pursue either the damnation of some one else or the apotheosis of +themselves. But here the stupider no less than the abler man showed +a certain broad detachment not very common in women—amused by +the human comedy itself, making no profit out of it, either for +themselves or morals, but asking only that the play should go +on.</p> +<p>The incident, or rather the heroine of the evening, had given +Lord Grosville a topic which in the case of William Ashe he saw no +reason for avoiding; and in the peace of the smoking-room, when he +was no longer either hungry for his dinner or worried by his +responsibilities as host, he fell upon his wife's family, and, as +though he had been the manager of a puppet-show, unpacked the whole +box of them for Ashe's entertainment.</p> +<p>Figure after figure emerged, one more besmirched than another, +till finally the most beflecked of all was shaken out and +displayed—Lady Grosville's brother and Kitty's father, the +late Lord Blackwater. And on this occasion Ashe did not try to +escape the story which was thus a second time brought across him. +Lord Grosville, if he pleased, had a right to tell it, and there +was now a curious feeling in Ashe's mind which had been entirely +absent before, that he had, in some sort, a right to hear it.</p> +<p>Briefly, the outlines of it fell into something like this shape: +Henry, fifth Earl of Blackwater, had begun life as an Irish peer, +with more money than the majority of his class; an initial +advantage soon undone by an insane and unscrupulous extravagance. +He was, however, a fine, handsome, voracious gentleman, born to +prey upon his kind, and when he looked for an heiress he was not +long in finding her. His first wife, a very rich woman, bore him +one daughter. Before the daughter was three years old, Lord +Blackwater had developed a sturdy hatred of the mother, chiefly +because she failed to present him with a son; and he could not even +appease himself by the free spending of her money, which, so far as +the capital was concerned, was sharply looked after by a pair of +trustees, Belfast manufacturers and Presbyterians, to whom the +Blackwater type was not at all congenial.</p> +<p>These restrictions presently wore out Lord Blackwater's +patience. He left his wife, with a small allowance, to bring up her +daughter in one of his Irish houses, while he generously spent the +rest of her large income, and his own, and a great deal besides, in +London and on the Continent.</p> +<p>Lady Blackwater, however, was not long before she obliged him by +dying. Her girl, then twelve years old, lived for a time with one +of her mother's trustees. But when she had reached the age of +seventeen her father suddenly commanded her presence in Paris, that +she might make acquaintance with his second wife.</p> +<p>The new Lady Blackwater was an extremely beautiful woman, Irish, +as the first had been, but like her in no other respect. Margaret +Fitzgerald was the daughter of a cosmopolitan pair, who after many +shifts for a living, had settled in Paris, where the father acted +as correspondent for various English papers. Her beauty, her +caprices, and her "affairs" were all well known in Paris. As to +what the relations between her and Lord Blackwater might have been +before the death of the wife, Lord Grosville took a frankly +uncharitable view. But when that event occurred, Blackwater was +beginning to get old, and Miss Fitzgerald had become necessary to +him. She pressed all her advantages, and it ended in his marrying +her. The new Lady Blackwater presented him with one child, a +daughter; and about two years after its birth he sent for his elder +daughter, Lady Alice, to join them in the sumptuous apartment in +the Place Vendôme which he had furnished for his new wife, in +defiance both of his English and Irish creditors.</p> +<p>Lady Alice arrived—a fair slip of a girl, possessed, it +was plain to see, by a nervous terror both of her father and +step-mother. But Lady Blackwater received her with effusion, +caressed her in public, dressed her to perfection, and made all +possible use of the girl's presence in the house for the +advancement of her own social position. Within a year the Belfast +trustees, watching uneasily from a distance, received a letter from +Lord Blackwater, announcing Lady Alice's runaway marriage with a +certain Colonel Wensleydale, formerly of the Grenadier Guards. Lord +Blackwater professed himself vastly annoyed and displeased. The +young people, furiously in love, had managed the affair, however, +with a skill that baffled all vigilance. Married they were, and +without any settlements, Colonel Wensleydale having nothing to +settle, and Lady Alice, like a little fool, being only anxious to +pour all that she possessed into the lap of her beloved. The father +threw himself on the mercy of the trustees, reminding them that in +little more than three years Lady Alice would become unfettered +mistress of her own fortune, and begging them meanwhile to make +proper provision for the rash but happy pair. Harry Wensleydale, +after all, was a rattling good fellow, with whom all the young +women were in love. The thing, though naughty, was natural; and the +colonel would make an excellent husband.</p> +<p>One Presbyterian trustee left his business in Belfast and +ventured himself among the abominations of Paris. He was much +befooled and befeasted. He found a shy young wife tremulously in +love; a handsome husband; an amiable step-mother. He knew no one in +Paris who could enlighten him, and was not clever enough to invent +means of getting information for himself. He was induced to promise +a sufficient income for the moment on behalf of himself and his +co-trustee; and for the rest was obliged to be content with vague +assurances from Colonel Wensleydale that as soon as his wife came +into her property fitting settlements should be made.</p> +<p>Four years passed by. The young people lived with the +Blackwaters, and their income kept the establishment going. Lady +Alice had a child, and was at first not altogether unhappy. She was +little more than a timid child herself; and no doubt, to begin +with, she was in love. Then came her majority. In defiance of all +her trustees, she gave her whole fortune to her husband, and no +power could prevent her from so doing.</p> +<p>The Blackwater ménage blazed up into a sudden splendor. +Lady Blackwater's carriage and Lady Blackwater's jewels had never +been finer; and amid the crowds who frequented the house, the +slight figure, the sallow face, and absent eyes of her +step-daughter attracted little remark. Lady Alice Wensleydale was +said to be delicate and reserved; she made no friends, explained +herself to no one; and it was supposed that she occupied herself +with her little boy.</p> +<p>Then one December she disappeared from the apartment in the +Place Vendôme. It was said that she and the boy found the +climate of Paris too cold in winter, and had gone for a time to +Italy. Colonel Wensleydale continued to live with the Blackwaters, +and their apartment was no less sumptuous, their dinners no less +talked of, their extravagance no less noisy than before. But Lady +Alice did not come back with the spring; and some ugly rumors began +to creep about. They were checked, however, by the death of Lord +Blackwater, which occurred within a year of his daughter's +departure; by the monstrous debts he left behind him; and by the +sale of the contents of the famous apartment, matters, all of them, +sufficiently ugly or scandalous in themselves to keep the tongues +of fame busy. Lady Blackwater left Paris, and when she reappeared, +it was in Rome as the Comtesse d'Estrées, the wife of yet +another old man, whose health obliged them to winter in the south +and to spend the summer in yachting. Her <i>salon</i> in Rome under +Pio Nono became a great rendezvous for English and Americans, +attracted by the historic names and titles that M. +d'Estrées' connections among the Black nobility, his wealth, +and his interest in several of the Catholic banking-houses of Rome +and Naples enabled his wife to command.</p> +<p>Colonel Wensleydale did not appear. Madame d'Estrées let +it be understood that her step-daughter was of a difficult temper, +and now spent most of her time in Ireland. Her own daughter, her +"darling Kitty," was being educated in Paris by the Soeurs +Blanches, and she pined for the day when the "little sweet" should +join her, ready to spread her wings in the great world. But mothers +must not be impatient, Kitty must have all the advantages that +befitted her rank; and to what better hands could the most anxious +mother intrust her than to those charming, aristocratic, +accomplished nuns of the Soeurs Blanches?</p> +<p>Then one January day M. d'Estrées drove out to San Paolo +fuori le Mura, and caught a blast from the snowy Sabines coming +back. In three days he was dead, and his well-provided widow had +snatched the bulk of his fortune from the hands of his needy and +embittered kindred.</p> +<p>Within six months of his death she had bought a house in St. +James's Place, and her London career had begun.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"It is here that we come in," said Lord Grosville, when, with +more digressions and more plainness of speech with regard to his +quondam sister-in-law than can be here reproduced, he had brought +his story to this point. "Blackwater—the old +ruffian—when he was dying had a moment of remorse. He wrote +to my wife and asked her to look after his girls, 'For God's sake, +Lina, see if you can help Alice—Wensleydale's a perfect +brute.' That was the first light we had on the situation, for +Adelina had long before washed her hands of him; and we knew that +<i>she</i> hated us. Well, we tried; of course we tried. But so +long as her husband lived Alice would have nothing to say to any of +us. I suppose she thought that for her boy's sake she'd better keep +a bad business to herself as much as possible—"</p> +<p>"Wensleydale—Wensleydale?" said Ashe, who had been smoking +hard and silently beside his host. "You mean the man who +distinguished himself in the Crimea? He died last year—at +Naples, wasn't it?"</p> +<p>Lord Grosville assented.</p> +<p>It appeared that during the last year of his life Lady Alice had +nursed her husband faithfully through disease and poverty; for +scarcely a vestige of her fortune remained, and an application for +money made by Wensleydale to Madame d'Estrées, unknown to +his wife, had been peremptorily refused. The colonel died, and +within three months of his death Lady Alice had also lost her son +and only child, of blood-poisoning developed in Naples, whither he +had been summoned from school that his father might see him for the +last time.</p> +<p>Then, after seventeen years, Lady Alice came back to her +kindred, who had last seen her as a young girl—gentle, +undeveloped, easily led, and rather stupid. She returned a +gray-haired woman of thirty-four, who had lost youth, fortune, +child, and husband; whose aspect, moreover, suggested losses still +deeper and more drear. At first she wrapped herself in what seemed +to some a dull and to others a tragic silence. But suddenly a flame +leaped up in her. She became aware of the position of Madame +d'Estrées in London; and one day, at a private view of the +Academy, her former step-mother went up to her smiling, with +out-stretched hand. Lady Alice turned very pale; the hand dropped, +and Alice Wensleydale walked rapidly away. But that night, in the +Grosville house, she spoke out.</p> +<p>"She told Lina and myself the whole story. You'd have thought +the woman was possessed. My wife—she's not of the crying +sort, nor am I. But she cried, and I believe—well, I can tell +you it was enough to move a stone. And when she'd done, she just +went away, and locked her door, and let no one say a word to her. +She has told one or two other relations and friends, +and—"</p> +<p>"And the relations and friends have told others?"</p> +<p>"Well, I can answer for myself," said Grosville after a pause. +"This happened three months ago. I never have told, and never shall +tell, all the details as she told them to us. But we have let +enough be known—"</p> +<p>"Enough?—enough to damn Madame d'Estrées?"</p> +<p>"Oh, well, as far as the women were concerned, she was mostly +that already. There are other tales going about. I expect you know +them."</p> +<p>"No, I don't know them," said Ashe.</p> +<p>Lord Grosville's face expressed surprise. "Well, this finished +it," he said.</p> +<p>"Poor child!" said Ashe, slowly, putting down his cigarette and +turning a thoughtful look on the carpet.</p> +<p>"Alice?" said Lord Grosville.</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Oh! you mean Kitty? Yes, I had forgotten her for the moment. +Yes, poor child."</p> +<p>There was silence a moment, then Lord Grosville inquired:</p> +<p>"What do you think of her?"</p> +<p>"I?" said Ashe, with a laugh. "I don't know. She's obviously +very pretty—"</p> +<p>"And a handful!" said Lord Grosville.</p> +<p>"Oh, quite plainly a handful," said Ashe, rather absently. Then +the memory of Kitty's entry recurred to them both, and they +laughed.</p> +<p>"Not much shyness left in that young woman—eh?" said the +old man. "She tells my girls such stories of her French +doings—my wife's had to stop it. She seems to have had all +sorts of love-affairs already. And, of course, she'll have any +number over here—sure to. Some unscrupulous fellow'll get +hold of her, for naturally the right sort won't marry her. I don't +know what we can do. Adelina offered to take her altogether. But +that woman wouldn't hear of it. She wrote Lina rather a good +letter—on her dignity—and that kind of thing. We gave +her an opening, and, by Jove! she took it."</p> +<p>"And meanwhile Lady Kitty has no dealings with her +step-sister?"</p> +<p>"You heard what she said. Extraordinary girl! to let the thing +out plump like that. Just like the blood. They say anything that +comes into their heads. If we had known that Alice was to be with +the Sowerbys this week-end, my wife would certainly have put Kitty +off. It would be uncommonly awkward if they were to meet—here +for instance. Hullo! Is it getting late?"</p> +<p>For the whist-players at the end of the library had pushed back +their chairs, and men were strolling back from the +billiard-room.</p> +<p>"I am afraid Lady Kitty understands there is something wrong +with her mother's position," said Ashe, as they rose.</p> +<p>"I dare say. Brought up in Paris, you see," said the +white-haired Englishman, with a shrug. "Of course, she knows +everything she shouldn't."</p> +<p>"Brought up in a convent, please," said Ashe, smiling. "And I +thought the French <i>girl</i> was the most innocent and ignorant +thing alive."</p> +<p>Lord Grosville received the remark with derision.</p> +<p>"You ask my wife what she thinks about French convents. She +knows—she's had lots of Catholic relations. She'll tell you +tales."</p> +<p>Ashe thought, however, that he could trust himself to see that +she did nothing of the sort.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The smoking-room broke up late, but the new Under-secretary sat +up still later, reading and smoking in his bedroom. A box of +Foreign Office papers lay on his table. He went through them with a +keen sense of pleasure, enjoying his new work and his own +competence to do it, of which, notwithstanding his remarks to Mary +Lyster, he was not really at all in doubt. Then when his comments +were done, and the papers replaced in the order in which they would +now go up to the Secretary of State, he felt the spring night +oppressively mild, and walking to the window, he threw it wide +open.</p> +<p>He looked out upon a Dutch garden, full of spring flowers in +bloom. In the midst was a small fountain, which murmured to itself +through the night. An orangery or conservatory, of a charming +eighteenth-century design, ran round the garden in a semicircle, +its flat pilasters and mouldings of yellow stone taking under the +moonlight the color and the delicacy of ivory. Beyond the terrace +which bordered the garden, the ground fell to a river, of which the +reaches, now dazzling, now sombre, now slipping secret under woods, +and now silverly open to the gentle slopes of the park, brought +wildness and romance into a scene that had else been tame. Beyond +the river on a rising ground was a village church with a spire. The +formal garden, the Georgian conservatory, the park, the river, the +church—they breathed England and the traditional English +life. All that they implied, of custom and inheritance, of strength +and narrowness, of cramping prejudice and stubborn force, was very +familiar to Ashe, and on the whole very congenial. He was glad to +be an Englishman and a member of an English government. The ironic +mood which was tolerably constant in him did not in the least +interfere with his normal enjoyment of normal goods. He saw himself +often as a shade among shadows, as an actor among actors; but the +play was good all the same. That a man should know himself to be a +fool was in his eyes, as it was in Lord Melbourne's, the first of +necessities. But fool or no fool, let him find the occupations that +suited him, and pursue them. On those terms life was still amply +worth living, and ginger was still hot in the mouth.</p> +<p>This was his usual philosophy. Religiously he was a sceptic, +enormously interested in religion. Should he ever become Prime +Minister, as Lady Tranmore prophesied, he would know much more +theology than the bishops he might be called on to appoint. +Politically, at the same time, he was an aristocrat, enormously +interested in liberty. The absurdities of his own class were still +more plain to him perhaps than the absurdities of the populace. But +had he lived a couple of generations earlier he would have gone +with passion for Catholic emancipation, and boggled at the Reform +Bill. And if fate had thrown him on earlier days still, he would +not, like Falkland, have died ingeminating peace; he would have +fought; but on which side, no friend of his—up till +now—could have been quite sure. To have the reputation of an +idler, and to be in truth a plodding and unwearied student; this, +at any rate, pleased him. To avow an enthusiasm, or an affection, +generally seemed to him an indelicacy; only two or three people in +the world knew what was the real quality of his heart. Yet no man +feigns shirking without in some measure learning to shirk; and +there were certain true indolences and sybaritisms in Ashe of which +he was fully and contemptuously aware, without either wishing or +feeling himself able to break the yoke of them.</p> +<p>At the present moment, however, he was rather conscious of much +unusual stirring and exaltation of personality. As he stood looking +out into the English night the currents of his blood ran free and +fast. Never had he felt the natural appetite for living so strong +in him, combined with what seemed to be at once a divination of +coming change, and a thirst for it. Was it the mere advancement of +his fortunes—or something infinitely subtler and sweeter? It +was as though waves of softness and of yearning welled up from some +unknown source, seeking an object and an outlet.</p> +<p>As he stood there dreaming, he suddenly became conscious of +sounds in the room overhead. Or rather in the now absolute +stillness of the rest of the house he realized that the movements +and voices above him, which had really been going on since he +entered his room, persisted when everything else had died away.</p> +<p>Two people were talking; or rather one voice ran on perpetually, +broken at intervals by the other. He began to suspect to whom the +voice belonged; and as he did so, the window above his own was +thrown open. He stepped back involuntarily, but not before he had +caught a few words in French, spoken apparently by Lady Kitty.</p> +<p>"Ciel! what a night!—and how the flowers smell! And the +stars—I adore the stars! Mademoiselle—come here! +Mademoiselle! answer me—I won't tell tales—now do +you—<i>really and truly</i>—believe in God?"</p> +<p>A laugh, which was a laugh of pleasure, ran through Ashe, as he +hurriedly put out his lights.</p> +<p>"Tormentor!" he said to himself—"must you put a woman +through her theological paces at this time of night? Can't you go +to sleep, you little whirlwind?—What's to be done? If I shut +my window the noise will scare her. But I can't stand eavesdropping +here."</p> +<p>He withdrew softly from the window and began to undress. But +Lady Kitty was leaning out, and her voice carried amazingly. Heard +in this way also, apart from form and face, it became a separate +living thing. Ashe stood arrested, his watch that he was winding up +in his hand. He had known the voice till now as something sharp and +light, the sign surely of a chatterer and a flirt. To-night, as +Kitty made use of it to expound her own peculiar theology to the +French governess—whereof a few fragments now and then floated +down to Ashe—nothing could have been more musical, +melancholy, caressing. A voice full of sex, and the spell of +sex.</p> +<p>What had she been talking of all these hours to mademoiselle? A +lady whom she could never have set eyes on before this visit. He +thought of her face, in the drawing-room, as she had spoken of her +sister—of her eyes, so full of a bright feverish pain, which +had hung upon his own.</p> +<p>Had she, indeed, been confiding all her home secrets to this +stranger? Ashe felt a movement of distaste, almost of disgust. Yet +he remembered that it was by her unconventionality, her lack of all +proper reticence, or, as many would have said, all delicate +feeling, that she had made her first impression upon him. Ay, that +had been an impression—an impression indeed! He realized the +fact profoundly, as he stood lingering in the darkness, trying not +to hear the voice that thrilled him.</p> +<p>At last!—was she going to bed?</p> +<p>"Ah!—but I am a pig, to keep you up like this! Allez +dormir!" (The sound of a kiss.) "I? Oh no! Why should one go to +bed? It is in the night one begins to live."</p> +<p>She fell to humming a little French tune, then broke off.</p> +<p>"You remember? You promise? You have the letter?"</p> +<p>Asseverations apparently from mademoiselle, and a mention of +eight o'clock, followed by remorse from Kitty.</p> +<p>"Eight o'clock! And I keep you like this. I am a brute beast! +Allez—allez vite!" And quick steps scudded across the floor +above, followed by the shutting of a door.</p> +<p>Kitty, however, came back to the window, and Ashe could still +hear her sighing and talking to herself.</p> +<p>What had she been plotting? A letter? Conveyed by mademoiselle? +To whom?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Long after all sounds above had ceased Ashe still lay awake, +thinking of the story he had heard from Lord Grosville. Certainly, +if he had known it, he would never have gone familiarly to Madame +d'Estrées' house. Laxity, for a man of his type, is one +thing; lying, meanness, and cruelty are another. What could be done +for this poor child in her strange and sinister position? He was +ironically conscious of a sudden heat of missionary zeal. For if +the creature to be saved had not possessed such a pair of +eyes—so slim a neck—such a haunting and teasing +personality—what then?</p> +<p>The question presently plunged with him into sleep. But he had +not forgotten it when he awoke.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>He had just finished dressing next morning, when he chanced to +see from the front window of his room, which commanded the main +stretch of the park, the figure of a lady on one of the paths. She +seemed to be returning from the farther end of a long avenue, and +was evidently hurrying to reach the house. As she approached, +however, she turned aside into a shrubbery walk and was soon lost +to view. But Ashe had recognized Mademoiselle D. The matter of the +letter recurred to him. He guessed that she had already delivered +it. But where?</p> +<p>At breakfast Lady Kitty did not appear. Ashe made inquiries of +the younger Miss Grosville, who replied with some tartness that she +supposed Kitty had a cold, and hurried off herself to dress for +Sunday-school. It was not at all the custom for young ladies to +breakfast in bed on Sundays at Grosville Park, and Lady Grosville's +brow was clouded. Ashe felt it a positive effort to tell her that +he was not going to church, and when she had marshalled her flock +and carried them off, those left behind knew themselves, indeed, as +heathens and publicans.</p> +<p>Ashe wandered out with some official papers and a pipe into the +spring sunshine. Mr. Kershaw, the editor, would gladly have caught +him for a political talk. But Ashe would not be caught. As to the +interests of England in the Persian Gulf, both they and Mr. Kershaw +might for the moment go hang. Would Lady Kitty meet him in the old +garden at eleven-thirty, or would she not? That was the only thing +that mattered.</p> +<p>However, it was still more than an hour to the time mentioned. +Ashe spent a while in roaming a wood delicately pied with primroses +and anemones, and then sauntered back into the gardens, which were +old and famous.</p> +<p>Suddenly, as he came upon a terrace bordered by a thick yew +hedge, and descending by steps to a lower terrace, he became aware +of voices in a strange tone and key—not loud, but, as it +were, intensified far beyond the note of ordinary talk. Ashe stood +still; for he had recognized the voice of Lady Kitty. But before he +had made up his mind what to do a lady began to ascend the steps +which connected the upper terrace with the lower. She came straight +towards him, and Ashe looked at her with astonishment. She was not +a member of the Grosville house party, and Ashe had never seen her +before. Yet in her pale, unhappy face there was something that +recalled another person; something, too, in her gait and her +passionate energy of movement. She swept past him, and he saw that +she was tall and thin, and dressed in deep mourning. Her eyes were +set on some inner vision; he felt that she scarcely saw him. She +passed like an embodied grief—menacing and lamentable.</p> +<p>Something like a cry pursued her up the steps. But she did not +turn. She walked swiftly on, and was soon lost to sight in the +trees.</p> +<p>Ashe hesitated a moment, then hurried down the steps.</p> +<p>On a stone seat beneath the yew hedge, Kitty Bristol lay prone. +He heard her sobs, and they went most strangely through his +heart.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty!" he said, as he stood beside her and bent over +her.</p> +<p>She looked up, and showed no surprise. Her face was bathed in +tears, but her hand sought his piteously and drew him towards +her.</p> +<p>"I have seen my sister," she said, "and she hates me. What have +I done? I think I shall die of despair!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> +<p>The effect of the few sobbing words, with which Kitty Bristol +had greeted his presence beside her, upon the feeling of William +Ashe was both sharp and deep, for they seemed already to imply a +peculiar relation, a special link between them. Had it not, indeed, +begun in that very moment at St. James's Place when he had first +caught sight of her, sitting forlorn in her white dress?—when +she had "willed" him to come to her, and he came? +Surely—though as to this he had his qualms—she could +not have spoken with this abandonment to any other of her new +English acquaintances? To Darrell, for instance, who was expected +at Grosville Park that evening. No! From the beginning she had +turned to him, William Ashe; she had been conscious of the same +mutual understanding, the same sympathy in difference that he +himself felt.</p> +<p>It was, at any rate, with the feeling of one whose fate has most +strangely, most unexpectedly overtaken him that he sat down beside +her. His own pulses were running at a great rate; but there was to +be no sign of it for her. He tried, indeed, to calm her by that +mere cheerful strength and vitality of which he was so easily +master. "Why should you be in despair?" he said, bending towards +her. "Tell me. Let me try and help you. Was your sister unkind to +you?"</p> +<p>Kitty made no reply at once. The tears that brimmed her large +eyes slipped down her cheeks without disfiguring her. She was +looking absently, intently, into a dark depth of wood as though she +sought there for some truth that escaped her—truth of the +past or of the present.</p> +<p>"I don't know," she said, at last, shaking her head, "I don't +know whether it was unkind. Perhaps it was only what we deserve, +maman and I."</p> +<p>"You!" cried Ashe.</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, passionately. "Who's going to separate between +maman and me? If she's done mean, shocking things, the people she's +done them to will hate me too. They <i>shall</i> hate me! It's +right."</p> +<p>She turned to him violently. She was very white, and her little +hands as she sat there before him, proudly erect, twisted a lace +handkerchief between them that would soon be in tatters. Somehow +Ashe winced before the wreck of the handkerchief; what need to ruin +the pretty, fragile thing?</p> +<p>"I am quite sure no one will ever hate you for what you haven't +done," he said, steadily. "That would be abominably unfair. But, +you see, I don't understand—and I don't like—I don't +wish—to ask questions."</p> +<p>"<i>Do</i> ask questions!" she cried, looking at him almost +reproachfully. "That's just what I want you to do—Only," she +added, hanging her head in depression, "I shouldn't know what to +answer. I am played with, and treated as a baby! There is something +horrible the matter—and no one trusts me—every one +keeps me in the dark. No one ever thinks whether I am miserable or +not."</p> +<p>She raised her hands to her eyes and vehemently wiped away her +tears with the tattered lace handkerchief. In all these words and +actions, however, she was graceful and touching, because she was +natural. She was not posing or conscious, she was hiding nothing. +Yet Ashe felt certain she could act a part magnificently; only it +would not be for the lie's sake, but for the sake of some romantic +impulse or imagination.</p> +<p>"Why should you torment yourself so?" he asked her, kindly. Her +hand had dropped and lay beside her on the bench. To his own +amazement he found himself clasping it. "Isn't it better to forget +old griefs? You can't help what happened years ago—you can't +undo it. You've got to live your own life—<i>happily</i>! And +I just wish you'd set about it."</p> +<p>He smiled at her, and there were few faces more attractive than +his when he let his natural softness have its way, without irony. +She let her eyes be drawn to his, and as they met he saw a flush +rise in her clear skin and spread to the pale gold of her hair. The +man in him was marvellously pleased by that flush—fascinated, +indeed. But she gave him small time to observe it; she drew herself +impatiently away.</p> +<p>"Of course, you don't understand a word about it," she said, "or +you couldn't talk like that. But I'll tell you." Her eyes, half +miserable, half audacious, returned to him. "My sister—came +here—because I sent for her. I made mademoiselle go with a +letter. Of course, I knew there was a mystery—I knew the +Grosvilles did not want us to meet—I knew that she and maman +hated each other. But maman will tell me nothing—and I have a +<i>right</i> to know."</p> +<p>"No, you have no right to know," said Ashe, gravely.</p> +<p>She looked at him wildly.</p> +<p>"I have—I have!" she repeated, passionately. "Well, I told +my sister to meet me here—I had forgotten, you see, all about +you! My mind was so full of Alice. And when she came I felt as if +it was a dream—a horrible, tragic dream. You know—she +is <i>so</i> like me—which means, I suppose, that we are both +like papa. Only her face—it's not handsome, oh no—but +it's stern—and—yes, noble! I was proud of her. I would +like to have gone on my knee and kissed her dress. But she would +not take my hand—she would hardly speak to me. She said she +had come, because it was best, now that I was in England, that we +should meet once, and understand that we <i>couldn't</i> +meet—that we could never, never be friends. She said that she +hated my mother—that for years she had kept silence, but that +now she meant to punish maman—to drive her from London. And +then"—the girl's lips trembled under the memory—"she +came close to me, and she looked into my eyes, and she said, 'Yes, +we're like each other—-we're like our father—and it +would be better for us both if we had never been born—'"</p> +<p>"Ah, cruel!" cried Ashe, involuntarily, and once more his hand +found Kitty's small fingers and pressed them in his.</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him with a strange, exalted look.</p> +<p>"No. I think it's true. I often think I'm not made to be happy. +I can't ever be happy—it's not in me."</p> +<p>"It's in you to say foolish things then!" said Ashe, lightly, +and crossing his arms he tried to assume the practical +elder-brotherly air, which he felt befitted the situation—if +anything befitted it. For in truth it seemed to him one singularly +confused and ugly. Their talk floated above tragic depths, guessed +at by him, wholly unknown to her. And yet her youth shrank from it +knew not what—"as an animal shrinks from shadows in the +twilight." She seemed to him to sit enwrapped in a vague cloud of +shame, resenting and hating it, yet not able to escape from +thinking and talking of it. But she must not talk of it.</p> +<p>She did not answer his last remark for a little while. She sat +looking before her, overwhelmed, it seemed, by an inward rush of +images and sensations. Till, with a sudden movement, she turned to +him and said, smiling, quite in her ordinary voice:</p> +<p>"Do you know why I shall never be happy? It is because I have +such a bad temper."</p> +<p>"Have you?" said Ashe, smiling.</p> +<p>She gave him a curious look.</p> +<p>"You don't believe it? If you had been in the convent, you would +have believed it. I'm mad sometimes—quite mad; with pride, I +suppose, and vanity. The Soeurs said it was that."</p> +<p>"They had to explain it somehow," said Ashe. "But I am quite +sure that if I lived in a convent I should have a furious +temper."</p> +<p>"You!" she said, half contemptuously. "You couldn't be +ill-tempered anywhere. That's the one thing I don't like about +you—you're too calm—too—too satisfied. +It's—Well! you said a sharp thing to me, so I don't see why I +shouldn't say one to you. You shouldn't look as though you enjoyed +your life so much. It's <i>bourgeois</i>! It is, indeed." And she +frowned upon him with a little extravagant air that amused him.</p> +<p>By some prescience, she had put on that morning a black dress of +thin material, made with extreme simplicity. No flounces, no +fanfaronnade. A little girlish dress, that made the girlish figure +seem even frailer and lighter than he remembered it the night +before in the splendors of her Paris gown. Her large black hat +emphasized the whiteness of her brow, the brilliance of her most +beautiful eyes; and then all the rest was insubstantial sprite and +airy nothing, to be crushed in one hand. And yet what untamed, +indomitable things breathed from it—a self surely more self, +more intensely, obstinately alive than any he had yet known.</p> +<p>Her attack had brought the involuntary blood to his cheeks, +which annoyed him. But he invited her to say why cheerfulness was a +vice. She replied that no one should look success—as much as +he did.</p> +<p>"And you scorn success?"</p> +<p>"Scorn it!" She drew a long breath, clasped both her hands above +her head, then slowly let the thin arms fall again. "Scorn it! What +nonsense! But everybody who hasn't got it hates those who +have."</p> +<p>"Don't hate me!" said Ashe, quickly.</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, with stubbornness, "I must. Do you know why I +was such a wild-cat at school? Because some of the other girls were +more important than I—much more important—and +richer—and more beautiful—and people paid them more +attention. And that seemed to <i>burn</i> the heart in me." She +pressed her hands to her breast with a passionate gesture. "You +know the French word <i>panache</i>? Well, that's what I care for +—that's what I <i>adore</i>! To be the first—the +best—the most distinguished. To be envied—and pointed +at—obeyed when I lift my finger—and then to come to +some great, glorious, tragic end!"</p> +<p>Ashe moved impatiently.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty, I don't like to hear you talk like this. It's wild, +and it's also—I beg your pardon—"</p> +<p>"In bad taste?" she said, catching him up breathlessly. "That's +what you meant, isn't it? You said it to me before, when I called +you handsome."</p> +<p>"Pshaw!" he said, in vexation. She watched him throw himself +back and feel for his cigarette-case; a gesture of her hand gave +him leave; she waited, smiling, till he had taken a few calming +whiffs. Then she gently moved towards him.</p> +<p>"Don't be angry with me!" she said, in a sweet, low voice. +"Don't you understand how hard it is—to have that +nature—and then to come here out of the convent—where +one had lived on dreams—and find one's self—"</p> +<p>She turned her head away. Ashe put down his new-lit +cigarette.</p> +<p>"Find yourself?" he repeated.</p> +<p>"Everybody scorns me!" she said, her brow drooping.</p> +<p>Ashe exclaimed.</p> +<p>"You know it's true. My mother is not received. Can you deny +that?"</p> +<p>"She has many friends," said Ashe.</p> +<p>"She is <i>not received</i>. When I speak of her no one answers +me. Lady Grosville asked me here—<i>me</i>—out of +charity. It would be thought a disgrace to marry me—"</p> +<p>"Look here, Lady Kitty!—"</p> +<p>"And I"—she wrung her small hands, as though she clasped +the necks of her enemies—"I would never <i>look</i> at a man +who did not think it the glory of his life to win me. So you see, I +shall never marry. But then the dreadful thing is—"</p> +<p>She let him see a white, stormy face.</p> +<p>"That I have no loyalty to maman—I—I don't think I +even love her."</p> +<p>Ashe surveyed her gravely.</p> +<p>"You don't mean that," he said.</p> +<p>"I think I do," she persisted. "I had a horrid childhood. I +won't tell tales; but, you see, I don't <i>know</i> maman. I know +the Soeurs much better. And then for some one you don't +know—to have to—to have to bear—this horrible +thing—"</p> +<p>She buried her face in her hands. Ashe looked at her in +perplexity.</p> +<p>"You sha'n't bear anything horrible," he said, with energy. +"There are plenty of people who will take care of that. Do you mind +telling me—have there been special difficulties just +lately?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes," she said, calmly, looking up, "awful! Maman's debts +are—well—ridiculous. For that alone I don't think +she'll be able to stay in London—apart from—Alice."</p> +<p>The name recalled all she had just passed through, and her face +quivered. "What will she do?" she said, under her breath. "How will +she punish us?—and why?—for what?"</p> +<p>Her dread, her ignorance, her fierce, bruised vanity, her +struggling pride, her helplessness, appealed amazingly to the man +beside her. He began to talk to her very gently and wisely, begging +her to let the past alone, to think only what could be done to help +the present. In the first place, would she not let his mother be of +use to her?</p> +<p>He could answer for Lady Tranmore. Why shouldn't Lady Kitty +spend the summer with her in Scotland? No doubt Madame +d'Estrées would be abroad.</p> +<p>"Then I must go with her," said Kitty.</p> +<p>Ashe hesitated.</p> +<p>"Of course, if she wishes it."</p> +<p>"But I don't know that she will wish it. She is not very fond of +me," said Kitty, doubtfully. "Yes, I would like to stay with Lady +Tranmore. But will your cousin be there?"</p> +<p>"Miss Lyster?"</p> +<p>Kitty nodded.</p> +<p>"How can I tell? Of course, she is often there."</p> +<p>"It is quite curious," said Kitty, after reflection, "how we +dislike each other. And it is so odd. You know most people like +me!"</p> +<p>She looked up at him without a trace of coquetry, rather with a +certain timidity that feared possible rebuff. "That's always been +my difficulty," she went on, "till now. Everybody spoils me. I +always get my own way. In the convent I was indulged and flattered, +and then they wondered that I made all sorts of follies. I want a +guide—that's quite certain—somebody to tell me what to +do."</p> +<p>"I would offer myself for the post," said Ashe, "but that I feel +perfectly sure that you would never follow anybody's advice in +anything."</p> +<p>"Yes, I would," she said, wistfully. "I would—"</p> +<p>Ashe's face changed.</p> +<p>"Ah, if you would—"</p> +<p>She sprang up. "Do you see "—she pointed to some figures +on a distant path—"they are coming back from church. You +understand?—<i>nobody</i> must know about my sister. It will +come round to Aunt Lina, of course; but I hope it'll be when I'm +gone. If she knew now, I should go back to London to-day."</p> +<p>Ashe made it clear to her that he would be discretion itself. +They left the bench, but, as they began to ascend the steps, Kitty +turned back.</p> +<p>"I wish I hadn't seen her," she said, in a miserable tone, the +tears flooding once more into her eyes.</p> +<p>Ashe looked at her with great kindness, but without speaking. +The moment of sharp pain passed, and she moved on languidly beside +him. But there was an infection in his strong, handsome presence, +and her smiles soon came back. By the time they neared the house, +indeed, she seemed to be in wild spirits again.</p> +<p>Did he know, she asked him, that three more guests were coming +that afternoon—Mr. Darrell, Mr. Louis Harman, +<i>and</i>—Mr. Geoffrey Cliffe? She laid an emphasis on the +last name, which made Ashe say, carelessly:</p> +<p>"You want to meet him so much?"</p> +<p>"Of course. Doesn't all the world?"</p> +<p>Ashe replied that he could only answer for himself, and as far +as he was concerned he could do very well without Cliffe's company +at all times.</p> +<p>Whereupon Kitty protested with fire that other men were jealous +of such a famous person because women liked +him—because—</p> +<p>"Because the man's a coxcomb and the women spoil him?"</p> +<p>"A coxcomb!"</p> +<p>Kitty was up in arms.</p> +<p>"Pray, is he not a great traveller?—<i>a very</i> great +traveller?" she asked, with indignation.</p> +<p>"Certainly, by his own account."</p> +<p>"And a most brilliant writer?"</p> +<p>"Macaulayese," said Ashe, perversely, "and not very good at +that."</p> +<p>Kitty was at first struck dumb, and then began a voluble protest +against unfairness so monstrous. Did not all intelligent people +read and admire? It was mere jealousy, she repeated, to deny the +gentleman's claims.</p> +<p>Ashe let her talk and quote and excite herself, applying every +now and then a little sly touch of the goad, to make her still run +on, and so forget the tragic hour which had overshadowed her. And +meanwhile all he cared for was to watch the flashing of her face +and eyes, and the play of the wind in her hair, and the springing +grace with which she moved. Poor child!—it all came back to +that—poor child!—what was to be done with her?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At luncheon—the Sunday luncheon—which still, at +Grosville Park, as in the early Victorian days of Lord Grosville's +mother, consisted of a huge baronial sirloin to which all else upon +the varied table appeared as appurtenance and appendage, Ashe +allowed himself the inward reflection that the Grosville Park +Sundays were degenerating. Both Lord and Lady Grosville had been +good hosts in their day; and the downrightness of the wife had been +as much to the taste of many as the agreeable gossip of the +husband. But on this occasion both were silent and absent-minded. +Lady Grosville showed no generalship in placing her guests; the +wrong people sat next to each other, and the whole party +dragged—without a leader.</p> +<p>And certainly Kitty Bristol did nothing to enliven it. She sat +very silent, her black dress changing her a good deal, to Ashe's +thinking, bringing back, as he chose to fancy, the pale convent +girl. Was it so that she went through her pious +exercises?—by-the-way, she was, of course, a +Catholic?—said her lessons, and went to her confessor? Had +the French cousin with whom she rode stag-hunting ever seen her +like this? No; Ashe felt certain that "Henri" had never seen her, +except as a fashion-plate, or <i>en amazone</i>. He could have made +nothing of this ghost in black—this distinguished, piteous, +little ghost.</p> +<p>After luncheon it became tolerably clear to Ashe that Lady +Grosville's preoccupation had a cause. And presently catching him +alone in the library, whither he had retired with some official +papers, she closed the door with deliberate care, and stood before +him.</p> +<p>"I see you are interested in Kitty, and I feel as if I must tell +you, and ask your opinion. William, do you know what that child has +been doing?"</p> +<p>He looked up from his writing.</p> +<p>"Ah!—what have you been discovering?"</p> +<p>"Grosville told you the story last night."</p> +<p>Ashe nodded.</p> +<p>"Well—Kitty wrote to Alice this morning—and they +met. Alice has kept her room since—prostrate—so the +Sowerbys tell me. I have just had a note from Mrs. Sowerby. Wasn't +it an extraordinary, an indelicate thing to do?"</p> +<p>Ashe studied the frowning lady a moment—so large and +daunting in her black silk and white lace. She seemed to suggest +all those aspects of the English Sunday for which he had most +secret dislike—its Pharisaism and dulness and heavy meals. He +felt himself through and through Lady Kitty's champion.</p> +<p>"I should have thought it very natural," was his reply.</p> +<p>Lady Grosville threw up her hands.</p> +<p>"Natural!—when she knows—"</p> +<p>"How can she know?" cried Ashe, hotly. "How can such a child +know or guess anything? She only knows that there is some black +charge against her mother, on which no one will enlighten her. How +can they? But meanwhile her mother is ostracized, and she feels +herself dragged into the disgrace, not understanding why or +wherefore. Could anything be more pathetic—more +touching?"</p> +<p>In his heat of feeling he got up, and began to pace up and down. +Lady Grosville's countenance expressed first +astonishment—then wavering.</p> +<p>"Oh—of course, it's very sad," she said—"extremely +sad. But I should have thought Kitty was clever enough to +understand at least that Alice must have some grave reason for +breaking with her mother—"</p> +<p>"Don't you all forget what a child she is," said Ashe, +indignantly—"not yet nineteen!"</p> +<p>"Yes, that's true," said Lady Grosville, grudgingly. "I must +confess I find it difficult to judge her fairly. She's so different +from my own girls."</p> +<p>Ashe hastily agreed. Then it struck him as odd that he should +have fallen so quickly into this position of Kitty's defender with +her father's family; and he drew in his horns. He resumed his work, +and Lady Grosville sat for a while, her hands in her lap, quietly +observing him.</p> +<p>At last she said:</p> +<p>"So you think, William, I had better leave Kitty alone?"</p> +<p>"About what?" Ashe raised his curly head with a laugh. "Don't +put too much responsibility on me. I know nothing about young +ladies."</p> +<p>"I don't know that I do—much," said Lady Grosville, +candidly. "My own daughters are so exceptional."</p> +<p>Ashe held his peace. Distant cousins as they were, he hardly +knew the Grosville girls apart, and had never yet grasped any +reason why he should.</p> +<p>"At any rate, I see clearly," said Lady Grosville, after another +pause, "that you're very sorry for Kitty. Of course, it's very nice +of you, and I find it's what most people feel."</p> +<p>"Hang it! dear Lady Grosville, why shouldn't they?" said Ashe, +turning round on his chair. "If ever there was a forlorn little +person on earth, I thought Lady Kitty was that person at lunch +to-day."</p> +<p>"And after that absurd exhibition last night!" said Lady +Grosville, with a shrug. "You never know where to have her. You +think she looked ill?"</p> +<p>"I am sure she has got a splitting headache," said Ashe, boldly. +"And why you and Grosville shouldn't be as sorry for her as for +Lady Alice I can't imagine. <i>She's</i> done nothing."</p> +<p>"No, that's true," said Lady Grosville, as she rose. Then she +added: "I'll go and see if she has a headache. You must consult +with us, William; you know the mother so well."</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm no good!" said Ashe, with energy. "But I'm sure that +kindness would pay with Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>He smiled at her, wishing to Heaven she would go.</p> +<p>Lady Grosville stared.</p> +<p>"I hope we are always kind to her," she said, with a touch of +haughtiness. And then the library door closed behind her.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Kindness" was indeed, that afternoon, the order of the day, as +from the Grosvilles to Lady Kitty. Ashe wondered how she liked it. +The girls followed her about with shawls. Lady Grosville installed +her on a sofa in the back drawing-room. A bottle of sal-volatile +appeared, and Caroline Grosville, instead of going twice to +Sunday-school, devoted herself to fanning Kitty, though the +weather—which was sunny, with a sharp east +wind—suggested, to Ashe's thinking, fires rather than +fans.</p> +<p>He was himself carried off for the customary Sunday walk, Mr. +Kershaw being now determined to claim the sacred rights of the +press. The walkers left the house by a garden door, to reach which +they had to pass through the farther drawing-room. Kitty, a +picturesque figure on the sofa, nodded farewell to Ashe, and then, +unseen by Caroline Grosville, who sat behind her, shot him a last +look which drove him to a precipitate exit lest the inward laugh +should out.</p> +<p>The walk through the flat Cambridgeshire country was long and +strenuous. Though for at least half of it the active journalist who +was Ashe's companion conceived the poorest opinion of the new +minister. Ashe knew nothing; had no opinions; cared for nothing, +except now and then for the stalking of an unfamiliar bird, or the +antics of the dogs, or tales of horse-racing, of which he talked +with a fervor entirely denied to those high political topics of +which Kershaw's ardent soul was full.</p> +<p>Again and again did the journalist put them under his nose in +their most attractive guise. In vain; Ashe would have none of them. +Till suddenly a chance word started an Indian frontier question, +vastly important, and totally unknown to the English public. Ashe +casually began to talk; the trickle became a stream, and presently +he was holding forth with an impetuosity, a knowledge, a matured +and careful judgment that fairly amazed the man beside him.</p> +<p>The long road, bordered by the flat fen meadows, the wide silver +sky, the gently lengthening day, all passed unnoticed. The +journalist found himself in the grip of a <i>mind</i>—strong, +active, rich. He gave himself up with docility, yet with a growing +astonishment, and when they stood once more on the steps of the +house he said to his companion:</p> +<p>"You must have followed these matters for years. Why have you +never spoken in the House, or written anything?"</p> +<p>Ashe's aspect changed at once.</p> +<p>"What would have been the good?" he said, with his easy smile. +"The fellows who didn't know wouldn't have believed me; and the +fellows who knew didn't want telling."</p> +<p>A shade of impatience showed in Kershaw's aspect.</p> +<p>"I thought," he said, "ours was government by discussion."</p> +<p>Ashe laughed, and, turning on the steps, he pointed to the +splendid gardens and finely wooded park.</p> +<p>"Or government by country-houses—which? If you support us +in this—as I gather you will—this walk will have been +worth a debate—now won't it?"</p> +<p>The flattered journalist smiled, and they entered the house. +From the inner hall Lord Grosville perceived them.</p> +<p>"Geoffrey Cliffe's arrived," he said to Ashe, as they reached +him.</p> +<p>"Has he?" said Ashe, and turned to go up-stairs.</p> +<p>But Kershaw showed a lively interest. "You mean the traveller?" +he asked of his host.</p> +<p>"I do. As mad as usual," said the old man. "He and my niece +Kitty make a pair."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> +<p>When Ashe returned to the drawing-room he found it filled with +the sound of talk and laughter. But it was a talk and laughter in +which the Grosville family seemed to have itself but little part. +Lady Grosville sat stiffly on an early Victorian sofa, her +spectacles on her nose, reading the <i>Times</i> of the preceding +day, or appearing to read it. Amy Grosville, the eldest girl, was +busy in a corner, putting the finishing touches to a piece of +illumination; while Caroline, seated on the floor, was showing the +small child of a neighbor how to put a picture-puzzle together. +Lord Grosville was professedly in a farther room, talking with the +Austrian count; but every other minute he strolled restlessly into +the big drawing-room, and stood at the edge of the talk and +laughter, only to turn on his heel again and go back to the +count—who meanwhile appeared in the opening between the two +rooms, his hands on his hips, eagerly watching Kitty Bristol and +her companions, while waiting, as courtesy bade him, for the return +of his host.</p> +<p>Ashe at once divined that the Grosville family were in revolt. +Nor had he to look far to discover the cause.</p> +<p>Was that astonishing young lady in truth identical with the +pensive figure of the morning? Kitty had doffed her black, and she +wore a "demi-toilette" gown of the utmost elegance, of which the +expensiveness had, no doubt, already sunk deep into Lady +Grosville's soul. At Grosville Park the new fashion of "tea-gowns" +was not favorably regarded. It was thought to be a mere device of +silly and extravagant women, and an "afternoon dress," though of +greater pretensions than a morning gown, was still a sober affair, +not in any way to be confounded with those decorative effects that +nature and sound sense reserved for the evening.</p> +<p>But Kitty's dress was of some white silky material; and it +displayed her slender throat and some portion of her thin white +arms. The Dean's wife, Mrs. Winston, as she secretly studied it, +felt an inward satisfaction; for here at last was one of those +gowns she had once or twice gazed on with a covetous awe in the +shop-windows of the Rue de la Paix, brought down to earth, and +clothing a simple mortal. They were then real, and they could be +worn by real women; which till now the Dean's wife had scarcely +believed.</p> +<p>Alack! how becoming were these concoctions to minxes with fair +hair and sylphlike frames! Kitty was radiant, triumphant; and Ashe +was certain that Lady Grosville knew it, however she might +barricade herself behind the <i>Times</i>. The girl's slim fingers +gesticulated in aid of her tongue; one tiny foot swung lightly over +the other; the glistening folds of the silk wrapped her in a +shimmering whiteness, above which the fair head—negligently +thrown back—shone out on a red background, made by the velvet +chair in which she sat.</p> +<p>The Dean was placed close beside her, and was clearly enjoying +himself enormously. And in front of her, absorbed in her, engaged, +indeed, in hot and furious debate with her, stood the great man who +had just arrived.</p> +<p>"How do you do, Cliffe?" said Ashe, as he approached.</p> +<p>Geoffrey Cliffe turned sharply, and a perfunctory greeting +passed between the two men.</p> +<p>"When did you arrive?" said Ashe, as he threw himself into an +arm-chair.</p> +<p>"Last Tuesday. But that don't matter," said Cliffe, +impatiently—"nothing matters—except that I must somehow +defeat Lady Kitty!"</p> +<p>And he stood, looking down upon the girl in front of him, his +hands on his sides, his queer countenance twitching with suppressed +laughter. An odd figure, tall, spare, loosely jointed, surmounted +by a pale parchment face, which showed a somewhat protruding chin, +a long and delicate nose, and fine brows under a strange +overhanging mass of fair hair. He had the dissipated, battered look +of certain Vandyck cavaliers, and certainly no handsomeness of any +accepted kind. But as Ashe well knew, the aspect and personality of +Geoffrey Cliffe possessed for innumerable men and women, in English +"society" and out of it, a fascination it was easier to laugh at +than to explain.</p> +<p>Lady Kitty had eyes certainly for no one else. When he spoke of +"defeating" her, she laughed her defiance, and a glance of battle +passed between her and Cliffe. Cliffe, still holding her with his +look, considered what new ground to break.</p> +<p>"What is the subject?" said Ashe.</p> +<p>"That men are vainer than women," said Kitty. "It's so true, +it's hardly worth saying—isn't it? Mr. Cliffe talks nonsense +about our love of clothes—and of being admired. As if that +were vanity! Of course it's only our sense of duty."</p> +<p>"Duty?" cried Cliffe, twisting his mustache. "To whom?"</p> +<p>"To the men, of course! If we didn't like clothes, if we didn't +like being admired—where would you be?"</p> +<p>"Personally, I could get on," said Cliffe. "You expect us to be +too much on our knees."</p> +<p>"As if we should ever get you there if it didn't amuse you!" +said Kitty. "Hypocrites! If we don't dress, paint, chatter, and +tell lies for you, you won't look at us—and if we +do—"</p> +<p>"Of course, it all depends on how well it's done," threw in +Cliffe.</p> +<p>Kitty laughed.</p> +<p>"That's judging by results. I look to the motive. I repeat, if I +powder and paint, it's not because I'm vain, but because it's my +painful duty to give you pleasure."</p> +<p>"And if it doesn't give me pleasure?"</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"Call me stupid then—not vain. I ought to have done it +better."</p> +<p>"In any case," said Ashe, "it's your duty to please us?"</p> +<p>"Yes—" sighed Kitty. "Worse luck!"</p> +<p>And she sank softly back in her chair, her eyes shining under +the stimulus of the laugh that ran through her circle. The Dean +joined in it uneasily, conscious, no doubt, of the sharp, crackling +movements by which in the distance Lady Grosville was dumbly +expressing herself—through the <i>Times</i>. Cliffe looked at +the small figure a moment, then seized a chair and sat down in +front of her, astride.</p> +<p>"I wonder why you want to please us?" he said, abruptly, his +magnificent blue eyes upon her.</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Kitty, throwing up her hands, "if we only knew!"</p> +<p>"You find it in the tragedy of your sex?"</p> +<p>"Or comedy," said the Dean, rising. "I take you at your word, +Lady Kitty. To-night it will be your duty to please <i>me</i>. +Remember, you promised to say us some more French." He lifted an +admonitory finger.</p> +<p>"I don't know any 'Athalie,'" said Kitty, demurely, crossing her +hands upon her knee.</p> +<p>The Dean smiled to himself as he crossed the room to Lady +Grosville, and endeavored by an impartial criticism of the new +curate's manner and voice, as they had revealed themselves in +church that morning, to distract her attention from her niece.</p> +<p>A hopeless task—for Kitty's personality was of the kind +which absorbs, engulfs attention, do what the by-stander will. Eyes +and ears were drawn perforce into the little whirlpool that she +made, their owners yielding them, now with delight, now with +repulsion.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster, for instance, came in presently, fresh from a walk +with Lady Edith Manley. She, too, had changed her dress. But it was +a discreet and reasonable change, and Lady Grosville looked at her +soft gray gown with its muslin collar and cuffs—delicately +embroidered, yet of a nunlike cut and air +notwithstanding—with a hot energy of approval, provoked +entirely by Kitty's audacities. Mary meanwhile raised her eyebrows +gently at the sight of Kitty. She swept past the group, giving a +cool greeting to Geoffrey Cliffe, and presently settled herself in +the farther room, attended by Louis Harman and Darrell, who had +just arrived by the afternoon train. Clearly she observed Kitty and +observed her with dislike. The attitude of her companions was not +so simple.</p> +<p>"What an amazing young woman!" said Harman, presently, under his +breath, yet open-mouthed. "I suppose she and Cliffe are old +friends."</p> +<p>"I believe they never met before," said Mary.</p> +<p>Darrell laughed.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty makes short work of the preliminaries," he said; +"she told me the other night life wasn't long enough to begin with +talk about the weather."</p> +<p>"The weather?" said Harman. "At the present moment she and +Cliffe seem to be discussing the 'Dame aux Camélias.' Since +when do they take young girls to see that kind of thing in +Paris?"</p> +<p>Miss Lyster gave a little cough, and bending forward said to +Harman: "Lady Tranmore has shown me your picture. It is a dear, +delicious thing! I never saw anything more heavenly than the +angel."</p> +<p>Harman smiled a flattered smile. Mary Lyster referred to a copy +of a "Filippo Lippi Annunciation" which he had just executed in +water-color for Lady Tranmore, to whom he was devoted. He was, +however, devoted to a good many peeresses, with whom he took tea, +and for whom he undertook many harmless and elegant services. He +painted their portraits, in small size, after pre-Raphaelite +models, and he occasionally presented them with copies—a +little weak, but charming—of their favorite Italian pictures. +He and Mary began now to talk of Florence with much enthusiasm and +many caressing adjectives. For Harman most things were "sweet"; for +Mary, "interesting" or "suggestive." She talked fast and fluently; +a subtle observer might have guessed she wished it to be seen that +for her Lady Kitty Bristol's flirtations, be they in or out of +taste, were simply non-existent.</p> +<p>Darrell listened intermittently, watched Cliffe and Lady Kitty, +and thought a good deal. That extraordinary girl was certainly +"carrying on" with Cliffe, as she had "carried on" with Ashe on the +night of her first acquaintance with him in St. James's Place. Ashe +apparently took it with equanimity, for he was still sitting beside +the pair, twisting a paper-knife and smiling, sometimes putting in +a word, but more often silent, and apparently of no account at all +to either Kitty or Cliffe.</p> +<p>Darrell knew that the new minister disliked and despised +Geoffrey Cliffe; he was aware, too, that Cliffe returned these +sentiments, and was not unlikely to be found attacking Ashe in +public before long on certain points of foreign policy, where +Cliffe conceived himself to be a master. The meeting of the two men +under the Grosvilles' roof struck Darrell as curious. Why had +Cliffe been invited by these very respectable and straitlaced +people the Grosvilles? Darrell could only reflect that Lady Eleanor +Cliffe, the traveller's mother, was probably connected with them by +some of those innumerable and ever-ramifying links that hold +together a certain large group of English families; and that, +moreover, Lady Grosville, in spite of philanthropy and +Evangelicalism, had always shown a rather pronounced taste in +"lions"—of the masculine sort. Of the women to be met with at +Grosville Park, one could be certain. Lady Grosville made no +excuses for her own sex. But she was a sufficiently ambitious +hostess to know that agreeable parties are not constructed out of +the saints alone. The men, therefore, must provide the sinners; and +of some of the persons then most in vogue she was careful not to +know too much. For, socially, one must live; and that being so, the +strictness of to-day may have at any moment to be purchased by the +laxity of to-morrow. Such, at any rate, was Darrell's analysis of +the situation.</p> +<p>He was still astonished, however, when all was said. For Cliffe +during the preceding winter, on his return from some remarkable +travels in Persia, had paused on the Riviera, and an affair at +Cannes with a French vicomtesse had got into the English papers. No +one knew the exact truth of it; and a small volume of verse by +Cliffe, published immediately afterwards—verse very +distinguished, passionate, and obscure—had offered many +clews, but no solution whatever. Nobody supposed, however, that the +story was anything but a bad one. Moreover, the last book of +travels—which had had an enormous success—contained one +of the most malicious attacks on foreign missions that Darrell +remembered. And if the missionaries had a supporter in England, it +was Lady Grosville. Had she designs—material designs—on +behalf of Miss Amy or Miss Caroline? Darrell smiled at the notion. +Cliffe must certainly marry money, and was not to be captured by +any Miss Amys—or Lady Kittys either, for the matter of +that.</p> +<p>But?—Darrell glanced at the lady beside him, and his busy +thoughts took a new turn. He had seen the greeting between Miss +Lyster and Cliffe. It was cold; but all the same the world knew +that they had once been friends. Was it some five years before that +Miss Lyster, then in the height of a brilliant season under the +wing of Lady Tranmore, had been much seen in public with Geoffrey +Cliffe? Then he had departed eastward, to explore the upper waters +of the Mékong, and the gossip excited had died away. Of late +her name had been rather coupled with that of William Ashe.</p> +<p>Well, so far as the world was concerned, she might mate with +either—with the mad notoriety of Cliffe or the young +distinction of Ashe. Darrell's bitter heart contracted as he +reflected that only for him and the likes of him, men of the +people, with average ability, and a scarcely average income, were +maidens of Mary Lyster's dower and pedigree out of reach. Meanwhile +he revenged himself by being her very good friend, and allowing +himself at times much caustic plainness of speech in his talks with +her.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"What are you three gossiping about?" said Ashe, strolling in +presently from the other room to join them.</p> +<p>"As usual," said Darrell. "I am listening to perfection. Miss +Lyster and Harman are discussing pictures."</p> +<p>Ashe stifled a little yawn. He threw himself down by Mary, +vowing that there was no more pleasure to be got out of pictures +now that people would try to know so much about them. Mary +meanwhile raised herself involuntarily to look into the farther +room, where the noise made by Cliffe and Lady Kitty had +increased.</p> +<p>"They are going to sing," said Ashe, lazily—"and it won't +be hymns."</p> +<p>In fact, Lady Kitty had opened the piano, and had begun the +first bars of something French and operatic. At the first sound of +Kitty's music, however, Lady Grosville drew herself up; she closed +the volume of Evangelical sermons for which she had exchanged the +<i>Times</i>; she deposited her spectacles sharply on the table +beside her.</p> +<p>"Amy!—Caroline!"</p> +<p>Those young ladies rose. So did Lady Grosville. Kitty meanwhile +sat with suspended fingers and laughing eyes, waiting on her aunt's +movements.</p> +<p>"Kitty, pray don't let me interfere with your playing," said +Lady Grosville, with severe politeness—"but perhaps you would +kindly put it off for half an hour. I am now going to read to the +servants—"</p> +<p>"Gracious!" said Kitty, springing up. "I was going to play Mr. +Cliffe some Offenbach."</p> +<p>"Ah, but the piano can be heard in the library, and your cousin +Amy plays the harmonium—"</p> +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>!" said Kitty. "We will be as quiet as mice. +Or"—she made a quick step in pursuit of her aunt—"shall +I come and sing, Aunt Lina?"</p> +<p>Ashe, in his shelter behind Mary Lyster, fell into a silent +convulsion of laughter.</p> +<p>"No, thank you!" said Lady Grosville, hastily. And she rustled +away followed by her daughters.</p> +<p>Kitty came flying into the inner room followed by Cliffe.</p> +<p>"What have I done?" she said, breathlessly, addressing Harman, +who rose to greet her. "Mayn't one play the piano here on +Sundays?"</p> +<p>"That depends," said Harman, "on what you play."</p> +<p>"Who made your English Sunday?" said Kitty, impetuously. "Je +vous demande—<i>who</i>?"</p> +<p>She threw her challenge to all the winds of +heaven—standing tiptoe, her hands poised on the back of a +chair, the smallest and most delicate of furies.</p> +<p>"A breath unmakes it, as a breath has made," said Cliffe. "Come +and play billiards, Lady Kitty. You said just now you played."</p> +<p>"Billiards!" said Harman, throwing up his hands. "On +Sunday—<i>here</i>?"</p> +<p>"Can they hear the balls?" said Kitty, eagerly, with a gesture +towards the library.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster, who had been perfunctorily looking at a book, laid +it down.</p> +<p>"It would certainly greatly distress Lady Grosville," she said, +in a voice studiously soft, but on that account perhaps all the +more significant.</p> +<p>Kitty glanced at Mary, and Ashe saw the sudden red in her cheek. +She turned provokingly to Cliffe. "There's quite half an hour, +isn't there, before one need dress—"</p> +<p>"More," said Cliffe. "Come along."</p> +<p>And he made for the door, which he held open for her. It was now +Mary Lyster's turn to flush—the rebuff had been so naked and +unadorned. Ashe rose as Kitty passed him.</p> +<p>"Why don't you come, too?" she said, pausing. There was a flash +from eyes deep and dark beneath a pair of wilful brows. "Aunt Lina +would never be cross with <i>you</i>!"</p> +<p>"Thank you! I should be delighted to play buffer, but +unfortunately I have some work I must do before dinner."</p> +<p>"Must you?" She looked at him uncertainly, then at Cliffe. In +the dusk of the large, heavily furnished room, the pale yet +brilliant gold of her hair, her white dress, her slim energy and +elegance drew all their eyes—even Mary Lyster's.</p> +<p>"I must," Ashe repeated, smiling. "I am glad your headache is so +much better."</p> +<p>"It is not in the least better!"</p> +<p>"Then you disguise it like a heroine."</p> +<p>He stood beside her, looking down upon her, his height and +strength measured against her smallness. Apparently his amused +detachment, the slight dryness of his tone annoyed her. She made a +tart reply and vanished through the door that Cliffe held open for +her.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Ashe retired to his own room, dealt with some Foreign Office +work, and then allowed himself a meditative smoke. The click of the +billiard-balls had ceased abruptly about ten minutes after he had +begun upon his papers; there had been voices in the hall, Lord +Grosville's he thought among them; and now all was silence.</p> +<p>He thought of the events of the afternoon with mingled amusement +and annoyance. Cliffe was an unscrupulous fellow, and the child's +head might be turned. She should be protected from him in +future—he vowed she should. Lady Tranmore should take it in +hand. She had been a match for Cliffe in various other directions +before this.</p> +<p>What brought the man, with his notorious character and +antecedents, to Grosville Park—one of the dwindling number of +country-houses in England where the old Puritan restrictions still +held? It was said he was on the look-out for a post—Ashe, +indeed, happened to know it officially; and Lord Grosville had a +good deal of influence. Moreover, failing an appointment, he was +understood to be aiming at Parliament and office; and there were +two safe county-seats within the Grosville sphere.</p> +<p>"Yet even when he wants a thing he can't behave himself in order +to get it," thought Ashe. "Anybody else would have turned +Sabbatarian for once, and refrained from flirting with the +Grosvilles' niece. But that's Cliffe all over—and perhaps the +best thing about him."</p> +<p>He might have added that as Cliffe was supposed to desire an +appointment under either the Foreign Office or the Colonial Office, +it might have been thought to his interest to show himself more +urbane than he had in fact shown himself that afternoon to the new +Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. But Ashe rarely or never +indulged himself in reflections of that kind. Besides, he and +Cliffe knew each other too well for posing. There was a time when +they had been on very friendly terms, and when Cliffe had been +constantly in his mother's drawing-room. Lady Tranmore had a +weakness for "influencing" young men of family and ability; and +Cliffe, in fact, owed her a good deal. Then she had seen cause to +think ill of him; and, moreover, his travels had taken him to the +other side of the world. Ashe was now well aware that Cliffe +reckoned on him as a hostile influence and would not try either to +deceive or to propitiate him.</p> +<p>He thought Cliffe had been disagreeably surprised to see him +that afternoon. Perhaps it was the sudden sense of antagonism +acting on the man's excitable nature that had made him fling +himself into the wild nonsense he had talked with Lady Kitty.</p> +<p>And thenceforward Ashe's thoughts were possessed by Kitty +only—Kitty in her two aspects, of the morning and the +afternoon. He dressed in a reverie, and went down-stairs still +dreaming.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At dinner he found himself responsible for Mary Lyster. Kitty +was on the other side of the table, widely separated both from +himself and Cliffe. She was in a little Empire dress of blue and +silver, as extravagantly simple as her gown of the afternoon had +been extravagantly elaborate.</p> +<p>Ashe observed the furtive study that the Grosville girls could +not help bestowing upon her—upon her shoulder-straps and +long, bare arms, upon her high waist and the blue and silver bands +in her hair. Kitty herself sat in a pensive or proud silence. The +Dean was beside her, but she scarcely spoke to him, and as to the +young man from the neighborhood who had taken her in, he was to her +as though he were not.</p> +<p>"Has there been a row?" Ashe inquired, in a low voice, of his +companion.</p> +<p>Mary looked at him quietly.</p> +<p>"Lord Grosville asked them not to play—because of the +servants."</p> +<p>"Good!" said Ashe. "The servants were, of course, playing cards +in the house-keeper's room."</p> +<p>"Not at all. They were singing hymns with Lady Grosville."</p> +<p>Ashe looked incredulous.</p> +<p>"Only the slaveys and scullery maids that couldn't help +themselves. Never mind. Was Lady Kitty amenable?"</p> +<p>"She seems to have made Lord Grosville very angry. Lady +Grosville and I smoothed him down."</p> +<p>"Did you?" said Ashe. "That was nice of you."</p> +<p>Mary colored a little, and did not reply. Presently Ashe +resumed.</p> +<p>"Aren't you as sorry for her as I am?"</p> +<p>"For Lady Kitty? I should think she managed to amuse herself +pretty well."</p> +<p>"She seems to me the most deplorable tragic little person," said +Ashe, slowly.</p> +<p>Miss Lyster laughed.</p> +<p>"I really don't see it," she said.</p> +<p>"Oh yes, you do," he persisted—"if you think a moment. Be +kind to her—won't you?"</p> +<p>She drew herself up with a cold dignity.</p> +<p>"I confess that she has never attracted me in the least."</p> +<p>Ashe returned to his dinner, dimly conscious that he had spoken +like a fool.</p> +<p>When the ladies had withdrawn, the conversation fell on some +important news from the Far East contained in the Sunday papers +that Geoffrey Cliffe had brought down, and presumed to form part of +the despatches which the two ministers staying in the house had +received that afternoon by Foreign Office messenger. The government +of Teheran was in one of its periodical fits of ill-temper with +England; had been meddling with Afghanistan, flirting badly with +Russia, and bringing ridiculous charges against the British +minister. An expedition to Bushire was talked of, and the Radical +press was on the war-path. The cabinet minister said little. A Lord +Privy Seal, reverentially credited with advising royalty in its +private affairs, need have no views on the Persian Gulf. But Ashe +was appealed to and talked well. The minister at Teheran was an old +friend of his, and he described the personal attacks made on him +for political reasons by the Shah and his ministers with a humor +which kept the table entertained.</p> +<p>Suddenly Cliffe interposed. He had been listening with +restlessness, though Ashe, with pointed courtesy, had once or twice +included him in the conversation. And presently, at a somewhat +dramatic moment, he met a statement of Ashe's with a direct and +violent contradiction. Ashe flushed, and a duel began between the +two men of which the company were soon silent spectators. Ashe had +the resources of official knowledge; Cliffe had been recently on +the spot, and pushed home the advantage of the eye-witness with a +covert insolence which Ashe bore with surprising carelessness and +good-temper. In the end Cliffe said some outrageous things, at +which Ashe laughed; and Lord Grosville abruptly dissolved the +party.</p> +<p>Ashe went smiling out of the dining-room, caressing a fine white +spaniel, as though nothing had happened. In crossing the hall +Harman found himself alone with the Dean, who looked serious and +preoccupied.</p> +<p>"That was a curious spectacle," said Harman. "Ashe's equanimity +was amazing."</p> +<p>"I had rather have seen him angrier," said the Dean, slowly.</p> +<p>"He was always a very tolerant, easy-going fellow."</p> +<p>The Dean shook his head.</p> +<p>"A touch of <i>soeva indignatio</i> now and then would complete +him."</p> +<p>"Has he got it in him?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps not," said the little Dean, with a flash of expression +that dignified all his frail person. "But without it he will hardly +make a great man."</p> +<p>Meanwhile Geoffrey Cliffe, his strange, twisted face still +vindictively aglow, made his way to Kitty Bristol's corner in the +drawing-room. Mary Lyster was conscious of it, conscious also of a +certain look that Kitty bestowed upon the entrance of Ashe, while +Cliffe was opening a battery of mingled chaff and compliments that +did not at first have much effect upon her. But William Ashe threw +himself into conversation with Lady Edith Manley, and was +presently, to all appearance, happily plunged in gossip, his tall +person wholly at ease in a deep arm-chair, while Lady Edith bent +over him with smiles. Meanwhile there was a certain desertion of +Kitty on the part of the ladies. Lady Grosville hardly spoke to +her, and the girls markedly avoided her. There was a moment when +Kitty, looking round her, suddenly shook her small shoulders, and +like a colt escaping from harness gave herself to riot. She and +Cliffe amused themselves so well and so noisily that the whole +drawing-room was presently uneasily aware of them. Lady Grosville +shot glances of wrath, rose suddenly at one moment and sat down +again; her girls talked more disjointedly than ever to the +gentlemen who were civilly attending them; while, on the other +hand, Miss Lyster's flow of conversation with Louis Harman was more +softly copious than usual. At last the Dean's wife looked at the +Dean, a signal of kind distress, and the Dean advanced.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty," he said, taking a seat beside the pair, "have you +forgotten you promised me some French?"</p> +<p>Kitty turned on him a hot and mutinous face.</p> +<p>"Did I? What shall I say? Some Alfred de Musset?"</p> +<p>"No," said the Dean, "I think not."</p> +<p>"Some—some"—she cudgelled her memory—"some +Théophile Gautier?"</p> +<p>"No, certainly not!" said the Dean, hastily.</p> +<p>"Well, as I don't know a word of him—" laughed Kitty.</p> +<p>"That was mischievous," said the Dean, raising a finger. "Let me +suggest Lamartine."</p> +<p>Kitty shook her head obstinately. "I never learned one +line."</p> +<p>"Then some of the old fellows," said the Dean, persuasively. "I +long to hear you in Corneille or Racine. That we should <i>all</i> +enjoy."</p> +<p>And suddenly his wrinkled hand fell kindly on the girl's small, +chilly ringers and patted them. Their eyes met, Kitty's wild and +challenging, the Dean's full of that ethereal benevolence which +blended so agreeably with his character as courtier and man of the +world. There was a bright sweetness in them which seemed to say: +"Poor child! I understand. But be a <i>little</i> good—as +well as clever—and all will be well."</p> +<p>Suddenly Kitty's look wavered and fell. All the harshness +dissolved from her thin young beauty. She turned from Cliffe, and +the Dean saw her quiver with submission.</p> +<p>"I think I could say some 'Polyeucte,'" she said, gently.</p> +<p>The Dean clapped his hands and rose.</p> +<p>"Lady Grosville," he said, raising his voice—"Ladies and +gentlemen, Lady Kitty has promised to say us some more French +poetry. You remember how admirably she recited last night. But this +is Sunday, and she will give us something in a different vein."</p> +<p>Lady Grosville, who had risen impatiently, sat down again. There +was a general movement; chairs were turned or drawn forward till a +circle formed. Meanwhile the Dean consulted with Kitty and +resumed:</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty will recite a scene from Corneille's beautiful +tragedy of 'Polyeucte'—the scene in which Pauline, after +witnessing the martyrdom of her husband, who has been beheaded for +refusing to sacrifice to the gods, returns from the place of +execution so melted by the love and sacrifice she has beheld that +she opens her heart then and there to the same august faith and +pleads for the same death."</p> +<p>The Dean seated himself, and Kitty stepped into the centre of +the circle. She thought a moment, her lips moving, as though she +recalled the lines. Then she looked down at her bare arms, and +dress, frowned, and suddenly approached Lady Edith Manley.</p> +<p>"May I have that?" she said, pointing to a lace cloak that lay +on Lady Edith's knee. "I am rather cold."</p> +<p>Lady Edith handed it to her, and she threw it round her.</p> +<p>"Actress!" said Cliffe, under his breath, with a grin of +amusement.</p> +<p>At any rate, her impulse served her well. Her form and dress +disappeared under a cloud of white. She became in a flash, so to +speak, evangelized—a most innocent and spiritual apparition. +Her beautiful head, her kindled and transfigured face, her little +hand on the white folds, these alone remained to mingle their +impression with the austere and moving tragedy which her lips +recited. Her audience looked on at first with the embarrassed or +hostile air which is the Englishman's natural protection against +the great things of art; then for those who understood French the +high passion and the noble verse began to tell; while those who +could not follow were gradually enthralled by the gestures and +tones with which the slight, vibrating creature, whom but ten +minutes before most of them had regarded as a mere noisy flirt, +suggested and conveyed the finest and most compelling shades of +love, faith, and sacrifice.</p> +<p>When she ceased, there was a moment's profound silence. Then +Lady Edith, drawing a long breath, expressed the welcome +commonplace which restored the atmosphere of daily life.</p> +<p>"How <i>could</i> you remember it all?"</p> +<p>Kitty sat down, her lip trembling scornfully.</p> +<p>"I had to say it every week at the convent."</p> +<p>"I understand," said Cliffe in Darrell's ear—"that last +night she was Doña Sol. An accommodating young woman."</p> +<p>Meanwhile Kitty looked up to find Ashe beside her. He said, +"Magnificent!"—but it did not matter to her what he said. His +face told her that she had moved him, and that he was incapable of +any foolish chatter about it. A smile of extraordinary sweetness +sprang into her eyes; and when Lady Grosville came up to thank her, +the girl impetuously rose, and, in the foreign way, kissed her +hand, courtesying. Lord Grosville said, heartily, "Upon my word, +Kitty, you ought to go on the stage!" and she smiled upon him, too, +in a flutter of feeling, forgetting his scolding and her own +impertinence, before dinner. The revulsion, indeed, throughout the +company—with two exceptions—was complete. For the rest +of the evening Kitty basked in sunshine and flattery. She met it +with a joyous gentleness, and the little figure, still bedraped in +white, became the centre of the room's kindness.</p> +<p>The Dean was triumphant.</p> +<p>"My dear Miss Lyster," he said, presently, finding himself near +that lady, "did you ever hear anything better done? A most +remarkable talent!"</p> +<p>Mary smiled.</p> +<p>"I am wondering," she said, "what they teach you in French +convents—and why! It is all so singular,—isn't it?"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Late that night Ashe entered his room—before his usual +time, however. He had tired even of Lord Grosville's chat, and had +left the smoking-room still talking. Indeed, he wished to be alone, +and there was that in his veins which told him that a new motive +had taken possession of his life.</p> +<p>He sat beside the open window reviewing the scenes and feelings +of the day—his interview with Kitty in the morning—the +teasing coquette of the afternoon—the inspired poetic child +of the evening. Rapidly, but none the less strongly and +steadfastly, he made up his mind. He would ask Kitty Bristol to +marry him, and he would ask her immediately.</p> +<p>Why? He scarcely knew her. His mother, his family would think it +madness. No doubt it was madness. Yet, as far as he could explain +his impulse himself, it depended on certain fundamental facts in +his own nature—it was in keeping with his deepest character. +He had an inbred love of the difficult, the unconventional in life, +of all that piqued and stimulated his own superabundant +consciousness of resource and power. And he had a tenderness of +feeling, a gift of chivalrous pity, only known to the few, which +was in truth always hungrily on the watch, like some starved +faculty that cannot find its outlet. The thought of this beautiful +child, in the hands of such a mother as Madame d'Estrées, +and rushing upon risks illustrated by the half-mocking attentions +of Geoffrey Cliffe, did in truth wring his heart. With a strange +imaginative clearness he foresaw her future, he beheld her the prey +at once of some bad fellow and of her own temperament. She would +come to grief; he saw the prescience of it in her already; and what +a waste would be there!</p> +<p>No!—he would step in—capture her before these ways +and whims, now merely bizarre or foolish, stiffened into what might +in truth destroy her. His pulse quickened as he thought of the +development of this beauty, the ripening of this intelligence. +Never yet had he seen a girl whom he much wished to marry. He was +easily repelled by stupidity, still more by mere amiability. Some +touch of acid, of roughness in the fruit—that drew him, in +politics, thought, love. And if she married him he vowed to +himself, proudly, that she would find him no tyrant. Many a man +might marry her who would then fight her and try to break her. All +that was most fastidious and characteristic in Ashe revolted from +such a notion. With him she should have +<i>freedom</i>—whatever it might cost. He asked himself +deliberately, whether after marriage he could see her flirting with +other men, as she had flirted that day with Cliffe, and still +refrain from coercing her. And his question was answered, or rather +put aside, first by the confidence of nascent love—he would +love her so well and so loyally that she would naturally turn to +him for counsel; and then by the clear perception that she was a +creature of mind rather than sense, governed mainly by the caprices +and curiosities of the <i>intelligence</i>, combined with a rather +cold, indifferent temperament. One moment throwing herself wildly +into a dangerous or exciting intimacy, the next, parting with a +laugh, and without a regret—it was thus he saw her in the +future, even as a wife. "She may scandalize half the world," he +said to himself, stubbornly—"I shall understand her!"</p> +<p>But his mother?—his friends?—his colleagues? He knew +well his mother's ambitions for him, and the place that he held in +her heart. Could he without cruelty impose upon her such a daughter +as Kitty Bristol? Well!—his mother had a very large +experience of life, and much natural independence of mind. He +trusted her to see the promise in this untamed and gifted creature; +he counted on the sense of power that Lady Tranmore possessed, and +which would but find new scope in the taming of Kitty.</p> +<p>But Kitty's mother? Kitty must, of course, be rescued from +Madame d'Estrées—must find a new and truer mother in +Lady Tranmore. But money would do it; and money must be +lavished.</p> +<p>Then, almost for the first time, Ashe felt a conscious delight +in wealth and birth. <i>Panache</i>? He could give it her—the +little, wild, lovely thing! Luxury, society, adoration—all +should be hers. She should be so loved and cherished, she must +needs love in turn.</p> +<p>His dreams were delicious; and the sudden fear into which he +fell at the end lest after all Kitty should mock and turn from him, +was only in truth another pleasure. No delay! Circumstances might +develop at any moment and sweep her from him. Now or never must he +snatch her from difficulty and disgrace—let hostile tongues +wag as they pleased—and make her his.</p> +<p>His political future? He knew well the influence which, in these +days of universal publicity, a man's private affairs may have on +his public career. And in truth his heart was in that career, and +the thought of endangering it hurt him. Certainly it would +recommend him to nobody that he should marry Madame +d'Estrées' daughter. On the other hand, what favor did he +want of anybody? save what work and "knowing more than the other +fellows" might compel? The cynic in him was well aware that he had +already what other men fought for—family, money, and +position. Society must accept his wife; and Kitty, once mellowed by +happiness and praise, might live, laugh, and rattle as she +pleased.</p> +<p>As to strangeness and caprice, the modern world delights in +them; "the violent take it by force." There is, indeed, a +dividing-line; but it was a love-marriage that should keep Kitty on +the safe side of it.</p> +<p>He stood lost in a very ecstasy of resolve, when suddenly there +was a sharp movement outside, and a flash of white among the yew +hedges bordering the formal garden on which his windows looked. The +night outside was still and veiled, but of the flash of white he +was certain—and of a step on the gravel.</p> +<p>Something fell beside him, thrown from outside. He picked it up, +and found a flower weighted by a stone, tied into a fold of +ribbon.</p> +<p>"Madcap!" he said to himself, his heart beating to +suffocation.</p> +<p>Then he stole out of his room, and down a small, winding +staircase which led directly to the garden and a door beside the +orangery. He had to unbolt the door, and as he did so a dog in one +of the basement rooms began to bark. But there could be no +flinching, though the whole thing was of an imprudence which +pricked his conscience. To slip along the shadowed side of the +orangery, to cross the space of clouded light beyond, and gain the +darkness of the ilex avenue beyond was soon done. Then he heard a +soft laugh, and a little figure fled before him. He followed and +overtook.</p> +<p>Kitty Bristol turned upon him.</p> +<p>"Didn't I throw straight?" she said, triumphantly. "And they say +girls can't throw."</p> +<p>"But why did you throw at all?" he said, capturing her hand.</p> +<p>"Because I wanted to talk to you. And I was restless and +couldn't sleep. Why did you never come and talk to me this +afternoon? And why"—she beat her foot angrily—"did you +let me go and play billiards alone with Mr. Cliffe?"</p> +<p>"Let you!" cried Ashe. "As if anybody could have prevented +you!"</p> +<p>"One sees, of course, that you detest Mr. Cliffe," said the +whiteness beside him.</p> +<p>"I didn't come here to talk about Geoffrey Cliffe. I +<i>won't</i> talk about him! Though, of course, you must +know—"</p> +<p>"That I flirted with him abominably all the afternoon? <i>C'est +vrai—c'est ab-sol-ument vrai!</i> And I shall always want to +flirt with him, wherever I am—and whatever I may be +doing."</p> +<p>"Do as you please," said Ashe, dryly, "but I think you will get +tired."</p> +<p>"No, no—he excites me! He is bad, false, selfish, but he +excites me. He talks to very few women—one can see that. And +all the women want to talk to him. He used to admire Miss Lyster, +and now he dislikes her. But she doesn't dislike him. No! she would +marry him to-morrow if he asked her."</p> +<p>"You are very positive," said Ashe. "Allow me to say that I +entirely disagree with you."</p> +<p>"You don't know anything about her," said the teasing voice.</p> +<p>"She is my cousin, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"What does that matter? I know much more than you do, though I +have only seen her two days. I know that—well, I am afraid of +her!"</p> +<p>"Afraid of her? Did you come out—may I +ask—determined to talk nonsense?"</p> +<p>"I came out—never mind! I <i>am</i> afraid of her. She +hates me. I think"—he felt a shiver in the air—will do +me harm if she can."</p> +<p>"No one shall do you harm," said Ashe, his tone changing, "if +you will only trust yourself—"</p> +<p>She laughed merrily.</p> +<p>"To you? Oh! you'd soon throw it up."</p> +<p>"Try me!" he said, approaching her. "Lady Kitty, I have +something to say to you."</p> +<p>Suddenly she shrank away from him. He could not see her face, +and had nothing to guide him.</p> +<p>"I haven't yet known you three weeks," he said, over-mastered by +something passionate and profound. "I don't know what you will +say—whether you can put up with me. But I know my own +mind—I shall not change. I—I love you. I ask you to +marry me."</p> +<p>A silence. The night seemed to have grown darker. Then a small +hand seized his, and two soft lips pressed themselves upon it. He +tried to capture her, but she evaded him.</p> +<p>"You—you really and actually—want to marry me?"</p> +<p>"I do, Kitty, with all my heart."</p> +<p>"You remember about my mother—about Alice?"</p> +<p>"I remember everything. We would face it together."</p> +<p>"And—you know what I told you about my bad temper?"</p> +<p>"Some nonsense, wasn't it? But I should be bored by the domestic +dove. I want the hawk, Kitty, with its quick wings and its daring +bright eyes."</p> +<p>She broke from him with a cry.</p> +<p>"You must listen. I <i>have</i>—a wicked, odious, +ungovernable temper. I should make you miserable."</p> +<p>"Not at all," said Ashe. "I should take it very calmly. I am +made that way."</p> +<p>"And then—I don't know how to put it—but I have +fancies—overpowering fancies—and I must follow them. I +have one now for Geoffrey Cliffe."</p> +<p>Ashe laughed.</p> +<p>"Oh, that won't last."</p> +<p>"Then some other will come after it. And I can't help it. It is +my head"—she tapped her forehead lightly—"that seems on +fire."</p> +<p>Ashe at last slipped his arm round her.</p> +<p>"But it is your heart—you will give me."</p> +<p>She pushed him away from her and held him at arm's-length.</p> +<p>"You are very rich, aren't you?" she said, in a muffled +voice.</p> +<p>"I am well off. I can give you all the pretty things you +want."</p> +<p>"And some day you will be Lord Tranmore?"</p> +<p>"Yes, when my poor father dies," he said, sighing. He felt her +fingers caress his hand again. It was a spirit touch, light and +tender.</p> +<p>"And every one says you are so clever—you have such +prospects. Perhaps you will be Prime Minister."</p> +<p>"Well, there's no saying," he threw out, laughing—"if +you'll come and help."</p> +<p>He heard a sob.</p> +<p>"Help! I should be the ruin of you. I should spoil everything. +You don't know the mischief I can do. And I can't help it, it's in +my blood."</p> +<p>"You would like the game of politics too much to spoil it, +Kitty." His voice broke and lingered on the name. "You would want +to be a great lady and lead the party."</p> +<p>"Should I? Could you ever teach me how to behave?"</p> +<p>"You would learn by nature. Do you know, Kitty, how clever you +are?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she sighed. "I am clever. But there is always something +that hinders—that brings failure."</p> +<p>"How old are you?" he said, laughing. "Eighteen—or +eighty?"</p> +<p>Suddenly he put out his arms, enfolding her. And she, still +sobbing, raised her hands, clasped them round his neck, and clung +to him like a child.</p> +<p>"Oh! I knew—I knew—when I first saw your face. I had +been so miserable all day—and then you looked at me—and +I wanted to tell you all. Oh, I adore you—I adore you!" Their +faces met. Ashe tasted a moment of rapture; and knew himself free +at last of the great company of poets and of lovers.</p> +<p>They slipped back to the house, and Ashe saw her disappear by a +door on the farther side of the orangery—noiselessly, without +a sound. Except that just at the last she drew him to her and +breathed a sacred whisper in his ear.</p> +<p>"Oh! what—what will Lady Tranmore say?"</p> +<p>Then she fled. But she left her question behind her, and when +the dawn came Ashe found that he had spent half the night in trying +anew to frame some sort of an answer to it.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II</h2> +<h3>THREE YEARS AFTER</h3> +<p class="figcenter">"The world an ancient murderer is."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> +<p>"Her ladyship will be in before six, my lady. I was to be sure +and ask you to wait, if you came before, and to tell you that her +ladyship had gone to Madame Fanchette about her dress for the +ball."</p> +<p>So said Lady Kitty's maid. Lady Tranmore hesitated, then said +she would wait, and asked that Master Henry might be brought +down.</p> +<p>The maid went for the child, and Lady Tranmore entered the +drawing-room. The Ashes had been settled since their marriage in a +house in Hill Street—a house to which Kitty had lost her +heart at first sight. It was old and distinguished, covered here +and there with eighteenth-century decoration, once, no doubt, a +little florid and coarse beside the finer work of the period, but +now agreeably blunted and mellowed by time. Kitty had had her +impetuous and decided way with the furnishing of it; and, though +Lady Tranmore professed to admire it, the result was, in truth, too +French and too pagan for her taste. Her own room reflected the +rising worship of Morris and Burse-Jones, of which, indeed, she had +been an adept from the beginning. Her walls were covered by the +well-known pomegranate or jasmine or sunflower patterns; her +hangings were of a mystic greenish-blue; her pictures were drawn +either from the Italian primitives or their modern followers. +Celtic romance, Christian symbolism, all that was touching, +other-worldly, and obscure—our late English form, in fact, of +the great Romantic reaction—it was amid influences of this +kind that Lady Tranmore lived and fed her own imagination. The dim, +suggestive, and pathetic; twilight rather than dawn, autumn rather +than spring; yearning rather than fulfilment; "the gleam" rather +than noon-day: it was in this half-lit, richly colored sphere that +she and most of her friends saw the tent of Beauty pitched.</p> +<p>But Kitty would have none of it. She quoted French sceptical +remarks about the legs and joints of the Burne-Jones knights; she +declared that so much pattern made her dizzy; and that the French +were the only nation in the world who understood a <i>salon</i>, +whether as upholstery or conversation. Accordingly, in days when +these things were rare, the girl of eighteen made her new husband +provide her with white-panelled walls, lightly gilt, and with a +Persian carpet of which the mass was of a plain, blackish gray, and +only the border was allowed to flower. A few Louis-Quinze +girandoles on the walls, a Vernis-Martin screen, an old French +clock, two or three inlaid cabinets, and a collection of lightly +built chairs and settees in the French mode—this was all she +would allow; and while Lady Tranmore's room was always crowded, +Kitty's, which was much smaller, had always an air of space. French +books were scattered here and there; and only one picture was +admitted. That was a Watteau sketch of a group from "L'Embarquement +pour Cythère." Kitty adored it; Lady Tranmore thought it +absurd and disagreeable.</p> +<p>As she entered the room now, on this May afternoon, she looked +round it with her usual distaste. On several of the chairs large +illustrated books were lying. They contained pictures of +seventeenth and eighteenth century costume—one of them +displayed a colored engraving of a brilliant Madame de Pompadour, +by Boucher.</p> +<p>The maid who followed her into the room began to remove the +books.</p> +<p>"Her ladyship has been choosing her costume, my lady," she +explained, as she closed some of the volumes.</p> +<p>"Is it settled?" said Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>The maid replied that she believed so, and, bringing a volume +which had been laid aside with a mark in it, she opened on a +fantastic plate of Madame de Longueville, as Diana, in a gorgeous +hunting-dress.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore looked at it in silence; she thought it unseemly, +with its bare ankles and sandalled feet, and likely to be extremely +expensive. For this Diana of the Fronde sparkled with jewels from +top to toe, and Lady Tranmore felt certain that Kitty had already +made William promise her the counterpart of the magnificent diamond +crescent that shone in the coiffure of the goddess.</p> +<p>"It really seemed to be the only one that suited her ladyship," +said the maid, in a deprecating voice.</p> +<p>"I dare say it will look very well," said Lady Tranmore. "And +Fanchette is to make it?"</p> +<p>"If her ladyship is not too late," said the maid, smiling. "But +she has taken such a long time to make up her mind—"</p> +<p>"And Fanchette, of course, is driven to death. All the world +seems to have gone mad about this ball."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore shrugged her shoulders in a slight disgust. She +was not going. Since her elder son's death she had had no taste for +spectacles of the kind. But she knew very well that fashionable +London was talking and thinking of nothing else; she heard that the +print-room of the British Museum was every day besieged by an eager +crowd of fair ladies, claiming the services of the museum officials +from dewy morn till eve; that historic costumes and famous jewels +were to be lavished on the affair; that those who were not invited +had not even the resource of contempt, so unquestioned and +indubitable was the prospect of a really magnificent spectacle; and +that the dress-makers of Paris and London, if they survived the +effort, would reap a marvellous harvest.</p> +<p>"And Mr. Ashe—do you know if he is going, after all?" she +asked of the maid as the latter was retreating.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ashe says he will, if he may wear just court-dress," said +the maid, smiling. "Not unless. And her ladyship's afraid it won't +be allowed."</p> +<p>"She'll make him go in costume," thought Lady Tranmore. "And he +will do it, or anything, to avoid a scene."</p> +<p>The maid retired, and Lady Tranmore was left alone. As she sat +waiting, a thought occurred to her. She rang for the butler.</p> +<p>"Where is the <i>Times</i>?" she asked, when he appeared. The +man replied that it was no doubt in Mr. Ashe's room, and he would +bring it.</p> +<p>"Kitty has probably not looked at it," thought the visitor. When +the paper arrived she turned at once to the Parliamentary report. +It contained an important speech by Ashe in the House the night +before. Lady Tranmore had been disturbed in the reading of it that +morning, and had still a few sentences to finish. She read them +with pride, then glanced again at the leading article on the +debate, and at the flattering references it contained to the +knowledge, courtesy, and debating power of the Under-Secretary for +Foreign Affairs.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ashe," said the <i>Times</i>, "has well earned the +promotion he is now sure to receive before long. In those important +rearrangements of some of the higher offices which cannot be long +delayed, Mr. Ashe is clearly marked out for a place in the cabinet. +He is young, but he has already done admirable service; and there +can be no question that he has a great future before him."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore put down the paper and fell into a reverie. A +great future? Yes—if Kitty permitted—if Kitty could be +managed. At present it appeared to William's mother that the +caprices of his wife were endangering the whole development of his +career. There were wheels within wheels, and the newspapers knew +very little about them.</p> +<p>Three years, was it, since the marriage? She looked back to her +dismay when William brought her the news, though it seemed to her +that in some sort she had foreseen it from the moment of his first +mention of Kitty Bristol—with its eager appeal to her +kindness, and that new and indefinable something in voice and +manner which put her at once on the alert.</p> +<p>Ought she to have opposed it more strongly? She had, indeed, +opposed it; and for a whole wretched week she who had never yet +gainsaid him in anything had argued and pleaded with her son, +attempting at the same time to bring in his uncles to wrestle with +him, seeing that his poor paralyzed father was of no account, and +so to make a stubborn family fight of it. But she had been simply +disarmed and beaten down by William's sweetness, patience, and +good-humor. Never had he been so determined, and never so +lovable.</p> +<p>It had been made abundantly plain to her that no wife, however +exacting and adorable, should ever rob her, his mother, of one +tittle of his old affection—nay, that, would she only accept +Kitty, only take the little forlorn creature into the shelter of +her motherly arms, even a more tender and devoted attention than +before, on the part of her son, would be surely hers. He spoke, +moreover, the language of sound sense about his proposed bride. +That he was in love, passionately in love, was evident; but there +were moments when he could discuss Kitty, her family, her +bringing-up, her gifts and defects, with the same cool acumen, the +same detachment, apparently, he might have given, say, to the +Egyptian or the Balkan problem. Lady Tranmore was not invited to +bow before a divinity; she was asked to accept a very gifted and +lovely child, often troublesome and provoking, but full of a +glorious promise which only persons of discernment, like herself +and Ashe, could fully realize. He told her, with a laugh, that she +could never have behaved even tolerably to a stupid +daughter-in-law. Whereas, let London and society and a few years of +love and living do their work, and Kitty would make one of the +leading women of her time, as Lady Tranmore had been before her. +"You'll help her, you'll train her, you'll put her in the way," he +had said, kissing his mother's hand. "And you'll see that in the +end we shall both of us be so conceited to have had the making of +her there'll be no holding us."</p> +<p>Well, she had yielded—of course she had yielded. She had +explained the matter, so far as she could, to the dazed wits of her +paralyzed husband. She had propitiated the family on both sides; +she had brought Kitty to stay with her, and had advised on the +negotiations which banished Madame d'Estrées from London and +the British Isles, in return for a handsome allowance and the +payment of her debts; and, finally, she had with difficulty allowed +the Grosvilles to provide the trousseau and arrange the marriage +from Grosville Park, so eager had she grown in her accepted +task.</p> +<p>And there had been many hours of high reward. Kitty had thrown +herself at first upon William's mother with all the effusion +possible. She had been docile, caressing, brilliant. Lady Tranmore +had become almost as proud of her gifts, her social effect, and her +fast advancing beauty as Ashe himself. Kitty's whims and humors; +her passion for this person, and her hatred of that; her love of +splendor and indifference to debt; her contempt of opinion and +restraint, seemed to her, as to Ashe, the mere crude growth of +youth. When she looked at Ashe, so handsome, agreeable, and +devoted, at his place and prestige in the world, his high +intelligence and his personal attraction, Ashe's mother must needs +think that Kitty's mere cleverness would soon reveal to her her +extraordinary good-fortune; and that whereas he was now at her +feet, she before long would be at his.</p> +<p>Three years! Lady Tranmore looked back upon them with feelings +that wavered like smoke before a wind. A year of excitement, a year +of illness, a year of extravagance, shaken moreover by many strange +gusts of temper and caprice, it was so she might have summarized +them. First, a most promising début in London. Kitty +welcomed on all hands with enthusiasm as Ashe's wife and her own +daughter-in-law, fêted to the top of her bent, smiled on at +Court, flattered by the country-houses, always exquisitely dressed, +smiling and eager, apparently full of ambition for Ashe no less +than for herself, a happy, notorious, busy little person, with a +touch of wildness that did but give edge to her charm and keep the +world talking.</p> +<p>Then, the birth of the boy, and Kitty's passionate, ungovernable +recoil from the deformity that showed itself almost immediately +after his birth—a form of infantile paralysis involving a +slight but incurable lameness. Lady Tranmore could recall weeks of +remorseful fondling, alternating with weeks of neglect; continued +illness and depression on Kitty's part, settling after a while into +a petulant melancholy for which the baby's defect seemed but an +inadequate cause; Ashe's tender anxiety, his willingness to throw +up Parliament, office, everything, that Kitty might travel and +recover; and those huge efforts by which she and his best friends +in the House had held him back—when Kitty, it seemed, cared +little or nothing whether he sacrificed his future or not. Finally, +she herself, with the assistance of a new friend of Kitty's, had +become Kitty's nurse, had taken her abroad when Ashe could not be +spared, had watched over her, and humored her, and at last brought +her back—so the doctors said—restored.</p> +<p>Was it really recovery? At any rate, Lady Tranmore was often +inclined to think that since the return to London—now about a +twelvemonth since—both she and William had had to do with a +different Kitty. Young as she still was, the first exquisite +softness of the expanding life was gone; things harder, stranger, +more inexplicable than any which those who knew her best had yet +perceived, seemed now and then to come to the surface, like +wreckage in a summer sea.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The opening door disturbed these ponderings. The nurse appeared, +carrying the little boy. Lady Tranmore took him on her knee and +caressed him. He was a piteous, engaging child, generally very +docile, but liable at times to storms of temper out of all +proportion to the fragility of his small person. His grandmother +was inclined to look upon his passions as something external and +inflicted—the entering-in of the Blackwater devil to plague a +tiny creature that, normally, was of a divine and clinging +sweetness. She would have taught him religion, as his only shield +against himself; but neither his father nor his mother was +religious; and Harry was likely to grow up a pagan.</p> +<p>He leaned now against her breast, and she, whose inmost nature +was maternity, delighted in the pressure of the tiny body, crooning +songs to him when they were left alone, and pausing now and then to +pity and kiss the little shrunken foot that hung beside the +other.</p> +<p>She was interrupted by a soft entrance and the rustle of a +dress.</p> +<p>"Ah, Margaret!" she said, looking round and smiling.</p> +<p>The girl who had come in approached her, shook hands, and looked +down at the baby. She was fair-haired and wore spectacles; her face +was round and childish, her eyes round and blue, with certain lines +about them, however, which showed that she was no longer in her +first youth.</p> +<p>"I came to see if I could do anything to-day for Kitty. I know +she is very busy about the ball—"</p> +<p>"Head over ears apparently," said Lady Tranmore. "Everybody has +lost their wits. I see Kitty has chosen her dress."</p> +<p>"Yes, if Fanchette can make it all right. Poor Kitty! She has +been in such a state of mind. I think I'll go on with these +invitations."</p> +<p>And, taking off her gloves and hat, Margaret French went to the +writing-table like one intimately acquainted with the room and its +affairs, took up a pile of cards and envelopes which lay upon it, +and, bringing them to Lady Tranmore's side, began to work upon +them.</p> +<p>"I did about half yesterday," she explained; "but I see Kitty +hasn't been able to touch them, and it is really time they were +out."</p> +<p>"For their party next week?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I hope Kitty won't tire herself out. It has been a rush +lately."</p> +<p>"Does she ever rest?"</p> +<p>"Never—as far as I can see. And I am afraid she has been +very much worried."</p> +<p>"About that silly affair with Prince Stephan?" said Lady +Tranmore.</p> +<p>Margaret French nodded. "She vows that she meant no harm, and +did no harm, and that it has been all malice and exaggeration. But +one can see she has been hurt."</p> +<p>"Well, if you ask me," said Lady Tranmore, in a low voice, "I +think she deserved to be."</p> +<p>Their eyes met, the girl's full of a half-smiling, half-soft +consideration. Lady Tranmore, on the other hand, had flushed +proudly, as though the mere mention of the matter to which she had +referred had been galling to her. Kitty, in fact, had just been +guilty of an escapade which had set the town talking, and even +found its way here and there in the newspapers. The heir to a +European monarchy had been recently visiting London. A romantic +interest surrounded him; for a lady, not of a rank sufficiently +high to mate with his, had lately drowned herself for love of him, +and the young man's melancholy good looks, together with the +magnificent apathy of his manner, drew after him a chain of gossip. +Kitty failed to meet him in society; certain invitations that for +once she coveted did not arrive; and in a fit of pique she declared +that she would make acquaintance with him in her own way. On a +certain occasion, when the Princeling was at the play, his +attention was drawn to a small and dazzling creature in a box +opposite his own. Presently, however, there was a commotion in this +box. The dazzling creature had fainted; and rumor sent round the +name of Lady Kitty Ashe. The Prince despatched an equerry to make +inquiries, and the inquiries were repeated that evening in Hill +Street. Recovery was prompt, and the Prince let it be known that he +wished to meet the lady. Invitations from high quarters descended +upon Kitty; she bore herself with an engaging carelessness, and the +melancholy youth was soon spending far more pains upon her than he +had yet been known to spend upon any other English beauties +presented to him. Ashe and Kitty's friends laughed; the old general +in charge of the Princeling took alarm. And presently Kitty's +audacities, alack, carried away her discretion; she began, +moreover, to boast of her ruse. Whispers crept round; and the +general's ears were open. In a few days Kitty's triumph went the +way of all earthly things. At a Court ball, to which her vanity had +looked forward, unwarned, the Prince passed her with glassy eyes, +returning the barest bow to her smiling courtesy. She betrayed +nothing; but somehow the thing got out, and set in motion a perfect +hurricane of talk. It was rumored that the old Prime Minister, Lord +Parham, had himself said a caustic word to Lady Kitty, that Royalty +was annoyed, and that William Ashe had for once scolded his wife +seriously.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore was well aware that there was, at any rate, no +truth in the last report; but she also knew that there was a tone +of sharpness in the London chatter that was new with regard to +Kitty. It was as though a certain indulgence was wearing out, and +what had been amusement was passing into criticism.</p> +<p>She and Margaret French discussed the matter a little, <i>sotto +voce</i>, while Margaret went on with the invitations and Lady +Tranmore made a French toy dance and spin for the babe's amusement. +Their tone was one of close and friendly intimacy, an intimacy +based clearly upon one common interest—their relation to +Kitty. Margaret French was one of those beings in whom, for our +salvation, this halting, hurried world of ours is still on the +whole rich. She was unmarried, thirty-five, and poor. She lived +with her brother, a struggling doctor, and she had come across +Kitty in the first months of Kitty's married life, on some +fashionable Soldiers' Aid Committee, where Margaret had done the +work and Kitty with the other great ladies had reaped the fame. +Kitty had developed a fancy for her, and presently could not live +without her. But Margaret, though it soon became evident that she +had taken Kitty and, in due time, the child—Ashe, too, for +the matter of that—deep into her generous heart, preserved a +charming measure in the friendship offered her. She would owe Kitty +nothing, either socially or financially. When Kitty's smart friends +appeared, she vanished. Nobody in her own world ever heard her +mention the name of Lady Kitty Ashe, largely as that name was +beginning to figure in the gossip of the day. But there were few +things concerning the Hill Street ménage that Lady Tranmore +could not safely and rightly discuss with her; and even Ashe +himself went to her for counsel.</p> +<p>"I am afraid this has made things worse than ever with the +Parhams," said Lady Tranmore, presently.</p> +<p>Margaret shook her head anxiously.</p> +<p>"I hope Kitty won't throw over their dinner next week."</p> +<p>"She is talking of it!"</p> +<p>"Yesterday she had almost made up her mind," said Margaret, +reluctantly. "Perhaps you will persuade her. But she has been +terribly angry with Lord Parham—and with Lady P., too."</p> +<p>"And it was to be a reconciliation dinner, after the old +nonsense between her and Lady Parham," sighed Lady Tranmore. "It +was planned for Kitty entirely. And she is to act something, isn't +she, with that young De La Rivière from the embassy? I +believe the Princess is coming—expressly to meet her. I have +been hearing of it on all sides. She <i>can't</i> throw it +over!"</p> +<p>Margaret shrugged her shoulders. "I believe she will."</p> +<p>The older lady's face showed a sudden cloud of indignation.</p> +<p>"William must really put his foot down," she said, in a low, +decided voice. "It is, of course, most important—just +now—"</p> +<p>She said no more, but Margaret French looked up, and they +exchanged glances.</p> +<p>"Let's hope," said Margaret, "that Mr. Ashe will be able to +pacify her. Ah, there she is."</p> +<p>For the front door closed heavily, and instantly the house was +aware from top to toe of a flutter of talk and a frou-frou of +skirts. Kitty ran up the stairs and into the drawing-room, still +talking, apparently, to the footman behind her, and stopped short +at the sight of Lady Tranmore and Margaret. A momentary shadow +passed across her face; then she came forward all smiles.</p> +<p>"Why, they never told me down-stairs!" she said, taking a hand +of each caressingly, and slipping into a seat between them. "Have I +lost much of you?"</p> +<p>"Well, I must soon be off," said Lady Tranmore. "Harry has been +entertaining me."</p> +<p>"Oh, Harry; is he there?" said Kitty, in another voice, +perceiving the child behind his grandmother's dress as he sat on +the floor, where Lady Tranmore had just deposited him.</p> +<p>The baby turned towards his beautiful mother, and, as he saw +her, a little wandering smile began to spread from his uncertain +lips to his deep-brown eyes, till his whole face shone, held to +hers as to a magnet, in a still enchantment.</p> +<p>"Come!" said Kitty, holding out her hands.</p> +<p>With difficulty the child pulled himself towards her, moving in +sideway fashion along the floor, and dragging the helpless foot +after him. Again the shadow crossed Kitty's face. She caught him +up, kissed him, and moved to ring the bell.</p> +<p>"Shall I take him up-stairs?" said Margaret.</p> +<p>"Why, he seems to have only just come down!" said Lady Tranmore. +"Must he go?"</p> +<p>"He can come down again afterwards," said Kitty. "I want to talk +to you. Take him, Margaret."</p> +<p>The babe went without a whimper, still following his mother with +his eyes.</p> +<p>"He looks rather frail," said Lady Tranmore. "I hope you'll soon +be sending him to the country, Kitty."</p> +<p>"He's very well," said Kitty. Then she took off her hat and +looked at the invitations Margaret had been writing.</p> +<p>"Heavens, I had forgotten all about them! What an angel is +Margaret! I really can't remember these things. They ought to do +themselves by clock-work. And now Fanchette and this ball are +enough to drive one wild."</p> +<p>She lifted her hands to her face and pressed back the masses of +fair hair that were tumbling round it, with a gesture of +weariness.</p> +<p>"Fanchette can make your dress?"</p> +<p>"She says she will, but I couldn't make her understand anything +I wanted. She is off her head! They all are. By-the-way, did you +hear of Madeleine Alcot's. telegram to Worth?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>Kitty laughed—a laugh musical but malicious. Mrs. Alcot, +married in the same month as herself, had been her companion and +rival from the beginning. They called each other "Kitty" and +"Madeleine," and saw each other frequently; why, Lady Tranmore +could never discover, unless on the principle that it is best to +keep your enemy under observation.</p> +<p>"She telegraphed to Worth as soon as her invitation arrived, +'Envoyez tout de suite costume Vénus. Réponse.' The +answer came at dinner—she had a dinner-party—and she +read it aloud: 'Remercîments. Il n'y en a pas.' Isn't it +delightful?"</p> +<p>"Very neat," said Lady Tranmore, smiling. "When did you invent +that? You, I hear, are to be Diana?"</p> +<p>Kitty made a gesture of despair.</p> +<p>"Ask Fanchette—it depends on her. There is no one but she +in London who can do it. Oh, by-the-way, what's Mary going to be? I +suppose a Madonna of sorts."</p> +<p>"Not at all," said Lady Tranmore, dryly; "she has chosen a Sir +Joshua costume I found for her."</p> +<p>"A vocation missed," said Kitty, shaking her head. "She ought to +have been a 'Vestal Virgin' at least.... Do you know that you look +<i>such</i> a duck this afternoon!" The speaker put up two small +hands and pulled and patted at the black lace strings of Lady +Tranmore's hat, which were tied under the delicately wrinkled white +of her very distinguished chin.</p> +<p>"This hat suits you so—you are such a <i>grande dame</i> +in it. Ah! Je t'adore!"</p> +<p>And Kitty softly took the chin aforesaid into her hands, and +dropped a kiss on Lady Tranmore's cheek, which reddened a little +under the sudden caress.</p> +<p>"Don't be a goose, Kitty." But Elizabeth Tranmore stooped +forward all the same and returned the kiss heartily. "Now tell me +what you're going to wear at the Parhams'."</p> +<p>Kitty rose deliberately, went to the bell and rang it.</p> +<p>"It must be quite time for tea."</p> +<p>"You haven't answered my question, Kitty."</p> +<p>"Haven't I?" The butler entered. "Tea, please, Wilson, at +once."</p> +<p>"Kitty!—"</p> +<p>Lady Kitty seated herself defiantly a short distance from her +mother-in-law and crossed her hands on her lap.</p> +<p>"I am not going to the Parhams'."</p> +<p>"Kitty!—what do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I am not going to the Parhams'," repeated Kitty, slowly. "They +should behave a little more considerately to me if they want to get +me to amuse their guests for them."</p> +<p>At this moment Margaret French re-entered the room. Lady +Tranmore turned to her with a gesture of distress.</p> +<p>"Oh, Margaret knows," said Kitty. "I told her yesterday."</p> +<p>"The Parhams?" said Margaret.</p> +<p>Kitty nodded. Margaret paused, with her hand on the back of Lady +Tranmore's chair, and there was a short silence. Then Lady Tranmore +began, in a tone that endeavored not to be too serious:</p> +<p>"I don't know how you're going to get out of it, my dear. Lady +Parham has asked the Princess, first because she wished to come, +secondly as an olive-branch to you. She has taken the greatest +pains about the dinner; and afterwards there is to be an evening +party to hear you, just the right size, and just the right +people."</p> +<p>"Cela m'est égal," said Kitty, "par-faite-ment +égal! I am not going."</p> +<p>"What possible excuse can you invent?"</p> +<p>"I shall have a cold, the most atrocious cold imaginable. I take +to my bed just two hours before it is time to dress. My letter +reaches Lady Parham on the stroke of eight."</p> +<p>"Kitty, you would be doing a thing perfectly unheard +of—most rude—most unkind!"</p> +<p>The stiff, slight figure, like a strained wand, did not waver +for a moment before the grave indignation of the older woman.</p> +<p>"I should for once be paying off a score that has run on too +long."</p> +<p>"You and Lady Parham had agreed to make friends, and let bygones +be bygones."</p> +<p>"That was before last week."</p> +<p>"Before Lord Parham said—what annoyed you?"</p> +<p>Kitty's eyes flamed.</p> +<p>"Before Lord Parham humiliated me in public—or tried +to."</p> +<p>"Dear Kitty, he was annoyed, and said a sharp thing; but he is +an old man, and for William's sake, surely, you can forgive it. And +Lady Parham had nothing to do with it."</p> +<p>"She has not written to me to apologize," said Kitty, with a +most venomous calm. "Don't talk about it, mother. It will hurt you, +and I am determined. Lady Parham has patronized or snubbed me ever +since I married—when she hasn't been setting my best friends +against me. She is false, false, <i>false</i>!" Kitty struck her +hands together with an emphatic gesture. "And Lord Parham said a +thing to me last week I shall never forgive. Voilà! Now I +mean to have done with it!"</p> +<p>"And you choose to forget altogether that Lord Parham is +William's political chief—that William's affairs are in a +critical state, and everything depends on Lord Parham—that it +is not seemly, not possible, that William's wife should publicly +slight Lady Parham, and through her the Prime Minister—at +this moment of all moments."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore breathed fast.</p> +<p>"William will not expect me to put up with insults," said Kitty, +also beginning to show emotion.</p> +<p>"But can't you see that—just now especially—you +ought to think of nothing—<i>nothing</i>—but William's +future and William's career?"</p> +<p>"William will never purchase his career at my expense."</p> +<p>"Kitty, dear, listen," cried Lady Tranmore, in despair, and she +threw herself into arguments and appeals to which Kitty listened +quite unmoved for some twenty minutes. Margaret French, feeling +herself an uncomfortable third, tried several times to steal away. +In vain. Kitty's peremptory hand retained her. She could not +escape, much as she wished it, from the wrestle between the two +women—on the one side the mother, noble, already touched with +age, full of dignity and protesting affection; on the other the +wife, still little more than a child in years, vibrating through +all her slender frame with passion and insolence, more beautiful +than usual by virtue of the very fire which possessed her—a +mænad at bay.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore had just begun to waver in a final despair when +the door opened and William Ashe entered.</p> +<p>He looked in astonishment at his mother and wife. Then in a +flash he understood, and, with an involuntary gesture of fatigue, +he turned to go.</p> +<p>"William!" cried his mother, hurrying after him, "don't go. +Kitty and I were disputing; but it is nothing, dear! Don't go, you +look so tired. Can you stay for dinner?"</p> +<p>"Well, that was my intention," said Ashe, with a smile, as he +allowed himself to be brought back. "But Kitty seems in the +clouds."</p> +<p>For Kitty had not moved an inch to greet him. She sat in a +high-back chair, one foot crossed over the other, one hand +supporting her cheek, looking straight before her with shining +eyes.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore laid a hand on her shoulder.</p> +<p>"We won't talk any more about it now, Kitty, will we?"</p> +<p>Kitty's pinched lips opened enough to emit the words:</p> +<p>"Perhaps William had better understand—"</p> +<p>"Goodness!" cried Ashe. "Is it the Parhams? Send them, Kitty, if +you please, to ten thousand <i>diables</i>! You won't go to their +dinner? Well, don't go! Please yourself—and hang the expense! +Come and give me some dinner—there's a dear."</p> +<p>He bent over her and kissed her hair.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore began to speak; then, with a mighty effort, +restrained herself and began to look for her parasol. Kitty did not +move. Lady Tranmore said a muffled good-bye and went. And this time +Margaret French insisted on going with her.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When Ashe returned to the drawing-room, he found his wife still +in the same position, very pale and very wild.</p> +<p>"I have told your mother, William, what I intend to do about the +Parhams."</p> +<p>"Very well, dear. Now she knows."</p> +<p>"She says it will ruin your career."</p> +<p>"Did she? We'll talk about that presently. We have had a nasty +scene in the House with the Irishmen, and I'm famished. Go and +change, there's a dear. Dinner's just coming in."</p> +<p>Kitty went reluctantly. She came down in a white, flowing +garment, with a small green wreath in her hair, which, together +with the air of a storm which still enwrapped her, made her more +mænad-like than ever. Ashe took no notice, gave her a +laughing account of what had passed in the House, and ate his +dinner.</p> +<p>Afterwards, when they were alone, and he was just about to +return to the House, she made a swift rush across the dining-room, +and caught his coat with both hands.</p> +<p>"William, I can't go to that dinner—it would kill me!"</p> +<p>"How you repeat yourself, darling!" he said, with a smile. "I +suppose you'll give Lady Parham decent notice. What'll you do? Get +a doctor's certificate and go away?"</p> +<p>Kitty panted. "Not at all. I shall not tell her till an hour +before."</p> +<p>Ashe whistled.</p> +<p>"War? I see. Open war. Very well. Then we shall get to Venice +for Easter."</p> +<p>Kitty fell back.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"Very plain, isn't it? But what does it matter? Venice will be +delightful, and there are plenty of good men to take my place."</p> +<p>"Lord Parham would pass you over?"</p> +<p>"Not at all. But I can't work in public with a man whom I must +cut in private. It wouldn't amuse me. So if you're decided, Kitty, +write to Danieli's for rooms."</p> +<p>He lit his cigarette, and went out with a perfect nonchalance +and good-temper.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Kitty was to have gone to a ball. She countermanded her maid's +preparations, and sent the maid to bed. In due time all the +servants went to bed, the front door being left on the latch as +usual for Ashe's late return. About midnight a little figure +slipped into the child's nursery. The nurse was fast asleep. Kitty +sat beside the child, motionless, for an hour, and when Ashe let +himself into the house about two o'clock he heard a little rustle +in the hall, and there stood Kitty, waiting for him.</p> +<p>"Kitty, what are you about?" he said, in pretended amazement. +But in reality he was not astonished at all. His life for months +past had been pitched in a key of extravagance and tumult. He had +been practically certain that he should find Kitty in the hall.</p> +<p>With great tenderness he half led, half carried her up-stairs. +She clung to him as passionately as, before dinner, she had +repulsed him. When they reached their room, the tired man, dropping +with sleep, after a Parliamentary wrestle in which every faculty +had been taxed to the utmost, took his wife in his arms; and there +Kitty sobbed and talked herself into a peace of complete +exhaustion. In this state she was one of the most exquisite of +human beings, with words, tone, and gestures of a heavenly softness +and languor. The evil spirit went out of her, and she was all +ethereal tenderness, sadness, and remorse. For more than two years, +scenes like this had, in Ashe's case, melted into final delight and +intoxication which more than effaced the memory of what had gone +before. Now for several months he had dreaded the issue of the +crisis, no less than the crisis itself. It left him unnerved as +though some morbid sirocco had passed over him.</p> +<p>When Kitty at last had fallen asleep, Ashe stood for some time +beside his dressing-room window, looking absently into the cloudy +night, too tired even to undress. A gusty northwest wind tore down +the street and beat against the windows. The unrest without +increased the tension of his mind and body. Like Lady Tranmore, he +had, as it were, stepped back from his life, and was looking at +it—the last three years of it in particular—as a whole. +What was the net result of those years? Where was he? Whither were +he and Kitty going? A strange pang shot through him. The mere +asking of the question had been as the lifting of the lamp of +Psyche.</p> +<p>The scene that night in the House of Commons had been for him a +scene of conflict; in the main, also, of victory. His virile +powers, capacities, and ambitions had been at their height. He had +felt the full spell of the English political life, with all its +hard fighting joy, the exhilaration which flows from the vastness +of the interests on which it turns, and the intricate appeal it +makes, in the case of a man like himself, to a hundred inherited +aptitudes, tastes, and traditions.</p> +<p>And here he stood in the darkness, wondering whether indeed the +best of his life were not over—the prey of forebodings as +strong and vagrant as the gusts outside.</p> +<p>Birds of the night! He forced himself to bed, and slept heavily. +When he woke up, the May sun was shining into his room. Kitty, in +the freshest of morning dresses, was sitting on his bed like a +perching bird, waiting impatiently till his eyes should open and +she could ask him his opinion on her dress for the ball. The savor +and joy of life returned upon him in a flood. Kitty was the +prettiest thing ever seen; he had scored off those Tory fellows the +night before; the Parhams' dinner was all right; and life was once +more kind, manageable, and full of the most agreeable +possibilities. A certain indolent impatience in him recoiled from +the mere recollection of the night before. The worry was over; why +think of it again?</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> +<p>Meanwhile Lady Tranmore had reached home, and after one of those +pathetic hours in her husband's room which made the secret and +sacred foundation of her daily life, she expected Mary Lyster, who +was to dine at Tranmore House before the two ladies presented +themselves at a musical party given by the French Ambassadress. +Before her guest's arrival, Lady Tranmore wandered about her rooms, +unable to rest, unable even to read the evening papers on Ashe's +speech, so possessed was she still by her altercation with Kitty, +and by the foreboding sense of what it meant. William's future was +threatened; and the mother whose whole proud heart had been thrown +for years into every successful effort and every upward step of her +son, was up in arms.</p> +<p>Mary Lyster arrived to the minute. She came in, a tall gliding +woman, her hair falling in rippled waves on either side of her +face, which in its ample comeliness and placidity reminded the +Italianate Lady Tranmore of many faces well known to her in early +Siennese or Florentine art. Mary's dress to-night was of a noble +red, and the glossy brown of her hair made a harmony both with her +dress and with the whiteness of her neck that contented the +fastidious eye of her companion. "Polly" was now thirty, in the +prime of her good looks. Lady Tranmore's affection for her, which +had at one time even included the notion that she might possibly +become William Ashe's wife, did not at all interfere with a shrewd +understanding of her limitations. But she was daughterless herself; +her family feeling was strong; and Mary's society was an old and +pleasant habit one could ill have parted with. In her company, +moreover, Mary was at her best.</p> +<p>Elizabeth Tranmore never discussed her daughter-in-law with her +cousin. Loyalty to William forbade it, no less than a strong sense +of family dignity. For Mary had spoken once—immediately after +the engagement—with energy—nay, with passion; +prophesying woe and calamity. Thenceforward it was tacitly agreed +between them that all root-and-branch criticism of Kitty and her +ways was taboo. Mary was, indeed, on apparently good terms with her +cousin's wife. She dined occasionally at the Ashes', and she and +Kitty met frequently under the wing of Lady Tranmore. There was no +cordiality between them, and Kitty was often sharply or sulkily +certain that Mary was to be counted among those hostile forces with +which, in some of her moods, the world seemed to her to bristle. +But if Mary kept, in truth, a very sharp tongue for many of her +intimates on the subject of Kitty, Lady Tranmore at least was +determined to know nothing about it.</p> +<p>On this particular evening, however, Lady Tranmore's +self-control failed her, for the first time in three years. She had +not talked five minutes with her guest before she perceived that +Mary's mind was, in truth, brimful of gossip—the gossip of +many drawing-rooms—as to Kitty's escapade with the Prince, +Kitty's relations to Lady Partham, Kitty's parties, and Kitty's +whims. The temptation was too great; her own guard broke down.</p> +<p>"I hear Kitty is furious with the Parhams," said Mary, as the +two ladies sat together after their rapid dinner. It was a rainy +night, and the fire to which they had drawn up was welcome.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore shook her head sadly.</p> +<p>"I don't know where it is to end," she said, slowly.</p> +<p>"Lady Parham told me yesterday—you don't mind my repeating +it?"—Mary looked up with a smile—"she was still +dreadfully afraid that Kitty would play her some trick about next +Friday. She knows that Kitty detests her."</p> +<p>"Oh no," said Lady Tranmore, in a vague voice, "Kitty +couldn't—impossible!"</p> +<p>Mary turned an observant eye upon her companion's conscious and +troubled air, and drew conclusions not far from the truth.</p> +<p>"And it's all so awkward, isn't it?" she said, with sympathy, +"when apparently Lady Parham is as much Prime Minister as he +is."</p> +<p>For in those days certain great houses and political ladies, +though not at the zenith of their power, were still, in their +comparative decline, very much to be reckoned with. When Lady +Parham talked longer than usual with the French Ambassador, his +Austrian and German colleagues wrote anxious despatches to their +governments; when a special mission to the East of great importance +had to be arranged, nobody imagined that Lord Parham had very much +to do with the appointment of the commissioner, who happened to +have just engaged himself to Lady Parham's second girl. No young +member on the government side, if he wanted office, neglected Lady +Parham's invitations, and admission to her more intimate dinners +was still almost as much coveted as similar favors had been a +generation before in the case of Lady Jersey, or still earlier, in +that of Lady Holland. She was a small old woman, with a shrewish +face, a waxen complexion, and a brown wig. In spite of short sight, +she saw things that escaped most other people; her tongue was +rarely at a loss; she was, on the whole, a good friend, though +never an unreflecting one; and what she forgave might be safely +reckoned as not worth resenting.</p> +<p>Elizabeth Tranmore received Mary's remark with reluctant +consent. Lady Parham—from the English aristocratic +stand-point—was not well-born. She had been the daughter of a +fashionable music-master, whose blood was certainly not Christian. +And there were many people beside Lady Tranmore who resented her +domination.</p> +<p>"It will be so perfectly easy when the moment comes to invent +some excuse or other for shelving William's claims," sighed Ashe's +mother. "Nobody is indispensable, and if that old woman is +provoked, she will be capable of any mischief."</p> +<p>"What do you want for William?" said Mary, smiling.</p> +<p>"He ought, of course, to have the Home Office!" replied Lady +Tranmore, with fire.</p> +<p>Mary vowed that he would certainly have it. "Kitty is so clever, +she will understand how important discretion is, before things go +too far."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore made no answer. She gazed into the fire, and Miss +Lyster thought her depressed.</p> +<p>"Has William ever interfered?" she asked, cautiously.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore hesitated.</p> +<p>"Not that I know of," she said, at last. "Nor will he +ever—in the sense in which any ordinary husband would +interfere."</p> +<p>"I know! It is as though he had a kind of superstition about it. +Isn't there a fairy story, in which an elf marries a mortal on +condition that if he ever ill-treats her, her people will fetch her +back to fairyland? One day the husband lost his temper and spoke +crossly; instantly there was a crash of thunder and the elf-wife +vanished."</p> +<p>"I don't remember the story. But it's like that—exactly. +He said to me once that he would never have asked her to marry him +if he had not been able to make up his mind to let her have her own +way—never to coerce her."</p> +<p>But having said this, Lady Tranmore repented. It seemed to her +she had been betraying William's affairs. She drew her chair back +from the fire, and rang to ask if the carriage had arrived. Mary +took the hint. She arrayed herself in her cloak, and chatted +agreeably about other things till the moment for their departure +came.</p> +<p>As they drove through the streets, Lady Tranmore stole a glance +at her companion.</p> +<p>"She is really very handsome," she thought—"much +better-looking than she was at twenty. What are the men about, not +to marry her?"</p> +<p>It was indeed a puzzle. For Mary was increasingly agreeable as +the years went on, and had now quite a position of her own in +London, as a charming woman without angles or apparent egotisms; +one of the initiated besides, whom any dinner-party might be glad +to capture. Her relations, near and distant, held so many of the +points of vantage in English public life that her word inevitably +carried weight. She talked politics, as women of her class must +talk them to hold their own; she supported the Church; and she was +elegantly charitable, in that popular sense which means that you +subscribe to your friends' charities without setting up any of your +own. She was rich also—already in possession of a +considerable fortune, inherited from her mother, and prospective +heiress of at least as much again from her father, old Sir Richard +Lyster, whose house in Somersetshire she managed to perfection. In +the season she stayed with various friends, or with Lady Tranmore, +Sir Richard being now infirm, and preferring the country. There was +a younger sister, who was known to have married imprudently, and +against her father's wishes, some five or six years before this. +Catharine was poor, the wife of a clergyman with young children. +Lady Tranmore sometimes wondered whether Mary was quite as good to +her as she might be. She herself sent Catharine various presents in +the course of the year for the children.</p> +<p>—Yes, it was certainly surprising that Mary had not +married. Lady Tranmore's thoughts were running on this tack when of +a sudden her eyes were caught by the placard of one of the evening +papers.</p> +<p>"Interview with Mr. Cliffe. Peace assured." So ran one of the +lines.</p> +<p>"Geoffrey Cliffe home again!" Lady Tranmore's tone betrayed a +shade of contemptuous amusement.</p> +<p>"We shall have to get on without our daily telegram. Poor +London!"</p> +<p>If at that moment it had occurred to her to look at her +companion, she would have seen a quick reddening of Mary's +cheeks.</p> +<p>"He has had a great success, though, with his telegrams!" +replied Miss Lyster. "I should have thought one couldn't deny +that."</p> +<p>"Success! Only with the people who don't matter," said Lady +Tranmore, with a shrug. "Of what importance is it to anybody that +Geoffrey Cliffe should telegraph his doings and his opinions every +morning to the English public?"</p> +<p>We were in the midst of a disagreement with America. A whirlwind +was unloosed, and as it happened Geoffrey Cliffe was riding it. For +that gentleman had not succeeded in the designs which were +occupying his mind when he had first made Kitty's acquaintance in +the Grosvilles' country-house. He had desired an appointment in +Egypt; but it had not been given him, and after some angry +restlessness at home, he had once more taken up a pilgrim's staff +and departed on fresh travels, bound this time for the Pamirs and +Thibet. After nearly three years, during which he had never ceased, +through the newspapers and periodicals, to keep his opinions and +his personality before the public, he had been heard of in China, +and as returning home by America. He arrived at San Francisco just +as the dispute had broken out, was at once captured by an English +paper, and sent to New York, with <i>carte blanche</i>. He had +risen with alacrity to the situation. Thenceforward for some three +weeks, England found a marvellous series of large-print telegrams, +signed "Geoffrey Cliffe," awaiting her each morning on her +breakfast-table.</p> +<p>"'The President and I met this morning'—'The President +considers, and I agree with him'—'I told the +President'—etc.—'The President this morning signed and +sealed a memorable despatch. He said to me +afterwards'"—etc.</p> +<p>Two diverse effects seemed to have been produced by these +proceedings. A certain section of Radical opinion, which likes to +see affairs managed <i>sans cérémonie</i>, and does +not understand what the world wants with diplomatists when +journalists are to be had, applauded; the old-fashioned +laughed.</p> +<p>It was said that Cliffe was going into the House immediately; +the young bloods of the party in power enjoyed the prospect, and +had already stored up the <i>ego et Rex meus</i> details of his +correspondence for future use.</p> +<p>"How could a man make such a fool of himself!" continued Lady +Tranmore, the malice in her voice expressing not only the old +aristocratic dislike of the press, but also the jealousy natural to +the mother of an official son.</p> +<p>"Well, we shall see," said Mary, after a pause. "I don't quite +agree with you, Cousin Elizabeth—indeed, I know there are +many people who think that he has certainly done good."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore turned in astonishment. She had expected Mary's +assent to her original remark as a matter of course. Mary's old +flirtation with Geoffrey Cliffe, and the long breach between them +which had followed it, were things well known to her. They had +coincided, moreover, with her own dropping of the man whom for +various reasons she had come to regard as unscrupulous and +unsafe.</p> +<p>"Good!" she echoed—"<i>good</i>?—with that boasting, +and that <i>fanfaronnade</i>. Polly!"</p> +<p>But Miss Lyster held her ground.</p> +<p>"We must allow everybody their own ways of doing things, mustn't +we? I am quite sure he has meant well—all through."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore shrugged her shoulders. "Lord Parham told me he +had had the most grotesque letters from him!—and meant +henceforward to put them in the fire."</p> +<p>"Very foolish of Lord Parham," said Mary, promptly. "I should +have thought that a Prime Minister would welcome +information—from all sides. And of course Mr. Cliffe thinks +that the government has been <i>very</i> badly served."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore's wonder broke out. "You don't +mean—that—you hear from him?"</p> +<p>She turned and looked full at her companion. Mary's color was +still raised, but otherwise she betrayed no embarrassment.</p> +<p>"Yes, dear Cousin Elizabeth. I have heard from him regularly for +the last six months. I have often wished to tell you, but I was +afraid you might misunderstand me, and—my courage failed me!" +The speaker, smiling, laid her hand on Lady Tranmore's. "The fact +is, he wrote to me last autumn from Japan. You remember that poor +cousin of mine who died at Tokio? Mr. Cliffe had seen something of +him, and he very kindly wrote both to his mother and me afterwards. +Then—"</p> +<p>"You didn't forgive him!" cried Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>Mary laughed.</p> +<p>"Was there anything to forgive? We were both young and foolish. +Anyway, he interests me—and his letters are splendid."</p> +<p>"Did you ever tell William you were corresponding with him?"</p> +<p>"No, indeed! But I want very much to make them understand each +other better. Why shouldn't the government make use of him? He +doesn't wish at all to be thrown into the arms of the other side. +But they treat him so badly—"</p> +<p>"My dear Mary! are we governed by the proper people, or are we +not?"</p> +<p>"It is no good ignoring the press," said Mary, holding herself +gracefully erect. "And the Bishop quite agrees with me."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore sank back in her seat.</p> +<p>"You discussed it with the Bishop?" It was now some time since +Mary had last brought the family Bishop—her cousin, and Lady +Tranmore's—to bear upon an argument between them. But +Elizabeth knew that his appearance in the conversation invariably +meant a <i>fait accompli</i> of some sort.</p> +<p>"I read him some of Mr. Cliffe's letters," said Mary, modestly. +"He thought them most remarkable."</p> +<p>"Even when he mocks at missionaries?"</p> +<p>"Oh! but he doesn't mock at them any more. He has learned +wisdom—I assure you he has!"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore's patience almost departed, Mary's look was so +penetrated with indulgence for the prejudices of a dear but +unreasonable relation. But she managed to preserve it.</p> +<p>"And you knew he was coming home?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes!" said Mary. "I meant to have told you at dinner. But +something put it out of my head—Kitty, of course! I shouldn't +wonder if he were at the embassy to-night."</p> +<p>"Polly! tell me—"—Lady Tranmore gripped Miss +Lyster's hand with some force—"are you going to marry +him?"</p> +<p>"Not that I know of," was the smiling reply. "Don't you think +I'm old enough by now to have a man friend?"</p> +<p>"And you expect me to be civil to him!"</p> +<p>"Well, dear Cousin Elizabeth—you know—you never did +break with him, quite."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore, in her bewilderment, reflected that she had +certainly meant to complete the process whenever she and Mr. Cliffe +should meet again. Aloud she could only say, rather stiffly:</p> +<p>"I can't forget that William disapproves of him strongly."</p> +<p>"Oh no—excuse me—I don't think he does!" said Mary, +quickly. "He said to me, the other day, that he should be very glad +to pick his brains when he came home. And then he laughed and said +he was a 'deuced clever fellow'—excuse the +adjective—and it was a great thing to be 'as free as that +chap was'—'without all sorts of boring colleagues and +responsibilities.' Wasn't it like William?"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore sighed.</p> +<p>"William shouldn't say those things."</p> +<p>"Of course, dear, he was only in fun. But I'll lay you a small +wager, Cousin Elizabeth, that Kitty will ask Mr. Cliffe to lunch as +soon as she knows he is in town."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore turned away.</p> +<p>"I dare say. No one can answer for what Kitty will do. But +Geoffrey Cliffe has said scandalous things of William."</p> +<p>"He won't say them again," said Mary, soothingly. "Besides, +William never minds being abused a bit—does he?"</p> +<p>"He should mind," said Lady Tranmore, drawing herself up. "In my +young days, our enemies were our enemies and our friends our +friends. Nowadays nothing seems to matter. You may call a man a +scoundrel one day and ask him to dinner the next. We seem to use +words in a new sense—and I confess I don't like the change. +Well, Mary, I sha'n't, of course, be rude to any friend of yours. +But don't expect me to be effusive. And please remember that my +acquaintance with Geoffrey Cliffe is older than yours."</p> +<p>Mary made a caressing reply, and gave her mind for the rest of +the drive to the smoothing of Lady Tranmore's ruffled plumes. But +it was not easy. As that lady made her way up the crowded staircase +of the French Embassy, her fine face was still absent and a little +stern.</p> +<p>Mary could only reflect that she had at least got through a +first explanation which was bound to be made. Then for a few +minutes her mind surrendered itself wholly to the question, "Will +he be here?"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The rooms of the French Embassy were already crowded. An +ambassador, short, stout, and somewhat morose, his plain features +and snub nose emerging with difficulty from his thick, fair hair, +superabundant beard, and mustache—with an elegant and smiling +ambassadress, personifying amid the English crowd that Paris from +which through every fibre she felt herself a pining +exile—received the guests. The scene was ablaze with +uniforms, for the Speaker had been giving a dinner, and Royalty was +expected. But, as Lady Tranmore perceived at once, very few members +of the House of Commons were present. A hot debate on some detail +of the naval estimates had been sprung on ministers, and the whips +on each side had been peremptorily keeping their forces in +hand.</p> +<p>"I don't see either William or Kitty," said Mary, after a +careful scrutiny not, in truth, directed to the discovery of the +Ashes.</p> +<p>"No. I suppose William was kept, and Kitty did not care to come +alone."</p> +<p>Mary said nothing. But she was well aware that Kitty was never +restrained from going into society by the mere absence of her +husband. Meanwhile Lady Tranmore was lost in secret anxieties as to +what might have happened in Hill Street. Had there been a quarrel? +Something certainly had gone wrong, or Kitty would be here.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty not arrived?" said a voice, like a macaw's, beside +her.</p> +<p>Elizabeth turned and shook hands with Lady Parham. That +extraordinary woman, followed everywhere by the attentive +observation of the crowd, had never asserted herself more sharply +in dress, manner, and coiffure than on this particular +evening—so it seemed, at least, to Lady Tranmore. Her ample +figure was robed in the white satin of a bride, her wrinkled neck +disappeared under a weight of jewels, and her bright chestnut wig, +to which the diamond tiara was fastened, positively attacked the +spectator, so patent was it and unashamed. Unashamed, too, were the +bold, tyrannous eyes, the rouge-spots on either cheek, the strength +of the jaw, the close-shut ability of the mouth. Elizabeth Tranmore +looked at her with a secret passion of dislike. Her English pride +of race, no less than the prejudices of her taste and training, +could hardly endure the fact that, for William's sake, she must +make herself agreeable to Lady Parham.</p> +<p>Agreeable, however, she tried to be. Kitty had seemed to her +tired in the afternoon, and had, no doubt, gone to bed—so she +averred.</p> +<p>Lady Parham laughed.</p> +<p>"Well, she mustn't be tired the night of my party next +week—or the skies will fall. I never took so much trouble +before about anything in my life."</p> +<p>"No, she must take care," said Lady Tranmore. "Unfortunately, +she is not strong, and she does too much."</p> +<p>Lady Parham threw her a sharp look.</p> +<p>"Not strong? I should have thought Lady Kitty was made on wires. +Well, if she fails me, I shall go to bed—with small-pox. +There will be nothing else to be done. The Princess has actually +put off another engagement to come—she has heard so much of +Lady Kitty's reciting. But you'll help me through, won't you?"</p> +<p>And the wrinkled face and harsh lips fell into a contortion +meant for a confidential smile; while through it all the eyes, +wholly independent, studied the face beside her—closely, +suspiciously—until the owner of it in her discomfort could +almost have repeated aloud the words that were ringing in her +mind—"I shall <i>not</i> go to Lady Parham's! My note will +reach her on the stroke of eight."</p> +<p>"Certainly—I will keep an eye on her!" she said, lightly. +"But you know—since her illness—"</p> +<p>"Oh no!" said Lady Parham, impatiently, "she is very +well—very well indeed. I never saw her look so radiant. +By-the-way, did you hear your son's speech the other night? I did +not see you in the gallery. A great pity if you missed it. It was +admirable."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore replied regretfully that she had not been there, +and that she had not been able to have a word with him about it +since.</p> +<p>"Oh, he knows he did well," said Lady Parham, carelessly. "They +all do. Lord Parham was delighted. He could do nothing but talk +about it at dinner. He says they were in a very tight place, and +Mr. Ashe got them out."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore expressed her gratification with all the dignity +she could command, conscious meanwhile that her companion was not +listening to a word, absorbed as she was in a hawklike examination +of the room through a pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses.</p> +<p>Suddenly the eye-glasses fell with a rattle.</p> +<p>"Good Heavens!" cried Lady Parham. "Do you see who that is +talking to Mr. Loraine?"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore looked, and at once perceived Geoffrey Cliffe in +close conversation with the leader of the Opposition. The lady +beside her gave an angry laugh.</p> +<p>"If Mr. Cliffe thinks he has done himself any good by these +ridiculous telegrams of his, he will find himself mistaken! People +are perfectly furious about them."</p> +<p>"Naturally," said Lady Tranmore. "Only that it is a pity to take +him seriously."</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't know. He has his following; unfortunately, some of +our own men are inclined to think that Parham should conciliate +him. Ignore him, I say. Behave as though he didn't exist. Ah! +by-the-way"—the speaker raised herself on tiptoe, and said, +in an audacious undertone—"is it true that he may possibly +marry your cousin, Miss Lyster?"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore kept a smiling composure. "Is it true that Lord +Parham may possibly give him an appointment?"</p> +<p>Lady Parham turned away in annoyance. "Is that one of the +inventions going about?"</p> +<p>"There are so many," said Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>At that moment, however, to her infinite relief, her companion +abruptly deserted her. She was free to observe the two distant +figures in conversation—Geoffrey Cliffe and Mr. Loraine, the +latter a man now verging on old age, white-haired and wrinkled, but +breathing still through every feature and every movement the +scarcely diminished energy of his magnificent prime. He stood with +bent head, listening attentively, but, as Lady Tranmore thought, +coldly, to the arguments that Cliffe was pouring out upon him. Once +he looked up in a sudden recoil, and there was a flash from an eye +famous for its power of majestic or passionate rebuke. Cliffe, +however, took no notice, and talked on, Loraine still +listening.</p> +<p>"Look at them!" said Lady Parham, venomously, in the ear of one +of her intimates. "We shall have all this out in the House +to-morrow. The Opposition mean to play that man for all he's worth. +Mr. Loraine, too—with his puritanical ways! I know what he +thinks of Cliffe. He wouldn't <i>touch</i> him in private. But in +public—you'll see—he'll swallow him whole—just to +annoy Parham. There's your politician."</p> +<p>And stiff with the angry virtue of the "ins," denouncing the +faction of the "outs," Lady Parham passed on.</p> +<p>Elizabeth Tranmore meanwhile turned to look for Mary Lyster. She +found her close behind, engaged in a perfunctory conversation, +which evidently left her quite free to follow things more exciting. +She, too, was watching; and presently it seemed to Lady Tranmore +that her eyes met with those of Cliffe. Cliffe paused; abruptly +lost the thread of his conversation with Mr. Loraine, and began to +make his way through the crowded room. Lady Tranmore watched his +progress with some attention. It was the progress, clearly, of a +man much in the eye and mouth of the public. Whether the atmosphere +surrounding him in these rooms was more hostile or more favorable, +Lady Tranmore could not be quite sure. Certainly the women smiled +upon him; and his strange face, thinner, browner, more +weather-beaten and life-beaten than ever, under its crest of +grizzling hair, had the old arrogant and picturesque power, but, as +it seemed to her, with something added—something subtler, was +it, more romantic than of yore? which arrested the spectator. Had +he really been in love with that French woman? Lady Tranmore had +heard it rumored that she was dead.</p> +<p>It was not towards Mary Lyster, primarily, that he was moving, +Elizabeth soon discovered; it was towards herself. She braced +herself for the encounter.</p> +<p>The greeting was soon over. After she herself had said the +appropriate things, Lady Tranmore had time to notice that Mary +Lyster, whose turn came next, did not attempt to say them. She +looked, indeed, unusually handsome and animated; Lady Tranmore was +certain that Cliffe had noticed as much, at his first sight of her. +But the remarks she omitted showed how minute and recent was their +knowledge of each other's movements. Cliffe himself gave a first +impression of high spirits. He declared that London was more +agreeable than he had ever known it, and that after his three +years' absence nobody looked a day older. Then he inquired after +Ashe.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore replied that William was well, but hard-worked; +she hoped to persuade him to get a few days abroad at Whitsuntide. +Her manner was quiet, without a trace of either discourtesy or +effusion. Cliffe began to twist his mustache, a sign she knew well. +It meant that he was in truth both irritable and nervous.</p> +<p>"You think they'll last till Whitsuntide?"</p> +<p>"The government?" she said, smiling. "Certainly—and +beyond."</p> +<p>"I give them three weeks," said Cliffe, twisting anew, with a +vigor that gave her a positive physical sympathy with the tortured +mustache. "There will be some papers out to-morrow that will be a +bomb-shell."</p> +<p>"About America? Oh, they have been blown up so often! You, for +instance, have been doing your best—for months."</p> +<p>His perfunctory laugh answered the mockery of her charming +eyes.</p> +<p>"Well—I wish I could make William hear reason."</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore held herself stiffly. The Christian name seemed to +her an offence. It was true that in old days he and Cliffe had been +on those terms. Now—it was a piece of bad taste.</p> +<p>"Probably what is reason to you is folly to him," she said, +dryly.</p> +<p>"No, no!—he <i>knows</i>," said Cliffe, with impatience. +"The others don't. Parham is more impossible—more crassly, +grossly ignorant!" He lifted hands and eyes in protest. "But Ashe, +of course, is another matter altogether."</p> +<p>"Well, go and see him—go and talk to him!" said Lady +Tranmore, still mocking. "There are no lions in the way."</p> +<p>"None," said Cliffe. "As a matter of fact, Lady Kitty has asked +me to luncheon. But does one find Ashe himself in the middle of the +day?"</p> +<p>At the mention of her daughter-in-law Elizabeth made an +involuntary movement. Mary, standing beside her, turned towards her +and smiled.</p> +<p>"Not often." The tone was cold. "But you could always find him +at the House." And Lady Tranmore moved away.</p> +<p>"Is there a quiet corner anywhere?" said Cliffe to Mary. "I have +such heaps to tell you."</p> +<p>So while some Polish gentleman in the main drawing-room, whose +name ended in <i>ski</i>, challenged his violin to the impossible, +Cliffe and Mary retired from observation into a small room thrown +open with the rest of the suite, which was in truth the +morning-room of the ambassadress.</p> +<p>As soon as they found themselves alone, there was a pause in +their conversation; each involuntarily looked at the other. Mary +certainly recognized that these years of absence had wrought a +noticeable change in the man before her. He had aged. Hard living +and hard travelling had left their marks. But, like Lady Tranmore, +she also perceived another difference. The eyes bent upon her were +indeed, as before, the eyes of a man self-centred, self-absorbed. +There was no chivalrous softness in them, no consideration. The man +who owned them used them entirely for his own purposes; they +betrayed none of that changing instinctive relation towards the +human being—any human being—within their range, which +makes the charm of so many faces. But they were sadder, more +sombre, more restless; they thrilled her more than they had already +thrilled her once, in the first moment of her youth.</p> +<p>What was he going to say? From the moment of his first letter to +her from Japan, Mary had perfectly understood that he had some +fresh purpose in his mind. She was not anxious, however, to +precipitate the moment of explanation. She was no longer the young +girl whose equilibrium is upset by the mere approach of the man who +interests her. Moreover, there was a past between herself and +Cliffe, the memory of which might indeed point her to caution. Did +he now, after all, want to marry her—because she was rich, +and he was comparatively poor, and could only secure an English +career at the cost of a well-stored wife? Well, all that should be +thought over; by herself no less than by him. Meanwhile her vanity +glowed within her, as she thus held him there, alone, to the +discomfiture of other women more beautiful and more highly placed +than herself; as she remembered his letters in her desk at home; +and the secrets she imagined him to have told her. Then again she +felt a rush of sudden disquiet, caused by this new +aspect—wavering and remote—as though some hidden grief +emerged and vanished. He had the haggard air of a man who scarcely +sleeps. All that she had ever heard of the French affair rushed +through her mind, stirring there an angry curiosity.</p> +<p>These impressions took, however, but a few minutes, while they +exchanged some conventionalities. Then Cliffe said, scrutinizing +the face and form beside him with that intentness which, from him, +was more generally taken as compliment than offence:</p> +<p>"Will you excuse the remark? There are no women who keep their +first freshness like Englishwomen."</p> +<p>"Thank you. If we feel fresh, I suppose we look it. As for you, +you clearly want a rest."</p> +<p>"No time to think of it, then; I have come home to +fight—all I know; to make myself as odious as possible."</p> +<p>Mary laughed.</p> +<p>"You have been doing that so long. Why not try the +opposite?"</p> +<p>Cliffe looked at her sharply.</p> +<p>"You think I have made a failure of it?"</p> +<p>"Not at all. You have made everybody furiously uncomfortable, +and you see how civil even the Radical papers are to you."</p> +<p>"Yes. What fools!" said Cliffe, shortly. "They'll soon leave +that off. Just now I'm a stick to beat the government with. But you +don't believe I shall carry my point?"</p> +<p>The point concerned a particular detail in a pending negotiation +with the United States. Cliffe had been denouncing the government +for what he conceived to be their coming retreat before American +demands. America, according to him, had been playing the bully; and +English interests were being betrayed.</p> +<p>Mary considered.</p> +<p>"I think you will have to change your tactics."</p> +<p>"Dictate them, then."</p> +<p>He bent forward, with that sudden change of manner, that +courteous sweetness of tone and gesture, which few women could +resist. Mary's heart, seasoned though it were, felt a charming +flutter. She talked, and she talked well. She had no independence +of mind, and very little real knowledge; but she had an excellent +reporter's ability; she knew what to remember, and how to tell it. +Cliffe listened to her attentively, acknowledging to himself the +while that she had certainly gained. She was a far more definite +personality than she had been when he last knew her; and her +self-possession, her trained manner, rested him. Thank Heaven, she +was not a clever woman—how he detested the breed! But she was +a useful one. And the smiling commonplace into which she fell so +often was positively welcome to him. He had known what it was to +court a woman who was more than his equal both in mind and passion; +and it had left him bitter and broken.</p> +<p>"Well, all this is most illuminating," he said at last. "I owe +you immense thanks." And he put out a pair of hands, thin, brown, +and weather-stained as his face, and pressed one of hers. "We're +very old friends, aren't we?"</p> +<p>"Are we?" said Mary, drawing back.</p> +<p>"So far as any one can be the friend of a chap like me," he +said, hastily. "Tell me, are you with Lady Tranmore?"</p> +<p>"No. I go to her in a few days—till I leave London."</p> +<p>"Don't go away," he said, suddenly and insistently. "Don't go +away."</p> +<p>Mary could not help a slight wavering in the eyes that perforce +met his. Then he said, abruptly, as she rose:</p> +<p>"By-the-way, they tell me Ashe is a great man."</p> +<p>She caught the note of incredulous contempt in his voice and +laughed.</p> +<p>"They say he'll be in the cabinet directly."</p> +<p>"And Lady Kitty, I understand, is a scandal to gods and men, and +the most fashionable person in town?"</p> +<p>"Oh, not now," said Mary. "That was last year."</p> +<p>"You mean people are tired of her?"</p> +<p>"Well, after a time, you know, a naughty child—"</p> +<p>"Becomes a bore. Is she a bore? I doubt; I very much doubt."</p> +<p>"Go and see," said Mary. "When do you lunch there?"</p> +<p>"I think to-morrow. Shall I find you?"</p> +<p>"Oh no. I am not at all intimate with Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>Cliffe's slight smile, as he followed her into the large +drawing-room, died under his mustache. He divined at once the +relation between the two, or thought he did.</p> +<p>As for Mary, she caught her last sight of Cliffe, standing +bareheaded on the steps of the embassy, his lean distinction, his +ugly good looks marking him out from the men around him. Then, as +they drove away she was glad that the darkness hid her from Lady +Tranmore. For suddenly she could not smile. She was filled with the +perception that if Geoffrey Cliffe did not now ask her to marry +him, life would utterly lose its savor, its carefully cherished and +augmented savor, and youth would abandon her. At the same time she +realized that she would have to make a fight of it, with every +weapon she could muster.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> +<p>"Wasn't I expected?" said Darrell, with a chilly smile.</p> +<p>"Oh yes, sir—yes, sir!" said the Ashes' butler, as he +looked distractedly round the drawing-room. "I believe her ladyship +will be in directly. Will you kindly take a seat?"</p> +<p>The man's air of resignation convinced Darrell that Lady Kitty +had probably gone out without any orders to her servants, and had +now forgotten all about her luncheon-party—a state of things +to which the Hill Street household was, no doubt, well +accustomed.</p> +<p>"I shall claim some lunch," he thought to himself, "whatever +happens. These young people want keeping in their place. Ah!"</p> +<p>For he had observed, placed on a small easel, the print of +Madame de Longueville in costume, and he put up his eye-glass to +look at it. He guessed at once that its appearance there was +connected with the fancy ball which was now filling London with its +fame, and he examined it with some closeness. "Lady Kitty will make +a stir in it—no doubt of that!" he said to himself, as he +turned away. "She has the keenest <i>flair</i> of them all for what +produces an effect. None of the others can touch her—Mrs. +Alcot—none of them!"</p> +<p>He was thinking of the other members of a certain group, at that +time well known in London society—a group characterized +chiefly by the beauty, extravagance, and audacity of the women +belonging to it. It was by no means a group of mere fashionables. +It contained a large amount of ability and accomplishment; some men +of aristocratic family, who were also men of high character, with +great futures before them; some persons from the literary or +artistic world, who possessed, besides their literary or artistic +gifts, a certain art of agreeable living, and some few +others—especially young girls—admitted generally for +some peculiar quality of beauty or manner outside the ordinary +canons. Money was really presupposed by the group as a group. The +life they belonged to was a life of the rich, the houses they met +in were rich houses. But money as such had no power whatever to buy +admission to their ranks; and the members of the group were at +least as impatient of the claims of mere wealth as they were of +those of mere virtue.</p> +<p>On the whole the group was an element of ferment and growth in +the society that had produced it. Its impatience of convention and +restraint, the exaltation of intellectual or artistic power which +prevailed in it, and even the angry opposition excited by its +pretensions and its exclusiveness, were all, perhaps, rather +profitable than harmful at that moment of our social history. Old +customs were much shaken; the new were shaping themselves, and this +daring coterie of young and brilliant people, living in one +another's houses, calling one another by their Christian names, +setting a number of social rules at defiance, discussing books, +making the fame of artists, and, now and then, influencing +politics, were certainly helping to bring the new world to birth. +Their foes called them "The Archangels," and they themselves had +accepted the name with complacency.</p> +<p>Kitty, of course, was an Archangel, so was Mrs. Alcot. Cliffe +had belonged to them before his travels began. Louis Harman was +more or less of their tribe, and Lady Tranmore, though not herself +an Archangel, entertained the set in London and in the country. +Like various older women connected with the group, she was not of +them, but she "harbored" them.</p> +<p>Darrell was well aware that he did not belong to them, though +personally he was acquainted with almost all the members of the +group. He was not completely indifferent to his exclusion; and this +fact annoyed him more than the exclusion itself.</p> +<p>He had scarcely finished his inspection of the print when the +door again opened and Geoffrey Cliffe entered. Darrell had not yet +seen him since his return and since his attack on the government +had made him the hero of the hour. Of the newspaper success Darrell +was no less jealous and contemptuous than Lady Tranmore, though for +quite other reasons. But he knew better than she the intellectual +quality of the man, and his disdain for the journalist was tempered +by his considerable though reluctant respect for the man of +letters.</p> +<p>They greeted each other coolly, while Cliffe, not seeing his +hostess, looked round him with annoyance.</p> +<p>"Well, we shall probably entertain each other," said Darrell, as +they sat down. "Lady Kitty often forgets her engagements."</p> +<p>"Does she?" said Cliffe, coldly, pretending to glance through a +book beside him. It touched his vanity that his hostess was not +present, and still more that Darrell should suppose him a person to +be forgotten. Darrell, however, who had no mind for any discomfort +that might be avoided, made a few dexterous advances, Cliffe's brow +relaxed, and they were soon in conversation.</p> +<p>The position of the ministry naturally presented itself as a +topic. Two or three retirements were impending, the whole position +was precarious. Would the cabinet be reconstructed without a +dissolution, or must there be an appeal to the country?</p> +<p>Cliffe was passionately in favor of the latter course. The party +fortunes could not possibly be retrieved without a general +shuffling of the cards, and an opportunity for some wholly fresh +combination involving new blood.</p> +<p>"In any case," said Cliffe, "I suppose our friend here is sure +of one or other of the big posts?"</p> +<p>"William Ashe? Oh, I suppose so, unless some intrigue gets in +the way." Darrell dropped his voice. "Parham doesn't, in truth, hit +it off with him very well. Ashe is too clever, and Parham doesn't +understand his paradoxes."</p> +<p>"Also I gather," said Cliffe, with a smile, "that Lady Parham +has her say?"</p> +<p>Darrell shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"It sounds incredible that one should still have to reckon with +that kind of thing at this time of day. But I dare say it's +true."</p> +<p>"However, I imagine Lady Kitty—by-the-way, how much longer +shall we give her?"—Cliffe looked at his watch with a +frown—"may be trusted to take care of that."</p> +<p>Darrell merely raised his eyebrows, without replying. "What, not +a match for one Lady Parham?" said Cliffe, with a laugh. "I should +have thought—from my old recollections of her—she would +have been a match for twenty?"</p> +<p>"Oh, if she cared to try."</p> +<p>"She is not ambitious?"</p> +<p>"Certainly; but not always for the same thing."</p> +<p>"She is trying to run too many horses abreast?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I am not a great friend," said Darrell, smiling. "I should +never dream of analyzing Lady Kitty. Ah!"—he turned his +head—"are we not forgotten, or just +remembered—which?"</p> +<p>For a rapid step approached, the door opened, and a lady +appeared on the threshold. It was not Kitty, however. The new-comer +advanced, putting up a pair of fashionable eye-glasses, and looking +at the two men in a kind of languid perplexity, intended, as +Darrell immediately said to himself, merely to prolong the moment +and the effect of her entry. Mrs. Alcot was very tall, and +inordinately thin. Her dark head on its slim throat, the poetic +lines of the brow, her half-shut eyes, the gleam of her white +teeth, and all the delicate detail of her dress, and, one might +even say, of her manner, gave an impression of beauty, though she +was not, in truth, beautiful. But she had grace and she had +daring—the two essential qualities of an Archangel; she was +also a remarkable artist, and no small critic.</p> +<p>"Mr. Cliffe," she said, with a start of what was evidently +agreeable surprise, "Kitty never told me. When did you come?"</p> +<p>"I arrived a few days ago. Why weren't you at the embassy last +night?"</p> +<p>"Because I was much better employed. I have given up crushes. +But I would have come—to meet you. Ah, Mr. Darrell!" she +added, in another tone, holding out an indifferent hand. "Where is +Kitty?" She looked round her.</p> +<p>"Shall we order lunch?" said Darrell, who had given her a +greeting as careless as her own.</p> +<p>"Kitty is really too bad; she is never less than an hour late," +said Mrs. Alcot, seating herself. "Last time she dined with us I +asked her for seven-thirty. She thought something very special must +be happening, and arrived—breathless—at half-past +eight. Then she was furious with me because she was not the last. +But one can't do it twice. Well"—addressing herself to +Cliffe—"are you come home to stay?"</p> +<p>"That depends," said Cliffe, "on whether England makes itself +agreeable to me."</p> +<p>"What are your deserts? Why should England be agreeable to you?" +she replied, with a smiling sharpness. "You do nothing but croak +about England."</p> +<p>Thus challenged, Cliffe sat down beside her and they fell into a +bantering conversation. Darrell, though inwardly wounded by the +small trouble they took to include him, let nothing appear, put in +a word now and then, or turned over the pages of the illustrated +books.</p> +<p>After five minutes a fresh guest arrived. In walked the little +Dean, Dr. Winston, who had originally made acquaintance with Lady +Kitty at Grosville Park. He came in overflowing with spirits and +enthusiasm. He had been spending the morning in Westminster Abbey +with another Dean more famous though not more charming than +himself, and with yet another congenial spirit, one of the younger +historians, all of them passionate lovers of the rich human detail +of the past, the actual men and women, kings, queens, bishops, +executioners, and all the shreds and tatters that remained of them. +Together they had opened a royal tomb, and the Dean's eyes were +sparkling as though the ghost of the queen whose ashes he had been +handling still walked and talked with him.</p> +<p>He passed in his light, disinterested way through most sections +of English society, though the slave of none; and he greeted +Darrell and Mrs. Alcot as acquaintances. Mrs. Alcot introduced +Cliffe to him, and the small Dean bowed rather stiffly. He was a +supporter of the government, and he thought Cliffe's campaign +against them vulgar and unfair.</p> +<p>"Is there no hope of Lady Kitty?" he said to Mrs. Alcot.</p> +<p>"Not much. Shall we go down to lunch?"</p> +<p>"Without our hostess?" The Dean opened his eyes.</p> +<p>"Oh, Kitty expects it," said Mrs. Alcot, with affected +resignation, "and the servants are quite prepared. Kitty asks +everybody to lunch—then somebody asks her—and she +forgets. It's quite simple."</p> +<p>"Quite," said Cliffe, buttoning up his coat, "but I think I +shall go to the club."</p> +<p>He was looking for his hat, when again there was a commotion on +the stairs—a high voice giving orders—and in burst +Kitty. She stood still as soon as she saw her guests, talking so +fast and pouring out such a flood of excuses that no one could get +in a word. Then she flew to each guest in turn, taking them by both +hands—Darrell only excepted—and showing herself so +penitent, amusing, and charming that everybody was propitiated. It +was Fanchette, of course—Fanchette the criminal, the +incomparable. Her dress for the ball. Kitty raised eyes and hands +to heaven—it would be a marvel, a miracle. Unless, indeed, +she were lying cold and quiet in her little grave before the time +came to wear it. But Fanchette's tempers—Fanchette's +caprices—no! Kitty began to mimic the great dressmaker torn +to pieces by the crowd of fashionable ladies, stopping abruptly in +the middle to say to Cliffe:</p> +<p>"You were going away? I saw you take up your hat."</p> +<p>"I despaired of my hostess," said Cliffe, with a smile. Then as +he perceived that Mrs. Alcot had taken up the theme and was holding +the others in play, he added in a lower voice, "and I was in no +mood for second-best."</p> +<p>Kitty's eyes twinkled a moment as she turned them on Madeleine +Alcot.</p> +<p>"Ah, <i>I</i> remember—at Grosville Park—what a bad +temper you had. You would have gone away furious."</p> +<p>"With disappointment—yes," said Cliffe, as he looked at +her with an admiration he scarcely endeavored to conceal. Kitty was +in black, but a large hat of white tulle, in the most extravagant +fashion of the day, made a frame for her hair and eyes, and +increased the general lightness and fantasy of her appearance. +Cliffe tried to recall her as he had first seen her at Grosville +Park, but his recollection of the young girl could not hold its own +against the brilliant and emphatic reality before him.</p> +<p>At luncheon it chafed him that he must divide her with the Dean. +Yet she was charming with the old man, who chatted history, art, +and Paris to her, with a delightful innocence and ignorance of all +that made Lady Kitty Ashe the talk of the town, and an +old-fashioned deference besides, that insensibly curbed her manner +and her phrases as she answered him. Yet when the Dean left her +free she returned to Cliffe, as though in some sort they two had +really been talking all the time, through all the apparent +conversation with other people.</p> +<p>"I have read all your telegrams," she said. "Why did you attack +William so fiercely?"</p> +<p>Cliffe was taken by surprise, but he felt no +embarrassment—her tone was not that of the wife in arms.</p> +<p>"I attacked the official—not the man. William knows +that."</p> +<p>"He is coming in to-day if possible. He wanted to see you."</p> +<p>"Good news! William knows that he would have hit just as hard in +my place."</p> +<p>"I don't think he would," said Kitty, calmly. "He is so +generous."</p> +<p>The color rushed to Cliffe's face.</p> +<p>"Well scored! I wish I had a wife to play these strokes for me. +I shall argue that a keen politician has no right to be generous. +He is at war."</p> +<p>Kitty took no notice. She leaned her little chin on her hand, +and her eyes perused the face of her companion.</p> +<p>"Where have you been—all the time—before +America?"</p> +<p>"In the deserts—fighting devils," said Cliffe, after a +moment.</p> +<p>"What does that mean?" she asked, wondering.</p> +<p>"Read my new book. That will tell you about the deserts."</p> +<p>"And the devils?"</p> +<p>"Ah, I keep them to myself."</p> +<p>"Do you?" she said, softly. "I have just read your poems over +again."</p> +<p>Cliffe gave a slight start, then looked indifferent.</p> +<p>"Have you? But they were written three years ago. Dieu merci, +one finds new devils like new acquaintances."</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked her, half amused, half +arrested.</p> +<p>"They are always the old," she said, in a low voice. Their eyes +met. In hers was the same veiled, restless melancholy as in his +own. Together with the dazzling air of youth that surrounded her, +the cherished, flattered, luxurious existence that she and her +house suggested, they made a strange impression upon him. "Does she +mean me to understand that she is not happy?" he thought to +himself. But the next moment she was engaged in a merry chatter +with the Dean, and all trace of the mood she had thus momentarily +shown him had vanished.</p> +<p>Half-way through the luncheon, Ashe came in. He appeared, fresh +and smiling, irreproachably dressed, and showing no trace whatever +of the hard morning of official work he had just passed through, +nor of the many embarrassments which, as every one knew, were +weighing on the Foreign Office. The Dean, with his keen sense for +the dramatic, watched the meeting between him and Cliffe with some +closeness, having in mind the almost personal duel between the two +men—a duel of letters, telegrams, or speeches, which had been +lately carried on in the sight of Europe and America. For Ashe now +represented the Foreign Office in the House of Commons, and had +been much badgered by the Tory extremists who followed Cliffe.</p> +<p>Naturally, being Englishmen, they met as though nothing had +happened and they had parted the day before in Pall Mall. A "Hullo, +Ashe!" and "Hullo, Cliffe! glad to see you back again," completed +the matter. The Dean enjoyed it as a specimen of English "phlegm," +recalling with amusement his last visit to the Paris of the Second +Empire—Paris torn between government and opposition, the +<i>salons</i> of the one divided from the <i>salons</i> of the +other by a sulphurous gulf, unless when some Lazarus of the moment, +some well-known novelist or poet, cradled in the Abraham's bosom of +Liberalism, passed amid shrieks of triumph or howls of treason into +the official inferno.</p> +<p>Not that there was any avoiding of topics in this English case. +Ashe had no sooner slipped into his seat than he began to banter +Cliffe upon a letter of a supporter which had appeared in that +morning's <i>Times</i>. It was written by Lord S., who had played +the part of public "fool" for half a generation. To be praised by +him was disaster, and Cliffe's flush showed at once that the letter +had caused him acute annoyance. He and Ashe fell upon the writer, +vying with each other in anecdotes that left him presently +close-plucked and bare.</p> +<p>"That's all very well," said Kitty, amid the laughter which +greeted the last tale, "but he never told <i>you</i> how he +proposed to the second Lady S."</p> +<p>And lifting a red strawberry, which she held poised against her +red, laughing lips, she waited a moment—looking round her. +"Go on, Kitty," said Ashe, approvingly; "go on."</p> +<p>Thus permitted, Kitty gave one of the little "scenes," arranged +from some experience of her own, which were very famous among her +intimates. Ashe called them her "parlor tricks," and was never +tired of making her exhibit them. And now, just as at Grosville +Park, she held her audience. She spoke without a halt, her small +features answering perfectly to every impulse of her talent, each +touch of character or dialogue as telling as a malicious sense of +comedy could make it; arms, hands, shoulders all aiding in the +final result—a table swept by a very storm of laughter, in +the midst of which Kitty quietly finished her strawberry.</p> +<p>"Well done, Kitty!" Ashe, who sat opposite to her, stretched his +hand across, and patted hers.</p> +<p>"Does she love him?" Cliffe asked himself, and could not make up +his mind, closely as he tried to observe their relations. He was +more and more conscious of the exciting effect she produced on +himself, doubly so, indeed, because of that sudden stroke of +melancholy wherewith—like a Rembrandt shadow, she had thrown +into relief the gayety and frivolity of her ordinary mood.</p> +<p>The stimulus, whatever it was, played upon his vanity. He, too, +sought an opening and found it. Soon it was he who was monopolizing +the conversation with an account of two days spent with Bismarck in +a Prussian country-house, during the triumphant days of the winter +which followed on Sadowa. The story was brilliantly told, and of +some political importance. But it was disfigured by arrogance and +affectation, and Ashe's eyes began to dance a little. Cliffe +meanwhile could not forget that he was in the presence of a rival +and an official, could not refrain after a while from a note of +challenge here and there. The conversation diverged from the tale +into matters of current foreign politics. Ashe, lounging and +smoking, at first knew nothing, had heard of nothing, as usual. +Then a comment or correction dropped out; Cliffe repeated himself +vehemently—only to provoke another. Presently, no one knew +how, the two men were measured against each other <i>corps à +corps</i>—the wide knowledge and trained experience of the +minister against the originality, the force, the fantastic +imagination of the writer.</p> +<p>The Dean watched it with delight. He was very fond of Ashe, and +liked to see him getting the better of "the newspaper fellow." +Kitty's lovely brown eyes travelled from one to the other. Now it +seemed to the Dean that she was proud of Ashe, now that she +sympathized with Cliffe. Soon, however, like the god at Philippi, +she swept upon the poet and bore him from the field.</p> +<p>"Not a word more politics!" she said, peremptorily, to Ashe, +holding up her hand. "<i>I</i> want to talk to Mr. Cliffe about the +ball."</p> +<p>Cliffe was not very ready to obey. He had an angry sense of +having been somehow shown to disadvantage, and would like to have +challenged his host again. But Kitty poured balm into his wounds. +She drew him apart a little, using the play of her beautiful eyes +for him only, and talking to him in a new voice of deference.</p> +<p>"You're going, of course? Lady M. told me the other day she +<i>must</i> have you."</p> +<p>Cliffe, still a little morose, replied that his invitation had +been waiting for him at his London rooms. He gave the information +carelessly, as though it did not matter to him a straw. In reality, +as soon as, while still in America, he had seen the announcement of +the ball in one of the New York papers, he had written at once to +the Marchioness who was to give it—an old acquaintance of +his—practically demanding an invitation. It had been sent +indeed with alacrity, and without waiting for its arrival Cliffe +had ordered his dress in Paris. Kitty inquired what it was to +be.</p> +<p>"I told my man to copy a portrait of Alva."</p> +<p>"Ah, that's right," said Kitty, nodding—"that's right. +Only it would have been better if it had been Torquemada."</p> +<p>Rather nettled, Cliffe asked what there might be about him that +so forcibly suggested the Grand Inquisitor. Kitty, cigarette in +hand, with half-shut eyes, did not answer immediately. She seemed +to be perusing his face with difficulty.</p> +<p>"Strength, I suppose," she said at last, slowly. Cliffe waited, +then burst into a laugh.</p> +<p>"And cruelty?" She nodded.</p> +<p>"Who are my victims?"</p> +<p>She said nothing.</p> +<p>"Whose tales have you been listening to, Lady Kitty?"</p> +<p>She mentioned the name of a French lady. Cliffe changed +countenance.</p> +<p>"Ah, well, if you have been talking to her," he said, haughtily, +"you may well expect to see me appear as Diabolus in person."</p> +<p>"No. But it's since then that I've read the poems again. You +see, you tell the public so much—"</p> +<p>"That you think you have the right to guess the rest?" He +paused, then added, with impatience, "Don't guess, Lady Kitty. You +have everything that life can give you. Let my secrets alone."</p> +<p>There was silence. Kitty looking round her saw that Madeleine +Alcot was entertaining her other guests, and that she and Cliffe +were unobserved. Suddenly Cliffe bent towards her, and said, with +roughness, his face struggling to conceal the feeling behind +it:</p> +<p>"You heard—and you believed—that I tormented +her—that I killed her?"</p> +<p>The anguish in his eyes seemed to strike a certain answering +fire from Kitty's.</p> +<p>"Yes, but—"</p> +<p>"But what?"</p> +<p>"I didn't think it very strange—"</p> +<p>Cliffe watched her closely.</p> +<p>"—that a man should be—an inhuman beast—if he +were jealous—and desperate. You can sympathize with these +things?"</p> +<p>She drew a long breath, and threw away the cigarette she had +been holding suspended in her small fingers.</p> +<p>"I don't know anything about them."</p> +<p>"Because," he hesitated, "your own life has been so happy?"</p> +<p>She evaded him. "Don't you think that jealousy will soon be as +dead as—saying your prayers and going to church? I never meet +anybody that cares enough—to be jealous."</p> +<p>She spoke first with passionate force, then with contempt, +glancing across the room at Madeleine Alcot. Cliffe saw the look, +and remembered that Mrs. Alcot's husband, a distinguished treasury +official, had been for years the intimate friend of a very noble +and beautiful woman, herself unhappily married. There was no +scandal in the matter, though much talk. Mrs. Alcot meanwhile had +her own affairs; her husband and she were apparently on friendly +terms; only neither ever spoke of the other; and their relations +remained a mystery.</p> +<p>Cliffe bent over to Kitty.</p> +<p>"And yet you said you could understand?—such things didn't +seem strange to you."</p> +<p>She gave a little, reckless laugh.</p> +<p>"Did I? It's like the people who think they could act or sing, +if they only had the chance. I choose to think I could feel. And of +course I couldn't. We've lost the power. All the old, horrible, +splendid things are dead and done with."</p> +<p>"The old passions, you mean?"</p> +<p>"And the old poems! <i>You'll</i> never write like that +again."</p> +<p>"God forbid!" said Cliffe, under his breath. Then as Kitty rose +he followed her with his eyes. "Lady Kitty, you've thrown me a +challenge that you hardly understand. Some day I must answer +it."</p> +<p>"Don't answer it," said Kitty, hastily.</p> +<p>"Yes, if I can drag the words out," he said, sombrely. She met +his look in a kind of fascination, excited by the memory of the +story which had been told her, by her own audacity in speaking of +it, by the presence of the dead passion she divined lying shrouded +and ghastly in the mind of the man beside her. Even the ugly things +of which he was accused did but add to the interest of his +personality for a nature like hers, greedy of experience, and +discontented with the real.</p> +<p>While he on his side was nattered and astonished by her attitude +towards him, as Ashe's wife, she would surely dislike and try to +trample on him. That was what he had expected.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"I hear you are an Archangel, Lady Kitty," said the Dean, who, +having obstinately outstayed all the other guests, had now settled +his small person and his thin legs into a chair beside his hostess +with a view to five agreeable minutes. He was the most harmless of +social epicures, was the Dean, and he felt that Lady Kitty had +defrauded him at lunch in favor of that great, ruffling, Byronic +fellow Cliffe, who ought to have better taste than to come lunching +with the Ashes.</p> +<p>"Am I?" said Kitty, who had thrown herself into the corner of a +sofa, and sat curled up there in an attitude which the Dean thought +charming, though it would not, he was aware, "have become Mrs. +Winston.</p> +<p>"Well, you know best," said the Dean. "But, at any rate, be good +and explain to me what is an Archangel."</p> +<p>"Somebody whom most men and all women dislike," said Kitty, +promptly.</p> +<p>"Yet they seem to be numerous," remarked the Dean.</p> +<p>"Not at all!" cried Kitty, with an air of offence; "not at all! +If they were numerous they would, of course, be popular."</p> +<p>"And in fact they are rare—and detested? What other +characteristics have they?"</p> +<p>"Courage," said Kitty, looking up.</p> +<p>"Courage to break rules? I hear they all call one another by +their Christian names, and live in one another's rooms, and borrow +one another's money, and despise conventionalities. I am sorry you +are an Archangel, Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>"I didn't admit that I was," said Kitty, "but if I am, why are +you sorry?"</p> +<p>"Because," said the Dean, smiling, "I thought you were too +clever to despise conventionalities."</p> +<p>Kitty sat up with revived energy, and joined battle. She flew +into a tirade as to the dulness and routine of English life, the +stupidity of good people, and the tyranny of English hypocrisy. The +Dean listened with amusement, then with a shade of something else. +At last he got up to go.</p> +<p>"Well, you know, we have heard all that before. My point of view +is so much more interesting—subtle—romantic! Anybody +can attack Mrs. Grundy, but only a person of originality can adore +her. Try it, Lady Kitty. It would be really worth your while."</p> +<p>Kitty mocked and exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Do you know what that phrase—that name of +abomination—always recalls to me?" pursued the old man.</p> +<p>"It bores me, even to guess," was Kitty's petulant reply.</p> +<p>"Does it? I think of some of the noblest people I have ever +known—brave men—beautiful women—who fought Mrs. +Grundy, and perished."</p> +<p>The Dean stood looking down upon her, with an eager, sensitive +expression. Tales that he had heeded very little when he had first +heard them ran through his mind; he had thought Lady Kitty's +intimate <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her husband's +assailant in the press disagreeable and unseemly; and as for Mrs. +Alcot, he had disliked her particularly.</p> +<p>Kitty looked up unquelled.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"''Tis better to have fought and lost<br /> +Than never to have fought at all—'"</p> +</div> +<p>she quoted, with one of her most radiant and provoking +smiles.</p> +<p>"Incorrigible!" cried the Dean, catching up his hat. "I see! +Once an Archangel—always an Archangel."</p> +<p>"Oh no!" said Kitty. "There may be 'war in heaven.'"</p> +<p>"Well, don't take Mrs. Alcot for a leader, that's all," said the +Dean, as he held out a hand of farewell.</p> +<p>"And now I understand!" cried Kitty, triumphantly. "You detest +my best friend."</p> +<p>The Dean laughed, protested, and went. Ashe, who had been +writing letters while Kitty and the Dean were talking, escorted the +old man to the door.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When he returned he found Kitty sitting with her hands in her +lap, lost apparently in thought.</p> +<p>"Darling," he said, looking at his watch, "I must be off +directly, but I should like to see the boy."</p> +<p>Kitty started. She rang, and the child was brought down. He sat +on Kitty's knee, and Ashe coming to the sofa, threw an arm round +them both.</p> +<p>"You are not a bad-looking pair," he said, kissing first Kitty +and then the baby. "But he's rather pale, Kitty. I think he wants +the country."</p> +<p>Kitty said nothing, but she lifted the little white embroidered +frock and looked at the twisted foot. Then Ashe felt her +shudder.</p> +<p>"Dear, don't be morbid!" he cried, resentfully. "He will have so +much brains that nobody will remember that. Think of Byron."</p> +<p>Kitty did not seem to have heard.</p> +<p>"I remember so well when I first saw his foot—after your +mother told me—and they brought him to me," she said, slowly. +"It seemed to me it was the end—"</p> +<p>"The end of what?"</p> +<p>"Of my dream."</p> +<p>"What <i>do</i> you mean, Kitty!"</p> +<p>"Do you remember the mask in the 'Tempest'? First Iris, with +saffron wings, and rich Ceres, and great Juno—"</p> +<p>She half closed her eyes.</p> +<p>"Then the nymphs and the reapers—dancing together on 'the +short-grassed green,' the sweetest, gayest show—"</p> +<p>She breathed the words out softly. "Then, suddenly—"</p> +<p>She sat up stiffly and struck her small hands together:</p> +<p>"Prospero starts and speaks. And in a moment—without +warning—with 'a strange, hollow, and confused +noise'"—she dragged the words drearily—"<i>they heavily +vanish</i>. That"—she pointed, shuddering, to the child's +foot—"was for me the sign of Prospero."</p> +<p>Ashe looked at her with anxiety, finding it indeed impossible to +laugh at her.</p> +<p>She was very pale, her breath came with difficulty, and she +trembled from head to foot. He tried to draw her into his arms, but +she held him away.</p> +<p>"That first year I had been so happy," she continued, in the +same voice. "Everything was so perfect, so glorious. Life was like +a great pageant, in a palace. All the old terrors went. I often had +fears as a child—fears I couldn't put into words, but that +overshadowed me. Then when I saw Alice—the shadow came +nearer. But that was all gone. I thought God was reconciled to me, +and would always be kind to me now. And then I saw that foot, and I +knew that He hated me still. He had burned His mark into my baby's +flesh. And I was never to be quite happy again, but always in fear, +fear of pain—and death—and grief—"</p> +<p>She paused. Her large eyes gazed into vacancy, and her whole +slight frame showed the working of some mysterious and pitiful +distress.</p> +<p>A wave of poignant alarm swept through Ashe's mind, coupled also +with a curious sense of something foreseen. He had never witnessed +precisely this mood in her before; but now that it was thus +revealed, he was suddenly aware "that something like it had been +for long moving obscurely below the surface of her life. He took +the child and laid him on the floor, where he rolled at ease, +cooing to himself. Then he came back to Kitty, and soothed her with +extraordinary tenderness and skill. Presently she looked at him, as +though some obscure trouble of which she had been the victim had +released her, and she were herself again.</p> +<p>"Don't go away just yet," she said, in a voice which was still +low and shaken. He came close to her, again put his arms round her, +and held her on his breast in silence.</p> +<p>"That is heavenly!" he heard her say to herself after a while, +in a whisper.</p> +<p>"Kitty!" His eyes grew dim and he stooped to kiss her.</p> +<p>"Heavenly—" she went on, still as though following out her +own thought rather than speaking to him, "because one +<i>yields</i>—<i>yields</i>! Life is such +tension—always."</p> +<p>She closed her eyes quickly, and he watched the beautiful lashes +lying still upon her cheek. With an emotion he could not +explain—for it was not an emotion of the senses, just as her +yielding had not been a yielding of the senses but a yielding of +the soul—he continued to hold her in his arms, her life, her +will given to him wholly, sighed out upon his heart.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Then gradually she recovered her balance; the normal Kitty came +back. She put out her hand and touched his face.</p> +<p>"You must go back to the House, William."</p> +<p>"Yes, if you are all right."</p> +<p>She sat up, and began to rearrange some of her hair that had +slipped down.</p> +<p>"You have carried us both into such heights and depths, +darling!" said Ashe, after he had watched her a little in silence, +"that I have forgotten to tell you the gossip I brought back from +mother this morning."</p> +<p>Kitty paused, interrogatively. She was still pale.</p> +<p>"Do you know that mother is convinced Mary Lyster has made up +her mind to marry Cliffe?"</p> +<p>There was a pause, then Kitty said, with incredulous contempt: +"He would never <i>dream</i> of marrying her!"</p> +<p>"Not so sure! She has a great deal of money, and Cliffe wants +money badly."</p> +<p>Ashe began to put his papers together. Kitty questioned him a +little more, intermittently, as to what his mother had said. When +he had left her, she sat for long on the sofa, playing with some +flowers she had taken from her dress, or sombrely watching the +child, as it lay on the floor beside her.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> +<p>"My lady! It's come!"</p> +<p>The maid put her head in just to convey the good news. Kitty was +in her bedroom walking up and down in a fury which was now almost +speechless.</p> +<p>The housemaid was waiting on the stairs. The butler was waiting +in the hall. Till that hurried knock was heard at the front door, +and the much-tried Wilson had rushed to open it, the house had been +wrapped in a sort of storm silence. It was ten o'clock on the night +of the ball. Half Kitty's costume lay spread out upon her bed. The +other half—although since seven o'clock all Kitty's servants +had been employed in rushing to Fanchette's establishment in New +Bond Street, at half-hour intervals, in the fastest hansoms to be +found—had not yet appeared.</p> +<p>However, here at last was the end of despair. A panting boy +dragged the box into the hall, the butler and footman carried it +up-stairs and into their mistress's room, where Kitty in a white +peignoir stood waiting, with the brow of Medea.</p> +<p>"The boy that brought it looked just fit to drop, my lady!" said +the maid, as she undid the box. She was a zealous servant, but she +was glad sometimes to chasten these great ones of the land by +insisting on the seamy side of their pleasures.</p> +<p>Kitty paused in the eager task of superintendence, and turned to +the under-housemaid, who stood by, gazing open-mouthed at the +splendors emerging from the box.</p> +<p>"Run down and tell Wilson to give him some wine and cake!" she +said, peremptorily. "It's all Fanchette's fault—odious +creature!—running it to the last like this—after all +her promises!"</p> +<p>The housemaid went, and soon sped back. For no boy on earth +would she have been long defrauded of the sight of her ladyship's +completed gown.</p> +<p>"Did Wilson feed him?" Kitty flung her the question as she bent, +alternately frowning and jubilant, over the creation before +her.</p> +<p>"Yes, my lady. It was quite a little fellow. He said his legs +were just run off his feet," said the girl, growing confused as the +moon-robe unfolded.</p> +<p>"Poor wretch!" said Kitty, carelessly. "I'm glad I'm not an +errand—Blanche! you know Fanchette may be an old demon, but +she <i>has</i> got taste! Just look at these folds, and the way +she's put on the pearls! Now then—make haste!"</p> +<p>Off flew the peignoir, and, with the help of the excited maids, +Kitty slipped into her dress. Ten times, over did she declare that +it was hopeless, that it didn't fit in the least, that it wasn't +one bit what she had ordered, that she couldn't and wouldn't go out +in it, that it was simply scandalous, and Fanchette should never be +paid a penny. Her maids understood her, and simply went on pulling, +patting, fastening, as quickly as their skilled fingers could work, +till the last fold fell into its place, and the under-housemaid +stepped back with clasped hands and an "Oh, my lady!" couched in a +note of irrepressible ecstasy.</p> +<p>"Well?" said Kitty, still frowning—"eh, Blanche?"</p> +<p>The maid proper would have scorned to show emotion; but she +nodded approval. "If you ask me, my lady, I think you have never +looked so well in anything."</p> +<p>Kitty's brow relaxed at last, as she stood gazing at the +reflection in the large glass before her. She saw herself as +Artemis—á la Madame de Longueville—in a +hunting-dress of white silk, descending to the ankles, embroidered +from top to toe in crescents of seed pearls and silver, and held at +the waist by a silver girdle. Her throat was covered with +magnificent pearls, a Tranmore family possession, lent by Lady +Tranmore for the occasion. The slim ankles and feet were cased in +white silk, cross-gartered with silver and shod with silver +sandals. Her belt held her quiver of white-winged arrows; her bow +of ivory inlaid with silver was slung at her shoulder, while across +her breast, the only note of color in the general harmony of white, +fell a scarf of apple-green holding the horn, also of ivory and +silver, which, like the belt and bow, had been designed for her in +Madame de Longueville's Paris.</p> +<p>But neither she nor her model would have been finally content +with an adornment so delicately fanciful and minute. Both Kitty and +the goddess of the Fronde knew that they must hold their own in a +crowd. For this there must be diamonds. The sleeves, therefore, on +the white arms fell back from diamond clasps; the ivory spear in +her right hand was topped by a small genius with glittering wings; +and in the masses of her fair hair, bound with pearl fillets, shone +the large diamond crescent that Lady Tranmore had foreseen, with +one small attendant star at either side.</p> +<div><a name="image-200.jpg" id="image-200.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-200.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-200.jpg" width="50%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>THE FINISHING TOUCHES</b></p> +<p>"Well, upon my word, Kitty!" said a voice from her husband's +dressing-room.</p> +<p>Kitty turned impetuously.</p> +<p>"Do you like it?" she cried. Ashe approached. She lifted her +horn to her mouth and stood tiptoe. The movement was enchanting; it +had in it the youth and freshness of spring woods; it suggested +mountain distances and the solitudes of high valleys. Intoxication +spoke in Ashe's pulses; he wished the maids had been far away that +he might have taken the goddess in his very human arms. Instead of +which he stood lazily smiling.</p> +<p>"What Endymion are you calling?" he asked her. "Kitty, you are a +dream!"</p> +<p>Kitty pirouetted, then suddenly stopped short and held out a +foot.</p> +<p>"Look at those silk things, sir. Nobody but Fanchette could have +made them look anything but a botch. But they spoil the dress. And +all to please mother and Mrs. Grundy!"</p> +<p>"I like them. I suppose—the nearest you could get to +buskins? You would have preferred ankles <i>au naturel</i>? I don't +think you'd have been admitted, Kitty."</p> +<p>"Shouldn't I? And so few people have feet they can show!" sighed +Kitty, regretfully.</p> +<p>Ashe's eyes met those of the maid, who was trying to hide her +smiles, and he and she both laughed.</p> +<p>"What do you think about it, eh, Blanche?"</p> +<p>"I think her ladyship is much better as she is," said the maid, +decidedly. "She'd have felt very strange when she got there."</p> +<p>Kitty turned upon her like a whirlwind. "Go to bed!" she said, +putting both hands on the shoulders of the maid. "Go to bed at +once! Esther can give me my cloak. Do you know, William, she was +awake all last night thinking of her brother?"</p> +<p>"The brother who has had an operation? But I thought there was +good news?" said Ashe, kindly.</p> +<p>"He's much better," put in Kitty. "She heard this afternoon. She +won't be such a goose as to lie awake, I Should hope, to-night. +Don't let me catch you here when I get back!" she said, releasing +the girl, whose eyes had filled with tears. "Mr. Ashe will help me, +and if he pulls the strings into knots, I shall just cut +them—so there! Go away, get your supper, and go to bed. Such +a life as I've led them all to-day!" She threw up her hands in a +perfunctory penitence.</p> +<p>The maid was forced to go, and the housemaid also returned to +the hall with Kitty's Opera-cloak and fan, till it should please +her mistress to descend. Both of them were dead tired, but they +took a genuine disinterested pleasure in Kitty's beauty and her +fine frocks. She was not by any means always considerate of them; +but still, with that wonderful generosity that the poor show every +day to the rich, they liked her; and to Ashe every servant in the +house was devoted.</p> +<p>Kitty meanwhile had driven Ashe to his own toilette, and was +walking about the room, now studying herself in the glass, and now +chattering to him through the open door.</p> +<p>"Have you heard anything more about Tuesday?" she asked him, +presently.</p> +<p>"Oh yes!—compliments by the dozen. Old Parham overtook me +as I was walking away from the House, and said all manner of civil +things."</p> +<p>"And I met Lady Parham in Marshall's," said Kitty. "She does +thank so badly! I should like to show her how to do it. Dear me!" +Kitty sighed. "Am I henceforth to live and die on Lady Parham's +ample breast?"</p> +<p>She sat with one foot beating the floor, deep in meditation.</p> +<p>"And shall I tell you what mother said?" shouted Ashe through +the door.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>He repeated—so far as dressing would let him a number of +the charming and considered phrases in which Lady Tranmore, full of +relief, pleasure, and a secret self-reproach, had expressed to him +the effect produced upon herself and a select public by Kitty's +performance at the Parhams'. Kitty had indeed behaved like an +angel—an angel <i>en toilette de bal</i>, reciting a scene +from Alfred de Musset. Such politeness to Lady Parham, such smiles, +sometimes a shade malicious, for the Prime Minister, who on his +side did his best to efface all memory of his speech of the week +before from the mind of his fascinating guest; smiles from the +Princess, applause from the audience; an evening, in fact, all +froth and sweetstuff, from which Lady Parham emerged grimly +content, conscious at the same time that she was henceforward very +decidedly, and rather disagreeably, in the Ashes' debt; while +Elizabeth Tranmore went home in a tremor of delight, happily +persuaded that Ashe's path was now clear.</p> +<p>Kitty listened, sometimes pleased, sometimes inclined to be +critical or scornful of her mother-in-law's praise. But she did +love Lady Tranmore, and on the whole she smiled. Smiles, indeed, +had been Kitty's portion since that evening of strange emotion, +when she had found herself sobbing in William's arms for reasons +quite beyond her own defining. It was as if, like the prince in the +fairy tale, some iron band round her heart had given way. She +seemed to dance through the house; she devoured her child with +kisses; and she was even willing sometimes to let William tell her +what his mother suspected of the progress of Mary's affair with +Geoffrey Cliffe, though she carefully avoided speaking directly to +Lady Tranmore about it. As to Cliffe himself, she seemed to have +dropped him out of her thoughts. She never mentioned him, and Ashe +could only suppose she had found him disenchanting.</p> +<p>"Well, darling! I hope I have made a sufficient fool of myself +to please you!"</p> +<p>Ashe had thrown the door wide, and stood on the threshold, +arrayed in the brocade and fur of a Venetian noble. He was a +somewhat magnificent apparition, and Kitty, who had coaxed or +driven him into the dress, gave a scream of delight. She saw him +before her own glass, and the crimson senator made eyes at the +white goddess as they posed triumphantly together.</p> +<p>"You're a very rococo sort of goddess, you know, Kitty!" said +Ashe. "Not much Greek about you!"</p> +<p>"Quite as much as I want, thank you," said Kitty, courtesying to +her own reflection in the glass. "Fanchette could have taught them +a thing or two! Now come along! Ah! Wait!"</p> +<p>And, gathering up her possessions, she left the room. Ashe, +following her, saw that she was going to the nursery, a large room +on the back staircase. At the threshold she turned back and put her +finger to her lip. Then she slipped in, reappearing a moment +afterwards to say, in a whisper, "Nurse is not in bed. You may come +in." Nurse, indeed, knew much better than to be in bed. She had +been sitting up to see her ladyship's splendors, and she rose +smiling as Ashe entered the room.</p> +<p>"A parcel of idiots, nurse, aren't we?" he said, as he, too, +displayed himself, and then he followed Kitty to the child's +bedside. She bent over the baby, removed a corner of the +cot-blanket that might tease his cheek, touched the mottled hand +softly, removed a light that seemed to her too near—and still +stood looking.</p> +<p>"We must go, Kitty."</p> +<p>"I wish he were a little older," she said, discontentedly, under +her breath, "that he might wake up and see us both! I should like +him to remember me like this."</p> +<p>"Queen and huntress, come away!" said Ashe, drawing her by the +hand.</p> +<p>Outside the landing was dimly lighted. The servants were all +waiting in the hall below.</p> +<p>"Kitty," said Ashe, passionately, "give me one kiss. You're so +sweet to-night—so sweet!"</p> +<p>She turned.</p> +<p>"Take care of my dress!" she smiled, and then she held out her +face under its sparkling crescent, held it with a dainty +deliberation, and let her lips cling to his.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Ashe and Kitty were soon wedged into one of the interminable +lines of carriages that blocked all the approaches to St. James's +Square. The ball had been long expected, and there was a crowd in +the streets, kept back by the police. The brougham went at a foot's +pace, and there was ample time either for reverie or conversation. +Kitty looked out incessantly, exclaiming when she caught sight of a +costume or an acquaintance. Ashe had time to think over the latest +phase of the negotiations with America, and to go over in his mind +the sentences of a letter he had addressed to the <i>Times</i> in +answer to one of great violence from Geoffrey Cliffe. His own +letter had appeared that morning. Ashe was proud of it. He made +bold to think that it exposed Cliffe's exaggerations and +insincerities neatly, and perhaps decisively. At any rate, he +hummed a cheerful tune as he thought of it.</p> +<p>Then suddenly and incongruously a recollection occurred to +him.</p> +<p>"Kitty, do you know that I had a letter from your mother, this +morning?"</p> +<p>"Had you?" said Kitty, turning to him with reluctance. "I +suppose she wanted some money."</p> +<p>"She did. She says she is very hard up. If I cared to use it, I +have an easy reply."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I might say,' D—-n it, we are, too!'"</p> +<p>Kitty laughed uneasily.</p> +<p>"Don't begin to talk money matters now, William, +<i>please</i>."</p> +<p>"No, dear, I won't. But we shall really have to draw in."</p> +<p>"You <i>will</i> pay so many debts!" said Kitty, frowning.</p> +<p>Ashe went into a fit of laughter.</p> +<p>"That's my extravagance, isn't it? I assure you I go on the most +approved principles. I divide our available money among the +greatest number of hungry claimants it will stretch to. But, after +all, it goes a beggarly short way."</p> +<p>"I know mother will think my diamond crescent a horrible +extravagance," said Kitty, pouting. "But you are the only son, +William, and we must behave like other people."</p> +<p>"Dear, don't trouble your little head," he said; "I'll manage +it, somehow."</p> +<p>Indeed, he knew very well that he could never bring his own +indolent and easy-going temper in such matters to face any real +struggle with Kitty over money. He must go to his mother, who +now—his father being a hopeless invalid—managed the +estates with his own and the agent's help. It was, of course, right +that she should preach to Kitty a little; but she would be sensible +and help them out. After all, there was plenty of money. Why +shouldn't Kitty spend it?</p> +<p>Any one who knew him well might have observed a curious contrast +between his private laxity in these matters and the strictness of +his public practice. He was scruple and delicacy itself in all +financial matters that touched his public life—directorships, +investments, and the like, no less than in all that concerned +interest and patronage. He would have been a bold man who had dared +to propose to William Ashe any expedient whatever by which his +public place might serve his private gain. His proud and fastidious +integrity, indeed, was one of the sources of his growing power. But +as to private debts—and the tradesmen to whom they were +owed—his standards were still essentially those of the Whigs +from whom he descended, of Fox, the all-indebted, or of Melbourne, +who has left an amusing disquisition on the art of dividing a few +loaves and fishes in the shape of bank-notes among a multitude of +creditors.</p> +<p>Not that affairs were as yet very bad. Far from it. But there +was little to spare for Madame d'Estrées, who ought, indeed, +to want nothing; and Ashe was vaguely meditating his reply to that +lady when a face in a carriage near them, which was trying to enter +the line, caught his attention.</p> +<p>"Mary!" he said, "à la Sir Joshua—and mother. They +don't see us. Query, will Cliffe take the leap to-night? Mother +reports a decided increase of ardor on his part. Sorry you don't +approve of it, darling!"</p> +<p>"It's just like lighting a lamp to put it out—that's all!" +said Kitty, with vivacity. "The man who marries Mary is done +for."</p> +<p>"Not at all. Mary's money will give him the pedestal he wants, +and trust Cliffe to take care of his own individuality afterwards! +Now, if you'll transfer your alarms to <i>Mary</i>, I'm with +you!"</p> +<p>"Oh! of <i>course</i> he'll be unkind to her. She may lay her +account for that. But it's the <i>marrying</i> her!" And Kitty's +upper-lip curled under a slow disdain.</p> +<p>William laughed out.</p> +<p>"Kitty, really!—you remind me, please, of Miss Jane +Taylor:</p> +<p>"'I did not think there could be found—a little heart so +hard!'</p> +<p>Mary is thirty; she would like to be married. And why not? +She'll give quite as good as she gets."</p> +<p>"Well, she won't get—anything. Geoffrey Cliffe thinks of +no one but himself."</p> +<p>Ashe's eyebrows went up.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, all men are selfish—and the women don't +mind."</p> +<p>"It depends on how it's done," said Kitty.</p> +<p>Ashe declared that Cliffe was just an ordinary person, "l'homme +sensuel moyen"—with a touch of genius. Except for that, no +better and no worse than other people. What then?—the world +was not made up of persons of enormous virtue like Lord Althorp and +Mr. Gladstone. If Mary wanted him for a husband, and could capture +him, both, in his opinion, would have pretty nearly got their +deserts.</p> +<p>Kitty, however, fell into a reverie, after which she let him see +a face of the same startling sweetness as she had several times +shown him of late.</p> +<p>"Do you want me to be nice to her?" She nestled up to him.</p> +<p>"Bind her to your chariot wheels, madam! You can!" said Ashe, +slipping a hand round hers.</p> +<p>Kitty pondered.</p> +<p>"Well, then, I won't tell her that I <i>know</i> he's still in +love with the Frenchwoman. But it's on the tip of my tongue."</p> +<p>"Heavens!" cried Ashe. "The Vicomtesse D—-, the lady of +the poems? But she's dead! I thought that was over long ago."</p> +<p>Kitty was silent for a moment, then said, with low-voiced +emphasis:</p> +<p>"That any one could write those poems, and then <i>think</i> of +Mary!"</p> +<p>"Yes, the poems were fine," said Ashe, "but make-believe!"</p> +<p>Kitty protested indignantly. Ashe bantered her a little on being +one of the women who were the making of Cliffe.</p> +<p>"Say what you like!" she said, drawing a quick breath. "But, +often and often, he says divine things—divinely! I feel them +there!" And she lifted both hands to her breast with an impulsive +gesture.</p> +<p>"Goddess!" said Ashe, kissing her hand because enthusiasm became +her so well. "And to think that I should have dared to roast the +divine one in a <i>Times</i> letter this morning!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The hall and staircase of Yorkshire House were already filled +with a motley and magnificent crowd when Ashe and Kitty arrived. +Kitty, still shrouded in her cloak, pushed her way through, +exchanging greetings with friends, shrieking a little now and then +for the safety of her bow and quiver, her face flushed with +pleasure and excitement. Then she disappeared into the cloak-room, +and Ashe was left to wonder how he was going to endure his robes +through the heat of the evening, and to exchange a laughing remark +or two with the Parliamentary Secretary to the Admiralty, into +whose company he had fallen.</p> +<p>"What are we doing it for?" he asked the young man, whose thin +person was well set off by a Tudor dress.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't be superior!" said the other. "I'm going to enjoy +myself like a school-boy!"</p> +<p>And that, indeed, seemed to be the attitude of most of the +people present. And not only of the younger members of the dazzling +company. What struck Ashe particularly, as he mingled with the +crowd, was the alacrity of the elder men. Here was a famous lawyer +already nearing the seventies, in the Lord Chancellor's garb of a +great ancestor; here an ex-Viceroy of Ireland with a son in the +government, magnificent in an Elizabethan dress, his fair bushy +hair and reddish beard shining above a doublet on which glittered a +jewel given to the founder of his house by Elizabeth's own hand; +next to him, a white-haired judge in the robes of Judge Gascoyne; a +peer, no younger, at his side, in the red and blue of Mazarin: and +showing each and all in their gay complacent looks a clear revival +of that former masculine delight in splendid clothes which came so +strangely to an end with that older world on the ruins of which +Napoleon rose. So with the elder women. For this night they were +young again. They had been free to choose from all the ages a dress +that suited them; and the result of this renewal of a +long-relinquished eagerness had been in many cases to call back a +bygone self, and the tones and gestures of those years when beauty +is its own chief care.</p> +<p>As for the young men, the young women, and the girls, the zest +and pleasure of the show shone in their eyes and movements, and +spread through the hall and up the crowded staircase, like a warm, +contagious atmosphere. At all times, indeed, and in all countries, +an aristocracy has been capable of this sheer delight in its own +splendor, wealth, good looks, and accumulated treasure; whether in +the Venice that Petrarch visited; or in the Rome of the Renaissance +popes; in the Versailles of the Grand Monarque; or in the Florence +of to-day, which still at moments of <i>festa</i> reproduces in its +midst all the costumes of the Cinque-cento.</p> +<p>In this English case there was less dignity than there would +have been in a Latin country, and more personal beauty; less grace, +perhaps, and yet a something richer and more romantic.</p> +<p>At the top of the stairs stood a marquis in a dress of the +Italian Renaissance, a Gonzaga who had sat for Titian; beside him a +fair-haired wife in the white satin and pearls of Henrietta Maria; +while up the marble stairs, watched by a laughing multitude above, +streamed Gainsborough girls and Reynolds women, women from the +courts of Elizabeth, or Henri Quatre, of Maria Theresa, or Marie +Antoinette, the figures of Holbein and Vandyck, Florentines of the +Renaissance, the youths of Carpaccio, the beauties of Titian and +Veronese.</p> +<p>"Kitty, make haste!" cried a voice in front, as Kitty began to +mount the stairs. "Your quadrille is just called."</p> +<p>Kitty smiled and nodded, but did not hurry her pace by a second. +The staircase was not so full as it had been, and she knew well as +she mounted it, her slender figure drawn to its full height, her +eyes flashing greeting and challenge to those in the gallery, the +diamond genius on her spear glittering above her, that she held the +stage, and that the play would not begin without her.</p> +<p>And indeed her dress, her brilliance, and her beauty let loose a +hum of conversation—not always friendly.</p> +<p>"What is she?" "Oh, something mythological! She's in the next +quadrille." "My dear, she's Diana! Look at her bow and quiver, and +the moon in her hair." "Very incorrect!—she ought to have the +towered crown!" "Absurd, such a little thing to attempt Diana! I'd +back Actæon!"</p> +<p>The latter remark was spoken in the ear of Louis Harman, who +stood in the gallery looking down. But Harman shook his head.</p> +<p>"You don't understand. She's not Greek, of course; but she's +fairyland. A child of the Renaissance, dreaming in a wood, would +have seen Artemis so—dressed up and glittering, and +fantastic—as the Florentines saw Venus. Small, too, like the +fairies!—slipping through the leaves; small hounds, with +jewelled collars, following her!"</p> +<p>He smiled at his own fancy, still watching Kitty with his +painter's eyes.</p> +<p>"She has seen a French print somewhere," said Cliffe, who stood +close by. "More Versailles in it than fairyland, I think!"</p> +<p>"It is <i>she</i> that is fairyland," said Harman, still +fascinated.</p> +<p>Cliffe's expression showed the sarcasm of his thought. Fairy, +perhaps!—with the touch of malice and inhuman mischief that +all tradition attributes to the little people. Why, after that +first meeting, when the conversation of a few minutes had almost +swept them into the deepest waters of intimacy, had she slighted +him so, in other drawing-rooms and on other occasions? She had +actually neglected and avoided him—after having dared to +speak to him of his secret! And now Ashe's letter of the morning +had kindled afresh his sense of rancor against a pair of people, +too prosperous and too arrogant. The stroke in the <i>Times</i> +had, he knew, gone home; his vanity writhed under it, and the wish +to strike back tormented him, as he watched Ashe mounting behind +his wife, so handsome, careless, and urbane, his jewelled cap +dangling in his hand.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The quadrille of gods and goddesses was over. Kitty had been +dancing with a fine clumsy Mars, in ordinary life an honest soldier +and deer-stalker, the heir to a Scotch dukedom; having as her +<i>vis-à-vis</i> Madeleine Alcot—as the Flora of +Botticelli's "Spring"—and slim as Mercury in fantastic +Renaissance armor. All the divinities of the Pantheon, indeed, were +there, but in Gallicized or Italianate form; scarcely a touch of +the true antique, save in the case of one beautiful girl who wore a +Juno dress of white whereof the clinging folds had been arranged +for her by a young Netherlands painter, Mr. Alma Tadema, then newly +settled in this country. Kitty at first envied her; then decided +that she herself could have made no effect in such a gown, and +threw her the praises of indifference.</p> +<p>When, to Kitty's sharp regret, the music stopped and the +glittering crew of immortals melted into the crowd, she found +behind her a row of dancers waiting for the quadrille which was to +follow. This was to consist entirely of English pictures +revived—Reynolds, Gainsborough, and Romney—and to be +danced by those for whose families they had been originally +painted. As she drew back, looking eagerly to right and left, she +came across Mary Lyster. Mary wore her hair high and +powdered—a black silk scarf over white satin, and a blue +sash.</p> +<p>"Awfully becoming!" said Kitty, nodding to her. "Who are +you?"</p> +<p>"My great-great aunt!" said Mary, courtesying. "You, I see, go +even farther back."</p> +<p>"Isn't it fun?" said Kitty, pausing beside her. "Have you seen +William? Poor dear! he's so hot. How do you do?" This last careless +greeting was addressed to Cliffe, whom she now perceived standing +behind Mary.</p> +<p>Cliffe bowed stiffly.</p> +<p>"Excuse me. I did not see you. I was absorbed in your dress. You +are Artemis, I see—with additions."</p> +<p>"Oh! I am an 'article de Paris,'" said Kitty. "But it seems odd +that some people should take me for Joan of Arc." Then she turned +to Mary. "I think your dress is quite lovely!" she said, in that +warm, shy voice she rarely used except for a few intimates, and had +never yet been known to waste on Mary. "Don't you admire it +enormously, Mr. Cliffe?"</p> +<p>"Enormously," said Cliffe, pulling at his mustache. "But by now +my compliments are stale."</p> +<p>"Is he cross about William's letter?" thought Kitty. "Well, +let's leave them to themselves."</p> +<p>Then, as she passed him, something in the silent personality of +the man arrested her. She could not forbear a look at him over her +shoulder. "Are you—Oh! of course, I remember—" for she +had recognized the dress and cap of the Spanish grandee.</p> +<p>Cliffe did not reply for a moment, but the harsh significance of +his face revived in her the excitable interest she had felt in him +on the day of his luncheon in Hill Street; an interest since +effaced and dispersed, under the influence of that serenity and +home peace which had shone upon her since that very day.</p> +<p>"I should apologize, no doubt, for not taking your advice," he +said, looking her in the eyes. Their expression, half bitter, half +insolent, reminded her.</p> +<p>"Did I give you any advice?" Kitty wrinkled up her white brows. +"I don't recollect."</p> +<p>Mary looked at her sharply, suspiciously. Kitty, quite conscious +of the look, was straightway pricked by an elfish curiosity. Could +she carry him off—trouble Mary's possession there and then? +She believed she could. She was well aware of a certain relation +between herself and Cliffe, if, at least, she chose to develop it. +Should she? Her vanity insisted that Mary could not prevent it.</p> +<p>However, she restrained herself and moved on. Presently looking +back, she saw them still together, Cliffe leaning against the +pedestal of a bust, Mary beside him. There was an animation in her +eyes, a rose of pleasure on her cheek which stirred in Kitty a +queer, sudden sympathy. "I <i>am</i> a little beast!" she said to +herself. "Why shouldn't she be happy?"</p> +<p>Then, perceiving Lady Tranmore at the end of the ballroom, she +made her way thither surrounded by a motley crowd of friends. She +walked as though on air, "raining influence." And as Lady Tranmore +caught the glitter of the diamond crescent, and beheld the small +divinity beneath it, she, too, smiled with pleasure, like the other +spectators on Kitty's march. The dress was monstrously costly. She +knew that. But she forgot the inroad on William's pocket, and +remembered only to be proud of William's wife. Since the Parhams' +party, indeed, the unlooked-for submission of Kitty, and the +clearing of William's prospects, Lady Tranmore had been sweetness +itself to her daughter-in-law.</p> +<p>But her fine face and brow were none the less inclined to frown. +She herself as Katharine of Aragon would have shed a dignity on any +scene, but she was in no sympathy with what she beheld.</p> +<p>"We shall soon all of us be ashamed of this kind of thing," she +declared to Kitty. "Just as people now are beginning to be ashamed +of enormous houses and troops of servants."</p> +<p>"No, please! Only bored with them!" said Kitty. "There are so +many other ways now of amusing yourself—that's all."</p> +<p>"Well, this way will die out," said Lady Tranmore. "The cost of +it is too scandalous—people's consciences prick them."</p> +<p>Kitty vowed she did not believe there was a conscience in the +room; and then, as the music struck up, she carried off her +companion to some steps overlooking the great marble gallery, where +they had a better view of the two lines of dancers.</p> +<p>It is said that as a nation the English have no gift for +pageants. Yet every now and then—as no doubt in the +Elizabethan mask—they show a strange felicity in the art. +Certainly the dance that followed would have been difficult to +surpass even in the ripe days and motherlands of pageantry. To the +left, a long line, consisting mainly of young girls in their first +bloom, dressed as Gainsborough and his great contemporaries +delighted to paint these flowers of England—the folds of +plain white muslin crossed over the young breast, a black velvet at +the throat, a rose in the hair, the simple skirt showing the small +pointed feet, and sometimes a broad sash defining the slender +waist. Here were Stanleys, Howards, Percys, Villierses, Butlers, +Osbornes—soft slips of girls bearing the names of England's +rough and turbulent youth, bearing themselves to-night with a shy +or laughing dignity, as though the touch of history and romance +were on them. And facing them, the youths of the same families, no +less handsome than their sisters and brides—in Romney's blue +coats, or the splendid red of Reynolds and Gainsborough.</p> +<p>To and fro swayed the dancers, under the innumerable candles +that filled the arched roof and upper walls of the ballroom; and +each time the lines parted they disclosed at the farther end +another pageant, to which that of the dance was in truth +subordinate—a dais hung with blue and silver, and upon it a +royal lady whose beauty, then in its first bloom, has been a +national possession, since as, the "sea-king's daughter" she +brought it in dowry to her adopted country. To-night she blazed in +jewels as a Valois queen, with her court around her, and as the +dancers receded, each youth and maiden seemed instinctively to turn +towards her as roses to the sun.</p> +<p>"Oh, beautiful, beautiful world!" said Kitty to herself, in an +ecstasy, pressing her small hands together; "how I love +you!—<i>love</i> you!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Meanwhile Darrell and Harman stood side by side near the doorway +of the ballroom, looking in when the crowd allowed.</p> +<p>"A strange sight," said Harman. "Perhaps they take it too +seriously."</p> +<p>"Ah! that is our English upper class," said Darrell, with a +sneer. "Is there anything they take lightly?—<i>par +exemple!</i> It seems to me they carry off this amusement better +than most. They may be stupid, but they are good-looking. I say, +Ashe"—he turned towards the new-comer who had just sauntered +up to them—"on this exceptional occasion, is it allowed to +congratulate you on Lady Kitty's gown?"</p> +<p>For Kitty, raised upon her step, was at the moment in full +view.</p> +<p>Ashe made some slight reply, the slightest of which indeed +annoyed the thin-skinned and morbid Darrell, always on the lookout +for affronts. But Louis Harman, who happened to observe the +Under-Secretary's glance at his wife, said to himself, "By George! +that queer marriage is turning out well, after all."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The Tudor and Marie Antoinette quadrilles had been danced. There +was a rumor of supper in the air.</p> +<p>"William!" said Kitty, in his ear, as she came across him in one +of the drawing-rooms, "Lord Hubert takes me in to supper. Poor me!" +She made an extravagant face of self-pity and swept on. Lord Hubert +was one of the sons of the house, a stupid and inarticulate +guardsman, Kitty's butt and detestation. Ashe smiled to himself +over her fate, and went back to the ballroom in search of his own +lady.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Kitty paused in the next drawing-room, and dismissed +her following.</p> +<p>"I promised to wait here for Lord Hubert," she said. "You go on, +or you'll get no tables."</p> +<p>And she waved them peremptorily away. The drawing-room, one of a +suite which looked on the garden, thinned temporarily. In a happy +fatigue, Kitty leaned dreamily over the ledge of one of the open +windows, looking at the illuminated space below her. Amid the +colored lights, figures of dream and fantasy walked up and down. In +the midst flashed a flame-colored fountain. The sounds of a Strauss +waltz floated in the air. And beyond the garden and its trees rose +the dull roar of London.</p> +<p>A silk curtain floated out into the room under the westerly +breeze, then, returning, sheathed Kitty in its folds. She stood +there hidden, amusing herself like a child with the thought of +startling that great heavy goose, Lord Hubert.</p> +<p>Suddenly a pair of voices that she knew caught her ear. Two +persons, passing through, lingered, without perceiving her. Kitty, +after a first movement of self-disclosure, caught her own name and +stood motionless.</p> +<p>"Well, of course you've heard that we got through," said Lady +Parham. "For once Lady Kitty behaved herself!"</p> +<p>"You were lucky!" said Mary Lyster. "Lady Tranmore was +dreadfully anxious—"</p> +<p>"Lest she should cut us at the last?" cried Lady Parham. "Well, +of course, Lady Kitty is 'capable de tout.'" She laughed. "But +perhaps as you are a cousin I oughtn't to say these things."</p> +<p>"Oh, say what you like," said Mary. "I am no friend of Kitty's, +and never pretended to be."</p> +<p>Lady Parham came closer, apparently, and said, confidentially: +"What on earth made that man marry her? He might have married +anybody. She had no money, and worse than no position."</p> +<p>"She worked upon his pity, of course, a good deal. I saw them in +the early days at Grosville Park. She played her cards very +cleverly. And then, it was just the right moment. Lady Tranmore had +been urging him to marry."</p> +<p>"Well, of course," said Lady Parham, "there's no denying the +beauty."</p> +<p>"You think so?" said Mary, as though in wonder. "Well, I never +could see it. And now she has so much gone off."</p> +<p>"I don't agree with you. Many people think her the star +to-night. Mr. Cliffe, I am told, admires her."</p> +<p>Kitty could not see how the eyes of the speaker, under a Sir +Joshua turban, studied the countenance of Miss Lyster, as she threw +out the words.</p> +<p>Mary laughed.</p> +<p>"Poor Kitty! She tried to flirt with him long ago—just +after she arrived in London, fresh out of the convent. It was so +funny! He told me afterwards he never was so embarrassed in his +life—this baby making eyes at him! And now—oh no!"</p> +<p>"Why not now? Lady Kitty's very much the rage, and Mr. Cliffe +likes notoriety."</p> +<p>"But a notoriety with—well, with some style, some +distinction! Kitty's sort is so cheap and silly."</p> +<p>"Ah, well, she's not to be despised," said Lady Parham. "She's +as clever as she can be. But her husband will have to keep her in +order."</p> +<p>"Can he?" said Mary. "Won't she always be in his way?"</p> +<p>"Always, I should think. But he must have known what he was +about. Why didn't his mother interfere? Such a family!—such a +history!"</p> +<p>"She did interfere," said Mary. "We all did our best"—she +dropped her voice—"I know I did. But it was no use. If men +like spoiled children they must have them, I suppose. Let's hope +he'll learn how to manage her. Shall we go on? I promised to meet +my supper-partner in the library."</p> +<p>They moved away.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>For some minutes Kitty stood looking out, motionless, but the +beating of her heart choked her. Strange ancestral +things—things of evil—things of passion—had +suddenly awoke, as it were, from sleep in the depths of her being, +and rushed upon the citadel of her life. A change had passed over +her from head to foot. Her veins ran fire.</p> +<p>At that moment, turning round, she saw Geoffrey Cliffe enter the +room in which she stood. With an impetuous movement she approached +him.</p> +<p>"Take me down to supper, Mr. Cliffe. I can't wait for Lord +Hubert any more, I'm <i>so</i> hungry!"</p> +<p>"Enchanted!" said Cliffe, the color leaping into his tanned face +as he looked down upon the goddess. "But I came to find—"</p> +<p>"Miss Lyster? Oh, she is gone in with Mr. Darrell. Come with me. +I have a ticket for the reserved tent. We shall have a delicious +corner to ourselves."</p> +<p>And she took from her glove the little coveted paste-board, +which—handed about in secret to a few intimates of the +house—gave access to the sanctum sanctorum of the +evening.</p> +<p>Cliffe wavered. Then his vanity succumbed. A few minutes later +the supper guests in the tent of the <i>élite</i> saw the +entrance of a darkly splendid Duke of Alva, with a little sandalled +goddess. All compact, it seemed, of ivory and fire, on his arm.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> +<p>The spring freshness of London, had long since departed. A +crowded season; much animation in Parliament, where the government, +to its own amazement, had rather gained than lost ground; +industrial trouble at home, and foreign complications abroad; and +in London the steady growth of a new plutocracy, the result, so +far, of American wealth and American brides. In the first week of +July, the outward things of the moment might have been thus summed +up by any careful observer.</p> +<p>On a certain Tuesday night, the debate on a private member's +bill unexpectedly collapsed, and the House rose early. Ashe left +the House with his secretary, but parted from him at the corner of +Birdcage Walk, and crossed the park alone. He meant to join Kitty +at a party in Piccadilly; there was just time to go home and dress; +and he walked at a quick pace.</p> +<p>Two members sitting on the same side of the House with himself +were also going home. One of them noticed the Under-Secretary.</p> +<p>"A very ineffective statement Ashe made to-night—don't you +think so?" he said to his companion.</p> +<p>"Very! Really, if the government can't take up a stronger line, +the general public will begin to think there's something in +it."</p> +<p>"Oh, if you only shriek long enough and sharp enough in England +something's sure to come of it. Cliffe and his group have been +playing a very shrewd game. The government will get their agreement +approved all right, but Cliffe has certainly made some people on +our side uneasy. However—"</p> +<p>"However, what?" said the other, after a moment.</p> +<p>"I wish I thought that were the only reason for Ashe's change of +tone," said the first speaker, slowly.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>The two were intimate personal friends, belonging, moreover, to +a group of evangelical families well known in English life; but +even so, the answer came with reluctance:</p> +<p>"Well, you see, it's not very easy to grapple in public with the +man whose name all smart London happens to be coupling with that of +your wife!"</p> +<p>"I say"—the other stood still, in genuine consternation +and distress—"you don't mean to say that there's that in +it!"</p> +<p>"You notice that the difference is not in <i>what</i> Ashe says, +but in <i>how</i> he says it. He avoids all personal collision with +Cliffe. The government stick to their case, but Ashe mentions +everybody but Cliffe, and confutes all arguments but his. And +meanwhile, of course, the truth is that Cliffe is the head and +front of the campaign, and if he threw up to-morrow, everything +would quiet down."</p> +<p>"And Lady Kitty is flirting with him at this particular moment? +Damned bad taste and bad feeling, to say the least of it!"</p> +<p>"You won't find one of the Bristol lot consider that kind of +thing when their blood is up!" said the other. "You remember the +tales of old Lord Blackwater?"</p> +<p>"But is there really any truth in it? Or is it mere gossip?"</p> +<p>"Well, I hear that the behavior of both of them at Grosville +Park last week was such that Lady Grosville vows she will never ask +either of them again. And at Ascot, at Lord's, the opera, Lady +Kitty sits with him, talks with him, walks with him, the whole +time, and won't look at any one else. They must be asked together +or neither will come—and 'society,' as far as I can make out, +thinks it a good joke and is always making plans to throw them +together."</p> +<p>"Can't Lady Tranmore do anything?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. They say she is very unhappy about it. Certainly +she looks ill and depressed."</p> +<p>"And Ashe?"</p> +<p>His companion hesitated. "I don't like to say it, but, of +course, you know there are many people who will tell you that Ashe +doesn't care twopence what his wife does so long as she is nice to +him, and he can read his books and carry on his politics as he +pleases!"</p> +<p>"Ashe always strikes me as the soul of honor," said the other, +indignantly.</p> +<p>"Of course—for himself. But a more fatalist believer in +liberty than Ashe doesn't exist—liberty especially to damn +yourself—if you must and will."</p> +<p>"It would be hard to extend that doctrine to a wife," said the +other, with a grave, uncomfortable laugh.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Meanwhile the man whose affairs they had been discussing walked +home, wrapped in solitary and disagreeable thought. As he neared +the Marlborough House corner a carriage passed him. It was delayed +a moment by other carriages, and as it halted beside him Ashe +recognized Lady M——, the hostess of the fancy ball, and +a very old friend of his parents. He took off his hat. The lady +within recognized him and inclined slightly—very slightly and +stiffly. Ashe started a little and walked on.</p> +<p>The meeting vividly recalled the ball, the <i>terminus a quo</i> +indeed from which the meditation in which he had been plunged since +entering the park had started. Between six and seven weeks ago, was +it? It might have been a century. He thought of Kitty as she was +that night—Kitty pirouetting in her glittering dress, or +bending over the boy, or holding her face to his as he kissed her +on the stairs. Never since had she shown him the smallest glimpse +of such a mood. What was wrong with her and with himself? +Something, since May, had turned their life topsy-turvy, and it +seemed to Ashe that in the general unprofitable rush of futile +engagements he had never yet had time to stop and ask himself what +it might be.</p> +<p>Why, at any rate, was <i>he</i> in this chafing irritation and +discomfort? Why could he not deal with that fellow Cliffe as he +deserved? And what in Heaven's name was the reason why old friends +like Lady M—— were beginning to look at him coldly, and +avoid his conversation?</p> +<p>His mother, too! He gathered that quite lately there had been +some disagreeable scene between her and Kitty. Kitty had resented +some remonstrance of hers, and for some days now they had not met. +Nor had Ashe seen his mother alone. Did she also avoid him, shrink +from speaking out her real mind to him?</p> +<p>Well, it was all monstrously absurd!—a great coil about +nothing, as far as the main facts were concerned, although the +annoyance and worry of the thing were indeed becoming serious. +Kitty had no doubt taken a wild liking to Geoffrey +Cliffe—</p> +<p>"And, by George!" said Ashe, pausing in his walk, "she warned +me."</p> +<p>And there rose in his memory the formal garden at Grosville +Park, the little figure at his side, and Kitty's +franknesses—"I shall take mad fancies for people. I sha'n't +be able to help it. I have one now, for Geoffrey Cliffe."</p> +<p>He smiled. There was the difficulty! If only the people whose +envious tongues were now wagging could see Kitty as she was, could +understand what a gulf lay between her and the ordinary "fast" +woman, there would be an end of this silly, ill-natured talk. Other +women might be of the earth earthy. Kitty was a sprite, with all +the irresponsibility of such incalculable creatures. The men and +women—women especially—who gossiped and lied about her, +who sent abominable paragraphs to scurrilous papers—he had +one now in his pocket which had reached him at the House from an +anonymous correspondent—spoke out of their own vile +experience, judged her by their own standards. His mother, at any +rate—he proudly thought—ought to know better than to be +misled by them for a moment.</p> +<p>At the same time, something must be done. It could not be denied +that Kitty had been behaving like a romantic, excitable child with +this unscrupulous man, whose record with regard to women was +probably wholly unknown to her, however foolishly she might +idealize the <i>liaison</i> commemorated in his poems. What had +Kitty, indeed, been doing with herself this six weeks? Ashe tried +to recall them in detail. Ascot, Lord's, innumerable parties in +London and in the country, to some of which he had not been able to +accompany her, owing to the stress of Parliamentary and official +work. Grosville Park, for instance—he had been stopped at the +last moment from going down there by the arrival of some important +foreign news, and Kitty had gone alone. She had reappeared on the +Monday, pale and furious, saying that she and her aunt had +quarrelled, and that she would never go near the Grosvilles either +in town or country again. She had not volunteered any further +explanation, and Ashe had refrained from inquiry. There were in him +certain disgusts and disdains, belonging to his general epicurean +conception of existence, which not even his love for Kitty could +overcome. One was a disdain for the quarrels of women. He supposed +they were inevitable; he saw, by-the-way, that Kitty and Lady +Parham were once more at daggers drawn; and Kitty seemed to enjoy +it. Well, it was her own affair; but while there was a Greek play, +or a Shakespeare sonnet, or even a Blue Book to read, who could +expect him to listen?</p> +<p>What had old Lady Grosville been about? He understood that +Cliffe had been of the party. And Kitty must have done something to +bring down upon her the wrath of the Puritanical mistress of the +house.</p> +<p>Well, what was he to do? It was now July. The session would last +certainly till the middle of August, and though the American +business would be disposed of directly, there was fresh trouble in +the Balkan Peninsula, and an anxious situation in Egypt. Impossible +that he should think of leaving his post. And as for the chance of +a dissolution, the government was now a good deal stronger than it +had been before Easter—worse luck!</p> +<p>Of course he ought to take Kitty away. But short of resignation +how was it to be done? And what, even, would resignation +do—supposing, <i>per impossibile</i>, it could be thought +of—but give to gnawing gossip a bigger bone, and probably +irritate Kitty to the point of rebellion? Yet how induce her to go +with any one else? Lady Tranmore was out of the question. Margaret +French, perhaps?</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, Ashe was assailed by an inner laughter, hollow +and discomfortable. Things were come to a pretty pass when he must +even dream of resigning because a man whom he despised would haunt +his house, and absorb the company of his wife; when, moreover, he +could not even think of a remedy for such a state of things without +falling back dismayed from the certainty of Kitty's +temper—Kitty's wild and furious temper.</p> +<p>For during the last fortnight, as it seemed to Ashe, all the +winds of tempest had been blowing through his house. Himself, the +servants, even Margaret, even the child, had all suffered. He also +had lost his temper several times—such a thing had scarcely +happened to him since his childhood. He thought of it as of a kind +of physical stain or weakness. To keep an even and stoical mind, to +laugh where one could not conquer—this had always seemed to +him the first condition of decent existence. And now to be +wrangling over an expenditure, an engagement, a letter, the merest +nothing—whether it was a fine day or it wasn't—could +anything be more petty, degrading, intolerable?</p> +<p>He vowed that this should stop. Whatever happened, he and Kitty +should not degenerate into a pair of scolds—besmirch their +life with quarrels as ugly as they were silly. He would wrestle +with her, his beloved, unreasonable, foolish Kitty; he ought, of +course, to have done so before. But it was only within the last +week or so that the horizon had suddenly darkened—the thing +grown serious. And now this beastly paragraph! But, after all, what +did such garbage matter? It would of course be a comfort to thrash +the editor. But our modern life breeds such creatures, and they +have to be borne.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>He let himself into a silent house. His letters lay on the +hall-table. Among them was a handwriting which arrested him. He +remembered, yet could not put a name to it. Then he turned the +envelope. "H'm. Lady Grosville!" He read it, standing there, then +thrust it into his pocket, thinking angrily that there seemed to be +a good many fools in this world who occupied themselves with other +people's business. Exaggeration, of course, damnable <i>parti +pris</i>! When did she ever see Kitty except with a jaundiced eye? +"I wonder Kitty condescends to go to the woman's house! She must +know that everything she does is seen there <i>en noir</i>. +Pharisaical, narrow-minded Philistines!"</p> +<p>The letter acted as a tonic. Ashe was positively grateful to the +"old gorgon" who wrote it. He ran up-stairs, his pulses tingling in +defence of Kitty. He would show Lady Grosville that she could not +write to him, at any rate, in that strain, with impunity.</p> +<p>He took a candle from the landing, and opened his wife's door in +order to pass through her room to his own. As he did so, he ran +against Kitty's maid, Blanche, who was coming out. She shrank back +as she saw him, but not before the light of his candle had shone +full upon her. Her face was disfigured with tears, which were, +indeed, still running down her cheeks.</p> +<p>"Why, Blanche!" he said, standing still—then in the kind +voice which endeared him to the servants—"I am afraid your +brother is worse?"</p> +<p>For the poor brother in hospital had passed through many +vicissitudes since his operation, and the little maid's spirits had +fluctuated accordingly.</p> +<p>"Oh no, sir—no, sir!" said Blanche, drying her eyes and +retreating into the shadows of the room, where only a faint flame +of gas was burning. "It's not that, sir, thank you. I was just +putting away her ladyship's things," she said, inconsequently, +looking round the room.</p> +<p>"That was hardly what caused the tears, was it?" said Ashe, +smiling. "Is there anything in which Lady Kitty or I could help +you?"</p> +<p>The girl, who had always seemed to him on excellent terms with +Kitty, gave a sudden sob.</p> +<p>"Thank you, sir; I've just given her ladyship warning."</p> +<p>"Indeed!" said Ashe, gravely. "I'm sorry for that. I thought you +got on here very well."</p> +<p>"I used to, sir, but this last few weeks there's nothing pleases +her ladyship; you can't do anything right. I'm sure I've worked my +hands off. But I can't do any more. Perhaps her ladyship will find +some one else to suit her better."</p> +<p>"Didn't her ladyship try to persuade you to stay?"</p> +<p>"Yes—but—I gave warning once before, and then I +stayed. And it's no good. It seems as if you must do wrong. And I +don't sleep, sir. It gets on your nerves so. But I didn't mean to +complain. Good-night, sir."</p> +<p>"Good-night. Don't sit up for your mistress. You look tired out. +I'll help her."</p> +<p>"Thank you, sir," said the maid, in a depressed voice, and +went.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Half an hour later, Ashe mounted the staircase of a well-known +house in Piccadilly. The evening party was beginning to thin, but +in a side drawing-room a fine Austrian band was playing Strauss, +and some of the intimates of the house were dancing.</p> +<p>Ashe at once perceived his wife. She was dancing with a clever +Cambridge lad, a cousin of Madeleine Alcot's, who had long been one +of her adorers. And so charming was the spectacle, so exhilarating +were the youth and beauty of the pair, that Ashe presently +suspected what was indeed the truth, that most of the persons +gathering in the room were there to watch Kitty dance, rather than +to dance themselves. He himself watched her, though he professed to +be talking to his hostess, a woman of middle age, with honest eyes +and a brow of command.</p> +<p>"It is a delight to see Lady Kitty dance," she said to him, +smiling. "But she is tired. I am sure she wants the country."</p> +<p>"Like my boy," said Ashe. "I wish to goodness they'd both +go."</p> +<p>"Oh, I know it's hard to leave the husband toiling in town!" +said his companion, who, as the daughter, wife, and mother of +politicians, had had a long experience of official life.</p> +<p>Ashe glanced at her—at her face moulded by kind and +scrupulous living—with a sudden relief from tension. Clearly +no gossip had reached her. He lingered beside her, for the sheer +pleasure of talking to her. But their +<i>tête-à-tête</i> was soon interrupted by the +approach of Lady Parham, with a daughter—a slim and silent +girl, to whom, it was whispered, her mother was giving "a last +chance" this season, before sending her into the country as a +failure, and bringing out her younger sister.</p> +<p>Lady Parham greeted the hostess with effusion. It was a rich +house, and these small, informal dances were said to be more +helpful to matrimonial development than larger affairs. Then she +perceived Ashe, and her whole manner changed. There was a very +evident bristling, and she gave him a greeting deliberately +careless.</p> +<p>"Confound the woman!" thought Ashe, and his own pride rose.</p> +<p>"Working as hard as usual, Lady Parham?" he asked her, with a +smile.</p> +<p>"If you like to put it so," was the stiff reply. "There is, of +course, a good deal of going out."</p> +<p>"I hope, if I may say so, you don't allow Lord Parham to do too +much of it."</p> +<p>"Lord Parham never was better in his life," said Lord Parham's +spouse, with the air of putting down an impertinence.</p> +<p>"That's good news. I must say when I saw him this afternoon I +thought he seemed to be feeling his work a good deal."</p> +<p>"Oh, he's worried," said Lady Parham, sharply. "Worried about a +good many things." She turned suddenly, and looked at her +companion—an insolent and deliberate look.</p> +<p>"Ah, that's where the wives come in!" replied Ashe, unperturbed. +"Look at Mrs. Loraine. She has the art to perfection—hasn't +she? The way she cushions Loraine is something wonderful to +see."</p> +<p>Lady Parham flushed angrily. The suggested comparison between +herself, and that incessant rattle and blare of social event +through which she dragged her husband—conducting thereby a +vulgar campaign of her own, as arduous as his and far more +ambitious—and the ways and character of gentle Mrs. Loraine, +absorbed in the man she adored, scatter-brained and absent-minded +towards the rest of the world, but for him all eyes and ears, an +angel of shelter and protection—this did not now reach the +Prime Minister's wife for the first time. But she had no +opportunity to launch a retort, even supposing she had one ready, +for the music ceased, and the tide of dancers surged towards the +doors. It brought Kitty abruptly face to face with Lady Parham.</p> +<p>"Oh! how d'you do?" said Kitty, in a tone that was already an +offence, and she held out a small hand with an indescribably regal +air.</p> +<p>Lady Parham just touched it, glanced at the owner from top to +toe, and walked away. Kitty slipped in beside Ashe for a moment, +with her back to the wall, laughing and breathless.</p> +<p>"I say, Kitty," said Ashe, bending over her and speaking in her +small ear, "I thought Lady Parham was eternally obliged to us. +What's wrong with her?"</p> +<p>"Only that I can't stand her," said Kitty. "What's the good of +trying?" She looked up, a flame of mutiny in her cheeks.</p> +<p>"What, indeed?" said Ashe, feeling as reckless as she. "Her +manners are beyond the bounds. But look here, Kitty, don't you +think you'll come home? You know you do look uncommonly tired."</p> +<p>Kitty frowned.</p> +<p>"Home? Why, I'm only just beginning to enjoy myself! Take me +into the cool, please," she said to the boy who had been dancing +with her, and who still hovered near, in case his divinity might +allow him yet a few more minutes. But as she put out her hand to +take his arm, Ashe saw her waver and look suddenly across the +room.</p> +<p>A group parted that had been clustering round a farther door, +and Ashe perceived Cliffe, leaning against the doorway with his +arms crossed. He was surrounded by pretty women, with whom he +seemed to be carrying on a bantering warfare. Involuntarily Ashe +watched for the recognition between him and Kitty. Did Kitty's lips +move? Was there a signal? If so, it passed like a flash; Kitty +hurried away, and Ashe was left, haughtily furious with himself +that, for the first time in his life, he had played the spy.</p> +<p>He turned in his discomfort to leave the dancing-room. He +himself enjoyed society frankly enough. Especially since his +marriage had he found the companionship of agreeable women +delightful. He went instinctively to seek it, and drive out this +nonsense from his mind. Just inside the larger drawing-room, +however, he came across Mary Lyster, sitting in a corner apparently +alone. Mary greeted him, but with an evident coldness. Her manner +brought back all the preoccupations of his walk from the House. In +spite of her small cordiality, he sat down beside her, wondering +with a vicarious compunction at what point her fortunes might be, +and how Kitty's proceedings might have already affected them. But +he had not yet succeeded in thawing her when a voice behind him +said:</p> +<p>"This is my dance, I think, Miss Lyster. Where shall we sit it +out?"</p> +<p>Ashe moved at once. Mary looked up, hesitated visibly, then rose +and took Geoffrey Cliffe's arm.</p> +<p>"Just read your remarks this evening," said Cliffe to Ashe. +"Well, now, I suppose to-morrow will see your ship in port?"</p> +<p>For it was reasonably expected that the morrow would see the +American agreement ratified by a substantial ministerial +majority.</p> +<p>"Certainly. But you may at least reflect that you have lost us a +deal of time."</p> +<p>"And now you slay us," said Cliffe. "Ah, well—'<i>dulce et +decorum est</i>,' etcetera."</p> +<p>"Don't imagine that you'll get many of the honors of martyrdom," +laughed Ashe—in Cliffe's eyes an offensive and triumphant +figure, as he leaned carelessly upon a marble pedestal that carried +a bust of Horace Walpole.</p> +<p>"Why?" Cliffe's hand had gone instinctively to his mustache. +Mary had dropped his arm, and now stood quietly beside him, pale +and somewhat jaded, her fine eyes travelling between the +speakers.</p> +<p>"Why? Because the heresies have no martyrs. The halo is for the +true Church!"</p> +<p>"H'm!" said Cliffe, with a reflective sneer. "I suppose you mean +for the successful?"</p> +<p>"Do I?" said Ashe, with nonchalance. "Aren't the true Church the +people who are justified by the event?"</p> +<p>"The orthodox like to think so," said Cliffe. "But the heretics +have a way of coming out top."</p> +<p>"Does that mean you chaps are going to win at the next election? +I devoutly hope you may—<i>we</i>'re all as stale as +ditch-water—and as for places, anybody's welcome to mine!" +And so saying, Ashe lounged away, attracted by the bow and smile of +a pretty Frenchwoman, with whom it was always agreeable to +chat.</p> +<p>"Ashe trifles it as usual," said Cliffe, as he and Mary forced a +passage into one of the smaller rooms. "Is there anything in the +world that he really cares about?"</p> +<p>Mary looked at him with a start. It was almost on her lips to +say, "Yes! his wife." She only just succeeded in driving the words +back.</p> +<p>"His not caring is a pretence," she said. "At least, Lady +Tranmore thinks so. She believes that he is becoming absorbed in +politics—much more ambitious than she ever thought he would +be."</p> +<p>"That's the way of mothers," said Cliffe, with a sarcastic lip. +"They have got to make the best of their sons. Tell me what you are +going to do this summer."</p> +<p>He had thrown one arm round the back of a chair, and sat looking +down upon her, his colorless fair hair falling thick upon his brow, +and giving by contrast a strange inhuman force to the dark and +singular eyes beneath. He had a way of commanding a woman's +attention by flashes of brusquerie, melting when he chose into a +homage that had in it the note of an older world, a world that had +still leisure for, passion and its refinements, a world still +within sight of that other which had produced the <i>Carte du +tendre</i>. Perhaps it was this, combined with the virilities, not +to be questioned, of his aspect, the signs of hard physical +endurance in the face burned by desert suns, and the suggestions of +a frame too lean and gaunt for drawing-rooms, that gave him his +spell and preserved it.</p> +<p>Mary's conversation with him consisted at first of much cool +fencing on her part, which gradually slipped back, as he intended +it should, into some of the tones of intimacy. Each meanwhile was +conscious of a secret range of thoughts—hers concerned with +the effort and struggle, the bitter disappointments and +disillusions of the past six weeks; and his with the schemes he had +cherished in the East and on the way home, of marrying Mary Lyster, +or more correctly, Mary Lyster's money, and so resigning himself to +the inevitable boredoms of an English existence. For her the mental +horizon was full of Kitty—Kitty insolent, Kitty triumphant. +For him, too, Kitty made the background of thought—environed, +however, with clouds of indecision and resistance that would have +raised happiness in Mary could she have divined them.</p> +<p>For he was now not easy to capture. There had been enough and +more than enough of women in his life. The game of politics must +somehow replace them henceforth, if, indeed, anything were still +worth while, except the long day in the saddle and the dawn of new +mornings in untrodden lands.</p> +<p>Mingled, all these, with hot dislike of Ashe, with the +fascination of Kitty, and a kind of venomous pleasure in the +commotion produced by his pursuit of her; inter penetrated, +moreover, through and through with the memory of his one true +feeling, and of the woman who had died, alienated from and +despising him. He and Mary passed a profitless half-hour. He would +have liked to propitiate her, but he had no notion what he should +do with the propitiation, if it were reached. He wanted her money, +but he was beginning to feel with restlessness that he could not +pay the cost. The poet in him was still strong, crossed though it +were by the adventurer.</p> +<p>He took her back to the dancing-room. Mary walked beside him +with a dull, fierce sense of wrong. It was Kitty, of course, who +had done it—Kitty who had taken him away from her.</p> +<p>"That's finished," said Cliffe to himself, with a long breath of +relief, as he delivered her into the hands of her partner. "Now for +the other!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Thenceforward, no one saw Kitty and no one danced with her. She +spent her time in beflowered corners, or remote drawing-rooms, with +Geoffrey Cliffe. Ashe heard her voice in the distance once or +twice, answering a voice he detested; he looked into the +supper-room with a lady on his arm, and across it he saw Kitty, +with her white elbow on the table and her hand propping a face that +was turned—half mocking and yet wholly absorbed—to +Cliffe. He saw her flitting across vistas or disappearing through +far doorways, but always with that sinister figure in +attendance.</p> +<p>His mind was divided between a secret fury—roused in him +by the pride of a man of high birth and position, who has always +had the world at command, and now sees an impertinence offered him +which he does not know how to punish—and a mood of irony. +Cliffe's persecution of Kitty was a piece of confounded bad +manners. But to look at it with the round, hypocritical eyes some +of these people were bringing to bear on it was really too much! +Let them look to their own affairs—they needed it.</p> +<p>At last the party broke up. Kitty touched him on the shoulder as +he was standing on the stairs, apparently absorbed in a teasing +skirmish with a charming child in her first season, who thought him +the most delightful of men.</p> +<p>"I'm ready, William."</p> +<p>He turned sharply, and saw that she was alone.</p> +<p>"Come along, then! In five minutes more I should have been +asleep on the stairs."</p> +<p>They descended. Kitty went for her cloak. Ashe sent for the +carriage. As he was standing on the steps Cliffe pushed past him +and called for a hansom. It came in the rear of two or three +carriages already under the portico. He ran along the pavement and +jumped in. The doors were just being shut by the linkman when a +little figure in a white cloak flew down the steps of the house and +held up a hand to the driver of the hansom.</p> +<p>"Do you see that?" said Lady Parham, in a voice of suppressed +but contemptuous amazement, as she turned to Mary Lyster, who was +driving home with her. "Call my carriage, please!" she said, +imperiously, to one of the footmen at the door. Her carriage, as it +happened, was immediately behind the hansom; but the hansom could +not move because of the small lady who had jumped upon the step and +was leaning eagerly forward.</p> +<p>There was a clamor of shouting voices: "Move on, cabby! Move +on!" "Stand clear, ma'am, please," said the driver, while Cliffe +opened the door of the cab, and seemed about to jump down +again.</p> +<p>"Who is it?" said an impatient judge behind Lady Parham. "What's +the matter?"</p> +<p>Lady Parham shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"It's Lady Kitty Ashe," whispered the <i>débutante</i>, +who was the judge's daughter, "talking to Mr. Cliffe. Isn't she +pretty?"</p> +<p>A sudden silence fell upon the group in the porch. Kitty's high, +clear laugh seemed to ring back into the house. Then Ashe ran down +the steps.</p> +<p>"Kitty, don't stop the way." He peremptorily drew her back.</p> +<p>Cliffe raised his hat, fell back into the hansom, and the man +whipped up his horse.</p> +<p>Kitty came back to the outer hall with Ashe. Her cheeks had a +rose flush, her wild eyes laughed at the crowd on the steps, +without really seeing them.</p> +<p>"Are you going with Lady Parham?" she said, absently, to Mary +Lyster.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Kitty looked up and Ashe saw the two faces as she and Mary +confronted each other—the contempt in Mary's, the startled +wrath in Kitty's.</p> +<p>"Come, Miss Lyster!" said Lady Parham, and pushing past the +Ashes without a good-night, she hurried to her carriage, drawing up +the glass with a hasty hand, though the night was balmy.</p> +<p>For a few moments none of those left on the steps spoke, except +to fret in undertones for an absent carriage. Then Ashe saw his own +groom, and stormed at him for delay. In another minute he and Kitty +were in the carriage, and the figures under the porch dropped out +of sight.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Better not do that again, Kitty, I think," said Ashe.</p> +<p>Kitty glanced at him. But both voice and manner were as usual. +"Why shouldn't I?" she said, haughtily; he saw that she had grown +very white. "I was telling Geoffrey where to find me at +Lord's."</p> +<p>Ashe winced at the "Archangelism" of the Christian name.</p> +<p>"You kept Lady Parham waiting."</p> +<p>"What does that matter?" said Kitty, with an angry laugh.</p> +<p>"And you did Cliffe too much honor," said Ashe. "It's the men +who should stand on the steps—not the women!"</p> +<p>Kitty sat erect. "What do you mean?" she said, in a low, +menacing voice.</p> +<p>"Just what I say," was the laughing reply.</p> +<p>Kitty threw herself back in her corner, and could not be induced +to open her lips or look at her companion till they reached +home.</p> +<p>On the landing, however, outside her bedroom, she turned and +said: "Don't, please, say impertinent things to me again!" And +drawn up to her full height, the most childish and obstinate of +tragedy queens, she swept into her room.</p> +<p>Ashe went into his dressing-room. And almost immediately +afterwards he heard the key turn in the lock which separated his +room from Kitty's.</p> +<p>For the first time since their marriage! He threw himself on his +bed, and passed some sleepless hours. Then fatigue had its way. +When he awoke, there was a gray dawn in the room, and he was +conscious of something pressing against his bed. Half asleep, he +raised himself and saw Kitty, in a long white dressing-gown, +sitting curled up on the floor, or rather on a pillow, her head +resting on the edge of the bed. In a glass opposite he saw the +languid grace of her slight form and the cloud of her hair.</p> +<p>"Kitty"—he tried to shake himself into full +consciousness—"do go to bed!"</p> +<p>"Lie down," said Kitty, lifting her arm and pressing him down, +"and don't say anything. I shall go to sleep."</p> +<p>He lay down obediently. Presently he felt that her cheek was +resting on one of his hands, and in his semi-consciousness he laid +the other on her hair. Then they both fell asleep.</p> +<p>His dreams were a medley of the fancy ball and of some pageant +scene in which Iris and Ceres appeared, and there was a rustic +dance of maidens and shepherds. Then a murmur as of thunder ran +through the scene, followed by darkness. He half woke, in a hot +distress, but the soft cheek was still there, his hand still felt +the silky curls, and sleep recaptured him.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> +<p>When Ashe woke up in earnest he was alone. He sprang up in bed +and looked round the darkened room, ashamed of his long sleep; but +there was no sign of Kitty.</p> +<p>After dressing, he knocked, as usual, at Kitty's door.</p> +<p>"Oh, come in," cried Kitty's lightest voice. "Margaret's here; +but if you don't mind her, she won't mind you."</p> +<p>Ashe entered. Kitty, as was her wont four days out of the seven, +was breakfasting in bed. Margaret French was beside her with a +batch of notes, mostly bills and unanswered invitations, with which +she was trying to make Kitty cope.</p> +<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Ashe," Margaret lifted a smiling face. "I had to +be out on business for my brother all day, so I thought I'd come +early and remind Kitty of some of these tiresome things while there +was still a chance of finding her."</p> +<p>"I don't know why guardian angels excuse themselves," said Ashe, +as they shook hands.</p> +<p>"Oh, dear, what a lot of them there are!" said Kitty, tossing +over the notes with a bored air. "Refuse them all, Margaret; I'm +tired to death of dining out."</p> +<p>"Not all, I think," pleaded Margaret. "Here's that nice +woman—you remember—who wanted to thank Mr. Ashe for +what he'd done for her son. You promised to dine with her."</p> +<p>"Did I?" Kitty wriggled with annoyance. "Well, then, I suppose +we must. What did William do for her? When I ask him to do +something for the nicest boys in the world, he won't lift a +finger."</p> +<p>"I gave him some introductions in Berlin," laughed Ashe. "What +you generally want me to do, Kitty, is to stuff the public service +with good-looking idiots. And there I really can't oblige you."</p> +<p>"Every one knows that corruption gets the best men," said Kitty. +"Hullo, what's that?" and she lifted a dinner-card, and looked at +it strangely.</p> +<p>"My dear Kitty! when did it come?" exclaimed Margaret French, in +dismay.</p> +<p>It was a dinner-card, whereby Lord and Lady Parham requested the +honor of Mr. and Lady Kitty Ashe's company at dinner, on a date +somewhere within the first week of July.</p> +<p>Ashe bent over to look at it.</p> +<p>"I think that came ten days ago," he said, quietly. "I imagined +Kitty accepted it."</p> +<p>"I never thought of it from that day to this," said Kitty, who +had clasped her hands behind her head and was staring at the +ceiling. "Say, please, that"—she spaced out the words +deliberately—"Mr. and Lady Kitty Ashe—are unable to +accept—Lord and Lady Parham's +invitation—etc.—"</p> +<p>"Kitty!" said Margaret, firmly, "there must be a 'regret' and a +'kind.' Think! Ten days! The party is next week!"</p> +<p>"No 'regret,' and no 'kind'!" said Kitty, still staring +overhead. "It's my affair, please, Margaret, altogether. And I'll +see the note before it goes, or you'll be putting in +civilities."</p> +<p>Margaret, in despair, looked entreatingly at Ashe. He and she +had often conspired before this to soften down Kitty's enormities. +But he said nothing—made not the smallest sign.</p> +<p>With difficulty Margaret got a few more directions out of Kitty, +over whom a shade of sombre taciturnity had now fallen. Then, +saying she would write the notes down-stairs and come back, she +gathered up her basketful of letters and departed.</p> +<p>As soon as she was alone with Ashe, Kitty took up a novel beside +her, and pretended to be absorbed in it.</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment, then he stooped over her and took her +hand.</p> +<p>"Why did you come in to visit me, Kitty?" he said, in a low +voice.</p> +<p>"I don't know," was her indifferent reply, and her hand pulled +itself away, though not with violence.</p> +<p>"I wish I could understand you, Kitty." His tone was not quite +steady.</p> +<p>"Well, I don't understand myself!" said Kitty, shortly, reaching +out for a bunch of roses that Margaret had just brought her, and +burying her face among them.</p> +<p>"Perhaps, if you submitted the problem to me," said Ashe, +laughing, "we might be able to thresh it out together!"</p> +<p>He folded his arms and leaned against the foot of the bed, +delighting his eyes with the vision of her amid the folds of muslin +and lace, and all the costly refinements of pillow and coverlet +with which she liked to surround herself at that hour of the +morning. She might have been a French princess of the old regime, +receiving her court.</p> +<p>Kitty shook her head. The roses fell idly from her hands, and +made bright patches of blush pink about her. Ashe went on:</p> +<p>"Anyway, dear, don't give silly tongues <i>too</i> good a +handle!"</p> +<p>He threw her a gay comrade's look, as though to say that they +both knew the folly of the world, but he perhaps the better, as he +was the elder.</p> +<p>"You mean," said Kitty, calmly, "that I am not to talk so much +to Geoffrey Cliffe?"</p> +<p>"Is he worth it?" said Ashe. "That's what I want to +know—worth the fuss that some people make?"</p> +<p>"It's the fuss and the people that drive one on," said Kitty, +under her breath.</p> +<p>"You flatter them too much, darling! Do you think you were quite +kind to me last night?—let's put it that way. I looked a +precious fool, you know, standing on those steps, while you were +keeping old Mother Parham and the whole show waiting!"</p> +<p>She looked at him a moment in silence, at his heightened color +and insistent eyes.</p> +<p>"I can't think what made you marry me," she said, slowly.</p> +<p>Ashe laughed, and came nearer.</p> +<p>"And I can't think," he said, in a lower voice, "what made you +come—if you weren't a little bit sorry—and lean your +dear head against me like that, last night."</p> +<p>"I wasn't sorry—I couldn't sleep," was her quick reply, +while her eyes strove to keep up their war with his.</p> +<p>A knock was heard at the door. Ashe moved hastily away. Kitty's +maid entered.</p> +<p>"I was to tell you, sir, that your breakfast was ready. And Lady +Tranmore's servant has brought this note."</p> +<p>Ashe took it and thrust it into his pocket.</p> +<p>"Get my things ready, please," said Kitty to her maid. Ashe felt +himself dismissed and went.</p> +<p>As soon as he was gone, Kitty sprang out of bed, threw on a +dressing-gown, and ran across to Blanche, who was bending over a +chest of drawers. "Why did you say those foolish things to me +yesterday?" she demanded, taking the girl impetuously by the arm, +and so startling her that she nearly dropped the clothes she +held.</p> +<p>"They weren't foolish, my lady," said Blanche, sullenly, with +averted eyes.</p> +<p>"They were!" cried Kitty. "Of course, I'm a vixen—I always +was. But you know, Blanche, I'm not always as bad as I have been +lately. Very soon I shall be quite charming again—you'll +see!"</p> +<p>"I dare say, my lady." Blanche went on sorting and arranging the +<i>lingerie</i> she had taken out of the drawer.</p> +<p>Kitty sat down beside her, nursing a bare foot which was crossed +over the other.</p> +<p>"You know how I abused you about my hair, Blanche? Well, Mrs. +Alcot said, that very night, she never saw it so well done. She +thought it must be Pierrefitte's best man. Wasn't it hellish of me? +I knew quite well you'd done it beautifully."</p> +<p>The maid said nothing, but a tear fell on one of Kitty's +night-dresses.</p> +<p>"And you remember the green garibaldi—last week? I just +loathed it—because you'd forgotten that little black +rosette."</p> +<p>"No!" said Blanche, looking up; "your ladyship had never ordered +it."</p> +<p>"I did—I did! But never mind. Two of my friends have +wanted to copy it, Blanche. They wouldn't believe it was done by a +maid. They said it had such style. One of them would engage you +to-morrow if you really want to go—"</p> +<p>A silence.</p> +<p>"But you won't go, Blanchie, will you?" said Kitty's silver +voice. "I'm a horrid fiend, but I did get Mr. Ashe to help your +young man—and I did care about your poor +brother—and—and—" she stroked the girl's +arm—"I do look rather nice when I'm dressed, don't I? You +wouldn't like a great gawk to dress, would you?"</p> +<p>"I'm sure I don't want to leave your ladyship," said the girl, +choking. "But I can't have no more—"</p> +<p>"No more ructions?" said Kitty, meditating. "H'm, of course +that's serious, because I'm made so. Well, now, look here, +Blanchie, you won't give me warning again for a fortnight, whatever +I do, mind. And if by then I'm past praying for, you may. And I'll +import a Russian—or a Choctaw—who won't understand when +I call her names. Is that a bargain, Blanchie?"</p> +<p>The maid hesitated.</p> +<p>"Just a fortnight!" said Kitty, in her most seductive tones.</p> +<p>"Very well, my lady."</p> +<p>Kitty jumped up, waltzed round the room, the white silk skirts +of her dressing-gown floating far and wide, then thrust her feet +into her slippers, and began to dress as though nothing had +happened.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>But when her toilette was accomplished, Kitty having dismissed +her maid, sat for some time in front of her mirror in a brown +study.</p> +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter with me?" she thought. "William is an +angel, and I love him. And I can't do what he wants—I +<i>can't</i>!" She drew a long, troubled breath. The lips of the +face reflected in the glass were dry and colorless, the eyes had a +strange, shrinking expression. "People <i>are</i> possessed—I +know they are. They can't help themselves. I began this to punish +Mary—and now—when I don't see Geoffrey, everything is +odious and dreary. I can't care for anything. Of course, I ought to +care for William's politics. I expect I've done him harm—I +know I have. What's wrong with me?"</p> +<p>But suddenly, in the very midst of her self-examination, the +emotion and excitement that she had felt of late in her long +conversations with Cliffe returned upon her, filling her at once +with poignant memory and a keen expectation to which she yielded +herself as a wild sea-bird to the rocking of the sea. They had +started—those conversations—from her attempt to +penetrate the secret history of the man whose poems had filled her +with a thrilling sense of feelings and passions beyond her +ken—untrodden regions, full, no doubt, of shadow and of +poison, but infinitely alluring to one whose nature was best summed +up in the two words, curiosity and daring. She had not found it +quite easy. Cliffe, as we know, had resented the levity of her +first attempt. But when she renewed it, more seriously and sweetly, +combining with it a number of subtle flatteries, the flattery of +her beauty and her position, of the private interest she could not +help showing in the man who was her husband's public antagonist, +and of an admiration for his poems which was not so much mere +praise as an actual covetous sharing in them, a making their ideas +and their music her own—Cliffe could not in the end resist +her. After all, so far, she only asked him to talk of himself, and +for a man of his type the process is the very breath of his being, +the stimulus and liberation of all his powers.</p> +<p>So that before they knew they were in the midst of the most +burning subjects of human discussion—at first in a manner +comparatively veiled and general, then with the sharpest personal +reference to Cliffe's own story, as the intimacy between them grew. +Jealousy, suffering, the "hard cases" of passion—why men are +selfish and exacting, why women mislead and torment—the ugly +waste and crudity of death—it was among these great themes +they found themselves. Death above all—it was to a thought of +death that Cliffe's harsh face owed its chief spell perhaps in +Kitty's eyes. A woman had died for love of him, crushed by his +jealousy and her own self-scorn. So Kitty had been told; and +Cliffe's tortured vanity would not deny it. How could she have +cared so much? That was the puzzle.</p> +<p>But this vicarious relation had now passed into a relation of +her own. Cliffe was to Kitty a problem—and a problem which, +beyond a certain point, defied her. The element of sex, of course, +entered in, but only as intensifying the contrasts and mysteries of +imagination. And he made her feel these contrasts and mysteries as +she had never yet felt them; and so he enlarged the world for her, +he plunged her, if only by contact with his own bitter and +irritable genius, into new regions of sentiment and feeling. For in +spite of the vulgar elements in him there were also elements of +genius. The man was a poet and a thinker, though he were at the +same time, in some sense, an adventurer. His mind was stored with +eloquent and beautiful imagery, the poetry of others, and poetry of +his own. He could pursue the meanest personal objects in an +unscrupulous way; but he had none the less passed through a wealth +of tragic circumstance; he had been face to face with his own soul +in the wilds of the earth; he had met every sort of physical danger +with contempt; and his arrogant, imperious temper was of the kind +which attracts many women, especially, perhaps, women physically +small and intellectually fearless, like Kitty, who feel in it a +challenge to their power and their charm.</p> +<p>His society, then, had in these six weeks become, for Kitty, a +passion—a passion of the imagination. For the man himself, +she would probably have said that she felt more repulsion than +anything else. But it was a repulsion that held her, because of the +constant sense of reaction, of on-rushing life, which it excited in +herself.</p> +<p>Add to these the elements of mischief and defiance in the +situation, the snatching him from Mary, her enemy and slanderer, +the defiance of Lady Grosville and all other hypocritical tyrants, +the pride of dragging at her chariot wheels a man whom most people +courted even when they loathed him, who enjoyed, moreover, an +astonishing reputation abroad, especially in that France which +Kitty adored, as a kind of modern Byron, the only Englishman who +could still display in public the "pageant of a bleeding heart," +without making himself ridiculous, and perhaps enough has been +heaped together to explain the infatuation that now, like a wild +spring gust on a shining lake, was threatening to bring Kitty's +light bark into dangerous waters.</p> +<p>"I don't care for him," she said to herself, as she sat thinking +alone, "but I must see him—I <i>will</i>! And I will talk to +him as I please, and where I please!"</p> +<p>Her small frame stiffened under the obstinacy of her resolution. +Kitty's will at a moment of this kind was a fatality—so +strong was it, and so irrational.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Meanwhile, down-stairs, Ashe himself was wrestling with another +phase of the same situation. Lady Tranmore's note had said: "I +shall be with you almost immediately after you receive this, as I +want to catch you before you go to the Foreign Office."</p> +<p>Accordingly, they were in the library, Ashe on the defensive, +Lady Tranmore nervous, embarrassed, and starting at a sound. Both +of them watched the door. Both looked for and dreaded the advent of +Kitty.</p> +<p>"Dear William," said his mother at last, stretching her hand +across a small table which stood between them and laying it on her +son's, "you'll forgive me, won't you?—even if I do seem to +you prudish and absurd. But I am afraid you <i>ought</i> to tell +Kitty some of the unkind things people are saying! You know I've +tried, and she wouldn't listen to me. And you ought to beg +her—yes, William, indeed you ought!—not to give any +further occasion for them."</p> +<p>She looked at him anxiously, full Of that timidity which haunts +the deepest and tenderest affections. She had just given him to +read a letter from Lady Grosville to herself. Ashe ran through it, +then laid it down with a gesture of scorn.</p> +<p>"Kitty apparently enjoyed a moonlight walk with Cliffe. Why +shouldn't she? Lady Grosville thinks the moon was made to sleep +by—other people don't."</p> +<p>"But, William!—at night—when everybody had gone to +bed—escaping from the house—they two alone!"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore looked at him entreatingly, as though driven to +protest, and yet hating the sound of her own words.</p> +<p>Ashe laughed. He was smoking with an air so nonchalant that his +mother's heart sank. For she divined that criticism in the society +around her which she was never allowed to hear. Was it true, +indeed, that his natural indolence could not rouse itself even to +the defence of a young wife's reputation?</p> +<p>"All the fault of the Grosvilles," said Ashe, after a moment, +lighting another cigarette, "in shutting up their great heavy +house, and drawing their great heavy curtains on a May night, when +all reasonable people want to be out-of-doors. My dear mother, +what's the good of paying any attention to what people like Lady +Grosville say of people like Kitty? You might as well expect +Deborah to hit it off with Ariel!"</p> +<p>"William, don't laugh!" said his mother, in distress. "Geoffrey +Cliffe is not a man to be trusted. You and I know that of old. He +is a boaster, and—"</p> +<p>"And a liar!" said Ashe, quietly. "Oh! I know that."</p> +<p>"And yet he has this power over women—one ought to look it +in the face. William, dearest William!" she leaned over and clasped +his hand close in both hers, "do persuade Kitty to go away from +London now—at once!"</p> +<p>"Kitty won't go," said Ashe, quietly, "I am sorry, dear mother. +I hate that you should be worried. But there's the fact. Kitty +won't go!"</p> +<p>"Then use your authority," said Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>"I have none."</p> +<p>"William!" Ashe rose from his seat, and began to walk up and +down. His aspect of competence and dignity, as of a man already +accustomed to command and destined to a high experience, had never +been more marked than at the very moment of this helpless +utterance. His mother looked at him with mingled admiration and +amazement.</p> +<p>Presently he paused beside her.</p> +<p>"I should like you to understand me, mother. I cannot fight with +Kitty. Before I asked her to marry me, I made up my mind to that. I +knew then and I know now that nothing but disaster could come of +it. She must be free, and I shall not attempt to coerce her."</p> +<p>"Or to protect her!" cried his mother.</p> +<p>"As to that, I shall do what I can. But I clearly foresaw when +we married that we should scandalize a good many of the weaker +brethren."</p> +<p>He smiled, but, as it seemed to his mother, with some +effort.</p> +<p>"William! as a public man—"</p> +<p>He interrupted her.</p> +<p>"If I can be both Kitty's husband and a public man, well and +good. If not, then I shall be—"</p> +<p>"Kitty's husband?" cried Lady Tranmore, with an accent of +bitterness, almost of sarcasm, of which she instantly repented her. +She changed her tone.</p> +<p>"It is, of course, Kitty, first and foremost, who is concerned +in your public position," she said, more gently. "Dearest +William—she is so young still—she probably doesn't +quite understand, in spite of her great cleverness. But she +<i>does</i> care—she <i>must</i> care—and she ought to +know what slight things may sometimes affect a man's prospects and +future in this country."</p> +<p>Ashe said nothing. He turned on his heel and resumed his pacing. +Lady Tranmore looked at him in perplexity.</p> +<p>"William, I heard a rumor last night—"</p> +<p>He held his cigarette suspended.</p> +<p>"Lord Crashaw told me that the resignations would certainly be +in the papers this week, and that the ministry would go +on—after a rearrangement of posts. Is it true?"</p> +<p>Ashe resumed his cigarette.</p> +<p>"True—as to the facts—so far as I know. As to the +date, Lord Crashaw knows, I think, no more than I do. It may be +this week, it may be next month."</p> +<p>"Then I hear—thank goodness I never see her," Elizabeth +went on, reluctantly—"that that dreadful woman, Lady Parham, +is more infuriated than ever—"</p> +<p>"With Kitty? Let her be! It really doesn't matter an old shoe, +either to Kitty or me."</p> +<p>"She can be a most bitter enemy, William. And she certainly +influences Lord Parham."</p> +<p>Ashe smoked and smiled. Lady Tranmore saw that his pride, too, +had been aroused, and that here he was likely to prove as obstinate +as Kitty.</p> +<p>"I wish I could get her out of my mind!" she sighed.</p> +<p>Ashe glanced at her kindly.</p> +<p>"I daresay we shall hold our own. Xanthippe is not beloved, and +I don't believe Parham will let her interfere with what he thinks +best for the party. Will it pay to put me in the cabinet or +not?—that's what he'll ask. I shall be strongly backed, too, +by most of our papers."</p> +<p>A number of thoughts ran through Lady Tranmore's brain. With her +long experience of London, she knew well what the sudden lowering +of a man's "consideration"—to use a French word—at a +critical moment may mean. A cooling of the general regard—a +breath of detraction coming no one knows whence—and how soon +new claims emerge, and the indispensable of yesterday becomes the +negligible of to-day!</p> +<p>But even if she could have brought herself to put any of these +anxieties into words, she had no opportunity. Kitty's voice was in +the hall; the handle turned, and she ran in.</p> +<p>"William! Ah!—I didn't know mother was here."</p> +<p>She went up to Elizabeth, and lightly kissed that lady's +cheek.</p> +<p>"Good-morning. William, I just came to tell you that I may be +late for dinner, so perhaps you had better dine at the House. I am +going on the river."</p> +<p>"Are you?" said Ashe, gathering up his papers. "Wish I was."</p> +<p>"Are you going with the Crashaw's party?" asked Elizabeth. "I +know they have one."</p> +<p>"Oh, dear, no!" said Kitty. "I hate a crowd on the river. I am +going with Geoffrey Cliffe."</p> +<p>Ashe bent over his desk. Lady Tranmore's eyebrows went up, and +she could not restrain the word:</p> +<p>"Alone?"</p> +<p>"<i>Naturellement</i>!" laughed Kitty. "He reads me French +poetry, and we talk French. We let Madeleine Alcot come once, but +her accent was so shocking that Geoffrey wouldn't have her +again!"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore flushed deeply. The "Geoffrey" seemed to her +intolerable. Kitty, arrayed in the freshest of white gowns, walked +away to the farther end of the library to consult a +<i>Bradshaw</i>. Elizabeth, looking up, caught her son's +eyes—and the mingled humor and vexation in them, wherewith he +appealed to her, as it were, to see the whole silly business as he +himself did. Lady Tranmore felt a moment's strong reaction. Had she +indeed been making a foolish fuss about nothing?</p> +<p>Yet the impression left by the miserable meditations of her +night was still deep enough to make her say—with just a +signal from eye and lips, so that Kitty neither saw nor +heard—"Don't let her go!"</p> +<p>Ashe shook his head. He moved towards the door, and stood there +despatch-box in hand, throwing a last look at his wife.</p> +<p>"Don't be late, Kitty—or I shall be nervous. I don't trust +Cliffe on the river. And please make it a rule that, in locks, he +stops quoting French poetry."</p> +<p>Kitty turned round, startled and apparently annoyed by his +tone.</p> +<p>"He is an excellent oar," she said, shortly.</p> +<p>"Is he? At Oxford we tried him for the Torpids—" Ashe's +shrug completed his remark. Then, still disregarding another +imploring look from Lady Tranmore, he left the room.</p> +<p>Kitty had flushed angrily. The belittling, malicious note in +Ashe's manner had been clear enough. She braced herself against it, +and Lady Tranmore's chance was lost. For when, summoning all her +courage, and quite uncertain whether her son would approve or blame +her, Elizabeth approached her daughter-in-law affectionately, +trying in timid and apologetic words to unburden her own heart and +reach Kitty's, Kitty met her with one of those outbursts of temper +that women like Elizabeth Tranmore cannot cope with. Their moral +recoil is too great. It is the recoil of the spiritual aristocrat; +and between them and the children of passion the links are few, the +antagonism eternal.</p> +<p>She left the house, pale, dignified, the tears in her eyes. +Kitty ran up-stairs, humming an air from "Faust," as though she +would tear it to pieces, put on a flame-colored hat that gave a +still further note of extravagance to her costume, ordered a +hansom, and drove away.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Whether Kitty got much joy out of the three weeks which followed +must remain uncertain. She had certainly routed Mary Lyster, if +there were any final satisfaction in that. Mary had left town +early, and was now in Somersetshire helping her father to +entertain, in order, said the malicious, to put the best face +possible on a defeat which this time had been serious. And instead +of devoting himself to the wooing of a northern constituency where +he had been adopted as the candidate of a new Tory group, Cliffe +lingered obstinately in town, endangering his chances and angering +his supporters. Kitty's influence over his actions was, indeed, +patent and undenied, whatever might be the general opinion as to +her effect upon his heart. Some of Kitty's intimates at any rate +were convinced that his absorption in the matter was by now, to say +the least, no less eager and persistent than hers. At this point it +was by no means still a relation of flattery on Kitty's side and a +pleased self-love on his. It had become a duel of two +personalities, or rather two imaginations. In fact, as Kitty, +learning the ways of his character, became more proudly mistress of +herself and him, his interest in her visibly increased. It might +almost be said that she was beginning to hold back, and he for the +first time pursued.</p> +<p>Once or twice he had the grace to ask himself where it was all +to end. Was he in love with her? An absurd question! He had paid +his heavy tribute to passion if any man ever had, and had already +hung up his votive tablet and his garments wet from shipwreck in +the temple of the god. But it seemed that, after all said and done, +the society of a woman, young, beautiful, and capricious, was still +the best thing which the day—the London day, at all +events—had to bring. At Kitty's suggestion he was collecting +and revising a new volume of his poems. He and she quarrelled over +them perpetually. Sometimes there was not a line which pleased her; +and then, again, she would delight him with the homage of sudden +tears in her brown eyes, and a praise so ardent and so refined that +it almost compared—as Kitty meant it should—with that +of the dead. In the shaded drawing-room, where every detail pleased +his taste, Cliffe's harsh voice thundered or murmured verse which +was beyond dispute the verse of a poet, and thereby sensuous and +passionate. Ostensibly the verse concerned another woman; in truth, +the slight and lovely figure sitting on the farther side of the +flowered hearth, the delicate head bent, the finger-tips lightly +joined, entered day by day more directly into the consciousness of +the poet. What harm? All he asked was intelligence and response. As +to her heart, he made no claim upon it whatever. Ashe, by-the-way, +was clearly not jealous—a sensible attitude, considering Lady +Kitty's strength of will.</p> +<p>Into Cliffe's feeling towards Ashe there entered, indeed, a +number of evil things, determined by quite other relations between +the two men—the relation of the man who wants to the man who +has, of the man beaten by the restlessness of ambition to the man +who possesses all that the other desires, and affects to care +nothing about it—of the combatant who fights with rage to the +combatant who fights with a smile. Cliffe could often lash himself +into fury by the mere thought of Ashe's opportunities and Ashe's +future, combined with the belief that Ashe's mood towards himself +was either contemptuous or condescending. And it was at such +moments that he would fling himself with most resource into the +establishing of his ascendency over Kitty.</p> +<p>The two men met when they did meet—which was but +seldom—on perfectly civil terms. If Ashe arrived unexpectedly +from the House in the late afternoon to find Cliffe in the +drawing-room reading aloud to Kitty, the politics of the moment +provided talk enough till Cliffe could decently take his departure. +He never dined with them alone, Kitty having no mind whatever for +the discomforts of such a party; and in the evenings when he and +Kitty met at a small number of houses, where the flirtation was +watched nightly with a growing excitement, Ashe's duties kept him +at Westminster, and there was nothing to hinder that flow of small +and yet significant incident by which situations of this kind are +developed.</p> +<p>Ashe set his teeth. He had made up his mind finally that it was +a plague and a tyranny which would pass, and could only be +magnified by opposition. But his temper suffered. There were many +small quarrels during these weeks between himself and Kitty, +quarrels which betrayed the tension produced in him by what +was—in essentials—an iron self-control. But they made +daily life a sordid, unlovely thing, and they gave Kitty an excuse +for saying that William was as violent as herself, and for seeking +refuge in the exaltations of feeling or of fancy provided by +Cliffe's companionship.</p> +<p>Perhaps of all the persons in the drama, Lady Tranmore was the +most to be pitied. She sat at home, having no heart to go to Hill +Street, and more tied indeed than usual by the helpless illness of +her husband. Never, in all these days, did Ashe miss his daily +visit to his father. He would come in, apparently his handsome, +good-humored self, ready to read aloud for twenty minutes, or +merely to sit in silence by the sick man, his eyes making +affectionate answer every now and then to the dumb looks of Lord +Tranmore. Only his mother sought and found that slight habitual +contraction of the brow which bore witness to some equally +persistent disquiet of the mind. But he kept her at arm's-length on +the subject of Kitty. She dared not tell him any of the gossip +which reached her.</p> +<p>Meanwhile these weeks meant for her not only the dread of +disgrace, but the disappointment of a just ambition, the +humiliation of her mother's pride. The political crisis approached +rapidly, and Ashe's name was less and less to the front. Lady +Parham was said to be taking an active part in the consultations +and intrigues that surrounded her husband, and it was well known by +now to the inner circle that her hostility to the Ashes, and her +insistence on the fact that cabinet ministers must be beyond +reproach, and their wives persons to whose houses the party can go +without demeaning themselves, were likely to be of importance. +Moreover, Ashe's success in the House of Commons was no longer what +it had been earlier in the session. The party papers had cooled. +Elizabeth Tranmore felt a blight in the air. Yet William, with his +position in the country, his high ability, and the social weight +belonging to the heir of the Tranmore peerage and estates, was +surely not a person to be lightly ignored! Would Lord Parham +venture it?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At last the resignations of the two ministers were in the +<i>Times</i>; there were communications between the Queen and the +Premier, and London plunged with such ardor as is possible in late +July into the throes of cabinet-making. Kitty insisted petulantly +that of course all would be well; William's services were far too +great to be ignored; though Lord Parham would no doubt slight him +if he dared. But the party and the public would see to that. The +days were gone by when vulgar old women like Lady Parham could have +any real influence on political appointments. Otherwise, who would +condescend to politics?</p> +<p>Ashe brought her amusing reports from the House or the clubs of +the various intrigues going on, and, as to his own chances, refused +to discuss them seriously. Once or twice when Kitty, in his +presence, insisted on speaking of them to some political intimate, +only to provoke an evident embarrassment, Ashe suffered the +tortures which proud men know. But he never lost his tone of light +detachment, and the conclusion of his friends was that, as usual, +"Ashe didn't care a button."</p> +<p>The hours passed, however, and no sign came from the Prime +Minister. Everything was still uncertain; but Ashe had realized +that at least he was not to be taken into the inner counsels of the +party. The hopes and fears, the heartburnings and rivalries of such +a state of things are proverbial. Ashe wondered impatiently when +the beastly business would be over, and he could get off to +Scotland for the air and sport of which he was badly in need.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>It was a Friday, in the first week of August. Ashe was leaving +the Athenæum with another member of the House when a +newspaper boy rushing along with a fresh bundle of papers passed +them with the cry, "New cabinet complete! Official list!" They +caught him up, snatched a paper, and read. Two men of middle age, +conspicuous in Parliament, but not hitherto in office, one of them +of great importance as a lawyer, the other as a military critic, +were appointed, the one to the Home Office, the other to the +Ministry of War; there had been some shuffling in the minor +offices, and a new Privy Seal had dawned upon the world. For the +rest, all was as before, and in the formal list the name of the +Honorable William Travers Ashe still remained attached to the +Under-Secretaryship for Foreign Affairs.</p> +<p>Ashe's friend shrugged his shoulders, and avoided looking at his +companion. "A bomb-shell, to begin with," he said; "otherwise the +flattest thing out."</p> +<p>"On the contrary," laughed Ashe. "Parham has shown a wonderful +amount of originality. If you and I are taken by surprise, what +will the public be? And they'll like him all the +better—you'll see. He has shown courage and gone for new +men—that's what they'll say. <i>Vive</i> Parham! Well, +good-bye. Now, please the Lord, we shall get off—and I may be +among the grouse this day week."</p> +<p>He stopped on his way out of the club to discuss the list with +the men coming in. He was conscious that some would have avoided +him. But he had no mind to be avoided, and his caustic, +good-humored talk carried off the situation. Presently he was +walking homeward, swinging his stick with the gayety of a +school-boy expecting the holidays.</p> +<p>As he mounted St. James's Street a carriage descended. Ashe +mechanically took off his hat to the half-recognized face within, +and as he did so perceived the icy bow and triumphant eyes of Lady +Parham.</p> +<p>He hurried along, fighting a curious sensation, as of a physical +bruising and beating. The streets were full of the news, and he was +stopped many times by mere acquaintances to talk of it. In Savile +Row he turned into a small literary club of which he was a member, +and wrote a letter to his mother. In very affectionate and amusing +terms it begged her not to take the disappointment too seriously. +"I think I won't come round to-night. But expect me first thing +to-morrow."</p> +<p>He sent the note by messenger and walked home. When he reached +Hill Street it was close on eight. Outside the house he suddenly +asked himself what line he was going to take with Kitty.</p> +<p>Kitty, however, was not at home. As far as he could remember she +had gone coaching with the Alcots into Surrey, Geoffrey Cliffe, of +course, being of the party. Presently, indeed, he discovered a +hasty line from her on his study table, to say that they were to +dine at Richmond, and "Madeleine" supposed they would get home +between ten and eleven. Not a word more. Like all strong men, Ashe +despised the meditations of self-pity. But the involuntary +reflection that on this evening of humiliation Kitty was not with +him—did not apparently care enough about his affairs and his +ambitions to be with him—brought with it a soreness which had +to be endured.</p> +<p>The next moment, he was inclined to be glad of her absence. Such +things, especially in the first shock of them, are best faced +alone. If, indeed, there were any shock in the matter. He had for +some time had his own shrewd previsions, and he was aware of a +strong inner belief that his defeat was but temporary.</p> +<p>Probably, when she had time to remember such trifles, Kitty +would feel the shock more than he did. Lady Parham had certainly +won this round of the rubber!</p> +<p>He settled to his solitary dinner, but in the middle of it put +down Kitty's Aberdeen terrier, which, for want of other company, he +was stuffing atrociously, and ran up to the nursery. The nurse was +at her supper, and Harry lay fast asleep, a pretty little fellow, +flushed into a semblance of health, and with a strong look of +Kitty.</p> +<p>Ashe bent down and put his whiskered cheek to the boy's. "Never +mind, old man!" he murmured, "better luck next time!"</p> +<p>Then raising himself with a smile, he looked affectionately at +the child, noticed with satisfaction his bright color and even +breathing, and stole away.</p> +<p>He ran through the comments of the evening papers on the new +cabinet list, finding in only two or three any reference to +himself, then threw them aside, and seized upon a pile of books and +reviews that were lying on his table. He carried them up to the +drawing-room, hesitated between a theological review and a new +edition of Horace, and finally plunged with avidity into the +theological review.</p> +<p>For some two hours he sat enthralled by an able summary of the +chief Tübingen positions; then suddenly threw himself back +with a stretch and a laugh.</p> +<p>"Wonder what the chap's doing that's got my post! Not reading +theology, I'll be bound."</p> +<p>The reflection followed that were he at that moment Home +Secretary and in the cabinet, he would not probably be reading it +either—nor left to a solitary evening. Friends would be +dropping in to congratulate—the modern equivalent of the old +"turba clientium."</p> +<p>As his thoughts wandered, the drawing-room clock struck eleven. +He rose, astonished and impatient. Where was Kitty?</p> +<p>By midnight she had not arrived. Ashe heard the butler moving in +the hall and summoned him.</p> +<p>"There may have been some mishap to the coach, Wilson. Perhaps +they have stayed at Richmond. Anyway, go to bed. I'll wait for her +ladyship."</p> +<p>He returned to his arm-chair and his books, but soon drew +Kitty's <i>couvre-pied</i> over him and went to sleep.</p> +<p>When he awoke, daylight was in the room. "What has happened to +them?" he asked himself, in a sudden anxiety.</p> +<p>And amid the silence of the dawn he paced up and down, a prey +for the first time to black depression. He was besieged by memories +of the last two months, their anxieties and quarrels—the +waste of time and opportunity—the stabs to feeling and +self-respect. Once he found himself groaning aloud, "Kitty! +Kitty!"</p> +<p>When this huge, distracting London was left behind, when he had +her to himself amid the Scotch heather and birch, should he find +her again—conquer her again—as in the exquisite days +after their marriage? He thought of Cliffe with a kind of proud +torment, disdaining to be jealous or afraid. Kitty had amused +herself—had tested her freedom, his patience, to the utmost. +Might she now be content, and reward him a little for a +self-control, a philosophy, which had not been easy!</p> +<p>A French novel on Kitty's little table drew his attention. He +thought not without a discomfortable humor of what a French husband +would have made of a similar situation—recalling the remark +of a French acquaintance on some case illustrating the freedom of +English wives. "Il y a un élément turc dans le mari +français, qui nous rendrait ces moeurs-là +impossibles!"</p> +<p><i>À la bonne heure</i>! Let the Frenchman keep up his +seraglio standards as he pleased. An Englishman trusts both his +wife and his daughter—scorns, indeed, to consider whether he +trusts them or no! And who comes worst off? Not the +Englishman—if, at least, we are to believe the French novel +on the French <i>ménage!</i></p> +<p>He paced thus up and down for an hour, defying his unseen +critics—his mother—his own heart.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Then he went to bed and slept a little. But with the post next +morning there was no letter from Kitty. There might be a hundred +explanations of that. Yet he felt a sudden need of caution.</p> +<p>"Her ladyship comes up this morning by train," he said to +Wilson, as though reading from a note. "There seems to have been a +mishap."</p> +<p>Then he took a hansom and drove to the Alcots.</p> +<p>"Is Mrs. Alcot at home?" he asked the butler. "Can I have an +answer to this note?"</p> +<p>"Mrs. Alcot has been in her room since yesterday morning, sir. +She was taken ill just before the coach was coming round, and the +horses had to be sent back. But the doctor last night hoped it +would be nothing serious."</p> +<p>Ashe turned and went home. Then Kitty was not with Madeleine +Alcot—not on the coach! Where was she, and with whom?</p> +<p>He shut himself into his library and fell to wondering, in +bewilderment, what he had better do. A tide of rage and agony was +mounting within him. How to master it—and keep his brain +clear!</p> +<p>He was sitting in front of his writing-table staring at the +floor, his hands hanging before him, when the door opened and shut. +He turned. There, with her back to the door, stood Kitty. Her +aspect startled him to his feet. She looked at him, +trembling—her little face haggard and white, with a touch of +something in it which had blurred its youth.</p> +<p>"William!" She put both her hands to her breast, as though to +support herself. Then she flew forward. "William! I have done +nothing wrong—nothing—nothing! William—look at +me!"</p> +<p>He sternly put out his hand, protecting himself.</p> +<p>"Where have you been?" he said, in a low voice—"and with +whom?"</p> +<p>Kitty fell into a chair and burst into wild tears.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> +<p>There was silence for a few moments except for Kitty's crying. +Ashe still stood beside his writing-table, his hand resting upon +it, his eyes on Kitty. Once or twice he began to speak, and +stopped. At last he said, with obvious difficulty:</p> +<p>"It's cruel to keep me waiting, Kitty."</p> +<p>"I sent you a telegram first thing this morning." The voice was +choked and passionate.</p> +<p>"I never got it."</p> +<p>"Horrid little fiend!" cried Kitty, sitting up and dashing back +her hair from her tear-stained cheeks. "I gave a boy half a crown +this morning to be at the station with it by eight o'clock. And I +couldn't possibly either write or telegraph last night—it was +too late."</p> +<p>"Where were you?" said Ashe, slowly. "I went to the Alcots' this +morning, and—"</p> +<p>"—the butler told you Madeleine was in bed? So she is. She +was ill yesterday morning. There was no coach and no party. I went +with Geoffrey."</p> +<p>Kitty held herself erect; her eyes, from which the tears were +involuntarily dropping, were fixed on her husband.</p> +<p>"Of course I guessed that," said Ashe.</p> +<p>"It was Geoffrey brought me the news—here, just as I was +starting to go to the Alcots'. Then he said he had something to +read me—and it would be delicious to go to +Pangbourne—spend the day on the river—and come back +from Windsor—at night—by train. And I had a horrid +headache—and it was so hot—and you were at the +office"—her lip quivered—"and I wanted to hear +Geoffrey's poems—and so—"</p> +<p>She interrupted herself, and once more broke down—hiding +her face against the chair. But the next moment she felt herself +roughly drawn forward, as Ashe knelt beside her.</p> +<p>"Kitty!—look at me! That man behaved to you like a +villain?"</p> +<p>She looked up—she saw the handsome, good-humored face +transformed—and wrenched herself away.</p> +<p>"He did," she said, bitterly—"like a villain." She began +to twist and torment her handkerchief as Ashe had seen her do once +before, the small white teeth pressed upon the lower lip—then +suddenly she turned upon him—</p> +<p>"I suppose you want me to tell you the story?"</p> +<p>All Kitty in the words! Her frankness, her daring, and the +impatient, realistic tone she was apt to impose upon +emotion—they were all there.</p> +<p>Ashe rose and began to walk up and down.</p> +<p>"Tell me your part in it," he said, at last—"and as little +of that fellow as may be."</p> +<p>Kitty was silent. Ashe, looking at her, saw a curious shade of +reverie, a kind of dreamy excitement steal over her face.</p> +<p>"Go on, Kitty!" he said, sharply. Then, restraining himself, he +added, with all his natural courtesy—"I beg your pardon, +Kitty, but the sooner we get through with this the better."</p> +<p>The mist in which her expression had been for a moment wrapped +fell away. She flushed deeply.</p> +<p>"I told you I had done nothing vile!" she said, passionately. +"Did you believe me?"</p> +<p>Their eyes met in a shock of challenge and reply.</p> +<p>"Those things are not to be asked between you and me," he said, +with vehemence, and he held out his hand. She just touched +it—proudly. Then she drew a long breath.</p> +<p>"The day was—just like other days. He read me his +poems—in a cool place we found under the bank. I thought he +was rather absurd now and then—and different from what he had +been. He talked of our going away—and his not seeing +me—and how lonely he was. And of course I was awfully sorry +for him. But it was all right till—"</p> +<p>She paused and looked at Ashe.</p> +<p>"You remember the inn near Hamel Weir—a few miles from +Windsor—that lonely little place."</p> +<p>Ashe nodded.</p> +<p>"We dined there. Afterwards we were to row to Windsor and come +home by a train about ten. We finished dinner early. By-the-way, +there were two other people there—Lady Edith Manley and her +boy. They had rowed down from somewhere—"</p> +<p>"Did Lady Edith—"</p> +<p>"Yes—she spoke to me. She was going back to town—to +the Holland House party—"</p> +<p>"Where she probably met mother?"</p> +<p>"She did meet her!" cried Kitty. She pointed to a letter which +she had thrown down as she entered. "Your mother sent round this +note to me this morning—to ask when I should be at home. And +Wilson sent word—There! Of course I know she thinks I'm +capable of anything."</p> +<p>She looked at him, defiant, but very miserable and pale.</p> +<p>"Go on, please," said Ashe.</p> +<p>"We finished dinner early. There was a field behind the inn, and +then a wood. We strolled into the wood, and then +Geoffrey—well, he went mad! He—"</p> +<p>She bit her lip fiercely, struggling for composure—and +words.</p> +<p>"He proposed to you to throw me over?" said Ashe, as white as +she.</p> +<p>With a sudden gesture she held out her arms—like a piteous +child.</p> +<p>"Oh! don't stand there—and look at me like that—I +can't bear it."</p> +<p>Ashe came—unwillingly. She perceived the reluctance, and +with a flaming face she motioned him back, while she controlled +herself enough to pour out her story. Presently Ashe was able to +reconstruct with tolerable clearness what had occurred. Cliffe, +intoxicated by the long day of intimacy and of solitude, by Kitty's +beauty and Kitty's folly, aware that parting was near at hand, and +trusting to the wildness of Kitty's temperament, had suddenly +assumed the language of the lover—and a lover by no means +uncertain of his ultimate answer. So long as they understood each +other—that, indeed, for the present, was all he asked. But +she must know that she had broken off his marriage with Mary +Lyster, and reopened in his nature all the old founts of passion +and of storm. It had been her sovereign will that he should love +her; it had been achieved. For her sake—knowing himself for +the seared and criminal being that he was—for Ashe's +sake—he had tried to resist her spell. In vain. A fatal +fusion of their two +natures—imaginations—sympathies—had come about. +Each was interpenetrated by the other; and retreat was +impossible.</p> +<p>A kind of sombre power, indeed—the power of the poet and +the dreamer—seemed to have spoken from Cliffe's strange +wooing. He had taken no particular pains to flatter her, or to +conceal his original hesitation. He put her own action in a hard, +almost a brutal light. It was plain that he thought she had treated +her husband badly; that he warned her of a future of treachery and +remorse. At the same time he let her see that he could not doubt +but that she would face it. They still had the last justifying +cards in their hands—passion, and the courage to go where +passion leads. When those were played, they might look each other +and the world in the face. Till then they were but +triflers—mean souls—fit neither for heaven nor for +hell.</p> +<p>Ashe's whole being was soon in a tumult of rage under the sting +of this report, as he was able to piece it out from Kitty. But he +kept his self-command, and by dint of it he presently arrived at +some notion of her own share in the scene. Horror, recoil, +disavowal—a wild resentment of the charges heaped upon her, +of the pitiless interpretation of her behavior which broke from +those harsh lips, of the incredulity passing into something like +contempt with which Cliffe had endured her wrath and received her +protestations—then a blind flight through the fields to the +little wayside station, where she hoped to catch the last train; +the arrival and departure of the train while she was still half a +mile from the line, and her shelter at a cottage for the night; +these things stood out plainly, whatever else remained in +obscurity. How far she had provoked her own fate, and how far even +now she was delivered from the morbid spell of Cliffe's +personality, Ashe would not allow himself to ask. As she neared the +end of her story, it was as though the great tempest wave in which +she had been struggling died down, and with a merciful rush bore +him to a shore of deliverance. She was there beside him; and she +was still his own.</p> +<p>He had been leaning over the side of a chair, his chin on his +hand, his eyes fixed upon her, while she told her tale. It ended in +a burst of self-pity, as she remembered her collapse in the +cottage, the impossibility of finding any carriage in the small +hamlet of which it made part, the faint weariness of the +night—</p> +<p>"I never slept," she said, piteously. "I got up at eight for the +first train, and now I feel"—she fell back in her chair, and +whispered desolately with shut eyes—"as if I should like to +die!"</p> +<p>Ashe knelt down beside her.</p> +<p>"It's my fault, too, Kitty. I ought to have held you with a +stronger hand. I hated quarrelling with you. But—oh, my dear, +my dear—"</p> +<p>She met the cry in silence, the tears running over her cheeks. +Roughly, impetuously, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her, +as though he would once more re-knit and reconsecrate the bond +between them. She lay passively against him, the tangle of her fair +hair spread over his shoulder—too frail and too exhausted for +response.</p> +<p>"This won't do," he said, presently, disengaging himself; "you +must have some food and rest. Then we'll think what shall be +done."</p> +<p>She roused herself suddenly as he went to the door.</p> +<p>"Why aren't you at the Foreign Office?"</p> +<p>"I sent a message early. Lawson came"—Lawson was his +private secretary—"but I must go down in an hour."</p> +<p>"William!"</p> +<p>Kitty had raised herself, and her eyes shone large and startled +in the small, tear-stained face.</p> +<p>"Yes." He paused a moment.</p> +<p>"William, is the list out?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Kitty tottered to her feet.</p> +<p>"Is it all right?"</p> +<p>"I suppose so," he said, slowly. "It doesn't affect me."</p> +<p>And then, without waiting, he went into the hall and closed the +door behind him. He wrote a note to the Foreign Office to say that +he should not be at the office till the afternoon, and that +important papers were to be sent up to him. Then he told Wilson to +bring wine and sandwiches into the library for Lady Kitty, who had +been detained by an accident on the river the night before, and was +much exhausted. No visitors were to be admitted, except, of course, +Lady Tranmore or Miss French.</p> +<p>When he returned to the library he found Kitty with crimson +cheeks, her hands locked behind her, walking up and down. As soon +as she saw him she motioned to him imperiously.</p> +<div><a name="image-278.jpg" id="image-278.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-278.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-278.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"HE GATHERED HER IN HIS ARMS"</b></p> +<p>"Shut the door, William. I have something very important to say +to you."</p> +<p>He obeyed her, and she walked up to him deliberately. He saw the +fluttering of her heart beneath her white dress—the crushed, +bedraggled dress, which still in its soft elegance, its small +originalities, spoke Kitty from head to foot. But her manner was +quite calm and collected.</p> +<p>"William, we must separate! You must send me away."</p> +<p>He started.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"What I say. It is—it is intolerable—that I should +ruin your life like this."</p> +<p>"Don't, please, exaggerate, Kitty! There is no question of ruin. +I shall make my way when the time comes, and Lady Parham will have +nothing to say to it!"</p> +<p>"No! Nothing will ever go well—while I'm there—like +a millstone round your neck. William"—she came closer to +him—"take my advice—do it! I Warned you when you +married me. And now you see—it was true."</p> +<p>"You foolish child," he answered, slowly, "do you think I could +forget you for an hour, wherever you were?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes," she said, steadily, "I know you would forget +me—- if I wasn't here. I'm sure of it. You're very ambitious, +William—more than you know. You'll soon care—"</p> +<p>"More for politics than for you? Another of your delusions, +Kitty. Nothing of the sort. Moreover, if you will only let me +advise you—trust your husband a little—think both for +him and yourself. I see nothing either in politics or in our life +together that cannot be retrieved."</p> +<p>He spoke with manly kindness and reasonableness. Not a trace of +his habitual indolence or indifference. Kitty, listening, was +conscious of the most tempestuous medley of feelings—love, +remorse, shame, and a strange gnawing desolation. What else, what +better <i>could</i> she have asked of him? And yet, as she looked +at him, she thought suddenly of the moonlit garden at Grosville +Park, and of that young, headlong chivalry with which he had thrown +himself at her feet. This man before her, so much older and +maturer, counting the cost of his marriage with her in the light of +experience, and magnanimously, resolutely paying it—Kitty, in +a flash, realized his personality as she had never yet done, his +moral independence of her, his separateness as a human being. Her +passionate self-love instinctively, unconsciously, had made of his +life the appendage of hers. And now—? His devotion had never +been so plain, so attested; and all the while bitter, terrifying +voices rang upon the inner ear, voices of fate, vague and +irrevocable.</p> +<p>She dropped into a chair beside his table, trembling and +white.</p> +<p>"No, no," she said, drawing her handkerchief across her eyes, +with a gesture of childish misery, "it's all been a—a horrid +mistake. Your mother was quite right. Of course she hated your +marrying me—and now—now she'll see what I've done. I +guess perfectly what she's thinking about me to-day! And I can't +help it—I shall go on—if you let me stay with you. +There's a twist—a black drop in me. I'm not like other +people."</p> +<p>Her voice, which was very quiet, gave Ashe intolerable pain.</p> +<p>"You poor, tired, starved child," he said, kneeling down beside +her. "Put your arms round my neck. Let me carry you up-stairs."</p> +<p>With a sob she did as she was told. Ashe's library a +comparatively late addition to the rambling, old-fashioned house, +communicated by a small staircase at the back with his +dressing-room above. He lifted the small figure with ease, and +half-way up-stairs he impetuously kissed the delicate cheek.</p> +<p>"I'm glad you're not Polly Lyster, darling!"</p> +<p>Kitty laughed through her tears. Presently he deposited her on +the large sofa in her own room, and stood beside her, panting a +little.</p> +<p>"It's all very well," said Kitty, as she nestled down among the +pillows, "but we're <i>none</i> of us feathers!"</p> +<p>Her eyes were beginning to recover a little of their sparkle. +She looked at him with attention.</p> +<p>"You look horribly tired. What—what did you do—last +night?" She turned away from him.</p> +<p>"I sat up reading—then went to sleep down-stairs. I +thought the coach had come to grief, and you were somewhere with +the Alcots."</p> +<p>"If I had known that," she murmured, "<i>I</i> might have gone +to sleep. Oh, it was so horrible—the little stuffy room, and +the dirty blankets." She gave a shiver of disgust. "There was a +poor baby, too, with whooping-cough. Lucky I had some money. I gave +the woman a sovereign. But she wasn't at all nice—she never +smiled once. I know she thought I was a bad lot."</p> +<p>Then she sprang up.</p> +<p>"Sit there!" She pointed to the foot of the sofa. Ashe obeyed +her.</p> +<p>"When did you know?"</p> +<p>"About the ministry? Between six and seven. I saw Lady Parham +afterwards driving in St. James's Street. She never enjoyed +anything so much in her life as the bow she gave me.'"</p> +<p>Kitty groaned, and subsided again, a little crumpled form among +her cushions.</p> +<p>"Tell me the names."</p> +<p>Ashe gave her the list of the ministry. She made one or two +shrewd or bitter comments upon it. He fully understood that in her +inmost mind she was registering a vow of vengeance against the +Parhams; but she made no spoken threat. Meanwhile, in the +background of each mind there lay that darker and more humiliating +fact, to which both shrank from returning, while yet both knew that +it must be faced.</p> +<p>There was a knock at the door, and Blanche appeared with the +tray which had been ordered down-stairs. She glanced in +astonishment at her mistress.</p> +<p>"We had an accident on the river last night, Blanche," said +Kitty. "Come back in half an hour. I'm too tired to change just +yet."</p> +<p>She kept her face hidden from the maid, but when Blanche had +departed, Ashe saw that her cheeks were flaming.</p> +<p>"I hate lying!" she said, with a kind of physical +disgust—"and now I suppose it will be my chief occupation for +weeks."</p> +<p>It was true that she hated lying, and Ashe was well aware of it. +Of such a battle-stroke, indeed, as she had played at the ball, +when her prompt falsehood snatched Cliffe from Mary Lyster, she was +always capable. But in general her pride, her very egotism and +quick temper kept her true.</p> +<p>Perhaps the fact represented one of those deep sources whence +the well of Ashe's tenderness was fed. At any rate, consciously or +not, it was at this moment one of his chief motives for not finding +the past intolerable or the future without hope. He took some wine +and a sandwich from the tray, and began to feed her. In the middle, +she pushed his hands away, and her eyes brimmed again with +tears.</p> +<p>"Put it down," she commanded. And when he had done so, she +raised his hands deliberately, one after the other, and kissed +them, crying:</p> +<p>"William!—I have been a horrible wife to you!"</p> +<p>"Don't be a goose, Kitty. You know very well that—till +this last business—And don't imagine that I feel myself a +model, either!"</p> +<p>"No," she said, with a long sigh. "Of course, you ought to have +beaten me."</p> +<p>He smiled, with an unsteady lip.</p> +<p>"Perhaps I might still try it."</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>"Too late. I am not a child any more."</p> +<p>Then throwing her soft arms round his neck, she clung to him, +saying the most adorable and poignant things, dissolved, indeed, in +a murmuring anguish of remorse; until, with the same unexpectedness +as before, she again disengaged herself—urging, insisting +that he should send her away.</p> +<p>"Let me go and live at Haggart, baby and I." (Haggart was one of +the Tranmore "places," recently handed over to the young people.) +"You can come and see me sometimes. I'll garden—and write +books. Half the smart women I know write stories—or plays. +Why shouldn't I?"</p> +<p>"Why, indeed? Meanwhile, madam, I take you to +Scotland—next week."</p> +<p>"Scotland?" She pressed her hands over her eyes. +"'Anywhere—anywhere—out of the world!'"</p> +<p>"Kitty!" Startled by the abandonment of her words, Ashe caught +her hands and held them. "Kitty!—- you regret—"</p> +<p>"That man? Do I?" She opened her eyes, frowning. "I loathe him! +When I think of yesterday, I could drown myself. If I could pile +the whole world between him and me—I would. But"—she +shivered—"but yet—if he were sitting there—"</p> +<p>"You would be once more under the spell?" said Ashe, +bitterly.</p> +<p>"Spell!" she repeated, with scorn. Then snatching her hands from +his, she threw back the hair from her temples with a wild gesture. +"I warned you," she said—"I warned you."</p> +<p>"A man doesn't pay much attention to those warnings, Kitty."</p> +<p>"Then it is not my fault. I don't know what's wrong with me," +she said, sombrely; "but I remember saying to you that sometimes my +brain was on fire. I seem to be always in a hurry—in a +desperate, desperate hurry!—to know or to feel +something—while there is still time—before one dies. +There is always a passion—always an effort. More +life—<i>more life</i>!—even if it lead to +pain—and agony—and tears."</p> +<p>She raised her strange, beautiful eyes, which had at the moment +almost a look of delirium, and fixed them on his face. But Ashe's +impression was that she did not see him.</p> +<p>He was conscious of the same pang, the same sudden terror that +he had felt on that never-to-be-forgotten evening when she had +talked to him of the mask in the "Tempest." He thought of the +Blackwater stories he had heard from Lord Grosville. "<i>Mad, my +dear fellow, mad!</i>"—the old man's frequent comment ran +through his memory. Was there, indeed, some unsound spot in +Kitty?</p> +<p>He sat dumb and paralyzed for a moment; then, recovering +himself, he said, as he recaptured the cold little hands:</p> +<p>"'More <i>light</i>,' Kitty, was what Goethe said, in dying. A +better prayer, don't you think?"</p> +<p>There was a strong, even a stern insistence in his manner which +quieted Kitty. Her face as it came back to full consciousness was +exquisitely sweet and mournful.</p> +<p>"That's the prayer of the <i>calm</i>," she said, in a whisper, +"and my nature is hunger and storm. And Geoffrey Cliffe is the +same. That's why I couldn't help being—"</p> +<p>She sprang up.</p> +<p>"William, don't let's talk nonsense. I can't ever see that man +again. How's it to be done?"</p> +<p>She moved up and down—all practical energy and +impatience—her mood wholly altered. His own adapted itself to +hers.</p> +<p>"For the present, fear nothing," he said, dryly. "For his own +sake Cliffe will hold his tongue and leave London. And as to the +future—I can get some message conveyed to him—by a man +he won't disregard. Leave it to me."</p> +<p>"You can't write to him, William!" cried Kitty, +passionately.</p> +<p>"Leave it to me," he repeated. "Then suppose you take the +boy—and Margaret French—to Haggart till I can join +you?"</p> +<p>"And your mother?" she said, timidly, coming to stand beside him +and laying a hand on each shoulder.</p> +<p>"Leave that also to me."</p> +<p>"How she'll hate the sight of me," she said, under her breath. +Then, with another tone of voice—"How long, William, do you +give the government?"</p> +<p>"Six months, perhaps—perhaps less. I don't see how they +can last beyond February."</p> +<p>"And then—we'll <i>fight</i>!" said Kitty, with a long +breath, smoothing back the hair from his brow.</p> +<p>"Allow me, please, to command the forces! Well, now then, I must +be off!" He tried to rise, but she still held him.</p> +<p>"Did you have any breakfast, William?"</p> +<p>"I don't remember."</p> +<p>"Sit still and eat one of my sandwiches." She divided one into +strips, and standing over him began to feed him. A knock at the +door arrested her.</p> +<p>"Don't move!" she said, peremptorily, before she ran to open the +door.</p> +<p>"Please, my lady," said Blanche, "Lady Tranmore would like to +see you."</p> +<p>Kitty started and flushed. She looked round uncertainly at +Ashe.</p> +<p>"Ask her ladyship to come up," said Ashe, quietly.</p> +<p>The maid departed.</p> +<p>"Feed me if you want to, Kitty," said Ashe, still seated.</p> +<p>Kitty returned, her breath hurried, her step wavering. She +looked doubtfully at Ashe—then her eyes sparkled—as she +understood. She dropped on her knees beside him, kissing the sleeve +of his coat, against which her cheek was pressed—in a passion +of repentance.</p> +<p>He bent towards her, touching her hair, murmuring over her. His +mind meanwhile was torn with feelings which, so to speak, observed +each other. This thing which had happened was horribly +serious—important. It might easily have wrecked two lives. +Had he dealt with it as he ought—made Kitty feel the gravity +of it?</p> +<p>Then the optimist in him asked impatiently what was "the good of +exaggerating the damned business"? That fellow has got his +lesson—could be driven headlong out of his life and Kitty's +henceforward. And how could <i>he</i> doubt the love shown in this +clinging penitence, these soft kisses? How would the Turk theory of +marriage, please, have done any better? Kitty had had her own wild +way. No fiat from without had bound her; but love had brought her +to his feet. There was something in him which triumphed alike in +her revolt and her submission.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Meanwhile, in the cool drawing-room to which the green +<i>persiennes</i> gave a pleasant foreign look, Lady Tranmore had +been waiting for the maid's return. She shrank from every sound in +the house; from her own reflection in Kitty's French mirrors; from +her own thoughts most of all.</p> +<p>Lady Edith Manley—at Holland House—had been the most +innocent of gossips. A little lady who did no wrong +herself—and thought no wrong of others; as white-minded and +unsuspicious as a convent child. "Poor Lady Kitty! Something seemed +to have gone wrong with the Alcots' coach, and they were somehow +divided from all their party. I can't remember exactly what it was +they said, but Mr. Cliffe was confident they would catch their +train. Though my boy—you remember my boy? they've just put +him in the eight!—thought they were running it <i>rather</i> +fine."</p> +<p>Then, five minutes later, in the supper-room, Lady Tranmore had +run across Madeleine Alcot's husband, who had given her in passing +the whole story of the frustrated expedition—Mrs. Alcot's +chill, and the despatch of Cliffe to Hill Street. "Horrid bore to +have to put it off! Hope he got there in time to stop Lady Kitty +getting ready. Oh, thanks, Madeleine's all right."</p> +<p>And then no more, as the rush of the crowd swept them apart.</p> +<p>After that, sleep had wholly deserted Lady Tranmore—if, +indeed, after the publication of the cabinet list in the afternoon, +and William's letter following upon it, any had been still +possible. And in the early morning she had sent her note to +Kitty—a <i>ballon d'essai</i>, despatched in a horror of +great fear.</p> +<p>"Her ladyship has not yet returned." The message from Hill +Street, delivered by the footman's indifferent mouth, struck Lady +Tranmore with trembling.</p> +<p>"Where is William?" she said to herself, in anguish. "I must +find him—but—what shall I say to him?" Then she went +up-stairs, and, without calling for her maid, put on her walking +things with shaking hands.</p> +<p>She slipped out unobserved by her household, and took a hansom +from the corner of Grosvenor Street. In the hansom she carefully +drew down her veil, with the shrinking of one on whom +disgrace—the long pursuing, long expected—has seized at +last. All the various facts, statements, indications as to Kitty's +behavior, which through the most diverse channels had been flowing +steadily towards her for weeks past, were now surging through her +mind and memory—a grievous, damning host. And every now and +then, as she caught the placards in the streets, her heart +contracted anew. Her son, her William, in what should have been the +heyday of his gifts and powers, baffled, tripped up, +defeated!—by his own wife, the selfish, ungrateful, reckless +child on whom he had lavished the undeserved treasures of the most +generous and untiring love. And had she not only checked or ruined +his career—was he to be also dishonored, struck to the +heart?</p> +<p>She could scarcely stand as she rang the bell at Hill Street, +and it was only with a great effort that she could ask her +question:</p> +<p>"Is Mr. Ashe at home?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Ashe, my lady, is, I believe, just going out," said Wilson. +"Her ladyship arrived just about an hour ago, and that detained +him."</p> +<p>Elizabeth betrayed nothing. The training of her class held +good.</p> +<p>"Are they in the library?" she asked—"or up-stairs?"</p> +<p>Wilson replied that he believed her ladyship was in her room, +and Mr. Ashe with her.</p> +<p>"Please ask Mr. Ashe if I can see him for a few minutes."</p> +<p>Wilson disappeared, and Lady Tranmore stood motionless, looking +round at William's books and tables. She loved everything that his +hand had touched, every sign of his character—the prize books +of his college days, the pictures on the wall, many of which had +descended from his Eton study, the photographs of his favorite +hunter, the drawing she herself had made for him of his first +pony.</p> +<p>On his writing-table lay a despatch-box from the Foreign Office. +Lady Tranmore turned away from it. It reminded her intolerably of +the shock and defeat of the day before. During the past six months +she had become more rejoicingly conscious than ever before of his +secret, deepening ambition, and her own heart burned with the smart +of his disappointment. No one else, however, should guess at it +through her. No sooner had she received his letter from the club +than, after many weeks of withdrawal from society, she had forced +herself to go to the Holland House party, that no one might say she +hid herself, that no one might for an instant suppose that any +hostile act of such a man as Lord Parham, or any malice of that +low-minded woman, could humiliate her son or herself.</p> +<p>Suddenly she saw Kitty's gloves—Kitty's torn and soiled +gloves—lying on the floor. She clasped her trembling hands, +trying to steady herself. Husband and wife were together. What +tragedy was passing between them?</p> +<p>Of course there <i>might</i> have been an accident; her thoughts +might be all mistake and illusion. But Lady Tranmore hardly allowed +herself to encourage the alternative of hope. It was like Kitty's +audacity to have come back. +Incredible!—unfathomable!—like all she did.</p> +<p>"Her ladyship says, my lady, would you please go up to her +room?"</p> +<p>The message was given in Blanche's timid voice. Lady Tranmore +started, looked at the girl, longed to question her, and had not +the courage. She followed mechanically, and in silence. Could she, +must she face it? Yes—for her son's sake. She prayed inwardly +that she might meet the ordeal before her with Christian strength +and courage.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The door opened. She saw two figures in the pretty, +bright-colored room, William sat astride upon a chair in front of +Kitty, who, like some small mother-bird, hovered above him, holding +what seemed to be a tiny strip of bread-and-butter, which she was +dropping with dainty deliberation into his mouth. Her face, in +spite of the red and swollen eyes, was alive with fun, and Ashe's +laugh reflected hers. The domesticity, the intimate affection of +the scene—before these things Elizabeth Tranmore stood +gasping.</p> +<p>"Dearest mother!" cried Ashe, starting up.</p> +<p>Kitty turned. At sight of Lady Tranmore she hung back; her +smiles departed; her lip quivered.</p> +<p>"William!"—she pursued him and touched him on the +shoulder. "I—I can't—I'm afraid. If mother ever means +to speak to me again—come and tell me."</p> +<p>And, hiding her face, Kitty escaped like a whirlwind. The +dressing-room door closed behind her, and mother and son were left +alone.</p> +<p>"Mother!" said Ashe, coming up to her gayly, both hands +out-stretched. "Ask me nothing, dear. Kitty has been a silly +child—but things will go better now. And as for the +Parhams—what does it matter?—come and help me send them +to the deuce!"</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore recoiled. For once the good-humor of that handsome +face—pale as the face was—seemed to her an +offence—nay, a disgrace. That what had happened had been no +mere <i>contretemps</i>, no mere accident of trains and coaches, +was plain enough from Kitty's eyes—from all that William did +<i>not</i> say, no less than from what he said. And still this +levity!—this inconceivable levity! Was it true, as she knew +was said, that William had no high sense of honor, that he failed +in delicacy and dignity?</p> +<p>In reality, it was the same cry as the Dean's—upon another +and smaller occasion. But in this case it was unspoken. Lady +Tranmore dropped into a chair, one hand abandoned to her son, the +other hiding her face. He talked fast and tenderly, asking her +help—neither of them quite knew for what—her advice as +to the move to Haggart—and so forth. Lady Tranmore said +little. But it was a bitter silence; and if Ashe himself failed in +indignation, his mother's protesting heart supplied it amply.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>PART III</h2> +<h3>DEVELOPMENT</h3> +<p class="figcenter">"Es bildet ein Talent sich in der +Stille,<br /> +Sich ein Character in dem Strom, der Welt."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> +<p>"What does Lady Kitty do with herself here?" said Darrell, +looking round him. He had just arrived from town on a visit to the +Ashes, to find the Haggart house and garden completely deserted, +save for Mrs. Alcot, who was lounging in solitude, with a cigarette +and a novel, on the wide lawn which surrounded the house on three +sides.</p> +<p>As he spoke he lifted a chair and placed it beside her, under +one of the cedars which made deep shade upon the grass.</p> +<p>"She plays at Lady Bountiful," said Mrs. Alcot. "She doesn't do +it well, but—"</p> +<p>"—The wonder is, in Johnsonian phrase, that she should do +it at all. Anything else?"</p> +<p>"I understand—she is writing a book—a novel."</p> +<p>Darrell threw back his head and laughed long and silently.</p> +<p>"Il ne manquait que cela," he said—"that Lady Kitty should +take to literature!"</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot looked at him rather sharply.</p> +<p>"Why not? We frivolous people are a good deal cleverer than you +think."</p> +<p>The languid arrogance of the lady's manner was not at all +unbecoming. Darrell made an inclination.</p> +<p>"No need to remind me, madam!" A recent exhibition at an +artistic club of Mrs. Alcot's sketches had made a considerable +mark. "Very soon you will leave us poor professionals no room to +live."</p> +<p>The slight disrespect of his smile annoyed his companion, but +the day was hot and she had no repartee ready. She only murmured as +she threw away her cigarette:</p> +<p>"Kitty is much disappointed in the village."</p> +<p>"They are greater brutes than she thought?"</p> +<p>"Quite the contrary. There are no poachers—and no murders. +The girls prefer to be married, and the Tranmores give so much away +that no one has the smallest excuse for starvation. Kitty gets +nothing out of them whatever."</p> +<p>"In the way of literary material?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot nodded.</p> +<p>"Last week she was so discouraged that she was inclined to give +up fiction and take to journalism."</p> +<p>"Heavens! Political?"</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>la haute politique</i>, of course."</p> +<p>"H'm. The wives of cabinet ministers have often inspired +articles. I don't remember an instance of their writing them."</p> +<p>"Well, Kitty is inclined to try."</p> +<p>"With Ashe's sanction?"</p> +<p>"Goodness, no! But Kitty, as you are aware"—Mrs. Alcot +threw a prudent glance to right and left—"goes her own way. +She believes she can be of great service to her husband's +policy."</p> +<p>Darrell's lip twitched.</p> +<p>"If you were in Ashe's position, would you rather your wife +neglected or supported your political interests?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"Kitty made a considerable mess of them last year."</p> +<p>"No doubt. She forgot they existed. But I think if I were Ashe, +I should be more afraid of her remembering. By-the-way—the +glass here seems to be at 'Set Fair'?"</p> +<p>His interrogative smile was not wholly good-natured. But mere +benevolence was not what the world asked of Philip +Darrell—even in the case of his old friends.</p> +<p>"Astonishing!" said Mrs. Alcot, with lifted brows. "Kitty is +immensely proud of him—and immensely ambitious. That, of +course, accounts for Lord Parham's visit."</p> +<p>"Lord Parham!" cried Darrell, bounding on his seat. "Lord +Parham!—coming here?"</p> +<p>"He arrives to-morrow. On his way from Scotland—to +Windsor."</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot enjoyed the effect of her communication on her +companion. He sat open-mouthed, evidently startled out of all +self-command.</p> +<p>"Why, I thought that Lady Kitty—"</p> +<p>"Had vowed vengeance? So, in a sense, she has. It is understood +that she and Lady Parham don't meet, except—"</p> +<p>"On formal occasions, and to take in the groundlings," said +Darrell, too impatient to let her finish her sentence. "Yes, that I +gathered. But you mean that <i>Lord</i> Parham is to be allowed to +make his peace?"</p> +<p>Madeleine Alcot lay back and laughed.</p> +<p>"Kitty wishes to try her hand at managing him."</p> +<p>Darrell joined her in mirth. The notion of the white-haired, +bullet-headed, shrewd, and masterful man who at that moment held +the Premiership of England managed by Kitty, or any other daughter +of Eve—always excepting his wife—must needs strike +those who had the slightest acquaintance with Lord Parham as a +delicious absurdity.</p> +<p>Suddenly Darrell checked himself, and bent forward.</p> +<p>"Where—if I may ask—is the poet?"</p> +<p>"Geoffrey? Somewhere in the Balkans, isn't he?—making a +revolution."</p> +<p>Darrell nodded.</p> +<p>"I remember. They say he is with the revolutionary committee at +Marinitza. Meanwhile there is a new volume of poems +out—to-day," said Darrell, glancing at a newspaper thrown +down beside him.</p> +<p>"I have seen it. The 'portrait' at the end—"</p> +<p>"Is Lady Kitty." They spoke under their breaths.</p> +<p>"Unmistakable, I think," said Kitty's best friend. "As poetry, +it seems to me the best thing in the book, but the audacity of it!" +She raised her eyebrows in a half-unwilling, half-contemptuous +admiration.</p> +<p>"Has she seen it?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot replied that she had not noticed any copy in the +house, and that Kitty had not spoken of it, which, given the +Kitty-nature, she probably would have done, had it reached her.</p> +<p>Then they both fell into reverie, from which Darrell emerged +with the remark:</p> +<p>"I gather that last year some very important person +interfered?"</p> +<p>This opened another line of gossip, in which, however, Mrs. +Alcot showed herself equally well informed. It was commonly +reported, at any rate, that the old Duke of Morecambe, the head of +Lady Eleanor Cliffe's family, the great Tory evangelical of the +north, who was a sort of patriarch in English political and +aristocratic life, had been induced by some undefined pressure to +speak very plainly to his kinsman on the subject of Lady Kitty +Ashe. Cliffe had expectations from the duke which were not to be +trifled with. He had, accordingly, swallowed the lecture, and, +after the loss of his election, had again left England with an +important newspaper commission to watch events in the Balkans.</p> +<p>"May he stay there!" said Darrell. "Of course, the whole thing +was absurdly exaggerated."</p> +<p>"Was it?" said Mrs. Alcot, coolly. "Kitty richly deserved most +of what was said." Then—on his start—"Don't +misunderstand me, of course. If twenty actions for divorce were +given against Kitty, I should believe +nothing—<i>nothing</i>!" The words were as emphatic as voice +and gesture could make them. "But as for the tales that people who +hate her tell of her, and will go on telling of her—"</p> +<p>"They are merely the harvest of what she has sown?"</p> +<p>"Naturally. Poor Kitty!"</p> +<p>Madeleine Alcot rested her thin cheek on a still frailer hand +and looked pensively out into the darkness of the cedars. Her tone +was neither patronizing nor unkind; rather, the shade of ironic +tenderness which it expressed suited the subject, and that curious +intimacy which had of late sprung up between herself and Darrell. +She had begun, as we have seen, by treating him <i>de haut en +bas</i>. He had repaid her with manner of the same type; in this +respect he was a match for any Archangel. Then some +accident—perhaps the publication by the man of a volume of +essays which expressed to perfection his acid and embittered +talent—perhaps a casual meeting at a northern country-house, +where the lady had found the man of letters her only resource amid +a crowd of uncongenial nonentities—had shown them their +natural compatibility. Both were in a secret revolt against +circumstance and their own lives; but whereas the reasons for the +man's attitude—his jealousies, defeats, and +ambitions—were fairly well understood by the woman, he was +almost as much in the dark about her as when their friendship +began.</p> +<p>He knew her husband slightly—an eager, gifted fellow, of +late years a strong High Churchman, and well known in a certain +group as the friend of Mrs. Armagh, that muse—fragile, +austere, and beautiful—of several great men, and great +Christians, among the older generation. Mrs. Alcot had her own +intimates, generally men; but she tired of them and changed them +often. Mr. Alcot spent part of every year within reach of the +Cornish home of Mrs. Armagh; and during that time his wife made her +round of visits.</p> +<p>Meanwhile her thin lips were sealed as to her own affairs. +Certainly she made the impression of an unhappy woman, and Darrell +was convinced of some tragic complication. But neither he nor any +one of whom he had yet inquired had any idea what it might be.</p> +<p>"By-the-way—where is Lady Kitty?—and are there many +people here?"</p> +<p>Darrell turned, as he spoke, to scrutinize the house and its +approaches. Haggart Hall was a large and commonplace mansion, +standing in the midst of spreading "grounds" and dull plantations, +beyond which could be sometimes seen the tall chimneys of +neighboring coal-mines. It wore an air of middle-class Tory comfort +which brought a smile to Darrell's countenance as he surveyed +it.</p> +<p>"Kitty is at the Agricultural Show—with a party."</p> +<p>"Playing the great lady? <i>What</i> a house!"</p> +<p>"Yes. Kitty abhors it. But it will do very well for the party +to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Half the county—that kind of thing?"</p> +<p>"<i>All</i> the county—some royalties—and Lord +Parham." *</p> +<p>"Lord Parham being the end and aim? I thought I heard +wheels."</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot rose, and they strolled back towards the house.</p> +<p>"And the party?" resumed Darrell.</p> +<p>"Not particularly thrilling. Lord Grosville—"</p> +<p>"Also, I presume, <i>en garçon</i>."</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot smiled.</p> +<p>"—the Manleys, Lady Tranmore, Miss French, the Dean of +Milford and his wife, Eddie Helston—"</p> +<p>"That, I understand, is Lady Kitty's undergraduate adorer?"</p> +<p>"It's no use talking to you—you know all the gossip. And +some county big-wigs, whose names I can't remember—come to +dinner to-night." Mrs. Alcot stifled a yawn.</p> +<p>"I am very curious to see how Ashe takes his triumph," said +Darrell, as they paused half-way.</p> +<p>"He is just the same. No!" said Madeleine Alcot, correcting +herself—"no—not quite. He <i>meant</i> to triumph, and +he <i>knows</i> that he has done so."</p> +<p>"My dear lady!" cried Darrell—"a quite <i>enormous</i> +difference! Ashe never took stock of himself or his prospects in +his life before."</p> +<p>"Well, now—you will find he takes stock of a good many +things."</p> +<p>"Including Lady Kitty?"</p> +<p>His companion smiled.</p> +<p>"He won't let her interfere again."</p> +<p>"<i>L'homme propose</i>," said Darrell. "You mean he has grown +ambitious?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot seemed to find it difficult to cope with these high +things. Fanning herself, she languidly supposed that the English +political passion, so strong and unspent still in the aristocratic +families, had laid serious hold at last on William Ashe. He had +great schemes of reform, and, do what he might to conceal it, his +heart was in them. His wife, therefore, was no longer his +occupation, but—</p> +<p>Mrs. Alcot hesitated for a word.</p> +<p>"Scarcely his repose?" laughed Darrell.</p> +<p>"I really won't discuss Kitty any more," said Mrs. Alcot, +impatiently. "Here they are! Hullo! What has Kitty got hold of +now?"</p> +<p>Three carriages were driving up the long approach, one behind +the other. In the first sat Kitty, a figure beside her in the dress +of a nurse, and opposite to them both an indistinguishable bundle, +which presently revealed a head. The carriage drew up at the steps. +Kitty jumped down, and she and the nurse lifted the bundle out. +Footmen appeared; some guests from the next carriage went to help; +there was a general movement and agitation, in the midst of which +Kitty and her companions disappeared into the house.</p> +<p>Lady Edith Manley and Lord Grosville began to cross the +lawn.</p> +<p>"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Alcot, as they converged.</p> +<p>"Kitty ran over a boy," said Lord Grosville, in evident +annoyance. "The rascal hadn't a scratch, but Kitty must needs pick +him up and drive him home with a nurse. 'I ain't hurt, mum,' says +the boy. 'Oh! but you must be,' said Kitty. I offered to take him +to his mother and give him half a crown. 'It's my duty to look +after him,' says Kitty. And she lifted him up herself—dirty +little vagabond!—and put him in the carriage. There were some +laborers and grooms standing near, and one of them sang out, 'Three +cheers for Lady Kitty Ashe!' Such a ridiculous scene as you never +saw!"</p> +<p>The old man shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty is always so kind," said the amicable Lady Edith. +"But her pretty dress—I <i>was</i> sorry!"</p> +<p>"Oh no—only an excuse for a new one," said Mrs. Alcot.</p> +<p>The Dean and Lady Tranmore approached—behind them again +Ashe and Mrs. Winston.</p> +<p>"Well, old fellow!" said Ashe, clapping a hand on Darrell's +shoulder. "Uncommonly glad to see you. You look as though that +damned London had been squeezing the life out of you. Come for a +stroll before dinner?"</p> +<p>The two men accordingly left the talkers on the lawn, and struck +into the park. Ashe, in a straw hat and light suit, made his usual +impression of strength and good-humor. He was gay, friendly, +amusing as ever. But Darrell was not long in discovering or +imagining signs of change. Any one else would have thought Ashe's +talk frankness—nay, indiscretion—itself. Darrell at +once divined or imagined in it shades of official reserve, tracts +of reticence, such as an old friend had a right to resent.</p> +<p>"One can see what a personage he feels himself!"</p> +<p>Yet Darrell would have been the first to own that Ashe had some +right to feel himself a personage. The sudden revelation of his +full intellectual power, and of his influence in the country, for +which the general election of the preceding winter had provided the +opportunity, was still an exciting memory among journalists and +politicians. He had gone into the election a man slightly +discredited, on whose future nobody took much trouble to speculate. +He had emerged from it—after a series of speeches laying down +the principles and vindicating the action of his party—one of +the most important men in England, with whom Lord Parham himself +must henceforth treat on quasi-equal terms. Ashe was now Home +Secretary, and, if Lord Parham's gout should take an evil turn, +there was no saying to what height fortune might not soon conduct +him.</p> +<p>The will—the iron purpose—with which it had all been +done—that was the amazing part of it. The complete +independence, moreover. Darrell imagined that Lord Parham must +often have regretted the small intrigue by which Ashe's promotion +had been barred in the crisis of the summer. It had roused an +indolent man to action, and freed him from any particular +obligation towards the leader who had ill-treated him. Ashe's +campaign had not been in all respects convenient; but Lord Parham +had had to put up with it.</p> +<p>The summer evening broadened as the two men sauntered on through +the park, beside a small stream fringed with yellow flags. Even the +dingy Midland landscape, with its smoke-blackened woods and +lifeless grass, assumed a glory of great light; the soft, +interlacing clouds parted before the dying sun; the water received +the golden flood, and each coot and water-hen shone jet and glossy +in the blaze. A few cries of birds, the distant shouts of +harvesters, the rustling of the water-flags along the stream, these +were the only sounds—traditional sounds of English peace.</p> +<p>"Jolly, isn't it?" said Ashe, looking round him—"even this +spoiled country! Why did we go and stifle in that beastly +show!"</p> +<p>The sensuous pleasure and relaxation of his mood communicated +itself to Darrell. They talked more intimately, more freely than +they had done for months. Darrell's gnawing consciousness of his +own meaner fortunes, as contrasted with the brilliant and expanding +career of his school-friend, softened and relaxed. He almost +forgave Ashe the successes of the winter, and that subtly +heightened tone of authority and self-confidence which here and +there bore witness to them in the manner or talk of the minister. +They scarcely touched on politics, however. Both were tired, and +their talk drifted into the characteristic male +gossip—"What's —— doing now?" "Do you ever see +So-and-so?" "You remember that fellow at Univ.?"—and the +like, to the agreeable accompaniment of Ashe's best cigars.</p> +<p>So pleasant was the half-hour, so strongly had the old college +intimacy reasserted itself, that suddenly a thought struck upward +in Darrell's mind. He had not come to Haggart bent merely on idle +holiday—far from it. At the moment he was weary of literature +as a profession, and sharply conscious that the time for vague +ambitions had gone by. A post had presented itself, a post of +importance, in the gift of the Home Office. It meant, no doubt, the +abandonment of more brilliant things; Darrell was content to +abandon them. His determination to apply for it seemed, indeed, to +himself an act of modesty—almost of sacrifice. As to the +technical qualifications required, he was well aware there might be +other men better equipped than himself. But, after all, to what may +not general ability aspire—general ability properly stiffened +with interest?</p> +<p>And as to interest, when was it ever to serve him if not +now—through his old friendship with Ashe? Chivalry towards a +much-solicited mortal, also your friend—even the subtler +self-love—might have counselled silence—or at least +approaches more gradual. It had been far from his purpose, indeed, +to speak so promptly. But here were the hour and the man! And +there, in a distant country town, a woman—whereof the mere +existence was unsuspected by Darrell's country-house +acquaintance—sat waiting, in whose eyes the post in question +loomed as a condition—perhaps indispensable. Darrell's secret +eagerness could not withstand the temptation.</p> +<p>So, with a nervous beginning—"By-the-way, I wished to +consult you about a personal matter. Of course, answer or not, as +you like. Naturally, I understand the difficulties!"—the +plunge was taken, and the petitioner soon in full career.</p> +<p>After a first start—a lifted brow of +astonishment—Ashe was uncomfortably silent—till +suddenly, in a pause of Darrell's eloquence, his face changed, and +with a burst of his old, careless freedom and affection, he flung +an arm along Darrell's shoulder, with an impetuous—</p> +<p>"I say, old fellow—don't—don't be a damned +fool!"</p> +<p>An ashen white overspread the countenance of the man thus +addressed. His lips twitched. He walked on in silence. Ashe looked +at him—stammered:</p> +<p>"Why, my dear Philip, it would be the extinguishing of you!"</p> +<p>Darrell said nothing. Ashe, still holding his friend captive, +descanted hurriedly on the disadvantages of the post "for a man of +your gifts," then—more cautiously—on its special +requirements, not one of which did Darrell possess—hinted at +the men applying for it, at the scientific and professional +influences then playing upon himself, at his strong sense of +responsibility—"Too bad, isn't it, that a duffer like me +should have to decide these things"—and so on.</p> +<p>In vain. Darrell laughed, recovered himself, changed the +subject; but as they walked quickly back to the house, Ashe knew, +perchance, that he had lost a friend; and Darrell's smarting soul +had scored another reckoning against a day to come.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>As they neared the house they found a large group still +lingering on the lawn, and Kitty just emerging from a garden door. +She came out accompanied by the handsome Cambridge lad who had been +her partner at Lady Crashaw's dance. He was evidently absorbed in +her society, and they approached in high spirits, laughing and +teasing each other.</p> +<p>"Well, Kitty, how's the bruised one?" said Ashe, as he sank into +a chair beside Mrs. Alcot.</p> +<p>"Doing finely," said Kitty. "I shall send him home +to-night."</p> +<p>"Meanwhile, have you put him up in my dressing-room? I only ask +for information."</p> +<p>"There wasn't another corner," said Kitty.</p> +<p>"There!" Ashe appealed to gods and men. "How do you expect me to +dress for dinner?"</p> +<p>"Oh, now, William, don't be tiresome!" said Kitty, impatiently. +"He was bruised black and blue"—("Serve him right for getting +in the way," grumbled Lord Grosville)—"and nurse and I have +done him up in arnica."</p> +<p>She came to stand by Ashe, talking in an undertone and as fast +as possible. The little Dean, who never could help watching her, +thought her more beautiful—and wilder—than ever. Her +eyes—it was hardly enough to say they shone—they +glittered—in her delicate face; her gestures were more +extravagant than he remembered them; her movements restlessness +itself.</p> +<p>Ashe listened with patience—then said:</p> +<p>"I can't help it, Kitty—you really must have him +removed."</p> +<p>"Impossible!" she said, her cheek flaming.</p> +<p>"I'll go and talk to Wilson; he'll manage it," said Ashe, +getting up.</p> +<p>Kitty pursued him, arguing incessantly.</p> +<p>He lounged along, turning every now and then to look at her, +smiling and demurring, his hat on the back of his head.</p> +<p>"You see the difference," said Mrs. Alcot, in Darrell's ear. +"Last year Kitty would have got her way. This year she won't."</p> +<p>Darrell shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"These domesticities should be kept out of sight, don't you +think?"</p> +<p>Madeleine Alcot looked at him curiously.</p> +<p>"Did you have a pleasant walk?" she said.</p> +<p>Darrell made a little face.</p> +<p>"The great man was condescending."</p> +<p>Madeleine Alcot's face was still interrogative.</p> +<p>"A touch of the <i>folie des grandeurs?</i>"</p> +<p>"Well, who escapes it?" said Darrell, bitterly.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Most of the party had dispersed. Only Lady Tranmore and Margaret +French were on the lawn. Margaret was writing some household notes +for Kitty; Lady Tranmore sat in meditation, with a book before her +which she was not reading. Miss French glanced at her from time to +time. Ashe's mother was beginning to show the weight of years far +more plainly than she had yet done. In these last three years the +face had perceptibly altered; so had the hair. The long strain of +nursing, and that pathetic change which makes of the husband who +has been a woman's pride and shelter her half-conscious dependent, +had, no doubt, left deep marks upon a beauty which had so long +resisted time. And yet Margaret French believed it was rather with +her son than with her husband that the constant and wearing anxiety +of Lady Tranmore's life should be connected. All the ambition, the +pride of race and history which had been disappointed in her +husband had poured themselves into her devotion to her son. She +lived now for his happiness and success. And both were constantly +threatened by the personality and the presence of Kitty.</p> +<p>Such, at least, as Margaret French well knew, was the inmost +persuasion—fast becoming a fanaticism—of Ashe's mother. +William might, indeed, for the moment have triumphed over the +consequences of Kitty's bygone behavior. But the reckless, untamed +character was there still at his side, preparing Heaven knew what +pitfalls and catastrophes. Lady Tranmore lived in fear. And under +the outward sweetness and dignity of her manner was there not +developing something worse than fear—that hatred which is one +of the strange births of love?</p> +<p>If so, was it just? There were many moments when Margaret would +have indignantly denied it.</p> +<p>It was true, indeed, that Kitty's eccentricity seemed to develop +with every month that passed. The preceding winter had been marked, +first by a mad folly of table-turning—involving the pursuit +of a particular medium whose proceedings had ultimately landed him +in the dock; then by a headlong passion for hunting, accompanied by +a series of new flirtations, each more unseemly than its +predecessor, as it seemed to Lady Tranmore. Afterwards—during +the general election—a political phase! Kitty had most +unfortunately discovered that she could speak in public, and had +fallen in love with the sound of her own voice. In Ashe's own +contest, her sallies and indiscretions had already begun to do +mischief when Lady Tranmore had succeeded in enticing her to London +by the bait of a French <i>clairvoyante</i>, with whom Kitty +nightly tempted the gods who keep watch over the secrets of +fate—till William's poll had been declared.</p> +<p>All this was deplorably true. And yet no one could say that +Kitty in this checkered year had done her husband much harm. Ashe +was no longer her blind slave; and his career had carried him to +heights with which even his mother might have been satisfied. +Sometimes Margaret was inclined to think that Kitty had now less +influence with him and his mother more than was the just due of +each. She—the younger woman—felt the tragedy of Ashe's +new and growing emancipation. Secretly—often—she sided +with Kitty!</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Margaret!"</p> +<p>The voice was Kitty's. She came running out, her pale-pink +skirts flying round her. "Have you seen the babe?"</p> +<p>Margaret replied that he and his nurse were just in sight.</p> +<p>Kitty fled over the lawn to meet the child's perambulator. She +lifted him out, and carried him in her arms towards Margaret and +Lady Tranmore.</p> +<p>"Isn't it piteous?" said Margaret, under her breath, as the +mother and child approached. Lady Tranmore gave her a sad, +assenting look.</p> +<p>For during the last six months the child had shown signs of +brain mischief—a curious apathy, broken now and then by fits +of temper. The doctors were not encouraging. And Kitty varied +between the most passionate attempts to rouse the child's failing +intelligence and days—even weeks—when she could hardly +bring herself to see him at all.</p> +<p>She brought him now to a seat beside Lady Tranmore. She had been +trying to make him take notice of a new toy. But the child looked +at her with blank and glassy eyes, and the toy fell from his +hand.</p> +<p>"He hardly knows me," said Kitty, in a low voice of misery, as +she clasped her hands round the baby of three, and looked into his +face, as though she would drag from it some sign of mind and +recognition.</p> +<p>But the blue eyes betrayed no glimmer of response, till +suddenly, with a gesture as of infinite fatigue, the child threw +itself back against her, laying its fair head upon her breast with +a long sigh.</p> +<p>Kitty gave a sob, and bent over him, kissing—and kissing +him.</p> +<p>"Dear Kitty!" said Lady Tranmore, much moved. "I +think—partly—he is tired with the heat."</p> +<p>Kitty shook her head.</p> +<p>"Take him!" she said to the nurse—"take him! I can't bear +it."</p> +<p>The nurse took him from her, and Kitty dried her tears with a +kind of fierceness.</p> +<p>"There is the post!" she said, springing up, as though +determined to throw off her grief as quickly as possible, while the +nurse carried the child away.</p> +<p>The footman brought the letters across the lawn. There were some +for Lady Tranmore and for Margaret French. In the general opening +and reading that ensued, neither lady noticed Kitty for a while. +Suddenly Margaret French looked up. She saw Kitty sitting +motionless with a book on her lap, a book of which the wrapper lay +on the grass beside her. Her finger kept a page; her eyes, full of +excitement, were fixed on the distant horizon of the park; the +hurried breathing was plainly noticeable under the thin bodice.</p> +<p>"Kitty—time to dress!" said Margaret, touching her.</p> +<p>Kitty rose, without a word to either of them, and walked quickly +away, her hands, still holding the book, dropped in front of her, +her eyes on the ground.</p> +<p>"Oh, Kitty!" cried Margaret, in laughing protest, as she stooped +to pick up the litter of Kitty's letters, some of them still +unopened, which lay scattered on the grass, as they had fallen +unheeded from her lap.</p> +<p>But the little figure in the trailing skirts was already out of +hearing.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At dinner Kitty was in her wildest spirits—a sparkling +vision of diamonds and lace, much beyond—so it seemed to Lord +Grosville—what the occasion required. "Dressed out like a +comedy queen at a fair!" was his inward comment, and he already +rolled the phrases in which he should describe the whole party to +his wife. Like the expected Lord Parham, he was there in sign of +semi-reconciliation. Nothing would have induced Kitty to invite her +aunt; the memory of a certain Sunday was too strong. On her side, +Lady Grosville averred that nothing would have induced her to sit +at Kitty's board. As to this, her husband cherished a certain +scepticism. However, her resolution was not tried. It was Ashe, in +fact, who had invited Lord Grosville, and Lord Grosville, who was +master in his own house, and had no mind to break with William Ashe +just as that gentleman's company became even better worth having +than usual, had accepted the invitation.</p> +<p>But his patience was sorely tried by Kitty. After dinner she +insisted on table-turning, and Lord Grosville was dragged +breathless through the drawing-room window, in pursuit of a table +that broke a chair and finally danced upon a flower-bed. His +theology was harassed by these proceedings and his digestion upset. +The Dean took it with smiles; but then the Dean was a +Latitudinarian.</p> +<p>Afterwards Kitty and the Cambridge boy—Eddie +Helston—performed a duologue in French for the amusement of +the company. Whatever could be understood in it had better not have +been understood—such at least was Lord Grosville's +impression. He wondered how Ashe—who laughed +immoderately—could allow his wife to do such things; and his +only consolation was that, for once, the Dean—whose fancy for +Kitty was ridiculous!—seemed to be disturbed. He had at any +rate walked away to the library in the middle of the piece. Kitty +was, of course, making a fool of the boy all through. Any one could +see that he was head over ears in love with her. And she seemed to +have all sorts of mysterious understandings with him. Lord +Grosville was certain they passed each other notes, and made +assignations. And one night, on going up himself to bed very late, +he had actually come upon the pair pacing up and down the long +passage after midnight!—Kitty in such a +<i>negligée</i> as only an actress should wear, with her +hair about her ears—and the boy out of his wits and off his +balance, as any one could see. Kitty, indeed, had been quite +unabashed—trying even to draw <i>him</i> into their unseemly +talk about some theatrical nonsense or other; and such blushes as +there were had been entirely left to the boy.</p> +<p>He supposed there was no harm in it. The lad was not a Geoffrey +Cliffe, and it was no doubt Kitty's mad love of excitement which +impelled her to these defiances of convention. But Ashe should put +his foot down; there was no knowing with a creature so wild and so +lovely where these things might end. And after the scandal of last +year—</p> +<p>As to that scandal, Lord Grosville, as a man of the world, by no +means endorsed the lurid imaginations of his wife. Kitty and Cliffe +had certainly behaved badly at Grosville Park—that is to say, +judged by any ordinary standards. And the gossip of the season had +apparently gathered and culminated round some incident of a graver +character than the rest—though nobody precisely knew what it +might be. But it seemed that Ashe had at last asserted himself; and +if in Kitty's abrupt departure to the country, and the sudden +dissolution of the intimacy between herself and Cliffe, those who +loved her not had read what dark things they pleased, her uncle by +marriage was quite content to see in it a mere disciplinary act on +the part of the husband.</p> +<p>Lord Grosville believed that some rumors as to Cliffe's private +character had entered into the decisive defeat—in a +constituency largely Nonconformist—which had befallen that +gentleman at the polls. Poor Lady Tranmore! He saw her anxieties in +her face, and was truly sorry for her. At the same time, inveterate +gossip that he was, he regarded her with a kind of hunger. If she +only <i>would</i> talk things over with him! So far, however, she +had given him very little opening. If she ever did, he would +certainly advise her to press something like a temporary separation +on her son. Why should not Lady Kitty be left at Haggart when the +next session began? Lord Grosville, who had been a friend of +Melbourne's, recalled the early history of that great man. When +Lady Caroline Lamb had become too troublesome to a political +husband, she had been sent to Brocket. And then Mr. Lamb was only +Irish Secretary—without a seat in the cabinet. How was it +possible to take an important share in steering the ship of state, +and to look after a giddy wife at the same time?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Ashe and his guests lingered late below-stairs. When, somewhere +about one o'clock, he entered his dressing-room, he was suddenly +alarmed by a smell of burning. It seemed to come from Kitty's room. +He knocked hastily at her door.</p> +<p>"Kitty!"</p> +<p>No answer. He opened the door, and stood arrested.</p> +<p>The room was in complete darkness save for some weird object in +the centre of it, on which a fire was burning, sending up a smoke +which hung about the room. Ashe recognized an old Spanish brazier +of beaten copper, standing on iron feet, which had been a purchase +of his own in days when he trifled with <i>bric-à-brac</i>. +Upon it, a heap of some light material, which fluttered and +crackled as it burned, was blazing and smoking away, while beside +it—her profile set and waxen amid the drifts of smoke, her +fair hair blanched to whiteness by the strange illumination from +below, and all her slight form, checkered with the light and shade +of the fire, drawn into a curve of watchfulness, vindictive and +intent—stood Kitty.</p> +<p>"What in the name of fortune are you doing, Kitty?" cried +Ashe.</p> +<p>She made no answer, and he approached. Then he saw that in the +centre of the pile, and propped up against some small pieces of +wood, a photograph of Geoffrey Cliffe was consuming slow and +dismally. The fire had just sent a line across his cheek. The lower +limbs were already charred, and the right hand was shrivelling.</p> +<p>All around were letters, mostly consumed; while at the top of +the pile above the culprit's head, stuck in a cleft stick, and just +beginning to be licked by the flames, was what seemed to be a leaf +torn out of a book. The book from which it had apparently been +wrenched lay open on a chair near.</p> +<p>Kitty drew a long breath as Ashe came near her.</p> +<p>"Keep off!" she said—"don't touch it!"</p> +<p>"You little goose!" cried Ashe—"what are you about?"</p> +<p>"Burning a coward in effigy," said Kitty, between her teeth.</p> +<p>Ashe thrust his hands into his pockets.</p> +<p>"I wish to God you'd forget the creature, instead of flattering +him with these attentions!"</p> +<p>Kitty made no reply, but as she drew the fire together Ashe +captured her hand.</p> +<p>"What's he been doing now, Kitty?"</p> +<p>"There are his poems," said Kitty, pointing to the chair. "The +last one is about me."</p> +<p>"May I be allowed to see it?"</p> +<p>"It isn't there."</p> +<p>"Ah! I see. You've topped the pile with it. With your leave, +I'll delay its doom." He snatched the leaf from its stick, and +bending down read it by the light of the burning paper. Kitty +watched him, frowning, her hand on her hip, the white wrap she wore +over her night-dress twining round her in close folds a slender, +brooding sorceress, some Canidia or Simaetha, interrupted in her +ritual of hate.</p> +<p>But Ashe was in no mood for literary reminiscence. His lip was +contemptuous, his brow angry as he replaced the leaf in its cleft +stick, whither the flames immediately pursued it.</p> +<p>"Wretched stuff, and damned impertinence!—that's all there +is to say. For Heaven's sake, Kitty, don't let any one suppose you +mind the thing—for an instant!"</p> +<p>She looked at him with strange eyes. "But if I do mind it?"</p> +<p>His face darkened to the shade of hers. "Does that +mean—that you still think of him—still wish to see +him?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Kitty, slowly. The fire had died away. +Nothing but a few charred remnants remained in the brazier. Ashe +lit the gas, and disclosed a tragic Kitty, flushed by the audacity +of her last remark. He took her masterfully in his arms.</p> +<p>"That was bravado," he said, kissing her. "You love <i>me</i>! +And I may be a poor stick, but I'm worth a good many Cliffes. Defy +me—and I'll write you a better poem, too!"</p> +<p>The color leaped afresh in Kitty's cheek. She pushed him away, +and, holding him, perused his handsome, scornful face, and all the +manly strength of form and attitude. Her own lids wavered.</p> +<p>"What a silly scene!" she said, and fell—a little, soft, +yielding form—into his arms.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> +<p>The church clock of Haggart village had just struck half-past +six. A white, sunny mist enwrapped the park and garden. Voices and +shouts rang through the mist; little could yet be seen, but the +lawns and the park seemed to be pervaded with bustle and +preparation, and every now and then as the mist drifted groups of +workmen could be distinguished, marquees emerged, flags floated, +and carts laden with benches and trestle-tables rumbled slowly over +the roads and tracks of the park.</p> +<p>The house itself was full of gardeners, arranging banks of +magnificent flowers in the hall and drawing-rooms, and +superintended by the head gardener, a person of much greater +dignity than Ashe himself, who swore at any underling making a +noise, as though the slumbers of the "quality" in the big house +overhead and the danger of disturbing them were the dearest +interests of a burdened life.</p> +<p>As to the mistress of the house, at any rate, there was no need +for caution. The clocks of the house had barely followed the church +clock in striking the half-hour when the workmen on the ground +floor saw Lady Kitty come down-stairs and go through the +drawing-room window into the garden. There she gave her opinion on +the preparations, pushing on afterwards into the park, where she +astounded the various contractors and their workmen by her +appearance at such an hour, and by the vigor and decision of her +orders. Finally she left the park behind, just as its broad, +scorched surfaces began everywhere to shake off the mist, and +entered one of the bordering woods.</p> +<p>She had a basket on her arm, and, when she had found for herself +a mossy seat amid the roots of a great oak, she unpacked it. It +contained a mass of written pages, some fresh scribbling-paper, ink +and pens, and a small portfolio. When they were all lying on the +moss beside her, Kitty turned over the sheets with a loving hand, +reading here and there.</p> +<p>"It is good!" she said to herself. "I vow it is!"</p> +<p>Dipping her pen in the ink, she began upon corrections. The sun +filtered through the thick leafage overhead, touching her white +dress, her small shoes, and the masses of her hair. She wore a +Leghorn garden-hat, tied with pink ribbons under her chin, and in +her morning freshness and daintiness she looked about seventeen. +The hours of sleep had calmed the restlessness of the wide, brown +eyes; they were full now of gentleness and mirth.</p> +<p>"I wonder if he'll come?"</p> +<p>She looked up and listened. And as she did so, her eyes and +sense were seized with the beauty of the wood. The mystery of early +solitary hours seemed to be still upon it; both in the sunlight and +the shadow there was a magic unknown to the later day. In a +clearing before her spread a lake of willow-herb, of a pure bright +pink, hemmed in by a golden shore of ragwort. The splash of color +gave Kitty a passionate delight.</p> +<p>"Dear, dear world!" She stretched out her hands to it in a +childish greeting.</p> +<p>Then the joy died sharply from her eyes. "How many years +left—to enjoy it in—before one dies—or one's +heart dies?"</p> +<p>Invariably, now, her moments of sensuous pleasure ended in this +dread of something beyond—of a sudden drowning of beauty and +delight—of a future unknown and cruel, coming to meet her, +like some armed assassin in a narrow path.</p> +<p>William! When it came could William save her? "William is a +<i>darling</i>!" she said to herself, her face full of +yearning.</p> +<p>As for that other—it gave her an intense pleasure to think +of the flames creeping up the form and face of the photograph. +Should she hear, perhaps, in a week or two that he had been seized +with some mysterious illness, like the witch-victims of old? A +shiver ran through her, a thrill of repentance—till the +bitter lines of the poem came back to memory—lines describing +a woman with neither the courage for sin nor the strength for +virtue, a "light woman" indeed, whom the great passions passed +eternally by, whom it was a humiliation to court and a mere +weakness to regret. Then she laughed, and began again with +passionate zest upon the sheets before her.</p> +<p>A sound of approaching footsteps on the wood-path. She half +rose, smiling.</p> +<p>The branches parted, and Darrell appeared. He paused to survey +the oread vision of Lady Kitty.</p> +<p>"Am I not to the minute?" He held up his watch in front of +her.</p> +<p>"So you got my note?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. I was immensely flattered." He threw himself down on +the moss beside her, his sallow, long-chinned face and dark eyes +toned to a morning cheerfulness, his dress much fresher and more +exact than usual. "But he is one of the men who look so much better +in their old clothes!" thought Kitty.</p> +<p>"Well, what can I do for you, Lady Kitty?" he resumed, +smiling.</p> +<p>"I wanted your advice," said Kitty—not altogether sure, +now that he was there beside her, that she did want it.</p> +<p>"About your literary work?"</p> +<p>She threw him a quick glance.</p> +<p>"Do you know? How do you know? I have been writing a book!"</p> +<p>"So I imagined—"</p> +<p>"And—and—" She broke now into eagerness, bending +forward, "I want you to help me get it published. It is a deadly +secret. Nobody knows—"</p> +<p>"Not even William?"</p> +<p>"No one," she repeated. "And I can't tell you about it, or show +you a line of it, unless you vow and swear to me—"</p> +<p>"Oh! I swear," said Darrell, tranquilly—"I swear."</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him doubtfully a moment—then resumed:</p> +<p>"I have written it at all sorts of times—when William was +away—in the middle of the night—out in the woods. +<i>Nobody</i> knows. You see"—her little fingers plucked at +the moss—"I have a good many advantages. If people want +'Society' with a big S, I can give it them!"</p> +<p>"Naturally," said Darrell.</p> +<p>"And it always amuses people—doesn't it?"</p> +<p>Kitty clasped her hands round her knees and looked at him with +candor.</p> +<p>"Does it?" said Darrell. "It has been done a good deal."</p> +<p>"Oh, of course," said Kitty, impatiently, "mine's not the proper +thing. You don't imagine I should try and write like Thackeray, do +you? Mine's <i>real</i> people—<i>real</i> things that +happened—with just the names altered."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Darrell, sitting up—"that sounds exciting. Is +it libellous?"</p> +<p>"Well, that's just what I want to know," said Kitty, slowly. "Of +course, I've made a kind of story out of it. But you'd have to be a +great fool not to guess. I've put myself in, and—"</p> +<p>"And Ashe?"</p> +<p>Kitty nodded. "All the novels that are written about politics +nowadays—except Dizzy's—are such nonsense, aren't they? +I just wanted to describe—from the inside—how a real +statesman"—she threw up her head proudly—"lives, and +what he does."</p> +<p>"Excellent subject," said Darrell. "Well—anybody +else?"</p> +<p>Kitty flushed. "You'll see," she said, uncertainly.</p> +<p>Darrell's involuntary smile was hidden by a bunch of honeysuckle +at which he was sniffing. "May I look?" he asked, stretching out a +hand for the sheets.</p> +<p>She pushed them towards him, half unwilling, half eager, and he +began to turn them over. Apparently it had a thread of +story—both slender and extravagant. And on the +thread—Hullo!—here was the fancy ball; he pounced upon +it. A portrait of Lady Parham—Ye powers! he chuckled as he +read. On the next page the Chancellor of the +Exchequer—snub-nosed <i>parvenu</i> and +Puritan—admirably caught. Further on a speech of Ashe's in +the House—with caricature to right and caricature to left ... +Ah! the poet!—at last! He bent over the page till Kitty +coughed and fidgeted, and he thought it best to hurry on. But it +was war, he perceived—open, undignified, feminine war. On the +next page, the Archbishop of Canterbury—with Lady Kitty's +views on the Athanasian Creed! Heavens! what a book! Next, Royalty +itself, not too respectfully handled. Then Ashe again—Ashe +glorified, Ashe explained, Ashe intrigued against, and Ashe +triumphant—everywhere the centre of the stage, and +everywhere, of course, all unknown to the author, the fool of the +piece. Political indiscretions also, of the most startling kind, as +coming from the wife of a cabinet minister. Allusions, besides, +scattered broadcast, to the scandals of the day—material as +far as he could see for a dozen libel actions. And with it all, +much fantastic ability, flashes of wit and romance, enough to give +the book wings beyond its first personal audience—enough, in +fact, to secure to all its scandalous matter the widest possible +chance of fame.</p> +<p>"Well!"</p> +<p>He rolled over on his elbows, and lay staring at the sheets +before him—dumb. What was he to say?</p> +<p>A thought struck him. As far as he could perceive, there was an +empty niche.</p> +<p>"And Lord Parham?"</p> +<p>A smile of mischief broadened on Kitty's lips.</p> +<p>"That'll come," she said—and checked herself. Darrell +bowed his face on his hands and laughed, unseen. To what +sacrificial rite was the unconscious victim hurrying—at that +very moment—in the express train which was to land him at +Haggart Station that afternoon?</p> +<p>"Well!" said Kitty, impatiently—"what do you think? Can +you help me?"</p> +<p>Darrell looked up.</p> +<p>"You know, Lady Kitty, that book can't be published like that. +Nobody would risk it."</p> +<p>"Well, I suppose they'll tell me what to cut out."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Darrell, slowly, caught by many +reflections—"no doubt some clever fellow will know how near +the wind it's possible to sail. But, anyway, trim it as you like, +the book will make a scandal."</p> +<p>"Will it?" Kitty's eyes flashed. She sat up radiant, her breath +quick and defiant.</p> +<p>"I don't see," he resumed, "how you can publish it without +consulting Ashe."</p> +<p>Kitty gave a cry of protest.</p> +<p>"No, no, <i>no</i>! Of course he'd disapprove. But then—he +soon forgives a thing, if he thinks it clever. And it is clever, +isn't it?—some of it. He'd laugh—and then it would be +all right. <i>He'd</i> never pay out his enemies, but he couldn't +help enjoying it if some one else did—could he?" She pleaded +like a child.</p> +<p>"'No need to forgive them,'" murmured Darrell, as he rolled over +on his back and put his hat over his eyes—"for you would have +'shot them all.'"</p> +<p>Under the shelter of his hat he tried to think himself clear. +What <i>really</i> were her motives? Partly, no doubt, a childish +love of excitement—partly revenge? The animus against the +Parhams was clear in every page. Cliffe, too, came badly out of +it—a fantastic Byronic mixture of libertine and cad. Lady +Kitty had better beware! As far as he knew, Cliffe had never yet +been struck, with impunity to the striker.</p> +<p>If these precious sheets ever appeared, Ashe's position would +certainly be shaken. Poor wretch!—endeavoring to pursue a +serious existence, yoked to such an impish sprite as this! His own +fault, after all. That first night, at Madame d'Estrées', +was not her madness written in her eyes?</p> +<p>"Now tell me, Lady Kitty"—he roused himself to look at her +with some attention—"what do you want me to do?"</p> +<p>"To find me a publisher, and"—she stooped towards him with +a laughing shyness—"to get me some money."</p> +<p>"Money!"</p> +<p>"I've been so awfully extravagant lately," said Kitty, frankly. +"Something really will have to be done. And the book's worth some +money, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"A good deal," said Darrell. Then he added, with +emphasis—"I really can't be responsible for it in any way, +Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>"Of course not. I will never, <i>never</i> say I told you! But, +you see, I'm not literary—I don't know in the least how to +set about it. If you would just put me in communication?"</p> +<p>Darrell pondered. None of the well-known publishers, of course, +would look at it. But there were plenty of people who +would—and give Lady Kitty a large sum of money for it, +too.</p> +<p>What part, however, could he—Darrell—play in such a +transaction?</p> +<p>"I am bound to warn you," he said, at last, looking up, "that +your husband will probably strongly disapprove this book, and that +it may do him harm."</p> +<p>Kitty bit her lip.</p> +<p>"But if I tell nobody who wrote it—and you tell +nobody?"</p> +<p>"Ashe would know at once. Everybody would know."</p> +<p>"William would know," his companion admitted, unwillingly. "But +I don't see why anybody else should. You see, I've put myself +in—I've said the most shocking things!"</p> +<p>Darrell replied that she would not find that device of much +service to her.</p> +<p>"However—I can no doubt get an opinion for you."</p> +<p>Kitty, all delight, thanked him profusely.</p> +<p>"You shall have the whole of it before you go—Friday, +isn't it?" she said, eagerly gathering it up.</p> +<p>Darrell was certainly conscious of no desire to burden himself +with the horrid thing. But he was rarely able to refuse the request +of a pretty and fashionable woman, and it flattered his conceit to +be the sole recipient of what might very well turn out to be a +political secret of some importance. Not that he meant to lay +himself open to any just reproach whatever in the matter. He would +show it to some fitting person—to pacify Lady +Kitty—write a letter of strong protest to her +afterwards—and wash his hands of it. What might happen then +was not his business.</p> +<p>Meanwhile his inner mind was full of an acrid debate which +turned entirely upon his interview with Ashe of the day before. No +doubt, as an old friend, aware of Lady Kitty's excitable character, +he might have felt it his duty to go straight to Ashe, +<i>coûte que coûte</i>, and warn him of what was going +on. But what encouragement had been given him to play so Quixotic a +part? Why should he take any particular thought for Ashe's domestic +peace, or Ashe's public place? What consideration had Ashe shown +for <i>him</i>? "Tu l'as voulu, Georges Dandin!"</p> +<p>So it ended in his promising to take the MS. to London with him, +and let Lady Kitty know the result of his inquiries. Kitty's +dancing step as they returned to the house betrayed the height of +her spirits.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>A rumor flew round the house towards the middle of the day that +Harry, the little heir, was worse. Kitty did not appear at +luncheon, and the doctor was sent for. Before he came, it was known +only to Margaret French that Kitty had escaped by herself from the +house and could not be found. Ashe and Lady Tranmore saw the +doctor, who prescribed, and would not admit that there was any +cause for alarm. The heat had tried the child, and Lady +Kitty—he looked round the nursery for her in some +perplexity—might be quite reassured.</p> +<p>Margaret found her, wandering in the park—very wild and +pale—told her the doctor's verdict, and brought her home. +Kitty said little or nothing, and was presently persuaded to change +her dress for Lord Parham's arrival. By the time the operation was +over she was full as usual of smiles and chatter, with no trace +apparently of the mood which had gone before.</p> +<p>Lord Parham found the house-party assembled on the lawn, with +Kitty in a three-cornered hat, fantastically garnished at the side +with a great plume of white cock's feathers, presiding at the +tea-table.</p> +<p>"Ah!" thought the Premier, as he approached—"now for the +tare in Ashe's wheat!"</p> +<p>Nothing, however, could have been more gracious than Kitty's +reception of him, or more effusive than his response. He took his +seat beside her, a solid and impressive figure, no less closely +observed by such of the habitual guests of the political +country-houses as happened to be present, than by the sprinkling of +local clergy and country neighbors to whom Kitty was giving tea. +Lord Parham, though now in the fourth year of his Premiership, was +still something of a mystery to his countrymen; while for the inner +circle it was an amusement and an event that he should be seen +without his wife.</p> +<p>For some time all went well. Kitty's manners and topics were +alike beyond reproach. When presently she inquired politely as to +the success of his Scottish tour, Lord Parham hoped he had not +altogether disgraced himself. But, thank Heaven, it was done. +Meanwhile Ashe, he supposed, had been enjoying the pursuits of a +scholar and a gentleman?—lucky fellow!</p> +<p>"He has been reading the Bible," said Kitty, carelessly, as she +handed cake. "Just now he's in the Acts. That's why, I suppose, he +didn't hear the carriage. John!" She called a footman. "Tell Mr. +Ashe that Lord Parham has arrived!"</p> +<p>The Premier opened astonished eyes.</p> +<p>"Does Ashe generally study the Scriptures of an afternoon?"</p> +<p>Kitty nodded—with her most confiding smile. "When he can. +He says"—she dropped her voice to a theatrical +whisper—"the Bible is such a 'd——d interesting' +book!"</p> +<p>Lord Parham started in his seat. Ashe and some of his friends +still faintly recalled, in their too familiar and public use of +this particular naughty word, the lurid vocabulary of the Peel and +Melbourne generation. But in a lady's mouth the effect was +prodigious. Lord Grosville frowned sternly and walked away; Eddie +Helston smothered a burst of laughter; the Dean, startled, broke +off a conversation with a group of archaeological clergymen and +came to see what he could do to keep Lady Kitty in order; while +Lady Tranmore flushed deeply, and began a hasty conversation with +Lady Edith Manley. Meanwhile Kitty, quite unconscious, "went on +cutting"—or rather, dispensing "bread-and-butter"; and Lord +Parham changed the subject.</p> +<p>"What a charming house!" he said, unwarily, waving his hand +towards the Haggart mansion. He was short-sighted, and, in truth, +saw only that it was big.</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him in wonder—a friendly and amiable +wonder. She said it was very kind of him to try and spare her +feelings, but, really, anybody might say what they liked of +Haggart. She and William weren't responsible.</p> +<p>Lord Parham, rather nettled, put on his eye-glass, and, being an +obstinate man, still maintained that he saw no reason at all to be +dissatisfied with Haggart, from the æsthetic point of view. +Kitty said nothing, but for the first time a gleam of mockery +showed itself in her changing look.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore, always nervously on the watch, moved forward at +this point, and Lord Parham, with marked and pompous suavity, +transferred his conversation to her.</p> +<p>Thus assured, as he thought, of a good listener, and delivered +from his uncomfortable hostess, Lord Parham crossed his legs and +began to talk at his ease. The guests round the various tea-tables +converged, some standing and some sitting, and made a circle about +the great man. About Kitty, too, who sat, equally conspicuous, +dipping a biscuit in milk, and teasing her small dog with it. Lord +Parham meanwhile described to Lady Tranmore—at wearisome +length—the demonstrations which had attended his journey +south, the railway-station crowds, addresses, and so forth. He +handled the topic in a tone of jocular humility, which but slightly +concealed the vast complacency beneath. Kitty's lip twitched; she +fed Ponto hastily with all possible cakes.</p> +<p>"No one, of course, can keep any count of what he says on these +occasions," resumed Lord Parham, with a gracious smile. "I hope I +talked some sense—"</p> +<p>"Oh, but why?" said Kitty, looking up, her large fawn's eyes +bent on the speaker.</p> +<p>"Why?" repeated Lord Parham, suddenly stiffening. "I don't +follow you, Lady Kitty."</p> +<p>"Anybody can talk sense!" said Kitty, throwing a big bit of +muffin at Ponto's nose. "It's the other thing that's +hard—isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty," said the Dean, lifting a finger, "you are +plagiarizing from Mr. Pitt."</p> +<p>"Am I?" said Kitty. "I didn't know."</p> +<p>"I imagine that Mr. Pitt talked sense sometimes," said Lord +Parham, shortly.</p> +<p>"Ah, that was when he was drunk!" said Kitty. "Then he wasn't +responsible."</p> +<p>Lord Parham and the circle laughed—though the Premier's +laugh was a little dry and perfunctory.</p> +<p>"So you worship nonsense, Lady Kitty?"</p> +<p>Kitty nodded sweetly.</p> +<p>"And so does William. Ah, here he is!"</p> +<p>For Ashe appeared, hurrying over the lawn, and Lord Parham rose +to greet his host.</p> +<p>"Upon my word, Ashe, how well you look! <i>You</i> have had some +holiday!"</p> +<p>"Which is more than can be said of yourself," said Ashe, with +smiling sympathy. "Well!—how have the speeches gone? Is there +anything left of you? Edinburgh was magnificent!"</p> +<p>He wore his most radiant aspect as he sat down beside his guest; +and Kitty watching him, and already conscious of a renewed and +excitable dislike for her guest, thought William was overdoing it +absurdly, and grew still more restive.</p> +<p>The Premier brought the tips of his fingers lightly together, as +he resumed his seat.</p> +<p>"Oh! my dear fellow, people were very kind—too much so! +Yes—I think it did good—it did good. I should now rest +and be thankful—if it weren't for the Bishops!"</p> +<p>"The Bishops!" said the Rector of the parish standing near. +"What have the Bishops been doing, my lord?"</p> +<p>"Dying," said Kitty, as she fell into an attitude which +commanded both William and Lord Parham. "They do it on +purpose."</p> +<p>"Another this morning!" said Ashe, throwing up his hands.</p> +<p>"Oh! they die to plague me," said the Prime Minister, with the +air of one on whom the universe weighs heavy. "There never was such +a conspiracy!"</p> +<p>"You should let William appoint them," said Kitty, leaning her +chin upon her hands and studying Lord Parham with eyes all the more +brilliant for the dark circles which fatigue, or something else, +had drawn round them.</p> +<p>"Ah, to be sure!" said Lord Parham, affably. "I had forgotten +that Ashe was our theologian. Take me a walk before dinner!" he +added, addressing his host.</p> +<p>"But you won't take his advice," said Kitty, smiling.</p> +<p>The Premier turned rather sharply.</p> +<p>"How do you know that, Lady Kitty?"</p> +<p>Kitty hesitated—then said, with the prettiest, slightest +laugh:</p> +<p>"Lady Parham has such strong views—hasn't she?—on +Church questions!"</p> +<p>Lord Parham's feeling was that a more insidiously impertinent +question had never been put to him. He drew himself up.</p> +<p>"If she has, Lady Kitty, I can only say I know very little about +them! She very wisely keeps them to herself."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Kitty, as her lovely eyebrows lifted, "that shows how +little people know."</p> +<p>"I don't quite understand," said Lord Parham. "To what do you +allude, Lady Kitty?"</p> +<p>Kitty laughed. She raised her eyes to the Rector, a spare High +Churchman, who had retreated uncomfortably behind Lady +Tranmore.</p> +<p>"Some one—said to me last week—that Lady Parham had +saved the Church!"</p> +<p>The Prime Minister rose. "I must have a little exercise before +dinner. Your gardens, Ashe—is there time?"</p> +<p>Ashe, scarlet with discomfort and annoyance, carried his visitor +off. As he did so, he passed his wife. Kitty turned her little +head, looked at him half shyly, half defiantly. The Dean saw the +look; saw also that Ashe deliberately avoided it.</p> +<p>The party presently began to disperse. The Dean found himself +beside his hostess—strolling over the lawn towards the house. +He observed her attentively—vexed with her, and vexed for +her! Surely she was thinner than he had ever seen her. A little +more, and her beauty would suffer seriously. Coming he knew not +whence, there lit upon him the sudden and painful impression of +something undermined, something consumed from within.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty, do you ever rest?" he asked her, unexpectedly.</p> +<p>"Rest!" she laughed. "Why should I?"</p> +<p>"Because you are wearing yourself out."</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"Do you ever lie down—alone—and read a book?" +persisted the Dean.</p> +<p>"Yes. I have just finished Renan's <i>Vie de +Jésus</i>!"</p> +<p>Her glance, even with him, kept its note of audacity, but much +softened by a kind of wistfulness.</p> +<p>"Ah! my dear Lady Kitty, let Renan alone," cried the +Dean—then with a change of tone—"but are you speaking +truth—or naughtiness?"</p> +<p>"Truth," said Kitty. "But—of course—I am in a +temper."</p> +<p>The Dean laughed.</p> +<p>"I see Lord Parham is not a favorite of yours."</p> +<p>Kitty compressed her small lips.</p> +<p>"To think that William should have to take his orders from that +man!" she said, under her breath.</p> +<p>"Bear it—for William's sake," said the Dean, softly, "and, +meanwhile—take my advice—and don't read any more +Renan!"</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him curiously.</p> +<p>"I prefer to see things as they are."</p> +<p>The Dean sighed.</p> +<p>"That none of us can do, my dear Lady Kitty. No one can satisfy +his <i>intelligence</i>. But religion speaks to the +<i>will</i>—and it is the only thing between us and the void. +Don't tamper with it! It is soon gone."</p> +<p>A satirical expression passed over the face of his +companion.</p> +<p>"Mine was gone before we had been a month married. William +killed it."</p> +<p>The Dean exclaimed:</p> +<p>"I hear always of his interest in religious matters!"</p> +<p>"He cares for nothing so much—and he doesn't believe one +single word of anything! I was brought up in a convent, you +know—but William laughed it all out of me."</p> +<p>"Dear Lady Kitty!"</p> +<p>Kitty nodded. "And now, of course, I know there's nothing in it. +Oh! I <i>do</i> beg your pardon!" she said, eagerly. "I never meant +to say anything rude to <i>you.</i> And I must go!" She looked up +at an open window on the second floor of the house. The Dean +supposed it was the nursery, and began to ask after the boy. But +before he could frame his question she was gone, flying over the +grass with a foot that scarcely seemed to touch it.</p> +<p>"Poor child, poor child!" murmured the Dean, in a most genuine +distress. But it was not the boy he was thinking of.</p> +<p>Presently, however, he was overtaken by Miss French, of whom he +inquired how the baby was.</p> +<p>Margaret hesitated. "He seems to lose strength," she said, +sadly. "The doctor declares there is no danger, unless—"</p> +<p>"Unless what?"</p> +<p>"Oh! but it's so unlikely!" was her hasty reply. "Don't let's +think of it."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Kitty was just giving a last look at herself in the large mirror +which lined half one of the sides of her room when Ashe invaded +her. She glanced at him askance a little, and when the maid had +gone Kitty hurriedly gathered up gloves and fan and prepared to +follow her.</p> +<p>"Kitty—one word!"</p> +<p>He caught her in his arm, and held her while he looked down upon +her sparkling dress and half-reluctant face. "Kitty, do be nice to +that old fellow to-night! It's only for two nights. Take him in the +right way, and make a conquest of him—for good. He's been +very decent to me in our walk—though you did say such +extraordinary things to him this afternoon. I believe he really +wants to make amends."</p> +<p>"I do hate his white eyelashes so," said Kitty, slowly.</p> +<p>"What does it matter," cried Ashe, angrily, "whether he were a +blue-faced baboon!—for two nights? Just listen to him a +little, Kitty—that's all he wants. And—don't be +offended!—but hold your own small tongue—just a +little!"</p> +<p>Kitty pulled herself away.</p> +<p>"I believe I shall do something dreadful," she said, +quietly.</p> +<p>A sternness to which Ashe's good-humored face was almost wholly +strange showed itself in his expression.</p> +<p>"Why should you do anything dreadful, please? Lord Parham is +your guest, and my political chief. Is there any woman in England +who would not do her best to be civil to him under the +circumstances?"</p> +<p>"I suppose not," said Kitty, with deliberation. "No, I don't +think there can be."</p> +<p>"Kitty!"</p> +<p>For the first time Ashe was conscious of real exasperation. What +was to be done with a temperament and a disposition like this?</p> +<p>"Do you never think that you have it in your power to help me or +to ruin me?" he said, with vehemence.</p> +<p>"Oh yes—often. I mean—to help you—in my own +way."</p> +<p>Ashe's laugh was a sound of pure annoyance.</p> +<p>"But please understand, it would be <i>infinitely</i> better if +you would help me, in <i>my</i> way—in the natural, accepted +way—the way that everybody understands."</p> +<p>"The way Lord Parham recommends?" Kitty looked at him quietly. +"Never mind, William. I <i>am</i> trying to help you."</p> +<p>Her eyes shone with the strangest glitter. Ashe was conscious of +another of those sudden stabs of anxiety about her which he had +felt at intervals through the preceding year. His face +softened.</p> +<p>"Dear, don't let's talk nonsense! Just look at me sometimes at +dinner, and say to yourself, 'William asks me—for his +sake—to be nice to Lord Parham.'"</p> +<p>He again drew her to him, but she repulsed him almost with +violence.</p> +<p>"Why is he here? Why have we people dining? We ought to be +alone—in the dark!"</p> +<p>Her face had become a white mask. Her breast rose and fell, as +though she fought with sobs.</p> +<p>"Kitty—what do you mean?" He recoiled in dismay.</p> +<p>"Harry!"—she just breathed the word between her closed +lips.</p> +<p>"My darling!" cried Ashe, "I saw Dr. Rotherham myself this +afternoon. He gave the most satisfactory account, and Margaret told +me she had repeated everything to you. The child will soon be +himself again."</p> +<p>"He is <i>dying</i>!" said Kitty, in the same low, remote voice, +her gaze still fixed on Ashe.</p> +<p>"Kitty! Don't say such things—don't think them!" Ashe had +himself grown pale. "At any rate"—he turned on her +reproachfully—"tell me <i>why</i> you think them. Confide in +me, Kitty. Come and talk to me about the boy. But three-fourths of +the time you behave as though there were nothing the matter with +him—you won't even see the doctor—and then you say a +thing like this!"</p> +<p>She was silent a moment; then with a wild gesture of the head +and shoulders, as of one shaking off a weight, she moved +away—drew on her long gloves—and going to the +dressing-table, gave a touch of rouge to her cheeks.</p> +<p>"Kitty, why did you say that?" Ashe followed her +entreatingly.</p> +<p>"I don't know. At least, I couldn't explain. Now, shall we go +down?"</p> +<p>Ashe drew a long breath. His frail son held the inmost depths of +his heart.</p> +<p>"You have made the party an abomination to me!" he said, with +energy.</p> +<p>"Don't believe me, then—believe the doctor," said Kitty, +her face changing. "And as for Lord Parham, I'll try, +William—I'll try."</p> +<p>She passed him—the loveliest of visions—flung him a +hand to kiss—and was gone.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> +<p>There could be no question that in all external matters Lord +Parham was that evening magnificently entertained by the Home +Secretary and Lady Kitty Ashe. The chef was extravagantly good; the +wines, flowers, and service lavish to a degree which made both Ashe +and Lady Tranmore secretly uncomfortable. Lady Tranmore in +particular detested "show," influenced as much by aristocratic +instinct as by moral qualms; and there was to her mind a touch of +vulgarity in the entertaining at Haggart, which might be tolerated +in the case of financiers and <i>nouveaux riches</i>, while, as +connected with her William and his wife, who had no need whatever +to bribe society, it was unbecoming and undignified. Moreover, the +winter had been marked by a financial crisis caused entirely by +Kitty's extravagance. A large sum of money had had to be raised +from the Tranmore estates; times were not good for the landed +interest, and the head agent had begun to look grave.</p> +<p>If only William would control his wife! But Haggart contained +one of those fine, slowly gathered libraries which make the +distinction of so many English country-houses; and in the intervals +of his official work, which even in holiday time was considerable, +Ashe could not be beguiled from the beloved company of his books to +help Kitty sign checks, or scold her about expenditure.</p> +<p>So Kitty signed and signed; and the smaller was Ashe's balance, +the more, it seemed, did Kitty spend. Then, of course, every few +months, there were deficits which had to be made good. And as to +the debts which accumulated, Lady Tranmore preferred not to think +about them. It all meant future trouble and clipping of wings for +William; and it all entered into that deep and hidden resentment, +half anxious love, half alien temperament, which Elizabeth Tranmore +felt towards Ashe's wife.</p> +<p>However—to repeat—Lord Parham, as far as the +fleshpots went, was finely treated. Kitty was in full force, +glittering in a spangled dress, her dazzling face and neck, and the +piled masses of her hair, thrown out in relief against the panelled +walls of the dining-room with a brilliance which might have tempted +a modern Rembrandt to paint an English Saskia. Eddie Helston, on +her left, could not take his eyes from her. And even Lord Parham, +much as he disliked her, acknowledged, during the early courses, +that she was handsome, and in her own way—thank God! it was +not the way of any womankind belonging to him—good +company.</p> +<p>He saw, too, or thought he saw, that she was anxious to make him +amends for her behavior of the afternoon. She restrained herself, +and talked politics. And within the lines he always observed when +talking to women, lines dictated by a contempt innate and +ineradicable, Lord Parham was quite ready to talk politics too. +Then—it suddenly struck him that she was pumping him, and +with great adroitness. Ashe, he knew, wanted an early place in the +session for a particular measure in which he was interested. Lord +Parham had no mind to give him the precedence that he wanted; was, +in fact, determined on something quite different. But he was well +aware by now that Ashe was a person to be reckoned with; and he had +so far taken refuge in vagueness—an amiable vagueness, by +which Ashe, on their walk before dinner, had been much taken in, +misled no doubt by the strength of his own wishes.</p> +<p>And now here was Lady Kitty—whom, by-the-way, it was not +at all easy to take in—trying to "manage" him, to pin him to +details, to wheedle him out of a pledge!</p> +<p>Lord Parham, presently, looked at her with cold, smiling +eyes.</p> +<p>"Ah! you are interested in these things, Lady Kitty? +Well—tell me your views. You women have such an +instinct—"</p> +<p>—whereby the moth was kept hovering round the flame. Till, +in a flash, Kitty awoke to the fact that while she had been +listening happily to her own voice, taking no notice whatever of +the signals which William endeavored to send her from the other end +of the table—while she had been tripping gayly through one +indiscretion after another, betraying innumerable things as to +William's opinions and William's plans that she had infinitely +better not have betrayed—Lord Parham had said nothing, +betrayed nothing, promised nothing. A quiet smile—a courteous +nod—and presently a shade of mockery in the lips—the +meaning of them, all in a moment, burst on Kitty.</p> +<p>Her face flamed. Thenceforward it would be difficult to describe +the dinner. Conversationally, at Kitty's end it became an uproar. +She started the wildest topics, and Lord Parham had afterwards a +bruised recollection as of one who has been dragged or driven, +Caliban-like, through brake and thicket, pinched and teased and +pelted by elfish fingers, without one single uncivil speech or act +of overt offence to which an angry guest could point. With each +later course, the Prime Minister grew stiffer and more silent. +Endurance was written in every line of his fighting head and round, +ungraceful shoulders, in his veiled eyes and stolid mouth. Lady +Tranmore gave a gasp of relief when at last Kitty rose from her +seat.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The evening went no better. Lord Parham was set down to cards +with Kitty, Eddie Helston, and Lord Grosville. Lord Grosville, his +partner, played, to the Premier's thinking, like an idiot, and Lady +Kitty and the young man chattered and sparred, so that all +reasonable play became impossible. Lord Parham lost more than he at +all liked to lose, and at half-past ten he pleaded fatigue, refused +to smoke, and went to his room.</p> +<p>Ashe was perfectly aware of the failure of the evening, and the +discomfort of his guest. But he said nothing, and Kitty avoided his +neighborhood. Meanwhile, between him and his mother a certain tacit +understanding began to make itself felt. They talked quietly, in +corners, of the arrangements for the speech and fête of the +morrow. So far, they had been too much left to Kitty. Ashe promised +his mother to look into them. He and she combined for the +protection of Lord Parham.</p> +<p>When about one o'clock Ashe went to bed, Kitty either was or +pretended to be fast asleep. The room was in darkness save for the +faint illumination of a night-light, which just revealed to Ashe +the delicate figure of his wife, lying high on her pillows, her +cheek and brow hidden in the confusion of her hair.</p> +<p>One window was wide open to the night, and once more Ashe stood +lost in "recollection" beside it, as on that night in Hill Street, +more than a year before. But the thoughts which on that former +occasion had been still as tragic and unfamiliar guests in a mind +that repelled them had now, alack, lost their strangeness; they +entered habitually, unannounced—frequent, irritating, +deplorable.</p> +<p>Had the relation between himself and Kitty ever, in truth, +recovered the shock of that incident on the river—of his +night of restlessness, his morning of agonized alarm, and the story +to which he listened on her return? It had been like some physical +blow or wound, easily healed or conquered for the moment, which +then, as time goes on, reveals a hidden series of consequences.</p> +<p>Consequences, in this case, connected above all with Kitty's own +nature and temperament. The excitement of Cliffe's declaration, of +her own resistance and dramatic position, as between her husband +and her lover, had worked ever since, as a poison in Kitty's +mind—Ashe was becoming dismally certain of it. The absurd +incident of the night before with the photograph had been enough to +prove it.</p> +<p>Well, the thing, he supposed, would right itself in time. +Meanwhile, Cliffe had been dismissed, and this foolish young fellow +Eddie Helston must soon follow him. Ashe had viewed the affair so +far with an amused tolerance; if Kitty liked to flirt with babes it +was her affair, not his. But he perceived that his mother was once +more becoming restless, under the general <i>inconvenance</i> of +it; and he had noticed distress and disapproval in the little Dean, +Kitty's stanchest friend.</p> +<p>Luckily, no difficulty there! The lad was almost as devoted to +him—Ashe—as he was to Kitty. He was absurd, affected, +vain; but there was no vice in him, and a word of remonstrance +would probably reduce him to abject regret and self-reproach. Ashe +intended that his mother should speak it, and as he made up his +mind to ask her help, he felt for the second time the sharp +humiliation of the husband who cannot secure his own domestic +peace, but must depend on the aid of others. Yet how could he +himself go to young Helston? Some men no doubt could have handled +such an incident with dignity. Ashe, with his critical sense for +ever playing on himself and others; with the touch of moral +shirking that belonged to his inmost nature; and, above all, with +his half-humorous, half-bitter consciousness that whoever else +might be a hero, he was none: Ashe, at least, could and would do +nothing of the sort. That he should begin now to play the tyrannous +or jealous husband would make him ridiculous both in his own eyes +and other people's.</p> +<p>And yet Kitty must somehow be protected from herself!... +Then—as to politics? Once, in talking with his mother, he had +said to her that he was Kitty's husband first, and a public man +afterwards. Was he prepared now to make the statement with the same +simplicity, the same whole-heartedness?</p> +<p>Involuntarily he moved closer to the bed and looked down on +Kitty. Little, delicate face!—always with something mournful +and fretful in repose.</p> +<p>He loved her surely as much as ever—ah! yes, he loved her. +His whole nature yearned over her, as the wife of his youth, the +mother of his poor boy. Yet, as he remembered the mood in which he +had proposed to her, that defiance of the world and life which had +possessed him when he had made her marry him, he felt +himself—almost with bitterness—another and a meaner +man. No!—he was <i>not</i> prepared to lose the world for +her—the world of high influence and ambition upon which he +had now entered as a conqueror. She <i>must</i> so control herself +that she did not ruin all his hopes—which, after all, were +hers—and the work he might do for his country.</p> +<p>What incredible perversity and caprice she had shown towards +Lord Parham! How was he to deal with it—he, William Ashe, +with his ironic temper and his easy standards? What could he say to +her but "Love me, Kitty!—love yourself!—and don't be a +little fool! Life might be so amusing if you would only bridle your +fancies and play the game!"</p> +<p>As for loftier things, "self-reverence, self-knowledge, +self-control"—duty—and the passion of high +ideals—who was he to prate about them? The little Dean, +perhaps!—most spiritual of worldlings. Ashe knew himself to +be neither spiritual nor a hypocrite. A certain measure, a certain +order and harmony in life—laughter and good-humor and +affection—and, for the fight that makes and welds a man, +those great political and social interests in the midst of which he +found himself—he asked no more, and with these he would have +been abundantly content.</p> +<p>He sighed and frowned, his muscles stiffening unconsciously. +Yes, for both their sakes he must try and play the master with +Kitty, ridiculous as it seemed.</p> +<p>... He turned away, remembering his sick child—and went +noiselessly to the nursery. There, along the darkened passages, he +found a night-nurse, sitting working beside a shaded lamp. The +child was sleeping, and the report was good. Ashe stole on tiptoe +to look at him, holding his breath, then returned to his +dressing-room. But a faint call from Kitty pursued him. He opened +the door, and saw her sitting up in bed.</p> +<p>"How is he?"</p> +<p>She was hardly awake, but her expression struck him as very wild +and piteous. He went to her and took her in his arms.</p> +<p>"Sleeping quietly, darling—so must you!"</p> +<p>She sank back on her pillows, his arm still round her.</p> +<p>"I was there an hour ago," she murmured. "I shall soon wake +up—"</p> +<p>But for the moment she was asleep again, her fair head lying +against his shoulder. He sat down beside her, supporting her. +Suddenly, as he looked down upon her with mingled passion, +tenderness, and pain, a sharp perception assailed him. How thin she +was—a mere feather's weight! The face was smaller than +ever—the hands skin and bone! Margaret French had once or +twice bade him notice this, had spoken with anxiety. He bent over +his wife and observed her attentively. It was merely the effect of +a hot summer, surely, and of a constant nervous fatigue? He would +take her abroad for a fortnight in September, if his official work +would let him, and perhaps leave her in north Italy, or +Switzerland, with Margaret French.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The great day was half-way through, and the throng in Haggart +Park and grounds was at its height. A flower-show in the morning; +then a tenants' dinner with a speech from Ashe; and now, in a +marquee erected for the occasion, Lord Parham was addressing his +supporters in the county. Around him on the platform sat the Whig +gentry, the Radical manufacturers, the town wire-pullers and local +agents on whom a great party depended; in front of him stretched a +crowded meeting drawn in almost equal parts from the coal-mining +districts to the north of Haggart and from the agricultural +districts to the south....</p> +<p>The August air was stifling; perspiration shone on the broad +brows and cheeks of the farmers sitting in the front half of the +audience; Lord Parham's gray face was almost white; his harsh voice +labored against the acoustic difficulties of the tent; effort and +heat, discomfort and ennui breathed from the packed benches, and +from the short-necked, large-headed figure of the Premier.</p> +<p>Ashe sat to the speaker's right, outwardly attentive, inwardly +ashamed of his party and his chief. He himself belonged to a new +generation, for whom formulæ that had satisfied their fathers +were empty and dead. But with these formulas Lord Parham was +stuffed. A man of average intriguing ability, he had been raised, +at a moment of transition, to the place he held, by a consummate +command of all the meaner arts of compromise and management, no +less than by an invaluable power of playing to the gallery. He led +a party who despised him—and he complacently imagined that he +was the party. His speech on this occasion bristled with himself, +and had, in truth, no other substance; the I's swarmed out upon the +audience like wasps.</p> +<p>Ashe groaned in spirit, "We have the ideas," he thought, "but +they are damned little good to us—it is the Tories who have +the men! Ye gods! must we all talk like this at last?"...</p> +<p>Suddenly, on the other side of the platform, behind Lord Parham, +he noticed that Kitty and Eddie Helston were exchanging signs. +Kitty drew out a tablet, wrote upon it, and, leaning over some +white-frocked children of the Lord Lieutenant who sat behind her, +handed the torn leaf to Helston. But from some clumsiness he let it +drop; at the moment a door opened at the back of the platform, and +the leaf, caught by the draught, was blown back across the bench +where Kitty and the house-party were sitting, and fluttered down to +a resting-place on the piece of red baize wheron Lord Parham was +standing—close beside his left foot.</p> +<p>Ashe saw Kitty's start of dismay, her scarlet flush, her +involuntary movement. But Lord Parham had started on his +peroration. The rustics gaped, the gentry sat expressionless, the +reporters toiled after the great man. Kitty all the time kept her +eyes fixed on the little white paper; Ashe no less. Between him and +Lord Parham there was first the Lord Lieutenant, a portly man, very +blind and extremely deaf—then a table with a Liberal peer +behind it for chairman.</p> +<p>Lord Parham had resumed his seat. The tent was shaken with +cheers, and the smiling chairman had risen.</p> +<p>"Can you ask Lord Parham to hand me on that paper on the floor," +said Ashe, in the ear of the Lord Lieutenant, "it seems to have +dropped from my portfolio."</p> +<p>The Lord Lieutenant, bending backward behind the chairman as the +next speaker rose, tried to attract Lord Parham's attention. Eddie +Helston was, at the same time, endeavoring to make his way forward +through the crowded seats behind the Prime Minister.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Lord Parham had perceived the paper, raised it, and +adjusted his spectacles. He thought it was a communication from the +audience—a question, perhaps, that he was expected to +answer.</p> +<p>"Lord Parham!" cried the Lord Lieutenant again, "would +you—"</p> +<p>"Silence, please! Speak up!"—from the audience, who had so +far failed to catch a word of what the new speaker was saying.</p> +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter? You really can't get through here!" +said a gray-haired dowager crossly to Eddie Helston.</p> +<p>Lord Parham looked at the paper in mystification. It contained +these words:</p> +<p>"Hope you've been counting the 'I's.' I make it +fifty-seven.—K."</p> +<p>And in the corner of the paper a thumb-nail sketch of himself, +perorating, with a garland of capital I's round his neck.</p> +<p>The Premier's face became brick-red, then gray again. He folded +up the paper and put it in his waistcoat-pocket.</p> +<p>The meeting had broken up. For the common herd, it was to be +followed by sports in the park and refreshments in big tents. For +the gentry, Lady Kitty had a garden-party to which Royalty was +coming. And as her guests streamed out of the marquee, Lord Parham +approached his hostess.</p> +<p>"I think this belongs to you, Lady Kitty." And taking from his +pocket a folded slip of paper he offered it to her.</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him. Her color was high, her eyes sparkled.</p> +<p>"Nothing to do with me!" she said, gayly, as she glanced at it. +"But I'll look for the owner."</p> +<p>"Sorry to give you the trouble," said Lord Parham, with a +ceremonious inclination. Then, turning to Ashe, he remarked that he +was extremely tired—worn out, in fact—and would ask his +host's leave to desert the garden-party while he attended to some +most important letters. Ashe offered to escort him to the house. +"On the contrary, look after your guests," said the Premier, dryly, +and, beckoning to the Liberal peer who had been his chairman, he +engaged him in conversation, and the two presently vanished through +a window open to the terrace.</p> +<p>Kitty had been joined meanwhile by Eddie Helston, and the two +stood talking together, a flushed, excited pair. Ashe overtook +them.</p> +<p>"May I speak to you a moment, Kitty?"</p> +<p>Eddie Helston glanced at the fine form and stiffened bearing of +his host, understood that his presence counted for something in the +annoyance of Ashe's expression, and departed abashed.</p> +<p>"I should like to see that paper, Kitty, if you don't mind."</p> +<p>His frown and straightened lip brought fresh wildness into +Kitty's expression.</p> +<p>"It is my property." She kept one hand behind her.</p> +<p>"I heard you just disavow that."</p> +<p>Kitty laughed angrily.</p> +<p>"Yes—that's the worst of Lord Parham—one has to tell +so many lies for his <i>beaux yeux</i>!"</p> +<p>"You must give it me, please," said Ashe, quietly. "I ought to +know where I am with Lord Parham. He is clearly bitterly +offended—by something, and I shall have to apologize."</p> +<p>Kitty breathed fast.</p> +<p>"Well, don't let's quarrel before the county!" she said, as she +turned aside into a shrubbery walk edged by clipped yews and hidden +from the big lawn. There she paused and confronted him. "How did +you know I wrote it?"</p> +<p>"I saw you write it and throw it."</p> +<p>He stretched out his hand. Kitty hesitated, then slowly unclosed +her own, and held out the small, white palm on which lay the +crumpled slip.</p> +<p>Ashe read it and tore it up.</p> +<p>"That game, Kitty, was hardly worth the candle!"</p> +<p>"It was a perfectly harmless remark—and only meant for +Eddie! Any one else than Lord Parham would have laughed. +<i>Then</i> I might have begged his pardon."</p> +<p>"It is what you ought to do now," said Ashe. "A little note from +you, Kitty—you could write it to perfection—"</p> +<p>"Certainly not," said Kitty, hastily, locking her hands behind +her.</p> +<p>"You prefer to have failed in hospitality and manners," he said, +bitterly. "Well, I'm afraid if you don't feel any disgrace in it I +do. Lord Parham in our <i>guest</i>!"</p> +<p>And Ashe turned on his heel and would have left her, when Kitty +caught him by the arm.</p> +<p>"William!"</p> +<p>She had grown very pale.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"You've never spoken to me like that before, +William—never! But—as I told you long ago, you can stop +it all if you like—in a moment."</p> +<p>"I don't know what you mean, Kitty—but we mustn't stay +arguing here any longer—"</p> +<p>"No!—but—don't you remember? I told you, you can +always send me away. Then I shouldn't be putting spokes in your +wheel."</p> +<p>"I don't deny," said Ashe, slowly, "it might be wisest if, next +spring, you stayed here, for part at least of the session—or +abroad. It is certainly difficult carrying on politics under these +conditions. I could, of course, come backward and +forward—"</p> +<p>Kitty's brown eyes that were fixed upon his face wavered a +little, and she grew even whiter.</p> +<p>"Very well. That would be a kind of separation, wouldn't +it?"</p> +<p>"There would be no need to call it by any such name. Oh! Kitty!" +cried Ashe, "why can't you behave like a reasonable woman?"</p> +<p>"Separation," she repeated, steadily. "I know that's what your +mother wants."</p> +<p>A wave of sound reached them amid the green shadow of the yews. +The cheers that heralded Royalty had begun.</p> +<p>"Come!" said Kitty.</p> +<p>And she flew across the grass, reaching her place by the central +tent just as the Royalties drove up.</p> +<p>The Prime Minister sulked in-doors; and Kitty, with the most +engaging smiles, made his apologies. The heat—the fatigue of +the speech—a crushing headache, and a doctor's +order!—he begged their Royal Highnesses to excuse him. The +Royal Highnesses were at first astonished, inclined, perhaps, to +take offence. But the party was so agreeable, and Lady Kitty so +charming a hostess, that the Premier's absence was soon forgotten, +and as the day cooled to a delicious evening, and the most costly +bands from town discoursed a melting music, as garlanded boats +appeared upon the river inviting passengers, and, with the dusk, +fireworks began to ascend from a little hill; as the trees shone +green and silver and rose-color in the Bengal lights, and amid the +sweeping clouds of smoke the wide stretches of the park, the +close-packed groups of human beings, appeared and vanished like the +country and creatures of a dream—the success of Lady Kitty's +fête, the fame of her gayety and her beauty, filled the air. +She flashed hither and thither, in a dress embroidered with wild +roses and a hat festooned with them—attended always by Eddie +Helston, by various curates who cherished a hopeless attachment to +her, and by a fat German grand-duke, who had come in the wake of +the Royalties.</p> +<p>Her cleverness, her resource, her organizing power were lauded +to the skies, Royalty was gracious, and the grand-duke resentfully +asked an aide-de-camp on the way home why he had not been informed +that such a pretty person awaited him.</p> +<p>"I should den haf looked beforehand—as vel as tinking +behind," said the grand-duke, as he wrapped himself sentimentally +in his military cloak, to meditate on Lady Kitty's brown eyes.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Lord Parham remained closeted in his sitting-room with +his secretary. Ashe tried to gain admittance, but in vain. Lord +Parham pleaded great fatigue and his letters; and asked for a +<i>Bradshaw</i>.</p> +<p>"His lordship has inquired if there is a train to-night," said +the little secretary, evidently much flustered.</p> +<p>Ashe protested. And, indeed, as it turned out, there was no +train worth the taking. Then Lord Parham sent a message that he +hoped to appear at dinner.</p> +<p>Kitty locked her door while she was dressing, and Ashe, whose +mind was a confusion of many feelings—anger, compunction, and +that fascination which in her brilliant moods she exercised over +him no less than over others—could get no speech with +her.</p> +<p>They met on the threshold of the child's room, she coming out, +he going in. But she wrenched herself from him and would say +nothing. The report of the little boy was good; he smiled at his +father, and Ashe felt a cooling balm in the touch of his soft hands +and lips. He descended—in a more philosophical mind; +inclined, at any rate, to "damn" Lord Parham. What a fool the man +must be! Why couldn't he have taken it with a laugh, and so turned +the tables on Kitty?</p> +<p>Was there any good to be got out of apologizing? Ashe supposed +he must attempt it some time that night. A precious awkward +business! But relations had got to be restored somehow.</p> +<p>Lady Tranmore overtook him on the way down-stairs. In the press +of the afternoon they had hardly seen each other.</p> +<p>"What is really wrong with Lord Parham, William?" she asked him, +anxiously. Ashe hesitated, then whispered a word or two in her ear, +begging her to keep the great man in play for the evening. He was +to take her in, while Kitty would fall to the Bishop of the +diocese.</p> +<p>"She gets on perfectly with the clergy," said Lady Tranmore, +with an involuntary sigh. Then, as the sense of humor was strong in +both, they laughed. But it was a chilly and perfunctory +laughter.</p> +<p>They had no sooner passed into the main hall than Kitty came +running down-stairs, with a large packet in her hand.</p> +<p>"Mr. Darrell!"</p> +<p>"At your service!" said Darrell, emerging from the shadows of +one of the broad corridors of the ground-*floor.</p> +<p>"Take it, please!" said Kitty, panting a little, as she gave the +packet into his hands. "If I look at it any more, I <i>might</i> +burn it!"</p> +<p>"Suppose you do!"</p> +<p>"No, no!" said Kitty, pushing the bundle away, as he laughingly +tendered it. "I must see what happens!"</p> +<p>"Is the gap filled?"</p> +<p>She laid her finger on her lips. Her eyes danced. Then she +hurried on to the drawing-room.</p> +<p>Whether it were the soothing presence of the clergy or no, +certainly Kitty was no less triumphant at dinner than she had been +in the afternoon. The chorus of fun and pleasure that surrounded +her, while he himself sat, tired and bored, between Lady Edith +Manley and Lady Tranmore, did but make her offence the greater in +the eyes of Lord Parham. He had so far buried it in a complete and +magnificent silence. The meeting between him and his hostess before +dinner had been marked by a strict conformity to all the rules. +Kitty had inquired after his headache; Lord Parham expressed his +regrets that he had missed so brilliant a party; and Kitty, +flirting her fan, invented messages from the Royalties which, as +most of those present knew, the Royalties had been far too well +amused to think of. Then after this <i>pas seul</i>, in the +presence of the crowded drawing-room, had been duly executed, Kitty +retired to her Bishop, and Lord Parham led forth Lady Tranmore.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"What a lovely moon!" said Lady Edith Manley to the Dean. "It +makes even this house look romantic."</p> +<p>They were walking outside the drawing-room windows, on a terrace +which was, indeed, the only feature of the Haggart façade +which possessed some architectural interest. A low balustrade of +terra-cotta, copied from a famous Italian villa, ran round it, +broken by large terra-cotta pots now filled with orange-trees. Here +and there between the orange-trees were statues transported from +Naples in the late eighteenth century by a former Lord Tranmore. +There was a Ceres and a Diana, a Vestal Virgin, an Athlete, and an +Antinous, now brought into strange companionship under the windows +of this ugly English house. Chipped and blackened as they were, +and, to begin with, of a mere decorative importance, they still +breathed into the English evening a note of Italy or Greece, of +things lovely and immortal. The lamps in the sitting-rooms streamed +out through the widely opened windows upon the terrace, checkering +the marble figures, which now emerged sharply in the light, and now +withdrew in the gloom; while at one point they shone plainly upon +an empty pedestal before which the Dean and his companion +paused.</p> +<p>The Dean looked at the inscription. "What a pity! This once held +a statue of Hebe holding a torch. It was struck by lightning fifty +years ago."</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty might stand for her to-night," said Edith +Manley.</p> +<p>For Kitty, the capricious, had appeared at dinner in a +<i>quasi</i>-Greek dress, white, soft, and flowing, without an +ornament. The Dean acquiesced, but rather sadly.</p> +<p>"I wish she had the bloom of Hebe! My dear Lady Edith, our +hostess looks <i>ill</i>!"</p> +<p>"Does she? I can't tell—I admire her so!" said the woman +beside him, upon whose charming eyes some fairy had breathed +kindness and optimism from her cradle.</p> +<p>"<i>Ouf!</i>" cried Kitty, as she sprang across the sill of the +window behind them. "They're <i>all</i> gone! The Bishop wishes me +to become a vice-president of the Women's Diocesan Association. And +I've promised three curates to open bazaars. <i>Ah, mon Dieu!</i>" +She raised her white arms with a wild gesture, and then beckoned to +Eddie Helston, who was close beside her.</p> +<p>"Shall we try our dance?"</p> +<p>The young men of the house, a group of young guardsmen and +diplomats, gathered round, laughing and clapping. Kitty's dancing +had become famous during the winter as one of her many +extravagances. She no longer recited; literature bored her; motion +was the only poetry. So she had been carefully instructed by a +<i>danseuse</i> from the Opera, and in many points, so the +enthusiasts declared, had bettered her instructions. She was now in +love with a tempestuous Spanish dance, taught her by a gypsy +<i>señorita</i> who had been one of the sensations of the +London season. It required a partner, and she had been practising +it with young Helston, for several mornings past, in the empty +ballroom. Helston had spread its praises abroad; and all Haggart +desired to see it.</p> +<p>"There!" said Kitty, pointing her partner to a particular spot +on the terrace. "I think that will do. Where are the castanets, I +wonder?"</p> +<p>"Kitty!" said a voice behind her. Ashe emerged from the +drawing-room.</p> +<p>"Kitty, please! It is nearly midnight. Everybody is +tired—and you yourself must be worn out! Say good-night, and +let us all go to bed."</p> +<p>She turned. Willam's voice was low, but peremptory. She shook +back her hair from her temples and neck, with the gesture he had +learned to dread.</p> +<p>"Nobody's tired—and nobody wants to go to bed. Please +stand out of the way, William. I want plenty of room for my +steps."</p> +<p>And she began pirouetting, as though to try the capacities of +the space, humming to herself.</p> +<p>"Helston—this must be, please, for another night," said +Ashe, resolutely, in the young man's ear. "Lady Kitty is much too +tired." Then to Lady Edith, and the Dean—"Lady Edith, it +would be very kind of you to persuade my wife to go to bed. She +never knows when she is done!"</p> +<p>Lady Edith warmly acquiesced, and, hurrying up to Kitty, she +tried to persuade her in soft, caressing phrases.</p> +<p>"I stand on my rights!" said the Dean, following her. "If my +hostess is used up to-night, there'll be no hostess for me +to-morrow."</p> +<p>Kitty looked at them all, silent—her head bending forward, +a curious <i>méchant</i> look in the eyes that shone beneath +the slightly frowning brows. Meanwhile, by her previous order, a +footman had brought out two silver lamps and placed them on a small +table a little way behind her. Whether it was from some instinctive +sense of the beauty of the small figure in the slender, floating +dress under the deep blue of the night sky and amid the romantic +shadows and lights of the terrace—or from some divination of +things significant and hidden—it would be hard to say; but +the group of spectators had fallen back a little from Kitty, so +that she stood alone, a picture lit from the left by the lamps just +brought in.</p> +<p>The Dean looked at her—troubled by her wild aspect and the +evident conflict between her and Ashe. Then an idea flashed into +his mind, filled always, like that of an innocent child, with the +images of poetry and romance.</p> +<p>"One moment!" he said, raising his hand. "Lady Kitty, you spoil +us! After amusing us all day, now you would dance for us all night. +But your guests won't let you! We love you too well, and we want a +bit of you left for to-morrow. Never mind! You offered us a +dance—you bring us a vision—and a +poem!—Friends!"</p> +<p>He turned to those crowding round him, his white hair glistening +in the lamplight, his delicate face, so old and yet so eager, the +smile on his kind lips, and all the details of his Dean's +dress—apron and knee-breeches, slender legs and silver +buckles—thrown out in sharp relief upon the dark....</p> +<p>"Friends! you see this pedestal. Once Hebe, the cup-bearer of +the gods, stood there. Then—ungrateful Zeus smote her, and +she fell! But the Hours and the Graces bore her safe away, into a +golden land, and now they bring her back again. Behold +her!—Hebe reborn!"</p> +<p>He bowed, his courtly hand upon his breast, and a wave of +laughter and applause ran through the young group round him as +their eyes turned from the speaker to the exquisite figure of +Kitty. Lady Edith smiled kindly, clapping her soft hands. Mrs. +Winston, the Dean's wife, had eyes only for the Dean. In the +background Lady Tranmore watched every phase of Kitty's looks, and +Lord Grosville walked back into the dining-room, growling +unutterable things to Darrell as he passed.</p> +<p>Kitty raised her head to reply. But the Dean checked her. +Advancing a step or two, he saluted her again—profoundly.</p> +<p>"Dear Lady Kitty!—dear bringer of light and +ambrosia!—rest, and good-night! Your guests thank you by me, +with all their hearts. You have been the life of their day, the +spirit of their mirth. Good-night to Hebe!—and three cheers +for Lady Kitty!"</p> +<p>Eddie Helston led them, and they rang against the old house. +Kitty with a fluttering smile kissed her hand for thanks, and the +Dean saw her look round—dart a swift glance at Ashe. He stood +against the window-frame, in shadow, motionless, his arms +folded.</p> +<p>Then suddenly Kitty sprang forward.</p> +<p>"Give me that lamp!" she said to the young footman behind +her.</p> +<p>And in a second she had leaped upon the low wall of the terrace +and on the vacant pedestal. The lad to whom she had spoken lost his +head and obeyed her. He raised the lamp. She stooped and took it. +Ashe, who was now standing in the open window with his back to the +terrace, turned round, saw, and rushed forward.</p> +<p>"Kitty!—put it down!"</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty!" cried the Dean, in dismay, while all behind him +held their breath.</p> +<p>"Stand back!" said Kitty, "or I shall drop it!" She held up the +lamp, straight and steady. Ashe paused—in an agony of doubt +what to do, his whole soul concentrated on the slender arm and on +the brightly burning lamp.</p> +<p>"If you make me speeches," said Kitty, "I must reply, mustn't I? +(Keep back, William!—I'm all right.) Hebe thanks you, +please—<i>mille fois</i>! She herself hasn't been +happy—and she's afraid she hasn't been good! +<i>N'importe!</i> It's all done—and finished. The play's +over!—and the lights go out!"</p> +<p>She waved the lamp above her head.</p> +<p>"Kitty! for God's sake!" cried Ashe, rushing to her.</p> +<p>"She is mad!" said Lord Parham, standing at the back. "I always +knew it!"</p> +<p>The other spectators passed through a second of anguish. The +bright figure on the pedestal wavered; one moment, and it seemed as +though the lamp must descend crashing upon the head and neck and +the white dress beneath it; the next, it had fallen from Kitty's +hand—fallen away from her—wide and safe—into the +depths of the garden below. A flash of wild light rose from the +burning oil and from the dry shrubs amid which it fell. Kitty, +meanwhile, swayed—and +dropped—heavily—unconscious—into William Ashe's +arms.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Kitty barely recovered life and sense during the night that +followed. And while she was still unconscious her boy passed away. +The poor babe, all ignorant of the straits in which his mother lay, +was seized with convulsions in the dawn, and gave up his frail life +gathered to his father's breast.</p> +<p>Some ten weeks later, towards the end of October, society knew +that the Home Secretary and Lady Kitty had started for +Italy—bound first of all for Venice. It was said that Lady +Kitty was a wreck, and that it was doubtful whether she would ever +recover the sudden and tragic death of her only child.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_IV" id="PART_IV"></a>PART IV</h2> +<h3>STORM</h3> +<p class="figcenter">"Myself, arch-traitor to myself;<br /> +My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,<br /> +My clog whatever road I go."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> +<p>"'Among the numerous daubs with which Tintoret, to his +everlasting shame, has covered this church—'"</p> +<p>"Good Heavens!—what does the man mean?—or is he +talking of another church?" said Ashe, raising his head and looking +in bewilderment, first at the magnificent Tintoret in front of him, +and then at the lines he had just been reading.</p> +<p>"William!" cried Kitty, "<i>do</i> put that fool down and come +here; one sees it splendidly!"</p> +<p>She was standing in one of the choir-stalls of San Giorgio +Maggiore, somewhat raised above the point where Ashe had been +studying his German hand-book.</p> +<p>"My dear, if this man doesn't know, who does!" cried Ashe, +flourishing his volume in front of him as he obeyed her.</p> +<p>"'Dans le royaume des aveugles,'" said Kitty, contemptuously. +"As if any German could even begin to understand Tintoret! +But—don't talk!"</p> +<p>And clasping both hands round Ashe's arm, she stood leaning +heavily upon him, her whole soul gazing from the eyes she turned +upon the picture, her lips quivering, as though, from some physical +weakness, she could only just hold back the tears with which, +indeed, the face was charged.</p> +<p>She and Ashe were looking at that "Last Supper" of Tintoret's +which hangs in the choir of San Giorgio Maggiore at Venice.</p> +<p>It is a picture dear to all lovers of Tintoret, breathing in +every line and group the passionate and mystical fancy of the +master.</p> +<p>The scene passes, it will be remembered, in what seems to be the +spacious guest-chamber of an inn. The Lord and His disciples are +gathered round the last sacred meal of the Old Covenant, the first +of the New. On the left, a long table stretches from the spectator +into the depths of the picture; the disciples are ranged along one +side of it; and on the other sits Judas, solitary and accursed. The +young Christ has risen; He holds the bread in His lifted hands and +is about to give it to the beloved disciple, while Peter beyond, +rising from his seat in his eagerness, presses forward to claim his +own part in the Lord's body.</p> +<p>The action of the Christ has in it a very ecstasy of giving; the +bending form, indeed, is love itself, yearning and triumphant. This +is further expressed in the light which streams from the head of +the Lord, playing upon the long line of faces, illuminating the +vehement gesture of Peter, the adoring and radiant silence of St. +John—and striking even to the farthest corners of the room, +upon a woman, a child, a playing dog. Meanwhile, from the hanging +lamps above the supper-party there glows another and more earthly +light, mingled with fumes of smoke which darken the upper air. But +such is the power of the divine figure that from this very darkness +breaks adoration. The smoke-wreaths change under the gazer's eye +into hovering angels, who float round the head of the Saviour, and +look down with awe upon the first Eucharist; while the lamp-light, +interpenetrated by the glory which issues from the Lord, searches +every face and fold and surface, displays the figures of the +serving men and women in the background, shines on the household +stuff, the vases and plates, the black and white of the marble +floor, the beams of the old Venetian ceiling. Everywhere the double +ray, the two-fold magic! Steeped in these "majesties of light," the +immortal scene lives upon the quiet wall. Year after year the +slender, thought-worn Christ raises His hands of blessing; the +disciples strain towards Him; the angels issue from the darkness; +the friendly domestic life, happy, natural, unconscious, frames the +divine mystery. And among those who come to look there are, from +time to time, men and women who draw from it that restlessness of +vague emotion which Kitty felt as she hung now, gazing, on Ashe's +arm.</p> +<p>For there is in it an appeal which torments them—like the +winding of a mystic horn, on purple heights, by some approaching +and unseen messenger. Ineffable beauty, offering itself—and +in the human soul, the eternal human discord: what else makes the +poignancy of art—the passion of poetry?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"That's enough!" said Kitty, at last, turning abruptly away.</p> +<p>"You like it?" said Ashe, softly, detaining her, while he +pressed the little hand upon his arm. His heart was filled with a +great pity for his wife in these days.</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" was Kitty's impatient reply.</p> +<p>"It haunts me. There's still another to see—in a chapel. +The sacristan's making signs to us."</p> +<p>"Is there?" Ashe stifled a yawn. He asked Margaret French, who +had come up with them, whether Kitty had not had quite enough +sight-seeing. He himself must go to the Piazza, and get the news +before dinner. As an English cabinet minister, he had been admitted +to the best club of the Venice residents. Telegrams were to be seen +there; and there was anxious news from the Balkans.</p> +<p>Kitty merely insisted that she could not and would not go +without her remaining Tintoret, and the others yielded to her at +once, with that indulgent tenderness one shows to the wilfulness of +a sick child. She and Margaret followed the sacristan. Ashe +lingered behind in a passage of the church, surreptitiously reading +an Italian newspaper. He had the ordinary cultivated pleasure in +pictures; but this ardor which Kitty was throwing into her pursuit +of Tintoret—the Wagner of painting—left him cold. He +did not attempt to keep up with her.</p> +<p>Two ladies were already in the cloister chapel, with a +gentleman. As Kitty and her friend entered, these persons had just +finished their inspection of the damaged but most beautiful +"Pietà" which hangs over the altar, and their faces were +towards the entrance.</p> +<p>"Maman!" cried Kitty, in amazement.</p> +<p>The lady addressed started, put up a gold-rimmed eye-glass, +exclaimed, and hurried forward.</p> +<p>Kitty and she embraced, amid a torrent of laughter and +interjections from the elder lady, and then Kitty, whose pale +cheeks had put on scarlet, turned to Margaret French.</p> +<p>"Margaret!—my mother, Madame d'Estrées."</p> +<p>Miss French, who found herself greeted with effusion by the +strange lady, saw before her a woman of fifty, marvellously +preserved. Madame d'Estrées had grown stout; so much time +had claimed; but the elegant gray dress with its floating chiffon +and lace skilfully concealed the fact; and for the rest, +complexion, eyes, lips were still defiant of the years. If it were +art that had achieved it, nature still took the credit; it was so +finely done, the spectator could only lend himself and admire. +Under the pretty hat of gray tulle, whereof the strings were tied +bonnet-fashion under the plump chin, there looked out, indeed, a +face gay, happy, unconcerned, proof one might have thought of an +innocent past and a good conscience.</p> +<p>Kitty, who had drawn back a little, eyed her mother oddly.</p> +<p>"I thought you were in Paris. Your letter said you wouldn't be +able to move for weeks—"</p> +<p>"<i>Ma chère!</i>—<i>un miracle!</i>" cried Madame +d'Estrées, blushing, however, under her thin white veil. +"When I wrote to you, I was at death's door—wasn't I?" She +appealed to her companion, without waiting for an answer. "Then +some one told me of a new doctor, and in ten days, <i>me voici</i>! +They insisted on my going away—this dear woman—Donna +Laura Vercelli—my daughter, Lady Kitty Ashe!—knew of an +apartment here belonging to some relations of hers. And here we +are—charmingly <i>installées</i>!—and really +<i>nothing</i> to pay!"—Madame d'Estrées whispered, +smiling, in Kitty's ear—"nothing, compared to the hotels. I'm +economizing splendidly. Laura looks after every sou. Ah! my dear +William!"</p> +<p>For Ashe, puzzled by the voices within, had entered the chapel, +and stood in his turn, open-mouthed.</p> +<p>"Why, we thought you were an invalid."</p> +<p>For, some three weeks before, a letter had reached him at +Haggart, so full of melancholy details as to Madame +d'Estrées' health and circumstances that even Kitty had been +moved. Money had been sent; inquiries had been made by telegraph; +and but for a hasty message of a more cheerful character, received +just before they started, the Ashes, instead of journeying by +Brussels and Cologne, would have gone by Paris that Kitty might see +her mother. They had intended to stop there on their way back. Ashe +was not minded that Kitty should see more of Madame +d'Estrées than necessity demanded; but on this occasion he +would have felt it positively brutal to make difficulties.</p> +<p>And now here was this moribund lady, this forsaken of gods and +men, disporting herself at Venice, evidently in the pink of health +and attired in the freshest of Paris toilettes! As he coldly shook +hands, Ashe registered an inner vow that Madame d'Estrées' +letters henceforward should receive the attention they +deserved.</p> +<p>And beside her was her somewhat mysterious friend of London +days, the Colonel Warington who had been so familiar a figure in +the gatherings of St. James's Place—grown much older, almost +white-haired, and as gentlemanly as ever. Who was the lady? Ashe +was introduced, was aware of a somewhat dark and Jewish cast of +face, noticed some fine jewels, and could only suppose that his +mother-in-law had picked up some one to finance her, and provide +her with creature comforts in return for the social talents that +Madame d'Estrées still possessed in some abundance. He had +more than once noticed her skill in similar devices; but, indeed, +they were indispensable, for while he allowed Madame +d'Estrées one thousand a year, she was, it seemed, firmly +determined to spend a minimum of three.</p> +<p>He and Warington looked at each other with curiosity. The +bronzed face and honest eyes of the soldier betrayed nothing. "Are +you going to marry her at last?" thought Ashe. "Poor devil!"</p> +<p>Meanwhile Madame d'Estrées chattered away as though +nothing could be more natural than their meeting, or more perfect +than the relations between herself and her daughter and +son-in-law.</p> +<p>As they all strolled down the church she looked keenly at +Kitty.</p> +<p>"My dear child, how ill you look!—and your mourning! Ah, +yes, of course!"—she bit her lip—"I remember—the +poor, poor boy—"</p> +<p>"Thank you!" said Kitty, hastily. "I got your letter—thank +you very much. Where are you staying? We've got rooms on the Grand +Canal."</p> +<p>"Oh, but, Kitty!" cried Madame d'Estrées—"I was so +sorry for you!"</p> +<p>"Were you?" said Kitty, under her breath. "Then, please, never +speak of him to me again!"</p> +<p>Startled and offended, Madame d'Estrées looked at her +daughter. But what she saw disarmed her. For once even she felt +something like the pang of a mother. "You're <i>dreadfully</i> +thin, Kitty!"</p> +<p>Kitty frowned with annoyance.</p> +<p>"It's not my fault," she said, pettishly. "I live on cream, and +it's no good. Of course, I know I'm an object and a scarecrow; but +I'd rather people didn't tell me."</p> +<p>"What nonsense, <i>chére enfant!</i> You're much prettier +than you ever were."</p> +<p>A wild and fugitive radiance swept across the face beside +her.</p> +<p>"Am I?" said Kitty, smiling. "That's all right! If I had died it +wouldn't matter, of course. But—"</p> +<p>"Died! What do you mean, Kitty?" said Madame d'Estrées, +in bewilderment. "When William wrote to me I thought he meant you +had overtired yourself."</p> +<p>"Oh, well, the doctors said it was touch and go," said Kitty, +indifferently. "But, of course, it wasn't. I'm much too tough. And +then they fussed about one's heart. And that's all nonsense, too. I +couldn't die if I tried."</p> +<p>But Madame d'Estrées pondered—the bright, +intermittent color, the emaciation, the hollowness of the eyes. The +effect, so far, was to add to Kitty's natural distinction, to give, +rather, a touch of pathos to a face which even in its wildest mirth +had in it something alien and remote. But she, too, reflected that +a little more, a very little more, and—in a night—the +face would have dropped its beauty, as a rose its petals.</p> +<p>The group stood talking awhile on the steps outside the church. +Kitty and her mother exchanged addresses, Donna Laura opened her +mouth once or twice, and produced a few contorted smiles for +Kitty's benefit, while Colonel Warington tipped the sacristan, +found the gondolier, and studied the guide-book.</p> +<p>As Madame d'Estrées stepped into her gondola, assisted by +him, she tapped him on the arm.</p> +<p>"Are you coming, Markham?"</p> +<p>The low voice was pitched in a very intimate note. Kitty turned +with a start.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"A casa!" said Madame d'Estrées, and she and her friend +made for one of the canals that pierce the Zattere, while Colonel +Warington went off for a walk along the Giudecca.</p> +<p>Kitty and Ashe bade their gondoliers take them to the Piazzetta, +and presently they were gliding across waters of flame and silver, +where the white front and red campanile of San Giorgio—now +blazing under the sunset—mirrored themselves in the lagoon. +The autumn evening was fresh and gay. A light breeze was on the +water; lights that only Venice knows shone on the tawny sails of +fishing-boats making for the Lido, on the white sides of an English +yacht, on the burnished prows of the gondolas, on the warm +reddish-white of the Ducal Palace. The air blowing from the +Adriatic breathed into their faces the strength of the sea; and in +the far distance, above that line of buildings where lies the heart +of Venice, the high ghosts of the Friulian Alps glimmered amid the +sweeping regiments and purple shadows of the land-hurrying +clouds.</p> +<p>"This does you good, darling!" said Ashe, stooping down to look +into his wife's face, as she nestled beside him on the soft +cushions of the gondola.</p> +<p>Kitty gave him a slight smile, then said, with a furrowed +brow:</p> +<p>"Who could ever have thought we should find maman here!"</p> +<p>"Don't have her on your mind!" said Ashe, with some sharpness. +"I can't have anything worrying you."</p> +<p>She slipped her hand into his.</p> +<p>"Is that man going to marry her—at last? She called him +'Markham.' That's new."</p> +<p>"Looks rather like it," said Ashe. "Then <i>he'll</i> have to +look after the debts!"</p> +<p>They began to piece together what they knew of Colonel Warington +and his relation to Madame d'Estrées. It was not much. But +Ashe believed that originally Warington had not been in love with +her at all. There had been a love-affair between her and +Warington's younger brother, a smart artillery officer, when she +was the widowed Lady Blackwater. She had behaved with more heart +and scruple than she had generally been known to do in these +matters, and the young officer adored her—hoped, indeed, to +marry her. But he was called on—in Paris—to fight a +duel on her account, and was killed. Before fighting, he had +commended Lady Blackwater to the care of his much older brother, +also a soldier, between whom and himself there existed a rare and +passionate devotion; and ever since the poor lad's death, Markham +Warington had been the friend and quasi-guardian of the +lady—through her second marriage, through the checkered years +of her existence in London, and now through the later years of her +residence on the Continent, a residence forced upon her by her +agreement with the Tranmores. Again and again he had saved her from +bankruptcy, or from some worse scandal which would have wrecked the +last remnants of her fame.</p> +<p>But, all the time, he was himself bound by strong ties of +gratitude and affection to an elder sister who had brought him up, +with whom he lived in Scotland during half the year. And this stout +Puritan lady detested the very name of Madame d'Estrées.</p> +<p>"But she's dead," said Ashe. "I remember noticing her death in +the <i>Times</i> some three months ago. That, of course, explains +it. Now he's free to marry."</p> +<p>"And so maman will settle down, and be happy ever afterwards!" +said Kitty, with a sarcastic lifting of the brow. "Why should +anybody be good?"</p> +<p>The bitterness of her look struck Ashe disagreeably. That any +child should speak so of a mother was a tragic and sinister thing. +But he was well aware of the causes.</p> +<p>"Were you very unhappy when you were a child, Kitty?" He pressed +the hand he held.</p> +<p>"No," said Kitty, shortly. "I'm too like maman. I suppose, +really, at bottom, I liked all the debts, and the excitement, and +the shady people!"</p> +<p>"That wasn't the impression you gave me, in the first days of +our acquaintance!" said Ashe, laughing.</p> +<p>"Oh, then I was grown up—and there were drawbacks. But I'm +made of the same stuff as maman," she said, +obstinately—"except that I can't tell so many fibs. That's +really why we didn't get on."</p> +<p>Her brown eyes held him with that strange, unspoken defiance it +seemed so often beyond her power to hide. It was like the +fluttering of some caged thing hungering for it knows not what. +Then, as they scanned the patient good-temper of his face, they +melted; and her little fingers squeezed his; while Margaret French +kept her eyes fixed on the two columns of the Piazzetta.</p> +<p>"How strange to find her here!" said Kitty, under her breath. +"Now, if it had been Alice—my sister Alice!"</p> +<p>William nodded. It had been known to them for some time that +Lady Alice Wensleydale, to whom Italy had become a second country, +had settled in a villa near Treviso, where she occupied herself +with a lace school for women and girls.</p> +<p>The mention of her sister threw Kitty into what seemed to be a +disagreeable reverie. The flush brought by the sea-wind faded. Ashe +looked at her with anxiety.</p> +<p>"You have done too much, Kitty—as usual!"</p> +<p>His voice was almost angry.</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"What does it matter? You know very well it would be much better +for you if—"</p> +<p>"If what?"</p> +<p>"If I followed Harry." The words were just breathed, and her +eyes shrank from meeting his. Ashe, on the other hand, turned and +looked at her steadily.</p> +<p>"Are you quite determined I sha'n't get <i>any</i> joy out of my +holiday?"</p> +<p>She shook her head uncertainly. Then, almost immediately, she +began to chatter to Margaret French about the sights of the lagoon, +with her natural trenchancy and fun. But her hand, hidden under the +folds of her black cloak, still clung to William's.</p> +<p>"It is her illness," he said to himself, "and the loss of the +child."</p> +<p>And at the remembrance of his little son, a wave of sore +yearning filled his own heart. Deep under the occupations and +interests of the mind lay this passionate regret, and at any moment +of pause or silence its "buried life" arose and seized him. But he +was a busy politician, absorbed even in these days of holiday by +the questions and problems of the hour. And Kitty was a delicate +woman—with no defence against the torture of grief.</p> +<p>He thought of those first days after the child's death, when in +spite of the urgency of the doctors it had been impossible to keep +the news from Kitty; of the ghastly effect of it upon nerves and +brain already imperilled by causes only half intelligible; of those +sudden flights from her nurses, when the days of convalescence +began, to the child's room, and, later, to his grave. There was +stinging pain in these recollections. Nor was he, in truth, much +reassured by his wife's more recent state. It was impossible, +indeed, that he should give it the same constant thought as a woman +might—or a man of another and more emotional type. At this +moment, perhaps, he had literally no <i>time</i> for the subtleties +of introspective feeling, even had his temperament inclined him to +them, which was, in truth, not the case. He knew that Kitty had +suddenly and resolutely ceased to talk about the boy, had thrown +herself with the old energy into new pursuits, and, since she came +to Venice in particular, had shown a feverish desire to fill every +hour with movement and sight-seeing.</p> +<p>But was she, in truth, much better—in body or +soul?—poor child! The doctors had explained her illness as +nervous collapse, pointing back to a long preceding period of +overstrain and excitement. There had been suspicions of tubercular +mischief, but no precise test was then at command; and as Kitty had +improved with rest and feeding the idea had been abandoned. But +Ashe was still haunted by it, though quite ready—being a +natural optimist—to escape from it, and all other incurable +anxieties, as soon as Kitty herself should give the signal.</p> +<p>As to the moral difficulties and worries of those months at +Haggart, Ashe remembered them as little as might be. Kitty's +illness, indeed, had shown itself in more directions than one, as +an amending and appeasing fact. Even Lord Parham had been moved to +compassion and kindness by the immediate results of that horrible +scene on the terrace. His leave-taking from Ashe on the morning +afterwards had been almost cordial—almost intimate. And as to +Lady Tranmore, whenever she had been able to leave her paralyzed +husband she had been with Kitty, nursing her with affectionate +wisdom night and day. While on the other members of the Haggart +party the sheer pity of Kitty's condition had worked with +surprising force. Lord Grosville had actually made his wife offer +Grosville Park for Kitty's convalescence—Kitty got her first +laugh out of the proposal. The Dean had journeyed several times +from his distant cathedral town, to see and sit with Kitty; Eddie +Helston's flowers had been almost a nuisance; Mrs. Alcot had shown +herself quite soft and human.</p> +<p>The effect, indeed, of this general sympathy on Lord Parham's +relations to the chief member of his cabinet had been but small and +passing. Ashe disliked and distrusted him more than ever; and +whatever might have happened to the Premier's resentment of a +particular offence, there could be no doubt that a visit from which +Ashe had hoped much had ended in complete failure, that Parham was +disposed to cross his powerful henchman where he could, and that +intrigue was busy in the cabinet itself against the reforming party +of which Ashe was the head Ashe, indeed, felt his own official +position, outwardly so strong, by no means secure. But the game of +politics was none the less exhilarating for that.</p> +<p>As to Kitty's relation to himself—and life's most intimate +and tender things—in these days, did he probe his own +consciousness much concerning them? Probably not. Was he aware +that, when all was said and done, in spite of her misdoings, in +spite of his passion of anxiety during her illness, in spite of the +pity and affection of his daily attitude, Kitty occupied, in truth, +much less of his mind than she had ever yet occupied?—that a +certain magic—primal, incommunicable—had ceased to +clothe her image in his thoughts?</p> +<p>Again—probably not. For these slow changes in a man's +inmost personality are like the ebb and flow of summer tides over +estuary sands. Silent, the main creeps in, or out; and while we +dream, the great basin fills, and the fishing-boats come +in—or the gentle, pitiless waters draw back into the bosom of +ocean, and the sea-birds run over the wide, untenanted flats.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They landed at the Piazzetta as the lamps were being lit. The +soft October darkness was falling fast, and on the ledges of St. +Mark's and the Ducal Palace the pigeons had begun to roost. An +animated crowd was walking up and down in the Piazza where a band +was playing; and on the golden horses of St. Mark's there shone a +pale and mystical light, the last reflection from the western sky. +Under the colonnades the jewellers and glass-shops blazed and +sparkled, and the warm sea-wind fluttered the Italian flags on the +great flag-staffs that but so recently had borne the Austrian +eagle.</p> +<p>Ashe walked with his head thrown back, thinking absently, in +this centre of Venice, of English politics, and of a phrase of +Metternich's he had come across in a volume of memoirs he had been +lately reading on the journey:</p> +<p>"Le jour qui court n'a aucune valeur pour moi, excepté +comme la veille du lendemain. C'est toujours avec le lendemain que +mon esprit lutte."</p> +<p>The phrase pleased him particularly.</p> +<p>He, too, was wrestling with the morrow, though in another sense +than Metternich's. His mind was alive with projects; an exultant +consciousness both of capacity and opportunity possessed him.</p> +<p>"Why, you've passed the club, William!" said Kitty.</p> +<p>Ashe awoke with a start, smiled at her, and with a wave of the +hand disappeared in a stairway to the right.</p> +<p>Margaret French lingered in a bead-shop to make some purchases. +Kitty walked home alone, and Margaret, whose watchful affection +never failed, knew that she preferred it, and let her go her +way.</p> +<p>The Ashes had rooms on the first bend of the Grand Canal looking +south. To reach them by land from the Piazza, Kitty had to pass +through a series of narrow streets, or <i>calles</i>, broken by +<i>campos</i>, or small squares, in which stood churches. As she +passed one of these churches she was attracted by the sound of gay +music and by the crowd about the entrance. Pushing aside the +leathern curtain over the door, she found herself in a great rococo +nave, which blazed with lights and decorations. Lines of huge wax +candles were fixed in temporary holders along the floor. The +pillars were swathed in rose-colored damask, and the choir was +ablaze with flowers, and even more brilliantly lit, if possible, +than the rest of the church.</p> +<p>Kitty's Catholic training told her that an exposition of the +Blessed Sacrament was going on. Mechanically she dipped her fingers +into the holy water, she made her genuflection to the altar, and +knelt down in one of the back rows.</p> +<p>How rich and sparkling it was—the lights, the bright +colors, the dancing music! "<i>Dolce Sacramento! Santo +Sacramento!</i>" these words of an Italian hymn or litany recurred +again and again, with endless iteration. Kitty's sensuous, +excitable nature was stirred with delight. Then, suddenly, she +remembered her child, and the little face she had seen for the last +time in the coffin. She began to cry softly, hiding her face in her +black veil. An unbearable longing possessed her. "I shall never +have another child," she thought. "<i>That's</i> all over."</p> +<p>Then her thoughts wandered back to the party at Haggart, to the +scene on the terrace, and to that rush of excitement which had +mastered her, she scarcely knew how or why. She could still hear +the Dean's voice—see the lamp wavering above her head. "What +possessed me! I didn't care a straw whether the lamp set me on +fire—whether I lived or died. I wanted to die."</p> +<p>Was it because of that short conversation with William in the +afternoon?—because of the calmness with which he had taken +that word "separation," which she had thrown at him merely as a +child boasts and threatens, never expecting for one moment to be +taken at its word? She had proposed it to him before, after the +night at Hamel Weir; she had been serious then, it had been an +impulse of remorse, and he had laughed at her. But at Haggart it +had been an impulse of temper, and he had taken it seriously. How +the wound had rankled, all the afternoon, while she was chattering +to the Royalties! And as she jumped on the pedestal, and saw his +face of horror, there was the typical womanish triumph that she had +made him <i>feel</i>—would make him feel yet more.</p> +<p>How good, how tender he had been to her in her illness! And +yet—yet?</p> +<p>"He cares for politics, for his plans—not for me. He will +never trust me again—as he did once. He'll never ask me to +help him—he'll find ways not to—though he'll be very +sweet to me all the time."</p> +<p>And the thought of her nullity with him in the future, her +insignificance in his life, tortured her.</p> +<p>Why had she treated Lord Parham so? "I can be a lady when I +choose," she said, mockingly, to herself. "I wasn't even a +lady."</p> +<p>Then suddenly there flashed on her memory a little picture of +Lord Parham, standing spectacled and bewildered, peering into her +slip of paper. She bent her head on her hands and laughed, a +stifled, hysterical laugh, which scandalized the woman kneeling +beside her.</p> +<p>But the laugh was soon quenched again in restless pain. +William's affection had been her only refuge in those weeks of +moral and physical misery she had just passed through.</p> +<p>"But it's only because he's so terribly sorry for me. It's all +quite different. And I can't ever make him love me again in the old +way.... It wasn't my fault. It's something born in me—that +catches me by the throat."</p> +<p>And she had the actual physical sense of some one strangled by a +possessing force.</p> +<p>"<i>Dolce Sacramento! Santo Sacramento!</i>"... The music swayed +and echoed through the church. Kitty uncovered her eyes and felt a +sudden exhilaration in the blaze of light. It reminded her of the +bending Christ in the picture of San Giorgio. Awe and beauty flowed +in upon her, in spite of the poor music and the tawdry church. What +if she tried religion?—recalled what she had been taught in +the convent?—gave herself up to a director?</p> +<p>She shivered and recoiled. How would she ever maintain her faith +against William—William, who knew so much more than she?</p> +<p>Then, into the emptiness of her heart there stole the inevitable +temptations of memory. Where was Geoffrey? She knew well that he +was a violent and selfish man; but he understood much in her that +William would never understand. With a morbid eagerness she +recalled the play of feeling between them, before that mad evening +at Hamel Weir. What perpetual excitement—no time to +think—or regret!</p> +<p>During her weeks of illness she had lost all count of his +movements. Had he been still writing during the summer for the +newspaper which had sent him out? Had there not been rumors of his +being wounded—or attacked by fever? Her memory, still vague +and weak, struggled painfully with memories it could not +recapture.</p> +<p>The Italian paper of that morning—she had spelled it out +for herself at breakfast—had spoken of a defeat of the +insurrectionary forces, and of their withdrawal into the highlands +of Bosnia. There would be a lull in the fighting. Would he come +home? And all this time had he been the mere spectator and +reporter, or fighting, himself? Her pulses leaped as she thought of +him leading down-trodden peasants against the Turk.</p> +<p>But she knew nothing. Surely during the last few months he had +purposely made a mystery of his doings and his whereabouts. The +only sign of him which seemed to have reached England had been that +volume of poems—with those hateful lines! Her lip quivered. +She was like a weak child—unable to bear the thought of +anything hostile and unkind.</p> +<p>If he had already turned homeward? Perhaps he would come through +Venice! Anyway, he was not far off. The day before she and Margaret +had made their first visit to the Lido. And as Kitty stood fronting +the Adriatic waves, she had dreamed that somewhere, beyond the +farther coast, were those Bosnian mountains in which Geoffrey had +passed the winter.</p> +<p>Then she started at her own thoughts, rose—loathing +herself—drew down her veil, and moved towards the door.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>As she reached the leathern curtain which hung over the doorway, +a lady in front who was passing through held the curtain aside that +Kitty might follow. Kitty stepped into the street and looked up to +say a mechanical "Thank you."</p> +<p>But the word died on her lips. She gave a stifled cry, which was +echoed by the woman before her.</p> +<p>Both stood motionless, staring at each other.</p> +<p>Kitty recovered herself first.</p> +<p>"It's not my fault that we've met," she said, panting a little. +"Don't look at me so—so unkindly. I know you don't want to +see me. Why—why should we speak at all? I'm going away." And +she turned with a gesture of farewell.</p> +<p>Alice Wensleydale laid a detaining hand on Kitty's arm.</p> +<p>"No! stay a moment. You are in black. You look ill."</p> +<p>Kitty turned towards her. They had moved on instinctively into +the shelter of one of the narrow streets.</p> +<p>"My boy died—two months ago," she said, holding herself +proudly aloof.</p> +<p>Lady Alice started.</p> +<p>"I hadn't heard. I'm very sorry for you. How old was he?"</p> +<p>"Three years old."</p> +<p>"Poor baby!" The words were very low and soft. "My boy—was +fourteen. But you have other children?"</p> +<p>"No—and I don't want them. They might die, too."</p> +<p>Lady Alice paused. She still held her half-sister by the arm, +towering above her. She was quite as thin as Kitty, but much taller +and more largely built; and, beside the elaborate elegance of +Kitty's mourning, Alice's black veil and dress had a severe, +conventual air. They were almost the dress of a religious.</p> +<p>"How are you?" she said, gently. "I often think of you. Are you +happy in your marriage?"</p> +<p>Kitty laughed.</p> +<p>"We're such a happy lot, aren't we? We understand it so well. +Oh, don't trouble about me. You know you said you couldn't have +anything to do with me. Are you staying in Venice?"</p> +<p>"I came in from Treviso for a day or two, to see a +friend—"</p> +<p>"You had better not stay," said Kitty, hastily. "Maman is here. +At least, if you don't want to run across her."</p> +<p>Lady Alice let go her hold.</p> +<p>"I shall go home to-morrow morning."</p> +<p>They moved on a few steps in silence, then Alice paused. Kitty's +delicate face and cloud of hair made a pale, luminous spot in the +darkness of the <i>calle</i>. Alice looked at her with emotion.</p> +<p>"I want to say something to you."</p> +<p>"Yes?"</p> +<p>"If you are ever in trouble—if you ever want me, send for +me. Address Treviso, and it will always find me."</p> +<p>Kitty made no reply. They had reached a bridge over a side +canal, and she stopped, leaning on the parapet.</p> +<p>"Did you hear what I said?" asked her companion.</p> +<p>"Yes. I'll remember. I suppose you think it your duty. What do +you do with yourself?"</p> +<p>"I have two orphan children I bring up. And there is my +lace-school. It doesn't get on much; but it occupies me."</p> +<p>"Are you a Catholic?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Wish I was!" said Kitty. She hung over the marble balustrade in +silence, looking at the crescent moon that was just peering over +the eastern palaces of the canal. "My husband is in politics, you +know. He's Home Secretary."</p> +<p>"Yes, I heard. Do you help him?"</p> +<p>"No—just the other thing."</p> +<p>Kitty lifted up a pebble and let it drop into the water.</p> +<p>"I don't know what you mean by that," said Alice Wensleydale, +coldly. "If you don't help him you'll be sorry—when it's too +late to be sorry."</p> +<p>"Oh, I know!" said Kitty. Then she moved restlessly. "I must go +in. Good-night." She held out her hand.</p> +<p>Lady Alice took it.</p> +<p>"Good-night. And remember!"</p> +<p>"I sha'n't want anybody," said Kitty. "<i>Addio!</i>" She waved +her hand, and Alice Wensleydale, whose way lay towards the Piazza, +saw her disappear, a small tripping shadow, between the high, +close-piled houses.</p> +<p>Kitty was in so much excitement after this conversation that +when she reached the Campo San Maurizio, where she should have +turned abruptly to the left, she wandered awhile up and down the +campo, looking at the gondolas on the Traghetto between it and the +Accademia, at the Church of San Maurizio, at the rising moon, and +the bright lights in some of the shop windows of the small streets +to the north. The sea-wind was still warm and gusty, and the waves +in the Grand Canal beat against the marble feet of its palaces.</p> +<p>At last she found her way through narrow passages, past hidden +and historic buildings, to the back of the palace on the Grand +Canal in which their rooms were. A door in a small court opened to +her ring. She found herself in a dark ground-floor—empty +except for the <i>felze</i> or black top of a gondola—of +which the farther doors opened on the canal. A cheerful Italian +servant brought lights, and on the marble stairs was her maid +waiting for her. In a few minutes she was on her sofa by a bright +wood fire, while Blanche hovered round her with many small +attentions.</p> +<p>"Have you seen your letters, my lady?" and Blanche handed her a +pile. Upon a parcel lying uppermost Kitty pounced at once with +avidity. She tore it open—pausing once, with scarlet cheeks, +to look round her at the door, as though she were afraid of being +seen.</p> +<p>A book—fresh and new—emerged. <i>Politics and the +Country Houses</i>; so ran the title on the back. Kitty looked at +it frowning. "He might have found a better name!" Then she opened +it—looked at a page here and a page there—laughed, +shivered—and at last bethought her to read the note from the +publisher which accompanied it.</p> +<p>"'Much pleasure—the first printed copy—three more to +follow—sure to make a sensation'—hateful +wretch!—'if your ladyship will let us know how many +presentation copies—' Goodness!—not <i>one</i>! +Oh—well!—Madeleine, perhaps—and, of course, Mr. +Darrell."</p> +<p>She opened a little despatch-box in which she kept her letters, +and slipped the book in.</p> +<p>"I won't show it to William to-night—not—not till +next week." The book was to be out on the 20th, a week +ahead—three months from the day when she had given the MS. +into Darrell's hands. She had been spared all the trouble of +correcting proofs, which had been done for her by the publisher's +reader, on the plea of her illness. She had received and destroyed +various letters from him—almost without reading +them—during a short absence of William's in the north.</p> +<p>Suddenly a start of terror ran through her. "No, no!" she said, +wrestling with herself—"he'll scold me, perhaps—at +first; of course I know he'll do that. And then, I'll make him +laugh! He can't—he can't help laughing. I <i>know</i> it'll +amuse him. He'll see how I meant it, too. And nobody need ever find +out."</p> +<p>She heard his step outside, hastily locked her despatch-box, +threw a shawl over it, and lay back languidly on her pillows, +awaiting him.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> +<p>The following morning, early, a note was brought to Kitty from +Madame d'Estrées:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Darling Kitty,—Will you join us to-night in an +expedition? You know that Princess Margherita is staying on the +Grand Canal?—in one of the Mocenigo palaces. There is to be a +serenata in her honor to-night—not one of those vulgar +affairs which the hotels get up, but really good music and fine +voices—money to be given to some hospital or other. Do come +with us. I suppose you have your own gondola, as we have. The +gondolas who wish to follow meet at the Piazzetta, weather +permitting, eight o'clock. I know, of course, that you are not +going out. But this is <i>only</i> music!—and for a charity. +One just sits in one's gondola, and follows the music up the canal. +Send word by bearer. Your fond mother,</p> +<p>"Marguerite d'Estrées."</p> +</div> +<p>Kitty tossed the note over to Ashe. "Aren't you dining out +somewhere to-night?"</p> +<p>Her voice was listless. And as Ashe lifted his head from the +cabinet papers which had just reached him by special messenger, his +attention was disagreeably recalled from high matters of state to +the very evident delicacy of his wife. He replied that he had +promised to dine with Prince S—— at Danieli's, in order +to talk Italian politics. "But I can throw it over in a moment, if +you want me. I came to Venice for <i>you</i>, darling," he said, as +he rose and joined her on the balcony which commanded a fine +stretch of the canal.</p> +<p>"No, no! Go and dine with your prince. I'll go with +maman—Margaret and I. At least, Margaret must, of course, +please herself!"</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders, and then added, "Maman's probably in +the pink of society here. Venice doesn't take its cue from people +like Aunt Lina!"</p> +<p>Ashe smiled uncomfortably. He was in truth by this time +infinitely better acquainted with the incidents of Madame +d'Estrées's past career than Kitty was. He had no mind +whatever that Kitty should become less ignorant, but his knowledge +sometimes made conversation difficult.</p> +<p>Kitty was perfectly aware of his embarrassment.</p> +<p>"You never tell me—" she said, abruptly. "Did she really +do such dreadful things?"</p> +<p>"My dear Kitty!—why talk about it?"</p> +<p>Kitty flushed, then threw a flower into the water below with a +defiant gesture.</p> +<p>"What does it matter? It's all so long ago. I have nothing to do +with what I did ten years ago—nothing!"</p> +<p>"A convenient doctrine!" laughed Ashe. "But it cuts both ways. +You get neither the good of your good nor the bad of your bad."</p> +<p>"I have no good," said Kitty, bitterly.</p> +<p>"What's the matter with you, miladi?" said Ashe, half scolding, +half tender. "You growl over my remarks as though you were your own +small dog with a bone. Come here and let me tell you the news."</p> +<p>And drawing the sofa up to the open window which commanded the +marvellous waterway outside, with its rows of palaces on either +hand, he made her lie down while he read her extracts from his +letters.</p> +<p>Margaret French, who was writing at the farther side of the +room, glanced at them furtively from time to time. She saw that +Ashe was trying to charm away the languor of his companion by that +talk of his, shrewd, humorous, vehement, well informed, which made +him so welcome to the men of his own class and mode of life. And +when he talked to a woman as he was accustomed to talk to men, that +woman felt it a compliment. Under the stimulus of it, Kitty woke +up, laughed, argued, teased, with something of her natural +animation.</p> +<p>Presently, indeed, the voices had sunk so much and the heads had +drawn so close together that Margaret French slipped away, under +the impression that they were discussing matters to which she was +not meant to listen.</p> +<p>She had hardly closed the door when Kitty drew herself away from +Ashe, and holding his arm with both hands looked strangely into his +eyes.</p> +<p>"You're awfully good to me, William. But, you know—you +don't tell me secrets!"</p> +<p>"What do you mean, darling?"</p> +<p>"You don't tell me the real secrets—what Lord Palmerston +used to tell to Lady Palmerston!"</p> +<p>"How do you know what he used to tell her?" said Ashe, with a +laugh. But his forehead had reddened.</p> +<p>"One hears—and one guesses—from the letters that +have been published. Oh, I understand quite well! You can't trust +me!"</p> +<p>Ashe turned aside and began to gather up his papers.</p> +<p>"Of course," said Kitty, a little hoarsely, "I know it's my own +fault, because you used to tell me much more. I suppose it was the +way I behaved to Lord Parham?"</p> +<p>She looked at him rather tremulously. It was the first time +since her illness began that she had referred to the incidents at +Haggart.</p> +<p>"Look here!" said Ashe, in a tone of decision; "I shall +<i>really</i> give up talking politics to you if it only reminds +you of disagreeable things."</p> +<p>She took no notice.</p> +<p>"Is Lord Parham behaving well to +you—now—William?"</p> +<p>Ashe colored hotly. As a matter of fact, in his own opinion, +Lord Parham was behaving vilely. A measure of first-rate importance +for which he was responsible was already in danger of being +practically shelved, simply, as it seemed to him, from a lack of +elementary trustworthiness in Lord Parham. But as to this he had +naturally kept his own counsel with Kitty.</p> +<p>"He is not the most agreeable of customers," he said, gayly. +"But I shall get through. Pegging away does it."</p> +<p>"And then to see how our papers flatter him!" cried Kitty. "How +little people know, who think they know! It would be amusing to +show the world the real Lord Parham."</p> +<p>She looked at her husband with an expression that struck him +disagreeably. He threw away his cigarette, and his face +changed.</p> +<p>"What we have to do, my dear Kitty, is simply to hold our +tongues."</p> +<p>Kitty sat up in some excitement.</p> +<p>"That man never hears the truth!"</p> +<p>Ashe shrugged his shoulders. It seemed to him incredible that +she should pursue this particular topic, after the incidents at +Haggart.</p> +<p>"That's not the purpose for which Prime Ministers exist. Anyway, +<i>we</i> can't tell it him."</p> +<p>Undaunted, however, by his tone, and with what seemed to him +extraordinary excitability of manner, Kitty reminded him of an +incident in the life of a bygone administration, when the near +relative of an English statesman, staying at the time in the +statesman's house, had sent a communication to one of the +quarterlies attacking his policy and belittling his character, by +means of information obtained in the intimacy of a country-house +party.</p> +<p>"One of the most treacherous things ever done!" said Ashe, +indignantly. "Fair fight, if you like! But if that kind of thing +were to spread, I for one should throw up politics to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Every one said it did a vast deal of good," persisted +Kitty.</p> +<p>"A precious sort of good! Yes—I believe Parham in +particular profited by it—more shame to him! If anybody ever +tried to help me in that sort of way—anybody, that is, for +whom I felt the smallest responsibility—I know what I should +do."</p> +<p>"What?" Kitty fell back on her cushions, but her eye still held +him.</p> +<p>"Send in my resignation by the next post—and damn the +fellow that did it! Look here, Kitty!" He came to stand over +her—a fine formidable figure, his hands in his pockets. +"Don't you ever try that kind of thing—there's a +darling."</p> +<p>"Would you damn me?"</p> +<p>She smiled at him—with a tremor of the lip.</p> +<p>He caught up her hand and kissed it. "Blow out my own brains, +more like," he said, laughing. Then he turned away. "What on earth +have we got into this beastly conversation for? Let's get out of +it. The Parhams are there—male and female—aren't +they?—and we've got to put up with them. Well, I'm going to +the Piazza. Any commissions? Oh, by-the-way"—he looked back +at a letter in his hands—"mother says Polly Lyster will +probably be here before we go—she seems to be touring around +with her father."</p> +<p>"Charming prospect!" said Kitty. "Does mother expect me to +chaperon her?"</p> +<p>Ashe laughed and went. As soon as he was gone, Kitty sprang from +the sofa, and walked up and down the room in a passionate +preoccupation. A tremor of great fear was invading her; an agony of +unavailing regret.</p> +<p>"What can I do?" she said to herself, as her upper lip twisted +and tortured the lower one.</p> +<p>Presently she caught up her purse, went to her room, where she +put on her walking things without summoning Blanche, and stealing +down the stairs, so as to be unheard by Margaret, she made her way +to the back gate of the Palazzo, and so to the streets leading to +the Piazza. William had taken the gondola to the Piazzetta, so she +felt herself safe.</p> +<p>She entered the telegraphic office at the western end of the +Piazza, and sent a telegram to England that nearly emptied her +purse of francs. When she came out she was as pale as she had been +flushed before—a little, terror-stricken figure, passing in a +miserable abstraction through the intricate backways which took her +home.</p> +<p>"It won't be published for ten days. There's time. It's only a +question of money," she said to herself, feverishly—"only a +question of money!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>All the rest of the day, Kitty was at once so restless and so +languid that to amuse her was difficult. Ashe was quite grateful to +his amazing mother-in-law for the plan of the evening.</p> +<p>As night fell, Kitty started at every sound in the old Palazzo. +Once or twice she went half-way to the +door—eagerly—with hand out-stretched—as though +she expected a letter.</p> +<p>"No other English post to-night, Kitty!" said Ashe, at last, +raising his head from the finely printed <i>Poetæ Minores</i> +he had just purchased at Ongania's. "You don't mean to say you're +not thankful!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The evening arrived—clear and mild, but moonless. Ashe +went off to dine with his prince, in the ordinary gondola of +commerce, hired at the Traghetto; while Margaret and Kitty followed +a little later in one which had already drawn the attention of +Venice, owing to the two handsome gondoliers, habited in black from +head to foot, who were attached to it. They turned towards the +Piazzetta, where they were to meet with Madame d'Estrées' +party.</p> +<p>Kitty, in her deep mourning, sank listlessly into the black +cushions of the gondola. Yet almost as they started, as the first +strokes carried them past the famous palace which is now the +Prefecture, the spell of Venice began to work.</p> +<p>City of rest!—as it seems to our modern senses—how +is it possible that so busy, so pitiless, and covetous a life as +history shows us should have gone to the making and the fashioning +of Venice! The easy passage of the gondola through the soft, +imprisoned wave; the silence of wheel and hoof, of all that hurries +and clatters; the tide that comes and goes, noiseless, +indispensable, bringing in the freshness of the sea, carrying away +the defilements of the land; the narrow winding ways, now firm +earth, now shifting sea, that bind the city into one social whole, +where the industrial and the noble alike are housed in palaces, +equal often in beauty as in decay; the marvellous quiet of the +nights, save when the northeast wind, Hadria's stormy leader, +drives the furious waves against the palace fronts in the darkness, +with the clamor of an attacking host; the languor of the hot +afternoons, when life is a dream of light and green water, when the +play of mirage drowns the foundations of the <i>lidi</i> in the +lagoon, so that trees and buildings rise out of the sea as though +some strong Amphion-music were but that moment calling them from +the deep; and when day departs, that magic of the swiftly falling +dusk, and that white foam and flower of St. Mark's upon the purple +intensity of the sky!—through each phase of the hours and the +seasons, <i>rest</i> is still the message of Venice, rest enriched +with endless images, impressions, sensations, that cost no trouble +and breed no pain.</p> +<p>It was this spell of rest that descended for a while on Kitty as +they glided downward to the Piazzetta. The terror of the day +relaxed. Her telegram would be in time; or, if not, she would throw +herself into William's arms, and he <i>must</i> forgive +her!—because she was so foolish and weak, so tired and sad. +She slipped her hand into Margaret's; they talked in low voices of +the child, and Kitty was all appealing melancholy and charm.</p> +<p>At the Piazzetta there was already a crowd of gondolas, and at +their head the <i>barca</i>, which carried the musicians.</p> +<p>"You are late, Kitty!" cried Madame d'Estrées, waving to +them. "Shall we draw out and come to you?—or will you just +join on where you are?"</p> +<p>For the Vercelli gondola was already wedged into a serried line +of boats in the wake of the <i>barca</i>.</p> +<p>"Never mind us," said Kitty. "We'll tack on somehow."</p> +<p>And inwardly she was delighted to be thus separated from her +mother and the chattering crowd by which Madame d'Estrées +seemed to be surrounded. Kitty and Margaret bade their men fall in, +and they presently found themselves on the Salute side of the +floating audience, their prow pointing to the canal.</p> +<p>The <i>barca</i> began to move, and the mass of gondolas +followed. Round them, and behind them, other boats were passing and +repassing, each with its slim black body, its swanlike motion, its +poised oarsman, and its twinkling light. The lagoon towards the +Guidecca was alive with these lights; and a magnificent white +steamer adorned with flags and lanterns—the yacht, indeed, of +a German prince—shone in the mid-channel.</p> +<p>On they floated. Here were the hotels, with other illuminated +boats in front of their steps, whence spoiled voices shouted, +"Santa Lucia," till even Venice and the Grand Canal became a +vulgarity and a weariness. These were the "serenate publiche," +common and commercial affairs, which the private serenata left +behind in contempt, steering past their flaring lights for the dark +waters of romance which lay beyond.</p> +<p>Suddenly Kitty's sadness gave way; her starved senses clamored; +she woke to poetry and pleasure. All round her, stretching almost +across the canal, the noiseless flock of gondolas—dark, +leaning figures impelling them from behind, and in front the high +prows and glow-worm lights; in the boats, a multitude of dim, +shrouded figures, with not a face visible; and in their midst the +<i>barca</i>, temple of light and music, built up of flowers, and +fluttering scarves, and many-colored lanterns, a sparkling fantasy +of color, rose and gold and green, shining on the bosom of the +night. To either side, the long, dark lines of thrice-historic +palaces; scarcely a poor light here and there at their water-gates; +and now and then the lamps of the Traghetti.... Otherwise, +darkness, soundless motion, and, overhead, dim stars.</p> +<p>"Margaret! Look!"</p> +<p>Kitty caught her companion's arm in a mad delight.</p> +<p>Some one for the amusement of the guests of Venice was +experimenting on the top of the campanile of St. Mark's with those +electric lights which were then the toys of science, and are now +the eyes and tools of war. A search-light was playing on the basin +of St. Mark's and on the mouth of the canal. Suddenly it caught the +Church of the Salute—and the whole vast building, from the +Queen of Heaven on its topmost dome down to the water's brim, the +figures of saints and prophets and apostles which crowd its steps +and ledges, the white whorls, like huge sea-shells, that make its +buttresses, the curves and volutes of its cornices and doorways, +rushed upon the eye in a white and blinding splendor, making the +very darkness out of which the vision sprang alive and rich. Not a +Christian church, surely, but a palace of Poseidon! The bewildered +gazer saw naiads and bearded sea-gods in place of angels and +saints, and must needs imagine the champing of Poseidon's horses at +the marble steps, straining towards the sea.</p> +<p>The vision wavered, faded, reappeared, and finally died upon the +night. Then the wild beams began to play on the canal, following +the serenata, lighting up now the palaces on either hand, now some +single gondola, revealing every figure and gesture of the laughing +English or Americans who filled it, in a hard white flash.</p> +<p>"Oh! listen, Kitty!" said Margaret. "Some one is going to sing +'Ché faro.'"</p> +<p>Miss French was very musical, and she turned in a trance of +pleasure towards the <i>barca</i> whence came the first bars of the +accompaniment.</p> +<p>She did not see meanwhile that Kitty had made a hurried +movement, and was now leaning over the side of the gondola, peering +with arrested breath into the scattered group of boats on their +left hand. The search-light flashed here and there among them. A +gondola at the very edge of the serenata contained one figure +beside the gondolier, a man in a large cloak and slouch hat, +sitting very still with folded arms. As Kitty looked, hearing the +beating of her heart, their own boat was suddenly lit up. The light +passed in a second, and while it lasted those in the flash could +see nothing outside it. When it withdrew all was in darkness. The +black mass of boats floated on, soundless again, save for an +occasional plash of water or the hoarse cry of a +gondolier—and in the distance the wail for Eurydice.</p> +<p>Kitty fell back in her seat. An excitement, from which she +shrank in a kind of terror, possessed her. Her thoughts were wholly +absorbed by the gondola and the figure she could no longer +distinguish—for which, whenever a group of lamps threw their +reflections on the water, she searched the canal in vain. If what +she madly dreamed were true, had she herself been seen—and +recognized?</p> +<p>The serenata in honor of Italy's beautiful princess duly made +its way to the Grand Canal. The princess came to her balcony, while +the "Jewel Song" in "Faust" was being sung below, and there was a +demonstration which echoed from palace to palace and died away +under the arch of the Rialto. Then the gondolas dispersed. That of +Lady Kitty Ashe had some difficulty in making its way home against +a force of wind and tide coming from the lagoon.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Kitty was apparently asleep when Ashe returned. He had sat late +with his hosts—men prominent in the Risorgimento and in the +politics of the new kingdom—discussing the latest intricacies +of the Roman situation and the prospects of Italian finance. His +mind was all alert and vigorous, ranging over great questions and +delighting in its own strength. To come in contact with these able +foreigners, not as the mere traveller but as an important member of +an English government, beginning to be spoken of by the world as +one of the two or three men of the future—this was a new +experience and a most agreeable one. Doors hitherto closed had +opened before him; information no casual Englishman could have +commanded had been freely poured out for him; last, but not least, +he had at length made himself talk French with some fluency, and he +looked back on his performance of the evening with a boy's +complacency.</p> +<p>For the rest, Venice was a mere trial of his patience! As his +gondola brought him home, struggling with wind and wave, Ashe had +no eye whatever for the beauty of this Venice in storm. His mind +was in England, in London, wrestling with a hundred difficulties +and possibilities. The old literary and speculative habit was fast +disappearing in the stress of action and success. His well-worn +Plato or Horace still lay beside his bedside; but when he woke +early, and lit a candle carefully shaded from Kitty, it was not to +the poets and philosophers that he turned; it was to a heap of +official documents and reports, to the letters of political +friends, or an unfinished letter of his own, the phrases of which +had perhaps been running through his dreams. The measures for which +he was wrestling against the intrigues of Lord Parham and Lord +Parham's clique filled all his mind with a lively ardor of battle. +They were the children—the darlings—of his +thoughts.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, as he entered his wife's dim-lit room the eager +arguments and considerations that were running through his head +died away. He stood beside her, overwhelmed by a rush of feeling, +alive through all his being to the appeal of her frail sweetness, +the helplessness of her sleep, the dumb significance of the thin, +blue-veined hand—eloquent at once of character and of +physical weakness—which lay beside her. Her face was hidden, +but the beautiful hair with its childish curls and ripples drew him +to her—touched all the springs of tenderness.</p> +<p>It was a loveliness so full, it seemed, of meaning and of +promise. Hand, brow, mouth—they were the signs of no mere +empty and insipid beauty. There was not a movement, not a feature, +that did not speak of intelligence and mind.</p> +<p>And yet, were he to wake her now and talk to her of the +experience of his evening, how little joy would either get out of +it.</p> +<p>Was it because she had no intellectual disinterestedness? Well, +what woman had! But other women, even if they saw everything in +terms of personality, had the power of pursuing an aim, steadily, +persistently, for the sake of a person. He thought of Lady +Palmerston—of Princess Lieven fighting Guizot's +battles—and sighed.</p> +<p>By Jove! the women could do most things, if they chose. He +recalled Kitty's triumph in the great party gathered to welcome +Lord Parham, contrasting it with her wilful and absurd behavior to +the man himself. There was something bewildering in such +power—combined with such folly. In a sense, it was perfectly +true that she had insulted her husband's chief, and jeopardized her +husband's policy, because she could not put up with Lord Parham's +white eyelashes.</p> +<p>Well, let him make his account with it! How to love her, tend +her, make her happy—and yet carry on himself the life of high +office—there was the problem! Meanwhile he recognized, fully +and humorously, that she had married a political sceptic—and +that it was hard for her to know what to do with the enthusiast who +had taken his place.</p> +<p>Poor, pretty, incalculable darling! He would coax her to stay +abroad part of the Parliamentary season—and then, perhaps, +lure her into the country, with the rebuilding and refurnishing of +Haggart. She must be managed and kept from harm—and +afterwards indulged and spoiled and <i>fêted</i> to her +heart's content.</p> +<p>If only the fates would give them another child!—a child +brilliant and lovely like herself, then surely this melancholy +which overshadowed her would disperse. That look—that tragic +look—she had given him on the day of the <i>fête</i>, +when she spoke of "separation"! The wild adventure with the lamp +had been her revenge—her despair. He shuddered as he thought +of it.</p> +<p>He fell asleep, still pondering restlessly over her future and +his own. Amid all his anxieties he never stooped to recollect the +man who had endangered her name and peace. His optimism, his pride, +the sanguine perfunctoriness of much of his character were all +shown in the omission.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Kitty, however, was not asleep while Ashe was beside her. And +she slept but little through the hours that followed. Between three +and four she was finally roused by the sounds of storm in the +canal. It was as though a fleet of gigantic steamers—in days +when Venice knew but the gondola—were passing outside, +sending a mountainous "wash" against the walls of the old palace in +which they lodged. In this languid autumnal Venice the sudden noise +and crash were startling. Kitty sprang softly out of bed, flung on +a dressing-gown and fur cloak, and slipped through the open window +to the balcony.</p> +<p>A strange sight! Beneath, livid waves, lashing the marble walls; +above, a pale moonlight, obscured by scudding clouds. Not a sign of +life on the water or in the dark palaces opposite. Venice looked +precisely as she might have looked on some wild sixteenth-century +night in the years of her glorious decay, when her palaces were +still building and her state tottering. Opposite, at the Traghetto +of the Accademia, there were lamps, and a few lights in the +gondolas; and through the storm-noises one could hear the tossed +boats grinding on their posts.</p> +<p>The riot of the air was not cold; there was still a recollection +of summer in the gusts that beat on Kitty's fair hair and wrestled +with her cloak. As she clung to the balcony she pictured to herself +the tumbling waves on the Lido; the piled storm-clouds parting like +a curtain above a dead Venice; and behind, the gleaming eternal +Alps, sending their challenge to the sea—the forces that make +the land, to the forces that engulf it.</p> +<p>Her wild fancy went out to meet the tumult of blast and wave. +She felt herself, as it were, anchored a moment at sea, in the +midst of a war of elements, physical and moral.</p> +<p>Yes, yes!—it was Geoffrey. Once, under the skipping light, +she had seen the face distinctly. Paler than of old—gaunt, +unhappy, absent. It was the face of one who had suffered—in +body and mind. But—she trembled through all her slight +frame!—the old harsh power was there unchanged.</p> +<p>Had he seen and recognized her—slipping away afterwards +into the mouth of a side canal, or dropping behind in the darkness? +Was he ashamed to face her—or angered by the reminder of her +existence? No doubt it seemed to him now a monstrous absurdity that +he should ever have said he loved her! He despised +her—thought her a base and coward soul. Very likely he would +make it up with Mary Lyster now, accept her nursing and her +money.</p> +<p>Her lip curled in scorn. No, <i>that</i> she didn't believe! +Well, then, what would be his future? His name had been but little +in the newspapers during the preceding year; the big public seemed +to have forgotten him. A cloud had hung for months over the +struggle of races and of faiths now passing in the Balkans. Obscure +fighting in obscure mountains; massacre here, revolt there; and for +some months now hardly an accredited voice from Turk or Christian +to tell the world what was going on.</p> +<p>But Geoffrey had now emerged—and at a moment when Europe +was beginning perforce to take notice of what she had so far +wilfully ignored. <i>À lui la parole!</i> No doubt he was +preparing it, the bloody, exciting story which would bring him +before the foot-lights again, and make him once more the lion of a +day. More social flatteries, more doubtful love-affairs! Fools like +herself would feel his spell, would cherish and caress him, only to +be stung and scathed as she had been. The bitter lines of his +"portrait" rung in her ears—blackening and discrowning her in +her own eyes.</p> +<p>She abhorred him!—but the thought that he was in Venice +burned deep into senses and imagination. Should she tell William +she had seen him? No, no! She would stand by herself, protect +herself!</p> +<p>So she stole back to bed, and lay there wakeful, starting +guiltily at William's every movement. If he knew what had +happened!—what she was thinking of! Why on earth should he? +It would be monstrous to harass him on his holiday—with all +these political affairs on his mind.</p> +<p>Then suddenly—by an association of ideas—she sat up +shivering, her hands pressed to her breast. The telegram—the +book! Oh, but <i>of course</i> she had been in time!—<i>of +course</i>! Why, she had offered the man two hundred pounds! She +lay down laughing at herself—forcing herself to try and +sleep.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> +<p>Sir Richard Lyster unfolded his <i>Times</i> with a jerk.</p> +<p>"A beastly rheumatic hole I call this," he said, looking angrily +at the window of his hotel sitting-room, which showed drops from a +light shower then passing across the lagoon. "And the dilatoriness +of these Italian posts is, upon my soul, beyond bearing! This +<i>Times</i> is <i>three</i> days old."</p> +<p>Mary Lyster looked up from the letter she was writing.</p> +<p>"Why don't you read the French papers, papa? I saw a +<i>Figaro</i> of yesterday in the Piazza this morning."</p> +<p>"Because I can't!" was the indignant reply. "There wasn't the +same amount of money squandered on <i>my</i> education, my dear, +that there has been on yours."</p> +<p>Mary smiled a little, unseen. Her father had been, of course, at +Eton. She had been educated by a succession of small and hunted +governesses, mostly Swiss, whose remuneration had certainly counted +among the frugalities rather than the extravagances of the family +budget.</p> +<p>Sir Richard read his <i>Times</i> for a while. Mary continued to +write checks for the board wages of the servants left at home, and +to give directions for the beating of carpets and cleaning of +curtains. It was dull work, and she detested it.</p> +<p>Presently Sir Richard rose, with a stretch. He was a tall old +man, with a shock of white hair and very black eyes. A victim to +certain obscure forms of gout, he was in character neither stupid +nor inhuman, but he suffered from the usual drawbacks of his +class—too much money and too few ideas. He came abroad every +year, reluctantly. He did not choose to be left behind by county +neighbors whose wives talked nonsense about Botticelli. And Mary +would have it. But Sir Richard's tours were generally one prolonged +course of battle between himself and all foreign institutions; and +if it was Mary who drove him forth, it was Mary also who generally +hurried him home.</p> +<p>"Who was it you saw last night in that ridiculous singing +affair?" he asked, as he put the fire together.</p> +<p>"Kitty Ashe—and her mother," said Mary—after a +moment—still writing.</p> +<p>"Her mother!—what, that disreputable woman?"</p> +<p>"They weren't in the same gondola."</p> +<p>"Ashe will be a great fool if he lets his wife see much of that +woman! By all accounts Lady Kitty is quite enough of a handful +already. By-the-way, have you found out where they are?"</p> +<p>"On the Grand Canal. Shall we call this afternoon?"</p> +<p>"I don't mind. Of course, I think Ashe is doing an immense +amount of harm."</p> +<p>"Well, you can tell him so," said Mary.</p> +<p>Sir Richard frowned. His daughter's manners seemed to him at +times abrupt.</p> +<p>"Why do you see so little now of Elizabeth Tranmore?" he asked +her, with a sharp look. "You used to be always there. And I don't +believe you even write to her much now."</p> +<p>"Does she see much of anybody?"</p> +<p>"Because, you mean, of Tranmore's condition? What good can she +be to him now? He knows nobody."</p> +<p>"She doesn't seem to ask the question," said Mary, dryly.</p> +<p>A queer, soft look came over Sir Richard's old face.</p> +<p>"No, the women don't," he said, half to himself, and fell into a +little reverie. He emerged from it with the +remark—accompanied by a smile, a little sly but not +unkind:</p> +<p>"I always used to hope, Polly, that you and Ashe would have made +it up!"</p> +<p>"I'm sure I don't know why," said Mary, fastening up her +envelopes. As she did so it crossed her father's mind that she was +still very good-looking. Her dress of dark-blue cloth, the plain +fashion of her brown hair, her oval face and well-marked features, +her plump and pretty hands, were all pleasant to look upon. She had +rather a hard way with her, though, at times. The servants were +always giving warning. And, personally, he was much fonder of his +younger daughter, whom Mary considered foolish and improvident. But +he was well aware that Mary made his life easy.</p> +<p>"Well, you were always on excellent terms," he said, in answer +to her last remark. "I remember his saying to me once that you were +very good company. The Bishop, too, used to notice how he liked to +talk to you."</p> +<p>When Mary and her father were together, "the Bishop" was Sir +Richard's property. He only fell to Mary's share in the old man's +absence.</p> +<p>Mary colored slightly.</p> +<p>"Oh yes, we got on," she said, counting her letters the while +with a quick hand.</p> +<p>"Well, I hope that young woman whom he <i>did</i> marry is now +behaving herself. It was that fellow Cliffe with whom the scandal +was last year, wasn't it?"</p> +<p>"There was a good deal of talk," said Mary.</p> +<p>"A rum fellow, that Cliffe! A man at the club told me last week +it is believed he has been fighting for these Bosnian rebels for +months. Shocking bad form I call it. If the Turks catch him, +they'll string him up. And quite right, too. What's he got to do +with other people's quarrels?"</p> +<p>"If the Turks will be such brutes—"</p> +<p>"Nonsense, my dear! Don't you believe any of this radical stuff. +The Turks are awfully fine fellows—fight like bull-dogs. And +as for the 'atrocities,' they make them up in London. Oh, of +course, what Cliffe wants is notoriety—we all know that. +Well, I'm going out to see if I can find another English paper. +Beastly climate!"</p> +<p>But as Sir Richard turned again to the window, he was met by a +burst of sunshine, which hit him gayly in the face like a child's +impertinence. He grumbled something unintelligible as Mary put him +into his Inverness cape, took hat and stick, and departed.</p> +<p>Mary sat still beside the writing-table, her hands crossed on +her lap, her eyes absently bent upon them.</p> +<p>She was thinking of the serenata. She had followed it with an +acquaintance from the hotel, and she had seen not only Kitty and +Madame d'Estrées, but also—the solitary man in the +heavy cloak. She knew quite well that Cliffe was in Venice; though, +true to her secretive temper, she had not mentioned the fact to her +father.</p> +<p>Of course he was in Venice on Kitty's account. It would be too +absurd to suppose that he was here by mere coincidence. Mary +believed that nothing but the intervention of Cliffe's mighty +kinsman from the north had saved the situation the year before. +Kitty would certainly have betrayed her husband but for the +<i>force majeure</i> arrayed against her. And now the magnate who +had played Providence slumbered in the family vault. He had passed +away in the spring, full of years and honors, leaving Cliffe some +money. The path was clear. As for the escapade in the Balkans, +Geoffrey was, of course, tired of it. A sensational book, hurried +out to meet the public appetite for horrors—and the pursuance +of his intrigue with Lady Kitty Ashe—Mary was calmly certain +that these were now his objects. He was, no doubt, writing his book +and meeting Kitty where he could. Ashe would soon have to go home. +And then! As if that girl Margaret French could stop it!</p> +<p>Well, William had only got his deserts! But as her thoughts +passed from Kitty or Cliffe to William Ashe, their quality changed. +Hatred and bitterness, scorn or wounded vanity, passed into +something gentler. She fell into recollections of Ashe as he had +appeared on that bygone afternoon in May when he came back +triumphant from his election, with the world before him. If he had +never seen Kitty Bristol!—</p> +<p>"I should have made him a good wife," she said to herself. +"<i>I</i> should have known how to be proud of him."</p> +<p>And there emerged also the tragic consciousness that if the +fates had given him to her she might have been another +woman—taught by happiness, by love, by motherhood.</p> +<p>It was that little, heartless creature who had snatched them +both from her—William and Geoffrey Cliffe—the higher +and the lower—the man who might have ennobled her—and +the man, half charlatan, half genius, whom she might have served +and raised, by her fortune and her abilities. Her life might have +been so full, so interesting! And it was Kitty that had made it +flat, and cold, and futureless.</p> +<p>Poor William! Had he really liked her, in those boy-and-girl +days? She dreamed over their old cousinly relations—over the +presents he had sometimes given her.</p> +<p>Then a thought, like a burning arrow, pierced her. Her hands +locked, straining one against the other. If this intrigue were +indeed renewed—if Geoffrey succeeded in tempting Kitty from +her husband—why then—then—</p> +<p>She shivered before the images that were passing through her +mind, and, rising, she put away her letters and rang for the +waiter, to order dinner.</p> +<p>"Where shall we go?" said Kitty, languidly, putting down the +French novel she was reading.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Mr. Ashe suggested San Lazzaro." Margaret looked up from her +writing as Kitty moved towards her. "The rain seems to have all +cleared off."</p> +<p>"Well, I'm sure it doesn't matter where," said Kitty, and was +turning away; but Margaret caught her hand and caressed it.</p> +<p>"Naughty Kitty! why this sea air can't put some more color into +your cheeks I don't understand."</p> +<p>"I'm <i>not</i> pale!" cried Kitty, pouting. "Margaret, you do +croak about me so! If you say any more I'll go and rouge till +you'll be ashamed to go out with me—there! Where's +William?"</p> +<p>William opened the door as she spoke, the <i>Gazetta di +Venezia</i> in one hand and a telegram in the other.</p> +<p>"Something for you, darling," he said, holding it out to Kitty. +"Shall I open it?"</p> +<p>"Oh no!" said Kitty, hastily. "Give it me. It's from my Paris +woman."</p> +<p>"Ah—ha!" laughed Ashe. "Some extravagance you want to keep +to yourself, I'll be bound. I've a good mind to see!"</p> +<p>And he teasingly held it up above her head. But she gave a +little jump, caught it, and ran off with it to her room.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Much regret impossible stop publication. Fifty copies +distributed already. Writing."</p> +</div> +<p>She dropped speechless on the edge of her bed, the crumpled +telegram in her hand. The minutes passed.</p> +<p>"When will you be ready?" said Ashe, tapping at the door.</p> +<p>"Is the gondola there?"</p> +<p>"Waiting at the steps."</p> +<p>"Five minutes!" Ashe departed. She rose, tore the telegram into +little bits, and began with deliberation to put on her mantle and +hat.</p> +<p>"You've got to go through with it," she said to the white face +in the glass, and she straightened her small shoulders +defiantly.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They were bound for the Armenian convent. It was a misty day, +with shafts of light on the lagoon. The storm had passed, but the +water was still rough, and the clouds seemed to be withdrawing +their forces only to marshal them again with the darkness. A day of +sudden bursts of watery light, of bands of purple distance struck +into enchanting beauty by the red or orange of a sail, of a wild +salt breath in air that seemed to be still suffused with spray. The +Alps were hidden; but what sun there was played faintly on the +Euganean hills.</p> +<p>"I say, Margaret, at last she does us some credit!" said Ashe, +pointing to his wife.</p> +<p>Margaret started. Was it rouge?—or was it the strong air? +Kitty's languor had entirely disappeared; she was more cheerful and +more talkative than she had been at any time since their arrival. +She chattered about the current scandals of Venice—the +mysterious contessa who lived in the palace opposite their own, and +only went out, in deep mourning, at night, because she had been the +love of a Russian grand-duke, and the grand-duke was dead; of the +Carlist pretender and his wife, who had been very popular in Venice +until they took it into their heads to require royal honors, and +Venice, taking time to think, had lazily decided the game was not +worth the candle—so now the sulky pair went about alone in a +fine gondola, turning glassy eyes on their former acquaintance; of +the needy marchese who had sold a Titian to the Louvre, and had +then found himself boycotted by all his kinsfolk in Venice who were +not needy and had no Titians to sell—all these tales Kitty +reeled out at length till the handsome gondoliers marvelled at the +little lady's vivacity and the queer brightness of her eyes.</p> +<p>"Gracious, Kitty, where do you get all these stories from?" +cried Ashe, when the chatter paused for a moment.</p> +<p>He looked at her with delight, rejoicing in her gayety, the +slight touches of white which to-day for the first time relieved +the sombreness of her dress, the return of her color. And Margaret +wondered again how much of it was rouge.</p> +<p>At the Armenian convent a handsome young monk took charge of +them. As George Sand and Lamennais had done before them, they +looked at the printing-press, the garden, the cloister, the church; +they marvelled lazily at the cleanliness and brightness of the +place; and finally they climbed to the library and museum, and the +room close by where Byron played at grammar-making. In this room +Ashe fell suddenly into a political talk with the young monk, who +was an ardent and patriotic son of the most unfortunate of nations, +and they passed out and down the stairs, followed by Margaret +French, not noticing that Kitty had lingered behind.</p> +<p>Kitty stood idly by the window of Byron's room, thinking +restlessly of verses that were not Byron's, though there was in +them, clothed in forms of the new age, the spirit of Byronic +passion, and more than a touch of Byronic +affectation—thinking also of the morning's telegram. +Supposing Darrell's prophecy, which had seemed to her so absurd, +came true, that the book did William harm, not good—that he +ceased to love her—that he cast her off?...</p> +<p>... A plash of water outside, and a voice giving directions. +From the lagoon towards Malamocco a gondola approached. A gentleman +and lady were seated in it. The lady—a very handsome Italian, +with a loud laugh and brilliant eyes—carried a scarlet +parasol. Kitty gave a stifled cry as she drew back. She fled out of +the room and overtook the other two.</p> +<p>"May we go back into the garden a little?" she said, hurriedly, +to the monk who was talking to William. "I should like to see the +view towards Venice."</p> +<p>William held up a watch, to show that there was but just time to +get back to the Piazza, for lunch. Kitty persisted, and the monk, +understanding what the impetuous young lady wished, good-naturedly +turned to obey her.</p> +<p>"We must be <i>very</i> quick!" said Kitty. "Take us please, to +the edge, beyond the trees."</p> +<p>And she herself hurried through the garden to its farther side, +where it was bounded by the lagoon.</p> +<p>The others followed her, rather puzzled by her caprice.</p> +<p>"Not much to be seen, darling!" said Ashe, as they reached the +water—"and I think this good man wants to get rid of us!"</p> +<p>And, indeed, the monk was looking backward across the +intervening trees at a party which had just entered the garden.</p> +<p>"Ah, they have found another brother!" he said, politely, and he +began to point out to Kitty the various landmarks visible, the +arsenal, the two asylums, San Pietro di Castello.</p> +<p>The new-comers just glanced at the garden apparently, as the +Ashes had done on arrival, and promptly followed their guide back +into the convent.</p> +<p>Kitty asked a few more questions, then led the way in a hasty +return to the garden door, the entrance-hall, and the steps where +their gondola was waiting. Nothing was to be seen of the second +party. They had passed on into the cloisters.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Animation, oddity, inconsequence, all these things Margaret +observed in Kitty during luncheon in a restaurant of the Merceria, +and various incidents connected with it; animation above all. The +Ashes fell in with acquaintance—a fashionable and harassed +mother, on the fringe of the Archangels, accompanied by two +daughters, one pretty and one plain, and sore pressed by their +demands, real or supposed. The parents were not rich, but the girls +had to be dressed, taken abroad, produced at country-houses, at +Ascot, and the opera, like all other girls. The eldest girl, a +considerable beauty, was an accomplished egotist at nineteen, and +regarded her mother as a rather inefficient <i>dame de +compagnie</i>. Kitty understood this young lady perfectly, and +after luncheon, over her cigarette, her little, sharp, probing +questions gave the beauty twenty minutes' annoyance. Then appeared +a young man, ill-dressed, red-haired, and shy. Carelessly as he +greeted the mother and daughters, his entrance, however, +transformed them. The mother forgot fatigue; the beauty ceased to +yawn; the younger girl, who had been making surreptitious notes of +Kitty's costume in the last leaf of her guide-book, developed a +charming gush. He was the owner of the Magellan estates and the +historic Magellan Castle; a professed hater of "absurd womankind," +and, in general, a hunted and self-conscious person. Kitty gave him +one finger, looked him up and down, asked him whether he was yet +engaged, and when he laughed an embarrassed "No," told him that he +would certainly die in the arms of the Magellan housekeeper.</p> +<p>This got a smile out of him. He sat down beside her, and the two +laughed and talked with a freedom which presently drew the +attention of the neighboring tables, and made Ashe uncomfortable. +He rose, paid the bill, and succeeded in carrying the whole party +off to the Piazza, in search of coffee. But here again Kitty's +extravagances, the provocation of her light loveliness, as she sat +toying with a fresh cigarette and "chaffing" Lord Magellan, drew a +disagreeable amount of notice from the Italians passing by.</p> +<p>"Mother, let's go!" said the angry beauty, imperiously, in her +mother's ear. "I don't like to be seen with Lady Kitty! She's +impossible!"</p> +<p>And with cold farewells the three ladies departed. Then Kitty +sprang up and threw away her cigarette.</p> +<p>"How those girls bully their mother!" she said, with scorn. +"However, it serves her right. I'm sure she bullied hers. Well, now +we must go and do something. Ta-ta!"</p> +<p>Lord Magellan, to whom she offered another casual finger, wanted +to know why he was dismissed. If they were going sight-seeing, +might he not come with them?"</p> +<p>"Oh no!" said Kitty, calmly. "Sight—seeing with people you +don't really know is too trying to the temper. Even with one's best +friend it's risky."</p> +<p>"Where are you? May I call?" said the young man.</p> +<p>"We're always out," was Kitty's careless reply. "But—"</p> +<p>She considered—</p> +<p>"Would you like to see the Palazzo Vercelli?"</p> +<p>"That magnificent place on the Grand Canal? Very much."</p> +<p>"Meet me there to-morrow afternoon," said Kitty. "Four +o'clock."</p> +<p>"Delighted!" said Lord Magellan, making a note on his +shirt-cuff. "And who lives there?"</p> +<p>"My mother," said Kitty, abruptly, and walked away.</p> +<p>Ashe followed her in discomfort. This young man was the son of a +certain Lady Magellan, an intimate friend of Lady +Tranmore's—one of the noblest women of her generation, pure, +high-minded, spiritual, to whom neither an ugly word nor thought +was possible. It annoyed him that either he or Kitty should be +introducing <i>her</i> son to Madame d'Estrées.</p> +<p>It was really tiresome of Kitty! Rich young men with characters +yet indeterminate were not to be lightly brought in contact with +Madame d'Estrées. Kitty could not be ignorant of +it—poor child! It had been one of her reckless strokes, and +Ashe was conscious of a sharp annoyance.</p> +<p>However, he said nothing. He followed his companions from church +to church, till pictures became an abomination to him. Then he +pleaded letters, and went to the club.</p> +<p>"Will you call on maman to-morrow?" said Kitty, as he turned +away, looking at him a little askance.</p> +<p>She knew that he had disapproved of her invitation to Lord +Magellan. Why had she given it? She didn't know. There seemed to be +a kind of revived mischief and fever in the blood, driving her to +these foolish and ill-considered things.</p> +<p>Ashe met her question with a shake of the head and the remark, +in a decided tone, that he should be too busy.</p> +<p>Privately he thought it a piece of impertinence that Madame +d'Estrées should expect either Kitty or himself to appear in +her drawing-room at all. That this implied a complete +transformation of his earlier attitude he was well aware; he +accepted it with a curious philosophy. When he and Kitty first met +he had never troubled his head about such things. If a woman amused +or interested him in society, so long as his taste was satisfied +she might have as much or as little character as she pleased. It +stirred his mocking sense of English hypocrisy that the point +should be even raised. But now—how can any individual, he +asked himself, with political work to do, affect to despise the +opinions and prejudices of society? A politician with great reforms +to put through will make no friction round him that he can +avoid—unless he is a fool. It weighed sorely, therefore, on +his present mind that Madame d'Estrées was in +Venice—that she was a person of blemished repute—that +he must be and was ashamed of her. It would have been altogether +out of consonance with his character to put any obstacle in the way +of Kitty's seeing her mother. But he chafed as he had never yet +chafed under the humiliation of his relationship to the notorious +Margaret Fitzgerald of the forties, who had been old Blackwater's +<i>chère amie</i> before she married him, and, as Lady +Blackwater, had sacrificed her innocent and defenceless +step-daughter to one of her own lovers, in order to secure for him +the step-daughter's fortune—black and dastardly deed!</p> +<p>Was it all part of the general growth and concentration that any +shrewd observer might have read in William Ashe?—the +pressure—enormous, unseen—of the traditional English +ideals, English standards, asserting itself at last in a brilliant +and paradoxical nature? It had been so—conspicuously—in +the case of one of his political predecessors. Lord Melbourne had +begun his career as a person of idle habits and imprudent +adventures, much given to coarse conversation, and unable to say +the simplest thing without an oath. He ended it as the man of +scrupulous dignity, tact, and delicacy, who moulded the innocent +youth of a girl-queen, to his own lasting honor and England's +gratitude. In ways less striking, the same influence of vast +responsibilities was perhaps acting upon William Ashe. It had +already made him a sterner, tougher, and—no doubt—a +greater man.</p> +<p>The defection of William only left Kitty, it seemed, still more +greedy of things to see and do. Innumerable sacristans opened all +possible doors and unveiled all possible pictures. Bellini +succeeded Tintoret, and Carpaccio Bellini. The two sable gondoliers +wore themselves out in Kitty's service, and Margaret's kind, round +face grew more and more puzzled and distressed. And whence this +strange impression that the whole experience was a <i>flight</i> on +Kitty's part?—or, rather, that throughout it she was always +eagerly expecting, or eagerly escaping from some unknown, unseen +pursuer? A glance behind her—a start—a sudden shivering +gesture in the shadows of dark churches—these things +suggested it, till Margaret herself was caught by the same +suppressed excitement that seemed to be alive in Kitty. Did it all +point merely to some mental state—to the nervous effects of +her illness and her loss?</p> +<p>When they reached home about five o'clock, Kitty was naturally +tired out. Margaret put her on the sofa, gave her tea, and tended +her, hoping that she might drop asleep before dinner. But just as +tea was over, and Kitty was lying curled up, silent and white, with +that brooding look which kept Margaret's anxiety about her +constantly alive, there was a sudden sound of voices in the +anteroom outside.</p> +<p>"Margaret!" cried Kitty, starting up in dismay—"say I'm +not at home."</p> +<p>Too late! Their smiling Italian housemaid threw the door open, +with the air of one bringing good-fortune. And behind her appeared +a tall lady, and an old gentleman hat in hand.</p> +<p>"May we come in, Kitty?" said Mary Lyster, advancing. "Cousin +Elizabeth told us you were here."</p> +<p>Kitty had sprung up. The disorder of her fair hair, her white +cheeks, and the ghostly thinness of her small, black-robed form +drew the curious eyes of Sir Richard. And the oddness of her manner +as she greeted them only confirmed the old man's prejudice against +her.</p> +<p>However, greeted they were, in some sort of fashion; and Miss +French gave them tea. She kept Sir Richard entertained, while Kitty +and Mary conversed. They talked perfunctorily of ordinary +topics—Venice, its sights, its hotels, and the people staying +in them—of Lady Tranmore and various Ashe relations. +Meanwhile the inmost thought of each was busy with the other.</p> +<p>Kitty studied the lines of Mary's face and the fashion of her +dress.</p> +<p>"She looks much older. And she's not enjoying her life a bit. +That's my fault. I spoiled all her chances with Geoffrey—and +she knows it. She <i>hates</i> me. Quite right, too."</p> +<p>"Oh, you mean that nonsensical thing last night?" Sir Richard +was saying to Margaret French. "Oh no, I didn't go. But Mary, of +course, thought she must go. Somebody invited her."</p> +<p>Kitty started.</p> +<p>"You were at the serenata?" she said to Mary.</p> +<p>"Yes, I went with a party from the hotel."</p> +<p>Kitty looked at her. A sudden flush had touched her pale cheeks, +and she could not conceal the trembling of her hands.</p> +<p>"That was marvellous, that light on the Salute, wasn't it?"</p> +<p>"Wonderful!—and on the water, too. I saw two or three +people I knew—just caught their faces for a second."</p> +<p>"Did you?" said Kitty. And thoughts ran fast through her head. +"Did she see Geoffrey?—and does she mean me to understand +that she did? How she detests me! If she did see him, of course she +supposes that I know all about it, and that he's here for me. Why +don't I ask her, straight out, whether she saw him, and make her +understand that I don't care twopence?—that she's welcome to +him—as far as I'm concerned?"</p> +<p>But some hidden feeling tied her tongue. Mary continued to talk +about the serenata, and Kitty was presently conscious that her +every word and gesture in reply was closely watched. "Yes, yes, she +saw him. Perhaps she'll tell William—or write home to +mother?"</p> +<p>And in her excitement she began to chatter fast and loudly, +mostly to Sir Richard—repeating some of the Venice tales she +had told in the gondola—with much inconsequence and +extravagance. The old man listened, his hands on his stick, his +eyes on the ground, the expression on his strong mouth hostile or +sarcastic. It was a relief to everybody when Ashe's step was heard +stumbling up the dark stairs, and the door opened on his friendly +and courteous presence.</p> +<p>"Why, Polly!—and Cousin Richard! I wondered where you had +hidden yourselves."</p> +<p>Mary's bright, involuntary smile transformed her. Ashe sat down +beside her, and they were soon deep in all sorts of +gossip—relations, acquaintance, politics, and what not. All +Mary's stiffness disappeared. She became the elegant, agreeable +woman, of whom dinner-parties were glad. Ashe plunged into the +pleasant malice of her talk, which ranged through the good and evil +fortunes—mostly the latter—of half his acquaintance; +discussed the debts, the love-affairs, and the follies of his +political colleagues or Parliamentary foes; how the Foreign +Secretary had been getting on at Balmoral—how so-and-so had +been ruined at the Derby and restored to sanity and solvency by the +Oaks—how Lady Parham, at Hatfield, had been made to know her +place by the French Ambassador—and the like; passing thereby +a charming half-hour.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Kitty, Margaret French, and Sir Richard kept up +intermittent remarks, pausing at every other phrase to gather the +crumbs that fell from the table of the other two.</p> +<p>Kitty was very weary, and a dead weight had fallen on her +spirits. If Sir Richard had thought her bad form ten minutes +before, his unspoken mind now declared her stupid. Meanwhile Kitty +was saying to herself, as she watched her husband and Mary:</p> +<p>"I used to amuse William just as well—last year!"</p> +<p>When the door closed on them, Kitty fell back on her cushions +with an "ouf!" of relief. William came back in a few minutes from +showing the visitors the back way to their hotel, and stood beside +his wife with an anxious face.</p> +<p>"They were too much for you, darling. They stayed too long."</p> +<p>"How you and Mary chattered!" said Kitty, with a little pout. +But at the same moment she slipped an appealing hand into his.</p> +<p>Ashe clasped the hand, and laughed.</p> +<p>"I always told you she was an excellent gossip."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Sir Richard and Mary pursued their way through the narrow +<i>calles</i> that led to the Piazza. Sir Richard was expatiating +on Ashe's folly in marrying such a wife.</p> +<p>"She looks like an actress!—and as to her conversation, +she began by telling me outrageous stories and ended by not having +a word to say about anything. The bad blood of the Bristols, it +seems to me, without their brains."</p> +<p>"Oh no, papa! Kitty is very clever. You haven't heard her +recite. She was tired to-night."</p> +<p>"Well, I don't want to flatter you, my dear!" said the old man, +testily, "but I thought it was pathetic—the way in which Ashe +enjoyed your conversation. It showed he didn't get much of it at +home."</p> +<p>Mary smiled uncertainly. Her whole nature was still aglow from +that contact with Ashe's delightful personality. After months of +depression and humiliation, her success with him had somehow +restored those illusions on which cheerfulness depends.</p> +<p>How ill Kitty looked—and how conscious! Mary was +impetuously certain that Kitty had betrayed her knowledge of +Cliffe's presence in Venice; and equally certain that William knew +nothing. Poor William!</p> +<p>Well, what can you expect of such a temperament—such a +race? Mary's thoughts travelled confusedly towards—and +through—some big and dreadful catastrophe.</p> +<p>And then? After it?</p> +<p>It seemed to her that she was once more in the Park Lane +drawing-room; the familiar Morris papers and Burne-Jones drawings +surrounded her; and she and Elizabeth Tranmore sat, hand in hand, +talking of William—a William once more free, after much folly +and suffering, to reconstruct his life....</p> +<p>"Here we are," said Sir Richard Lyster, moving down a dark +passage towards the brightly lit doorway of their hotel.</p> +<p>With a start—as of one taken red-handed—Mary awoke +from her dream.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> +<p>Madame d'Estrées and her friend, Donna Laura, occupied +the <i>mezzanin</i> of the vast Vercelli palace. The palace itself +belonged to the head of the Vercelli family. It was a magnificent +erection of the late seventeenth century, at this moment half +furnished, dilapidated, and forsaken. But the <i>entresol</i> on +the eastern side of the <i>cortile</i> was in good condition, and +comfortably fitted up for the occasional use of the Principe. As he +was wintering in Paris, he had let his rooms at an ordinary +commercial rent to his kinswoman, Donna Laura. She, a soured and +melancholy woman, unmarried in a Latin society which has small use +or kindness for spinsters, had seized on Marguerite +d'Estrées—whose acquaintance she had made in a Mont +d'Or hotel—and was now keeping her like a caged canary that +sings for its food.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées was quite willing. So long as she had a +sofa on which to sit enthroned, a sufficiency of new gowns, a maid, +cigarettes, breakfast in bed, and a supply of French novels, she +appeared the most harmless and engaging of mortals. Her youth had +been cruel, disorderly, and vicious. It had lasted long; but now, +when middle age stood at last confessed, she was lapsing, it +seemed, into amiability and good behavior. She was, indeed, fast +forgetting her own history, and soon the recital of it would +surprise no one so much as herself.</p> +<p>It was five o'clock. Madame d'Estrées had just +established herself in the silk-panelled drawing-room of Donna +Laura's apartment, expectant of visitors, and, in particular, of +her daughter.</p> +<p>In begging Kitty to come on this particular afternoon, she had +not thought fit to mention that it would be Donna Laura's "day." +Had she done so, Kitty, in consideration of her mourning, would +perhaps have cried off. Whereas, really—poor, dear +child!—what she wanted was distraction and amusement.</p> +<p>And what Madame d'Estrées wanted was the presence beside +her, in public, of Lady Kitty Ashe. Kitty had already visited her +mother privately, and had explored the antiquities of the Vercelli +palace. But Madame d'Estrées was now intent on something +more and different.</p> +<p>For in the four years which had now elapsed since the Ashe's +marriage this lively lady had known adversity. She had been forced +to leave London, as we have seen, by the pressure of certain facts +in her past history so ancient and far removed when their true +punishment began that she no doubt felt it highly unjust that she +should be punished for them at all. Her London debts had swallowed +up what then remained to her of fortune; and, afterwards, the +allowance from the Ashes was all she had to depend on. Banished to +Paris, she fell into a lower stratum of life, at a moment when her +faithful and mysterious friend, Markham Warington, was held in +Scotland by the first painful symptoms of his sister's last +illness, and could do but little for her. She had, in fact, known +the sordid shifts and straits of poverty, though the smallest moral +effort would have saved her from them. She had kept disreputable +company, she had been miserable, and base; and although shame is +not easy to persons of her temperament, it may perhaps be said that +she was ashamed of this period of her existence. Appeals to the +Ashes yielded less and less, and Warington seemed to have forsaken +her. She awoke at last to a panic-stricken fear of darker +possibilities and more real suffering than any she had yet known, +and under the stress of this fear she collapsed physically, writing +both to Warington and to the Ashes in a tone of mingled reproach +and despair.</p> +<p>The Ashes sent money, and, though Kitty was at the moment not +fit to travel, prepared to come. Warington, who had just closed the +eyes of his sister, went at once. He was now the last of his +family, without any ties that he could not lawfully break. Within +two days of his arrival in Paris, Madame d'Estrées had +promised to marry him in three months, to break off all her Paris +associations, and to give her life henceforward into his somewhat +stern hands. The visit to Venice was part of the price that he had +had to pay for her decision. Marguerite pleaded, with a shudder, +that she must have a little amusement before she went to live in +Dumfriesshire; and he had been obliged to acquiesce in her +arrangement with Donna Laura—stipulating only that he should +be their escort and guardian.</p> +<p>What had moved him to such an act? His reasons can only be +guessed at. Warington was a man of religion, a Calvinist by +education and inheritance, and of a silent and dreamy temperament. +He had been intimate with very few women in his life. His sister +had been a second mother to him, and both of them had been the +guardians of their younger brother. When this adored brother fell +shot through the lungs in the hopeless defence of Lady Blackwater's +reputation, it would have been natural enough that Markham should +hate the woman who had been the occasion of such a calamity. The +sister, a pious and devoted Christian, had indeed hated her, +properly and duly, thenceforward. Markham, on the contrary, +accepted his brother's last commission without reluctance. In this +matter at least Lady Blackwater had not been directly to blame; his +mind acquitted her; and her soft, distressed beauty touched his +heart. Before he knew where he was she had made an impression upon +him that was to be life-long.</p> +<p>Then gradually he awoke to a full knowledge of her character. He +suffered, but otherwise it made no difference. Finding it was then +impossible to persuade her to marry him, he watched over her as +best he could for some years, passing through phases of alternate +hope and disgust. His sister's affection for him was clouded by his +strange relation to the Jezebel who in her opinion had destroyed +their brother. He could not help it; he could only do his best to +meet both claims upon him. During her lingering passage to the +grave, his sister had nearly severed him from Marguerite +d'Estrées. She died, however, just in time, and now here he +was in Venice, passing through what seemed to him one of the +ante-rooms of life, leading to no very radiant beyond. But, radiant +or no, his path lay thither. And at the same time he saw that +although Marguerite felt him to be her only refuge from poverty and +disgrace, she was painfully afraid of him, and afraid of the life +into which he was leading her.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The first guest of the afternoon proved to be Louis Harman, the +painter and dilettante, who had been in former days one of the +<i>habitués</i> of the house in St. James's Place. This +perfectly correct yet tolerant gentleman was wintering in Venice in +order to copy the Carpaccios in San Giorgio dei Schiavoni. His +copies were not good, but they were all promised to artistic fair +ladies, and the days which the painter spent upon them were happy +and harmless.</p> +<p>He came in gayly, delighted to see Madame d'Estrées in +flourishing circumstances again, delivered apparently from the +abyss into which he had found her sliding on the occasion of +various chance visits of his own to Paris. Warington's doing, +apparently—queer fellow!</p> +<p>"Well!—I saw Lady Kitty in the Piazza this afternoon," he +said, as he sat down beside his hostess. Donna Laura had not yet +appeared. "Very thin and fragile! But, by Jove! how these English +beauties hold their own."</p> +<p>"Irish, if you please," said Madame d'Estrées, +smiling.</p> +<p>Harman bowed to her correction, admiring at the same time both +the toilette and the good looks of his companion. Dropping his +voice, he asked, with a gingerly and sympathetic air, whether all +was now well with the Ashe ménage. He had been sorry to hear +certain gossip of the year before.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées laughed. Yes, she understood that Kitty +had behaved like a little goose with that <i>poseur</i> Cliffe. But +that was all over—long ago.</p> +<p>"Why, the silly child has everything she wants! William is +devoted to her—and it can't be long before he succeeds."</p> +<p>"No need to go trifling with poets," said Harman, smiling. +"By-the-way, do you know that Geoffrey Cliffe is in Venice?"</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées opened her eyes. "Est-il possible? Oh! +but Kitty has forgotten all about him."</p> +<p>"Of course," said Harman. "I am told he has been seen with the +Ricci."</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées raised her shoulders this time in +addition to her eyes. Then her face clouded.</p> +<p>"I believe," she said, slowly, "that woman may come here this +afternoon."</p> +<p>"Is she a friend of yours?" Harman's tone expressed his +surprise.</p> +<p>"I knew her in Paris," said Madame d'Estrées, with some +hesitation, "when she was a student at the Conservatoire. She and I +had some common acquaintance. And now—frankly, I daren't +offend her. She has the most appalling temper!—and she sticks +at nothing."</p> +<p>Harman wondered what the exact truth of this might be, but did +not inquire. And as guests—including Colonel +Warington—began to arrive, and Donna Laura appeared and began +to dispense tea, the <i>tête-à-tête</i> was +interrupted.</p> +<p>Donna Laura's <i>salon</i> was soon well filled, and Harman +watched the gathering with curiosity. As far as it concerned Madame +d'Estrées—and she was clearly the main attraction +which had brought it together—it represented, he saw, a phase +of social recovery. A few prominent Englishmen, passing through +Venice, came in without their wives, making perfunctory excuse for +the absence of these ladies. But the cosmopolitans of all kinds, +who crowded in—Anglo-Italians, foreign diplomats, travellers +of many sorts, and a few restless Venetians, bearing the great +names of old, to whom their own Venice was little more than a place +of occasional sojourn—made satisfactory amends for these +persons of too long memories. In all these travellers' towns, +Venice, Rome, and Florence, there is indeed a society, and a very +agreeable society, which is wholly irresponsible, and asks few or +no questions. The elements of it meet as strangers, and as +strangers they mostly part. But between the meeting and the parting +there lies a moment, all the gayer, perhaps, because of its social +uncertainty and freedom.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées was profiting by it to the full. She was +in excellent spirits and talk; bright-rose carnations shone in the +bosom of her dress; one white arm, bared to the elbow, lay +stretched carelessly on the fine cut-velvet which covered the gilt +sofa—part of a suite of Venetian Louis Quinze, clumsily +gorgeous—on which she sat; the other hand pulled the ears of +a toy spaniel. On the ceiling above her, Tiepolo had painted a +headlong group of sensuous forms, alive with vulgar movement and +passion; the <i>putti</i> and the goddesses, peering through +aërial balustrades, looked down complacently on Madame +d'Estrées.</p> +<p>Meanwhile there stood behind her—a silent, distinguished +figure—the man of whom Harman saw that she was always +nervously and sometimes timidly conscious. Harman had been reading +Molière's <i>Don Juan</i>. The sentinel figure of Warington +mingled in his imagination with the statue of the Commander.</p> +<p>Or, again, he was tickled by a vision of Madame d'Estrées +grown old, living in a Scotch house, turreted and severe, tended by +servants of the "Auld Licht," or shivering under a faithful +minister on Sundays. Had she any idea of the sort of fold towards +which Warington—at once Covenanter and man of the +world—was carrying his lost sheep?</p> +<p>The sheep, however, was still gambolling at large. Occasionally +a guest appeared who proved it. For instance, at a certain +tumultuous entrance, billowing skirts, vast hat, and high-pitched +voice all combining in the effect, Madame d'Estrées flushed +violently, and Warington's stiffness redoubled. On the threshold +stood the young actress, Mademoiselle Ricci, a Marseillaise, half +French, half Italian, who was at the moment the talk of Venice. +Why, would take too long to tell. It was by no means mostly due to +her talent, which, however, was displayed at the Apollo theatre two +or three times a week, and was no doubt considerable. She was a +flamboyant lady, with astonishing black eyes, a too transparent +white dress, over which was slung a small black mantilla, a scarlet +hat and parasol, and a startling fan of the same color. Both before +and after her greeting of Madame d'Estrées—whom she +called her "chérie" and her "belle Marguerite"—she +created a whirlwind in the <i>salon</i>. She was noisy, rude, and +false; it could only be said on the other side that she was +handsome—for those who admired the kind of thing; and +famous—more or less. The intimacy of the party was broken up +by her, for wherever she was she brought uproar, and it was +impossible to forget her. And this uneasy attention which she +compelled was at its height when the door was once more thrown open +for the entrance of Lady Kitty Ashe.</p> +<p>"Ah, my darling Kitty!" cried Madame d'Estrées, rising in +a soft enthusiasm.</p> +<p>Kitty came in slowly, holding herself very erect, a delicate and +distinguished figure, in her deep mourning. She frowned as she saw +the crowd in the room.</p> +<p>"I'll come another time!" she said, hastily, to her mother, +beginning to retreat.</p> +<p>"Oh, Kitty!" cried Madame d'Estrées, in distress, holding +her fast.</p> +<p>At that moment Harman, who was watching them both with keenness, +saw that Kitty had perceived Mademoiselle Ricci. The actress had +paused in her chatter to stare at the new-comer. She sat fronting +the entrance, her head insolently thrown back, knees crossed, a +cigarette poised in the plump and dimpled hand.</p> +<p>A start ran through Kitty's small person. She allowed her mother +to lead her in and introduce her to Donna Laura.</p> +<p>"Ah-ha, my lady!" said Harman, to himself. "Are you, perhaps, +interested in the Ricci? Is it possible even that you have seen her +before?"</p> +<p>Kitty, however, betrayed herself to no one else. To other people +it was only evident that she did not mean to be introduced to the +actress. She pointedly and sharply avoided it. This was interpreted +as aristocratic <i>hauteur</i>, and did her no harm. On the +contrary, she was soon chattering French with a group of diplomats, +and the centre of the most animated group in the room. All the +new-comers who could attached themselves to it, and the actress +found herself presently almost deserted. She put up her eye-glass, +studied Kitty impertinently, and asked a man sitting near her for +the name of the strange lady.</p> +<p>"Isn't she lovely, my little Kitty!" said Madame +d'Estrées, in the ears of a Bavarian baron, who was also +much occupied in staring at the small beauty in black. "I may say +it, though I am her mother. And my son-in-law, too. Have you seen +him? Such a handsome fellow!—and <i>such</i> a dear!—so +kind to me. They <i>say</i>, you know, that he will be Prime +Minister."</p> +<p>The baron bowed, ironically, and inquired who the gentleman +might be. He had not caught Kitty's name, and Madame +d'Estrées had been for some time labelled in his mind as +something very near to an adventuress.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées eagerly explained, and he bowed again, +with a difference. He was a man of great intelligence, acquainted +with English politics. So that was <i>really</i> the wife of the +man to whose personality and future the London correspondent of the +<i>Allgemeine Zeitung</i> had within the preceding week devoted a +particularly interesting article, which he had read with attention. +His estimate of Madame d'Estrées' place in the world altered +at once. Yet it was strange that she—or, rather, Donna +Laura—should admit such a person as Mademoiselle Ricci to +their <i>salon</i>.</p> +<p>The mother, indeed, that afternoon had much reason to be +socially grateful to the daughter. Curious contrast with the days +when Kitty had been the mere troublesome appendage of her mother's +life! It was clear to Marguerite d'Estrées now that if she +was to accept restraint and virtuous living, if she was to submit +to this marriage she dreaded, yet saw no way to escape, her best +link with the gay world in the future might well be through the +Ashes. Kitty could do a great deal for her; let her cultivate +Kitty; and begin, perhaps, by convincing William Ashe on this +present occasion that for once she was not going to ask him for +money.</p> +<p>In the height of the party, Lord Magellan appeared. Madame +d'Estrées at first looked at him with bewilderment, till +Kitty, shaking herself free, came hastily forward to introduce him. +At the name the mother's face flashed into smiles. The +ramifications of two or three aristocracies represented the only +subject she might be said to know. Dear Kitty!</p> +<p>Lord Magellan, after Madame d'Estrées had talked to him +about his family in a few light and skilful phrases, which +suggested knowledge, while avoiding flattery, was introduced to the +Bavarian baron and a French naval officer. But he was not +interesting to them, nor they to him; Kitty was surrounded and +unapproachable; and a flood of new arrivals distracted Madame +d'Estrées' attention. The Ricci, who had noticed the +restrained <i>empressement</i> of his reception, pounced on the +young man, taming her ways and gestures to what she supposed to be +his English prudery, and produced an immediate effect upon him. +Lord Magellan, who was only dumb with English marriageable girls, +allowed himself to be amused, and threw himself into a low chair by +the actress—a capture apparently for the afternoon.</p> +<p>Louis Harman was sitting behind Kitty, a little to her right. He +saw her watching the actress and her companion; noticed a +compression of the lip, a flash in the eye. She sprang up, said she +must go home, and practically dissolved the party.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Ricci, who had also risen, proposed to Lord +Magellan that she should take him in her gondola to the shop of a +famous dealer on the Canal.</p> +<p>"Thank you very much," said Lord Magellan, irresolute, and he +looked at Kitty. The look apparently decided him, for he +immediately added that he had unfortunately an engagement in the +opposite direction. The actress angrily drew herself up, and +proposed a later appointment. Then Kitty carelessly intervened.</p> +<p>"Do you remember that you promised to see me home?" she said to +the young man. "Don't if it bores you!"</p> +<p>Lord Magellan eagerly protested. Kitty moved away, and he +followed her.</p> +<p>"Chère madame, will you present me to your daughter?" +said the Ricci, in an unnecessarily loud voice.</p> +<p>Madame d'Estrées, with a flurried gesture, touched Kitty +on the arm.</p> +<p>"Kitty, Mademoiselle Ricci."</p> +<p>Kitty took no notice. Madame d'Estrées said, quickly, in +a low, imploring voice:</p> +<p>"Please, dear Kitty. I'll explain."</p> +<p>Kitty turned abruptly, looked at her mother, and at the woman to +whom she was to be introduced.</p> +<p>"Ah! comme elle est charmante!" cried the actress, with an +inflection of irony in her strident voice. "Miladi, il faut +absolument que nous nous connaissions. Je connais votre +chère mère depuis si longtemps! À Paris, +l'hiver passé c'était une amitié des plus +tendres!"</p> +<p>The nasal drag she gave to the words was partly natural, partly +insolent. Madame d'Estrées bit her lip.</p> +<p>"Oui?" said Kitty, indifferently. "Je n'en avais jamais entendu +parler."</p> +<p>Her brilliant eyes studied the woman before her. "She has some +hold on maman," she said to herself, in disgust. "She knows of +something shady that maman has done." Then another thought stung +her; and with the most indifferent bow, triumphing in the evident +offence that she was giving, she turned to Lord Magellan.</p> +<p>"You'd like to see the Palazzo?"</p> +<p>Warington at once offered himself as a guide.</p> +<p>But Kitty declared she knew the way, would just show Lord +Magellan the <i>piano nobile</i>, dismiss him at the grand +staircase, and return. Lord Magellan made his farewells.</p> +<p>As Kitty passed through the door of the <i>salon</i>, while the +young man held back the velvet <i>portière</i> which hung +over it, she was aware that Mademoiselle Ricci was watching her. +The Marseillaise was leaning heavily on a <i>fauteuil</i>, +supported by a hand behind her. A slow, disdainful smile played +about her lips, some evil threatening thought expressed itself +through every feature of her rounded, coarsened beauty. Kitty's +sharp look met hers, and the curtain dropped.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Don't, please, let that woman take you anywhere—to see +anything!" said Kitty, with energy, to her companion, as they +walked through the rooms of the <i>mezzanino</i>.</p> +<p>Lord Magellan laughed. "What's the matter with her?"</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing!" said Kitty, impatiently, "except that she's +wicked—and common—and a snake—and your mother +would have a fit if she knew you had anything to do with her."</p> +<p>The red-haired youth looked grave.</p> +<p>"Thank you, Lady Kitty," he said, quietly. "I'll take your +advice."</p> +<p>"Oh, I say, what a nice boy you are!" cried Kitty, impulsively, +laying a hand a moment on his shoulder. And then, as though his +filial instinct had awakened hers, she added, with hasty falsehood: +"Maman, of course, knows nothing about her. That was just bluff +what she said. But Donna Laura oughtn't to ask such people. +There—that's the way."</p> +<p>And she pointed to a small staircase in the wall, whereof the +trap-door at the top was open. They climbed it, and found +themselves at once in one of the great rooms of the <i>piano +nobile</i>, to which this quick and easy access from the inhabited +<i>entresol</i> had been but recently contrived.</p> +<p>"What a marvellous place!" cried Lord Magellan, looking round +him.</p> +<p>They were in the principal apartment of the famous Vercelli +palace, a legacy from one of those classical architects whose work +may be seen in the late seventeenth-century buildings of Venice. +The rooms, enormously high, panelled here and there in tattered +velvets and brocades, or frescoed in fast-fading scenes of old +Venetian life, stretched in bewildering succession on either side +of a central passage or broad corridor, all of them leading at last +on the northern side to a vast hall painted in architectural +perspective by the pupils of Tiepolo, and overarched by a ceiling +in which the master himself had massed a multitude of forms equal +to Rubens in variety and facility of design, expressed in a thin +trenchancy of style. Figures recalling the ancient triumphs and +possessions of Venice, in days when she sat dishonored and +despoiled, crowded the coved roof, the painted cornices and +pediments. Gayly colored birds hovered in blue skies; philosophers +and poets in grisaille made a strange background for large-limbed +beauties couched on roses, or young warriors amid trophies of +shining arms; and while all this garrulous commonplace lived and +breathed above, the walls below, cold in color and academic in +treatment, maintained as best they could the dignity of the vast +place, thus given up to one of the greatest of artists and emptiest +of minds.</p> +<p>On the floor of this magnificent hall stood a few old and broken +chairs. But the candelabra of glass and ormolu, hanging from the +ceiling, were very nearly of the date of the palace, and superb. +Meanwhile, through a faded taffeta of a golden-brown shade, the +afternoon light from the high windows to the southwest poured into +the stately room.</p> +<p>"How it dwarfs us!" said Lord Magellan, looking at his +companion. "One feels the merest pygmy! From the age of decadence +indeed!" He glanced at the guide-book in his hand. "Good +Heavens!—if this was their decay, what was their bloom?"</p> +<p>"Yes—it's big—and jolly. I like it," said Kitty, +absently. Then she recollected herself. "This is your way out. +Federigo!" she called to an old man, the <i>custode</i> of the +palace, who appeared at the magnificent door leading to the grand +staircase.</p> +<p>"Commanda, eccellenza!" The old man, bent and feeble, +approached. He carried a watering-pot wherewith he was about to +minister to some straggling flowers in the windows fronting the +Grand Canal. A thin cat rubbed itself against his legs. As he stood +in his shabbiness under the high, carved door, the only permanent +denizen of the building, he seemed an embodiment of the old +shrunken Venetian life, still haunting a city it was no longer +strong enough to use.</p> +<p>"Will you show this signor the way out?" said Kitty, in +tourists' Italian. "Are you soon shutting up?"</p> +<p>For the main palazzo, which during the day was often shown to +sightseers, was locked at half-past five, only the two +<i>entresols</i>—one tenanted by Donna Laura, the other by +the <i>custode</i>—remaining accessible.</p> +<p>The old man murmured something which Kitty did not understand, +pointing at the same time to a door leading to the interior of the +<i>piano nobile</i>. Kitty thought that he asked her to be quick, +if she wished still to go round the palace. She tried to explain +that he might lock up if he pleased; her way of retreat to the +<i>mezzanino</i>, down the small staircase, was always open. +Federigo looked puzzled, again said something in unintelligible +Venetian, and led the way to the grand staircase followed by Lord +Magellan.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>A heavy door clanged below. Kitty was alone. She looked round +her, at the stretches of marble floor, and the streaks of pale +sunshine that lay upon its black and white, at the lofty walls +painted with a dim superb architecture, at the crowded ceiling, the +gorgeous candelabra. With its costly decoration, the great room +suggested a rich and festal life; thronging groups below answering +to the Tiepolo groups above; beauties patched and masked; gallants +in brocaded coats; splendid senators, robed like William at the +fancy ball.</p> +<p>Suddenly she caught sight of herself in one of the high and +narrow mirrors that filled the spaces between the windows. In her +mourning dress, with the light behind her, she made a tiny spectre +in the immense hall. The image of her present self—frail, +black-robed—recalled the two figures in the glass of her Hill +Street room—the sparkling white of her goddess dress, and +William's smiling face above hers, his arm round her waist.</p> +<p>How happy she had been that night! Even her wild fury with Mary +Lyster seemed to her now a kind of happiness. How gladly would she +have exchanged for it either of the two terrors that now possessed +her!</p> +<p>With a shiver she crossed the hall, and pushed her way into the +suite of rooms on the northern side. She felt herself in absolute +possession of the palace. Federigo no doubt had locked up; her +mother and a few guests were still talking in the <i>salon</i> of +the <i>mezzanine</i>, expecting her to return. She would +return—soon; but the solitariness and wildness of this +deserted place drew her on.</p> +<p>Room after room opened before her—bare, save for a few +worm-eaten chairs, a fragment of tapestry on the wall, or some +tattered portraits in the Longhi manner, indifferent to begin with, +and long since ruined by neglect. Yet here and there a young face +looked out, roses in the hair and at the breast; or a Doge's +cap—and beneath it phantom features still breathing even in +the last decay of canvas and paint the violence and intrigue of the +living man—the ghost of character held there by the ghost of +art. Or a lad in slashed brocade, for whom even in this silent +palace, and in spite of the gaping crack across his face, life was +still young; a cardinal; a nun; a man of letters in clerical dress, +the Abbé Prévost of his day....</p> +<p>Presently she found herself in a wide corridor, before a high, +closed door. She tried it, and saw a staircase mounting and +descending. A passion of curiosity that was half romance, half +restlessness, drove her on. She began to ascend the marble steps, +hearing only the echo of her own movements, a little afraid of the +cold spaces of the vast house, and yet delighting in the fancies +that crowded upon her. At the top of the flight she found, of +course, another apartment, on the same plan as the one below, but +smaller and less stately. The central hall entered from a door +supported by marble caryatids, was flagged in yellow marble, and +frescoed freely with faded eighteenth-century +scenes—cardinals walking in stiff gardens, a pope alighting +from his coach, surrounded by peasants on their knees, and behind +him fountains and obelisk and the towering façade of St. +Peter's. At the moment, thanks to a last glow of light coming in +through a west window at the farther end, it was a place beautiful +though forlorn. But the rooms into which she looked on either side +were wreck and desolation itself, crowded with broken furniture, +many of them shuttered and dark.</p> +<p>As she closed the last door, her attention was caught by a +strange bust placed on a pedestal above the entrance. What was +wrong with it? An accident? An injury? She went nearer, straining +her eyes to see. No!—there was no injury. The face indeed was +gone. Or, rather, where the face should have been there now +descended a marble veil from brow to breast, of the most singular +and sinister effect. Otherwise the bust was that of a young and +beautiful woman. A pleasing horror seized on Kitty as she looked. +Her fancy hunted for the clew. A faithless wife, blotted from her +place?—made infamous forever by the veil which hid from human +eye the beauty she had dishonored? Or a beloved mistress, on whom +the mourning lover could no longer bear to look—the veil an +emblem of undying and irremediable grief?</p> +<p>Kitty stood enthralled, striving to pierce the ghastly meaning +of the bust, when a sound—a distant sound—a shock +through her. She heard a step overhead, in the topmost apartment, +or <i>mansarde</i> of the palace, a step that presently traversed +the whole length of the floor immediately above her head and began +to descend the stair.</p> +<p>Strange! Federigo must have shut the great gates by this +time—as she had bade him? He himself inhabited the smaller +<i>entresol</i> on the farther side of the palace, far away. Other +inhabitants there were none; so Donna Laura had assured her.</p> +<p>The step approached, resonant in the silence. Kitty, seized with +nervous fright, turned and ran down the broad staircase by which +she had come, through the series of deserted rooms in the <i>piano +nobile</i>, till she reached the great hall.</p> +<p>There she paused, panting, curiosity and daring once more +getting the upperhand. The door she had just passed through, which +gave access to the staircase, opened again and shut. The stranger +who had entered came leisurely towards the hall, lingering +apparently now and then to look at objects on the way. Presently a +voice—an exclamation.</p> +<p>Kitty retreated, caught at the arm of a chair for support, clung +to it trembling. A man entered, holding his hat in one hand and a +small white glove in the other.</p> +<p>At sight of the lady in black, standing on the other side of the +hall, he started violently—and stopped. Then, just as Kitty, +who had so far made neither sound nor movement, took the first +hurried step towards the staircase by which she had entered, +Geoffrey Cliffe came forward.</p> +<p>"How do you do, Lady Kitty? Do not, I beg of you, let me disturb +you. I had half an hour to spare, and I gave the old man +down-stairs a franc or two, that he might let me wander over this +magnificent old place by myself for a bit. I have always had a +fancy for deserted houses. You, I gather, have it, too. I will not +interfere with you for a moment. Before I go, however, let me +return what I believe to be your property."</p> +<p>He came nearer, with a studied, deliberate air, and held out the +white glove. She saw it was her own and accepted it.</p> +<p>"Thank you."</p> +<p>She bowed with all the haughtiness she could muster, though her +limbs shook under her. Then as she walked quickly towards the door +of exit, Cliffe, who was nearer to it than she, also moved towards +it, and threw it open for her. As she approached him he said, +quietly:</p> +<p>"This is not the first time we have met in Venice, Lady +Kitty."</p> +<p>She wavered, could not avoid looking at him, and stood arrested. +That almost white head!—that furrowed brow!—those +haggard eyes! A slight, involuntary cry broke from her lips.</p> +<p>Cliffe smiled. Then he straightened his tall figure.</p> +<p>"You see, perhaps, that I have not grown younger. You are quite +right. I have left my youth—what remained of it—among +those splendid fellows whom the Turks have been harrying and +torturing. Well!—they were worth it. I would give it them +again."</p> +<p>There was a short silence.</p> +<p>The eyes of each perused the other's face. Kitty began some +words, and left them unfinished. Cliffe resumed—in another +tone—while the door he held swung gently backward, his hand +following it.</p> +<p>"I spent last winter, as perhaps you know, with the Bosnian +insurgents in the mountains. It was a tough +business—hardships I should never have had the pluck to face +if I had known what was before me. Then, in July, I got fever. I +had to come away, to find a doctor, and I was a long time at +Cattaro pulling round. And, meanwhile, the Turks—God blast +them!—have been at their fiends' work. Half my particular +friends, with whom I spent the winter, have been hacked to pieces +since I left them."</p> +<p>She wavered, held by his look, by the coercion of that mingled +passion and indifference with which he spoke. There was in his +manner no suggestion whatever of things behind, no reference to +herself or to the past between them. His passion, it seemed, was +for his comrades; his indifference for her. What had he to do with +her any more? He had been among the realities of battle and death, +while she had been mincing and ambling along the usual feminine +path. That was the utterance, it seemed, of the man's whole manner +and personality, and nothing could have more effectually recalled +Kitty's wild nature to the lure.</p> +<p>"Are you going back?" She had turned from him and was pulling at +the fingers of the glove he had picked up.</p> +<p>"Of course! I am only kicking my heels here till I can collect +the money and stores—ay, and the <i>men</i>—I want. I +give my orders in London, and I must be here to see to the +transshipment of stores and the embarkation of my small force! Not +meant for the newspapers, you see, Lady Kitty—these little +details!"</p> +<p>He drew himself up smiling, his worn aspect expressing just that +mingling of dare-devil adventure with subtler and more +self-conscious things which gave edge and power to his +personality.</p> +<p>"I heard you were wounded," said Kitty, abruptly.</p> +<p>"So I was—badly. We were defending a +<i>polje</i>—one of their high mountain valleys, against a +Beg and his troops. My left arm"—he pointed to the black +sling in which it was still held—"was nearly cut to pieces. +However, it is practically well."</p> +<p>He took it out of the sling and showed that he could use it. +Then his expression changed. He stepped back to the door, and +opened it ceremoniously.</p> +<p>"Don't, however, let me delay you, Lady Kitty—by my +chatter."</p> +<p>Kitty's cheeks were crimson. Her momentary yielding vanished in +a passion of scorn. What!—he knew that she had seen him +before, seen him with that woman—and he dared to play the +mere shattered hero, kept in Venice by these crusader's +reasons!</p> +<p>"Have you another volume on the way?" she asked him, as she +advanced. "I read your last."</p> +<p>Her smile was the smile of an enemy. He eyed her strangely.</p> +<p>"Did you? That was waste of time."</p> +<p>"I think you intended I should read it."</p> +<p>He hesitated.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty, those things are very far away. I can't defend +myself—for they seem wiped out." He had crossed his arms, and +was leaning back against the open door, a fine, rugged figure, by +no means repentant.</p> +<p>Kitty laughed.</p> +<p>"You overstate the difference!"</p> +<p>"Between the past and the present? What does that mean?"</p> +<p>She dropped her eyes a moment, then raised them.</p> +<p>"Do you often go to San Lazzaro?"</p> +<p>He bowed.</p> +<p>"I had a suspicion that the vision at the window—though it +was there only an instant—was you! So you saw Mademoiselle +Ricci?"</p> +<p>His tone was assurance itself. Kitty disdained to answer. Her +slight gesture bade him let her pass through; but he ignored +it.</p> +<p>"I find her kind, Lady Kitty. She listens to me—I get +sympathy from her."</p> +<p>"And you want sympathy?"</p> +<p>Her tone stung him. "As a hungry man wants food—as an +artist wants beauty. But I know where I shall <i>not</i> get +it."</p> +<p>"That is always a gain!" said Kitty, throwing back her little +head. "Mr. Cliffe, pray let me bid you good-bye."</p> +<p>He suddenly made a step forward. "Lady Kitty!"—his +deep-set, imperious eyes searched her face—"I can't restrain +myself. Your look—your expression—go to my heart. Laugh +at me if you like. It's true. What have you been doing with +yourself?"</p> +<p>He bent towards her, scrutinizing every delicate feature, and, +as it seemed, shaken with agitation. She breathed fast.</p> +<p>"Mr. Cliffe, you must know that any sympathy from you to +me—is an insult! Kindly let me pass."</p> +<p>He, too, flushed deeply.</p> +<p>"Insult is a hard word, Lady Kitty. I regret that poem."</p> +<p>She swept forward in silence, but he still stood in the way.</p> +<p>"I wrote it—almost in delirium. Ah, well"—he shook +his head impatiently—"if you don't believe me, let it be. I +am not the man I was. The perspective of things is altered for me." +His voice fell. "Women and children in their blood—heroic +trust—and brute hate—the stars for candles—the +high peaks for friends—those things have come between me and +the past. But you are right; we had better not talk any more. I +hear old Federigo coming up the stairs. Good-night, Lady +Kitty—good-night!"</p> +<p>He opened the door. She passed him, and, to her own intense +annoyance, a bunch of pale roses she carried at her belt brushed +against the doorway, so that one broke and fell. She turned to pick +it up, but it was already in Cliffe's hand. She held out hers, +threateningly.</p> +<p>"I think not." He put it in his pocket. "Here is Federigo. +Good-night."</p> +<p>It was quite dark when Kitty reached home. She groped her way +up-stairs and opened the door of the <i>salon</i>. So weary was she +that she dropped into the first chair, not seeing at first that any +one was in the room. Then she caught sight of a brown-paper parcel, +apparently just unfastened, on the table, and within it three +books, of similar shape and size. A movement startled her.</p> +<p>"William!"</p> +<p>Ashe rose slowly from the deep chair in which he had been +sitting. His aspect seemed to her terrified eyes utterly and wholly +changed. In his hand he held a book like those on the table, and a +paper-cutter. His face expressed the remote abstraction of a man +who has been wrestling his way through some hard contest of the +mind.</p> +<p>She ran to him. She wound her arms round him.</p> +<p>"William, William! I didn't mean any harm! I didn't! Oh, I have +been so miserable! I tried to stop it—I did all I could. I +have hardly slept at all—since we talked—you remember? +Oh, William, look at me! Don't be angry with me!"</p> +<p>Ashe disengaged himself.</p> +<p>"I have asked Blanche to pack for me to-night, Kitty. I go home +by the early train to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Home!"</p> +<p>She stood petrified; then a light flashed into her face.</p> +<p>"You'll buy it all up? You'll stop it, William?"</p> +<p>Ashe drew himself together.</p> +<p>"I am going home," he said, with slow decision, "to place my +resignation in the hands of Lord Parham."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> +<p>Kitty fell back in silence, staring at William. She loosened her +mantle and threw it off, then she sat down in a chair near the wood +fire, and bent over it, shivering.</p> +<p>"Of course you didn't mean that, William?" she said, at +last.</p> +<p>Ashe turned.</p> +<p>"I should not have said it unless I had meant every word of it. +It is, of course, the only thing to be done."</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him miserably. "But you <i>can't</i> mean +that—that you'll resign because of that book?"</p> +<p>She pulled it towards her and turned over the pages with a hand +that trembled. "That would be too foolish!"</p> +<p>Ashe made no reply. He was standing before the fire, with his +hands in his pockets, and a face half absent, half ironical, as +though his mind followed the sequences of a far distant future.</p> +<p>"William!" She caught the sleeve of his coat with a little cry. +"I wrote that book because I thought it would help you."</p> +<p>His attention came back to her.</p> +<p>"Yes, Kitty, I believe you did."</p> +<p>She gulped down a sob. His tone was so odd, so remote.</p> +<p>"Many people have done such things. I know they have. +Why—why, it was only meant—as a skit—to make +people laugh! There's <i>no</i> harm in it, William."</p> +<p>Ashe, without speaking, took up the book and looked back at +certain pages, which he seemed to have marked. Kitty's feeling as +she watched him was the feeling of the condemned culprit, held dumb +and strangled in the grip of his own sense of justice, and yet +passionately conscious how much more he could say for himself than +anybody is ever likely to say for him.</p> +<p>"When did you have the first idea of this book, Kitty?"</p> +<p>"About a year ago," she said, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"In October? At Haggart?"</p> +<p>Kitty nodded.</p> +<p>Ashe thought. Her admission took him back to the autumn weeks at +Haggart, after the Cliffe crisis and the rearrangement of the +ministry in the July of that year. He well remembered that those +weeks had been weeks of special happiness for both of them. +Afterwards, the winter had brought many renewed qualms and +vexations. But in that period, between the storms of the session +and Kitty's escapades in the hunting-field, memory recalled a +tender, melting time—a time rich in hidden and exquisite +hours, when with Kitty on his breast, lip to lip and heart to +heart, he had reaped, as it seemed to him, the fruits of that +indulgence which, as he knew, his mother scorned. And at that very +moment, behind his back, out of his sight, she had begun this +atrocious thing.</p> +<p>He looked at her again—the bitterness almost at his lips, +almost beyond his control.</p> +<p>"I wish I knew what could have been your possible object in +writing it?"</p> +<p>She sat up and confronted him. The color flamed back again into +her pale cheeks.</p> +<p>"You know I told you—when we had that talk in +London—that I wanted to write. I thought it would be good for +me—would take my thoughts off—well, what had happened. +And I began to write this—and it amused me to find I could do +it—and I suppose I got carried away. I loved describing you, +and glorifying you—and I loved making caricatures of Lady +Parham—and all the people I hated. I used to work at it +whenever you were away—or I was dull and there was nothing to +do.</p> +<p>"Did it never occur to you," said Ashe, interrupting, "that it +might get you—get us both—into trouble, and that you +ought to tell me?"</p> +<p>She wavered.</p> +<p>"No!" she said, at last. "I never did mean to tell you, while I +was writing it. You know I don't tell lies, William! The real fact +is, I was afraid you'd stop it."</p> +<p>"Good God!" He threw up his hands with a sound of amazement, +then thrust them again into his pockets and began to pace up and +down.</p> +<p>"But then"—she resumed—"I thought you'd soon get +over it, and that it was funny—and everybody would +laugh—and you'd laugh—and there would be an end of +it."</p> +<p>He turned and stared at her. "Frankly, Kitty—I don't +understand what you can be made of! You imagined that that sketch +of Lord Parham"—he struck the open page—"a sketch +written by <i>my wife</i>, describing my official chief—when +he was my guest—under my own roof—with all sorts of +details of the most intimate and offensive kind—mocking his +speech—his manners—his little personal +ways—charging him with being the corrupt tool of Lady Parham, +disloyal to his colleagues, a man not to be trusted—and +justifying all this by a sort of evidence that you could only have +got as my wife and Lord Parham's hostess—you actually +supposed that you could write and publish +<i>that!</i>—without in the first place its being plain to +every Tom, Dick, and Harry that you had written it—and in the +next, without making it impossible for your husband to remain a +colleague of the man you had treated in such a way? +Kitty!—you are not a stupid woman! Do you really mean to say +that you could write and publish this book without <i>knowing</i> +that you were doing a wrong action—which, so far from serving +me, could only damage my career irreparably? Did nothing—did +no one warn you—if you were determined to keep such a secret +from your husband, whom it most concerned?"</p> +<p>He had come to stand beside her, both hands on the back of a +chair—stooping forward to emphasize his words—the lines +of his fine face and noble brow contracted by anger and pain.</p> +<p>"Mr. Darrell warned me," said Kitty, in a low voice, as though +those imperious eyes compelled the truth from her—"but of +course I didn't believe him."</p> +<p>"Darrell!" cried Ashe, in amazement—"Darrell! You confided +in him?"</p> +<p>"I told him all about it. It was he who took it to a +publisher."</p> +<p>"Hound!" said Ashe, between his teeth. "So that was his +revenge."</p> +<p>"Oh, you needn't blame him too much," said Kitty, proudly, not +understanding the remark. "He wrote to me not long ago to say it +was horribly unwise—and that he washed his hands of it."</p> +<p>"Ay—when he'd done the deed! When did you show it him?" +said Ashe, impetuously.</p> +<p>"At Haggart—in August."</p> +<p>"<i>Et tu, Brute!</i>" said Ashe, turning away. "Well, that's +done with. Now the only thing to do is to face the music. I go +home. Whatever can be done to withdraw the book from circulation I +shall, of course, do; but I gather from this precious +letter"—he held up the note which had been enclosed in the +parcel—"that some thousands of copies have already been +ordered by the booksellers, and a few distributed to 'persons in +high places.'"</p> +<p>"William," she said, in despair, catching his arm +again—"listen! I offered the man two hundred pounds only +yesterday to stop it."</p> +<p>Ashe laughed.</p> +<p>"What did he reply?"</p> +<p>"He said it was impossible. Fifty copies had been already +issued."</p> +<p>"The review copies, no doubt. By next week there will be, I +should say, five thousand in the shops. Your man understands his +business, Kitty. This is the kind of puff preliminary he has been +scattering about."</p> +<p>And with sparkling eyes he handed to her a printed slip +containing an outline of the book for the information of the +booksellers.</p> +<p>It drew attention to the extraordinary interest of the +production as a painting of the upper class by the hand of one +belonging to its inmost circle. "People of the highest social and +political importance will be recognized at once; the writer handles +cabinet ministers and their wives with equal freedom, and with a +touch betraying the closest and most intimate knowledge. Details +hitherto quite unknown to the public of ministerial combinations +and intrigues—especially of the feminine influences +involved—will be found here in their lightest and most +amusing form. A certain famous fancy ball will be identified +without difficulty. Scathing as some of the portraits are, the +writer is by no means merely cynical. The central figure of the +book is a young and rising statesman, whose aim and hopes are +touched with a loving hand—the charm of the portrait being +only equalled by the venom with which the writer assails those who +have thwarted or injured his hero. But our advice is +simply—'Buy and Read!' Conjecture will run wild about the +writer. All we can say is that the most romantic or interesting +surmise that can possibly be formed will fall far short of the +reality."</p> +<p>"The beast is a shrewd beast!" said Ashe, as he raised himself +from the stooping position in which he had been following the +sentences over Kitty's shoulder. "He knows that the public will +rush for his wares! How much money did he offer you, Kitty?"</p> +<p>He turned sharply on his heel to wait for her reply.</p> +<p>"A hundred pounds," said Kitty, almost inaudibly—"and a +hundred more if five thousand sold." She had returned again to her +crouching attitude over the fire.</p> +<p>"Generous!—upon my word!" said Ashe, scornfully turning +over the two thick-leaved, loosely printed Mudie volumes. "A guinea +to the public, I suppose—fifteen shillings to the trade. +Darrell didn't exactly advise you to advantage, Kitty."</p> +<p>Kitty kept silence. The sarcastic violence of his tone fell on +her like a blow. She seemed to shrink together; while Ashe resumed +his walk to and fro.</p> +<p>Presently, however, she looked up, to ask, in a voice that tried +for steadiness:</p> +<p>"What do you mean to do—exactly—William?"</p> +<p>"I shall, of course, buy up all I can; I shall employ some +lawyer fellow, and appeal to the good feelings of the newspapers. +There will be no trouble with the respectable ones. But some copies +will get out, and some of the Opposition newspapers will make +capital out of them. Naturally!—they'd be precious fools if +they didn't."</p> +<p>A momentary hope sprang up in Kitty.</p> +<p>"But if you buy it up—and stop all the papers that +matter," she faltered—"why should you resign, William? There +won't be—such great harm done."</p> +<p>For answer he opened the book, and without speaking pointed to +two passages—the first, an account full of point and malice +of the negotiations between himself and Lord Parham at the time +when he entered the cabinet, the conditions he himself had made, +and the confidential comments of the Premier on the men and affairs +of the moment.</p> +<p>"Do you remember the night when I told you those things, +Kitty?"</p> +<p>Yes, Kitty remembered well. It was a night of intimate talk +between man and wife, a night when she had shown him her sweetest, +tenderest mood, and he—incorrigible optimist!—had +persuaded himself that she was growing as wise as she was +lovely.</p> +<p>Her lip trembled. Then he pointed to the second—to the +pitiless picture of Lord Parham at Haggart.</p> +<p>"You wrote that—when he was under our roof—there by +our pressing invitation! You couldn't have written it—unless +he had so put himself in your power. A wandering Arab, Kitty, will +do no harm to the man who has eaten and drunk in his tent!"</p> +<p>She looked up, and as she read his face she understood at last +how what she had done had outraged in him all the natural and all +the inherited instincts of a generous and fastidious nature. The +"great gentleman," so strong in him as in all the best of English +statesmen, whether they spring from the classes or the masses, was +up in arms.</p> +<p>She sprang to her feet with a cry. "William, you can't give up +politics! It would make you miserable."</p> +<p>"That can't be helped. And I couldn't go on like this, +Kitty—even if this affair of the book could be patched up. +The strain's too great."</p> +<p>They were but a yard apart, and yet she seemed to be looking at +him across a gulf.</p> +<p>"You have been so happy in your work!" This time the sob escaped +her.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't let's talk about that," he said, abruptly, as he +walked away. "There'll be a certain relief in giving up the +impossible. I'll go back to my books. We can travel, I suppose, and +put politics out of our heads."</p> +<p>"But—you won't resign your seat?"</p> +<p>"No," he said, after a pause—"no. As far as I can see at +present, I sha'n't resign my seat, though my constituents, of +course, will be very sick. But I doubt whether I shall stand +again."</p> +<p>Every phrase fell as though with a thud on Kitty's ear. It was +the wreck of a man's life, and she had done it.</p> +<p>"Shall you—shall you go and see Lord Parham?" she asked, +after a pause.</p> +<p>"I shall write to him first. I imagine"—he pointed to the +letter lying on the table—"that creature has already sent him +the book. Then later I daresay I shall see him."</p> +<p>She looked up.</p> +<p>"If I wrote and told him it was all my doing, William?—if +I grovelled to him?"</p> +<p>"The responsibility is mine," he said, sternly. "I had no +business to tell even you the things printed there. I told them at +my own risk. If anything I say has any weight with you, Kitty, you +will write nothing."</p> +<p>She spread out her hands to the fire again, and he heard her +say, as though to herself:</p> +<p>"The thing is—the awful thing is, that I'm mad—I +must be mad. I never thought of all this when I was writing it. I +wrote it in a kind of dream. In the first place, I wanted to +glorify you—"</p> +<p>He broke into an exclamation.</p> +<p>"Your <i>taste</i>, Kitty!—where was your taste? That a +wife should praise a husband in public! You could only make us both +laughing-stocks."</p> +<p>His handsome features quivered a little. He felt this part of it +the most galling, the most humiliating of all; and she understood. +In his eyes she had shown herself not only reckless and +treacherous, but indelicate, vulgar, capable of besmirching the +most sacred and intimate of relations.</p> +<p>She rose from her seat.</p> +<p>"I must go and take my things off," she said, in "a vague +voice," and as she moved she tottered a little. He turned to look +at her. Amid his own crushing sense of defeat and catastrophe, his +natural and righteous indignation, he remembered that she had been +ill—he remembered their child. But whether from the +excitement, first of the meeting in the Vercelli palace, and now of +this scene—or merely from the heat of the fire over which she +had been hanging, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes blazed. Her +beauty had never been more evident; but it made little appeal to +him; it was the wild, ungovernable beauty from which he had +suffered. He saw that she was excited, but there was an air also of +returning physical vigor; and the nascent feeling which might have +been strengthened by pallor and prostration died away.</p> +<p>Kitty moved as though to pass him and go to her room, which +opened out of the <i>salon</i>. But as she neared him she suddenly +caught him by the arm.</p> +<p>"William!—William! don't do it!—don't resign! Let me +apologize!"</p> +<p>He was angered by her persistence, and merely said, coldly:</p> +<p>"I have given you my reasons, Kitty, why such a course is +impossible."</p> +<p>"And—and you start to-morrow morning?"</p> +<p>"By the early train. Please let me go, Kitty. There are many +things to arrange. I must order the gondola, and see if the people +here can cash me a check."</p> +<p>"You mean—to leave me alone?" The words had a curious +emphasis.</p> +<p>"I had a few words with Miss French before you came in. The +packet arrived by the evening post, and seeing that it was +books—for you—I opened it. After about an +hour"—he turned and walked away again—"I saw my +bearings. Then I called Miss French, told her I should have to go +to-morrow, and asked her how long she could stay with you."</p> +<p>"William!" cried Kitty again, leaning heavily on the table +beside her—"don't go!—don't leave me!"</p> +<p>His face darkened.</p> +<p>"So you would prevent me from taking the only honorable, the +only decent way out of this thing that remains to me?"</p> +<p>She made no immediate reply. She stood—wrapped apparently +in painful abstraction—a creature lovely and distraught. The +masses of her fair hair loosened by the breeze on the canal had +fallen about her cheeks and shoulders; her black hat framed the +white brow and large, feverish eyes; and the sable cape she had +worn in the gondola had slipped down over the thin, sloping +shoulders, revealing the young figure and the slender waist. She +might have been a child of seventeen, grieving over the death of +her goldfinch.</p> +<p>Ashe gathered together his official letters and papers, found +his check-book, and began to write. While he wrote he explained +that Miss French could keep her company at least another fortnight, +that he could leave with them four or five circular notes for +immediate expenses, and would send more from home directly he +arrived.</p> +<p>In the middle of his directions Kitty once more appealed to him +in a passionate, muffled voice not to go. This time he lost his +temper, and without answering her he hastily left the room to +arrange his packing with his valet.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When he returned to the <i>salon</i> Kitty was not there. He and +Miss French—who knew only that something tragic had happened +in which Kitty was concerned—kept up a fragmentary +conversation till dinner was announced and Kitty entered. She had +evidently been weeping, but with powder and rouge she had tried to +conceal the traces of her tears; and at dinner she sat silent, +hardly answering when Margaret French spoke to her.</p> +<p>After dinner Ashe went out with his cigar towards the Piazza. He +was in a smarting, dazed state, beginning, however, to realize the +blow more than he had done at first. He believed that Parham +himself would not be at all sorry to be rid of him. He and his +friends formed a powerful group both in the cabinet and out of it. +But they were forcing the pace, and the elements of resistance and +reaction were strong. He pictured the dismay of his friends, the +possible breakdown of the reforming party. Of course they might so +stand by him—and the suppression of the book might be so +complete—</p> +<p>At this moment he caught sight of a newspaper contents bill +displayed at the door of the only shop in the Piazza which sold +English newspapers. One of the lines ran, "Anonymous attack on the +Premier." He started, went in and bought the paper. There, in the +"London Topics" column, was the following paragraph:</p> +<p>"A string of extracts from a forthcoming book, accompanied by a +somewhat startling publisher's statement, has lately been sent +round to the press. We are asked not to print them before the day +of publication, but they have already roused much attention, if not +excitement. They certainly contain a very gross attack on the Prime +Minister, based apparently on first-hand information, and involving +indiscretions personal and political of an unusually serious +character. The wife of a cabinet minister is freely named as the +writer, and even if no violation of cabinet secrecy is concerned, +it is clear that the book outrages the confidential relations which +ought to subsist between a Premier and his colleagues, if +government on our English system is to be satisfactorily carried +on. The statements it makes with every appearance of authority both +as to the relations between Lord Parham and some of the most +important members of his cabinet, and as to the Premier's +intentions with regard to one or two of the most vital questions +now before the country, are calculated seriously to embarrass the +government. We fear the book will have a veritable <i>succès +de scandale</i>."</p> +<p>"That fellow at least has done his best to kick the ball, damn +him!" thought Ashe, with contempt, as he thrust the paper into his +pocket.</p> +<p>It was no more than he expected; but it put an end to all +thoughts of a more hopeful kind. He walked up and down the +<i>Piazza</i> smoking, till midnight, counting the hours till he +could reach London, and revolving the phrases of a telegram to be +sent to his solicitor before starting.</p> +<p>Kitty made no sign or sound when he entered her room. Her fair +head was turned away from him, and all was dark. He could hardly +believe that she was asleep; but it was a relief to him to accept +her pretence of it, and to escape all further conversation. He +himself slept but little. The mere profundity of the Venetian +silence teased him; it reminded him how far he was from home.</p> +<p>Two images pursued him—of Kitty writing the book, while he +was away electioneering or toiling at his new office—and +then, of his returns to Haggart—tired or triumphant—on +many a winter evening, of her glad rush into his arms, her +sparkling face on his breast.</p> +<p>Or again, he conjured up the scene when the MS. had been shown +to Darrell—his pretence of disapproval, his sham warnings, +and the smile on his sallow face as he walked off with it. Ashe +looked back to the early days of his friendship with Darrell, when +he, Ashe, was one of the leaders at Eton, popular with the masters +in spite of his incorrigible idleness, and popular with the boys +because of his bodily prowess, and Darrell had been a small, +sickly, bullied colleger. Scene after scene recurred to him, from +their later relations at Oxford also. There was a kind of +deliberation in the way in which he forced his thoughts into this +channel; it made an outlet for a fierce bitterness of spirit, which +some imperious instinct forbade him to spend on Kitty.</p> +<p>He dozed in the later hours of the night, and was roused by +something touching his hand, which lay outside the bedclothes. +Again the little head!—and the soft curls. Kitty was +there—crouched beside him—weeping. There flashed into +his mind an image of the night in London when she had come to him +thus; and unwelcome as the whole remembrance was, he was conscious +of a sudden swelling wave of pity and passion. What if he sprang +up, caught her in his arms, forgave her, and bade the world go +hang!</p> +<p>No! The impulse passed, and in his turn he feigned sleep. The +thought of her long deceit, of the selfish wilfulness wherewith she +had requited deep love and easy trust, was too much; it seared his +heart. And there was another and a subtler influence. To have +forgiven so easily would have seemed treachery to those high +ambitions and ideals from which—as he thought, only too +certainly—she had now cut him off. It was part of his +surviving youth that the catastrophe seemed to him so absolute. Any +thought of the fresh efforts which would be necessary for the +reconquering of his position was no less sickening to him than that +of the immediate discomforts and humiliations to be undergone. He +would go back to books and amusement; and in the idling of the +future there would be plenty of time for love-making.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In the morning, when all preparations were made, the gondoliers +waiting below, Ashe's telegram sent, and the circular notes handed +over to Margaret French, who had discreetly left the room, William +approached his wife.</p> +<p>"Good-bye!" said Kitty, and gave him her hand, with a strange +look and smile.</p> +<p>Ashe, however, drew her to him and kissed her—against her +will. "I'll do my best, Kitty," he said, in a would-be cheery +voice—"to pull us through. Perhaps—I don't +know!—things may turn out better than I think. Good-bye. Take +care of yourself. I'll write, of course. Don't hurry home. You'll +want a fortnight or three weeks yet."</p> +<p>Kitty said not a word, and in another minute he was gone. The +Italian servants congregated below at the water-gate sent laughing +"A rivederlas" after the handsome, good-tempered Englishman, whom +they liked and regretted; the gondola moved off; Kitty heard the +plash of the water. But she held back from the window.</p> +<p>Half-way to the bend of the canal beyond the Accademia, Ashe +turned and gave a long look at the balcony. No one was there. But +just as the gondola was passing out of sight, Kitty slipped onto +the balcony. She could see only the figure of Piero, the gondolier, +and in another second the boat was gone. She stayed there for many +minutes, clinging to the balustrade and staring, as it seemed, at +the sparkle of autumnal sun which danced on the green water and on +the red palace to her right.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>All the morning Kitty on her sofa pretended to write letters. +Margaret French, working or reading behind her, knew that she +scarcely got through a single note, that her pen lay idle on the +paper, while her eyes absently watched the palace windows on the +other side of the canal. Miss French was quite certain that some +tragic cause of difference between the husband and wife had arisen. +Kitty, the indiscreet, had for once kept her own counsel about the +book, and Ashe had with his own hands packed away the volumes which +had arrived the night before; so that she could only guess, and +from that delicacy of feeling restrained her as much as +possible.</p> +<p>Once or twice Kitty seemed on the point of unburdening herself. +Then overmastering tears would threaten; she would break off and +begin to write. At luncheon her look alarmed Miss French, so white +was the little face, so large and restless the eyes. Ought Mr. Ashe +to have left her, and left her apparently in anger? No doubt he +thought her much better. But Margaret remembered the worst days of +her illness, the anxious looks of the doctors, and the anguish that +Kitty had suffered in the first weeks after her child's death. She +seemed now, indeed, to have forgotten little Harry, so far as +outward expression went; but who could tell what was passing in her +strange, unstable mind? And it often seemed to Margaret that the +signs of the past summer were stamped on her indelibly, for those +who had eyes to see.</p> +<p>Was it the perception of this pity beside her that drove Kitty +to solitude and flight? At any rate, she said after luncheon that +she would go to Madame d'Estrées, and did not ask Miss +French to accompany her.</p> +<p>She set out accordingly with the two gondoliers. But she had +hardly passed the Accademia before she bid her men take a cross-cut +to the Giudecca. On these wide waters, with their fresher air and +fuller sunshine, a certain physical comfort seemed to breathe upon +her.</p> +<p>"Piero, it is not rough! Can we go to the Lido?" she asked the +gondolier behind her.</p> +<p>Piero, who was all smiles and complaisance, as well he might be +with a lady who scattered <i>lire</i> as freely as Kitty did, +turned the boat at once for that channel "Del Orfano" where the +bones of the vanquished dead lie deep amid the ooze.</p> +<p>They passed San Giorgio, and were soon among the piles and +sand-banks of the lagoon. Kitty sat in a dream which blotted the +sunshine from the water. It seemed to her that she was a dead +creature, floating in a dead world. William had ceased to love her. +She had wrecked his career and destroyed her own happiness. Her +child had been taken from her. Lady Tranmore's affection had been +long since alienated. Her own mother was nothing to her; and her +friends in society, like Madeleine Alcot, would only laugh and +gloat over the scandal of the book.</p> +<p>No—everything was finished! As her fingers hanging over +the side of the gondola felt the touch of the water, her morbid +fancy, incredibly quick and keen, fancied herself drowned, or +poisoned—lying somehow white and cold on a bed where William +might see and forgive her.</p> +<p>Then with a start of memory which brought the blood rushing to +her face, she thought of Cliffe standing beside the door of the +great hall in the Vercelli palace—she seemed to be looking +again into those deep, expressive eyes, held by the irony and the +passion with which they were infused. Had the passion any reference +to her?—or was it merely part of the man's nature, as +inseparable from it as flame from the volcano? If William had cast +her off, was there still one man—wild and bad, indeed, like +herself, but poet and hero nevertheless—who loved her?</p> +<p>She did not much believe it; but still the possibility of it +lured her, like some dark gulf that promised her oblivion from this +pain—pain which tortured one so impatient of distress, so +hungry for pleasure and praise.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In those days the Lido was still a noble and solitary shore, +without the degradations of to-day.</p> +<p>Kitty walked fast and furiously across the sandy road, and over +the shingles, turning, when she reached the firm sand, southward +towards Malamocco. It was between four and five, and the autumn +afternoon was fast declining. A fresh breeze was on the sea, and +the short waves, intensely blue under a wide, clear heaven, broke +in dazzling foam on the red-brown sand.</p> +<p>She seemed to be alone between sea and sky, save for two figures +approaching from the south—a fisher-boy with a shrimping-net +and a man walking bareheaded. She noticed them idly. A mirage of +sun was between her and them, and the agony of remorse and despair +which held her blunted all perceptions.</p> +<p>Thus it was that not till she was close upon him did her dazzled +sight recognize Geoffrey Cliffe.</p> +<p>He saw her first, and stopped in motionless astonishment on the +edge of the sand. She almost ran against him, when his voice +arrested her.</p> +<p>"Lady Kitty!"</p> +<p>She put her hand to her breast, wavered, and came to a +stand-still. He saw a little figure in black between him and those +"gorgeous towers and cloud-capped palaces" of Alpine snow, which +dimly closed in the north; and beneath the drooping hat a face even +more changed and tragic than that which had haunted him since their +meeting of the day before.</p> +<div><a name="image-474.jpg" id="image-474.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-474.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-474.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"SHE THOUGHT OF CLIFFE STANDING BESIDE THE DOOR OF THE GREAT +HALL."</b></p> +<p>"How do you do?" she said, mechanically, and would have passed +him. But he stood in her path. As he stared at her an impulse of +rage ran through him, resenting the wreck of anything so +beautiful—rage against Ashe, who must surely be somehow +responsible.</p> +<p>"Aren't you wandering too far, Lady Kitty?" His voice shook +under the restraint he put upon it. "You seem tired—very +tired—and you are perhaps farther from your gondola than you +think."</p> +<p>"I am not tired."</p> +<p>He hesitated.</p> +<p>"Might I walk with you a little, or do you forbid me?"</p> +<p>She said nothing, but walked on. He turned and accompanied her. +One or two questions that he put to her—Had she +companions?—Where had she left her gondola?—remained +unanswered. He studied her face, and at last he laid a strong hand +upon her arm.</p> +<p>"Sit down. You are not fit for any more walking."</p> +<p>He drew her towards some logs of driftwood on the upper sand, +and she sank down upon them. He found a place beside her.</p> +<p>"What is the matter with you?" he said, abruptly, with a harsh +authority. "You are in trouble."</p> +<p>A tremor shook her—as of the prisoner who feels on his +limbs the first touch of the fetter.</p> +<p>"No, no!" she said, trying to rise; "it is nothing. I—I +didn't know it was so far. I must go home."</p> +<p>His hand held her.</p> +<p>"Kitty!"</p> +<p>"Yes." Her voice was scarcely audible.</p> +<p>"Tell me what hurts you! Tell me why you are here, alone, with a +face like that! Don't be afraid of me! Could I lift a finger to +harm a mother that has lost her child? Give me your hands." He +gathered both hers into the warm shelter of his own. "Look at +me—trust me! My heart has grown, Kitty, since you knew me +last. It has taken into itself so many griefs—so many deaths. +Tell me your griefs, poor child!—tell me!"</p> +<p>He stooped and kissed her hands—most tenderly, most +gravely.</p> +<p>Tears rushed into her eyes. The wild emotions that were her +being were roused beyond control. Bending towards him she began to +pour out, first brokenly, then in a torrent, the wretched, +incoherent story, of which the mere telling, in such an ear, meant +new treachery to William and new ruin for herself.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> +<p>On a certain cloudy afternoon, some ten days later, a +fishing-boat, with a patched orange sail, might have been seen +scudding under a light northwesterly breeze through the channels +which connect the island of San Francesco with the more easterly +stretches of the Venetian lagoon. The boat presently neared the +shore of one of the cultivated <i>lidi</i>—islands formed out +of the silt of many rivers by the travail of centuries, some of +them still mere sand or mud banks, others covered by vineyards and +fruit orchards—which, with the <i>murazzi</i> or sea-walls of +Venice, stand sentinel between the city and the sea. On the +<i>lido</i> along which the boat was coasting, the vintage was long +since over and the fruit gathered; the last yellow and purple +leaves in the orchards, "a pestilent-stricken multitude," were +to-day falling fast to earth, under the sighing, importunate wind. +The air was warm; November was at its mildest. But all color and +light were drowned in floating mists, and darkness lay over the +distant city. It was one of those drear and ghostly days which may +well have breathed into the soul of Shelley that superb vision of +the dead generations of Venice, rising, a phantom host from the +bosom of the sunset, and sweeping in "a rapid mask of death" over +the shadowed waters that saw the birth and may yet furnish the tomb +of so vast a fame.</p> +<p>Two persons were in the boat—Kitty, wrapped in sables, her +straying hair held close by a cap of the same fur—and +Geoffrey Cliffe. They had been wandering in the lagoons all day, in +order to escape from Venice and observers—first at Torcello, +then at San Francesco, and now they were ostensibly coming home in +a wide sweep along the northern <i>lidi</i> and <i>murazzi</i>, +that Cliffe might show his companion, from near by, the Porto del +Lido, that exit from the lagoons where the salt lakes grow into the +sea.</p> +<p>A certain wildness and exaltation, drawn from the solitudes +around them and from their <i>tête-à-tête</i>, +could be read in both the man and the woman. Cliffe watched his +companion incessantly. As he lay against the side of the boat at +her feet, he saw her framed in the curving sides of the stern, and +could read her changing expressions. Not a happy face!—that +he knew! A face haunted by shadows from an underworld of +thought—pursuing furies of remorse and fear. Not the less did +he triumph that he had it <i>there</i>, in his power; nor had the +flashes of terror and wavering will which he discerned in any way +diminished its beauty.</p> +<p>"How long have you known—that woman?" Kitty asked him, +suddenly, after a pause broken only by the playing of the wind with +the sail.</p> +<p>Cliffe laughed.</p> +<p>"The Ricci? Why do you want to know, madame?"</p> +<p>She made a contemptuous lip.</p> +<p>"I knew her first," said Cliffe, "some years ago in Milan. She +was then at La Scala—walking on—paid for her good +looks. Then somebody sent her to Paris to the Conservatoire, which +she only left this spring. This is her first Italian engagement. +Her people are shopkeepers here—in the Merceria—which +helped her. She is as vain as a peacock and as dangerous as a pet +panther."</p> +<p>"Dangerous!" Kitty's scorn had passed into her voice.</p> +<p>"Well, Italy is still the country of the knife," said Cliffe, +lightly—"and I could still hire a bravo or two—in +Venice—if I wanted them."</p> +<p>"Does the Ricci hire them?"</p> +<p>Cliffe shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"She'd do it without winking, if it suited her." Then, after a +pause—"Do you still wonder why I should have chosen her +society?"</p> +<p>"Oh no," said Kitty, hastily. "You told me."</p> +<p>"As much as a <i>friend</i> cares to know?"</p> +<p>She nodded, flushing, and dropped the subject.</p> +<p>Cliffe's mouth still smiled, but his eyes studied her with a +veiled and sinister intensity.</p> +<p>"I have not seen the lady for a week," he resumed. "She pesters +me with notes. I promised to go and see her in a new play to-morrow +night, but—"</p> +<p>"Oh, go!" said Kitty—"by all means go!"</p> +<p>"'Ruy Blas' in Italian? I think not. Ah! did you see that gleam +on the Campanile?—marvellous!... Miladi, I have a question to +ask you."</p> +<p>"<i>Dites!</i>" said Kitty.</p> +<p>"Did you put me into your book?"</p> +<p>"Certainly."</p> +<p>"What kind of things did you say?"</p> +<p>"The worst I could!"</p> +<p>"Ah! How shall I get a copy?" said Cliffe, musing.</p> +<p>She made no answer, but she was conscious of a sudden +movement—was it of terror? At the bottom of her soul was she, +indeed, afraid of the man beside her?</p> +<p>"By-the-way," he resumed, "you promised to tell me your news of +this morning. But you haven't told me a word!"</p> +<p>She turned away. She had gathered her furs around her, and her +face was almost hidden by them.</p> +<p>"Nothing is settled," she said, in a cold, reluctant voice.</p> +<p>"Which means that you won't tell me anything more?"</p> +<p>She was silent. Her lip had a proud line which piqued him.</p> +<p>"You think I am not worthy to know?"</p> +<p>Her eye gleamed.</p> +<p>"What does it matter to you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing! I should have been glad to hear that all was well, +and Ashe's mind at rest about his prospects."</p> +<p>"His prospects!" she repeated, with a scorn which stung. "How +<i>dare</i> we mention his name here at all?"</p> +<p>Cliffe reddened.</p> +<p>"I dare," he said, calmly.</p> +<p>Kitty looked at him—a quivering defiance in face and +frame; then bent forward.</p> +<p>"Would you like to know—who is the best—the +noblest—the handsomest—the most generous—the most +delightful man I have ever met?"</p> +<p>Each word came out winged and charged with a strange intensity +of passion.</p> +<p>"Do I?" said Cliffe, raising his eyebrows—"do I want to +know?"</p> +<p>Her look held him.</p> +<p>"My husband, William Ashe!"</p> +<p>And she fell back, flushed and breathless, like one who throws +out a rebel and challenging flag.</p> +<p>Cliffe was silent a moment, observing her.</p> +<p>"Strange!" he said, at last. "It is only when you are miserable +you are kind. I could wish you miserable again, +<i>chérie</i>."</p> +<p>Tone and look broke into a sombre wildness before which she +shrank. Her own violence passed away. She leaned over the side of +the boat, struggling with tears.</p> +<p>"Then you have your wish," was her muffled answer.</p> +<p>The three bronzed Venetians, a father and two sons, who were +working the <i>bragozzo</i> glanced curiously at the pair. They +were persuaded that these charterers of their boat were lovers +flying from observation, and the unknown tongue did but stimulate +guessing.</p> +<p>Cliffe raised himself impatiently.</p> +<p>They were nearing a point where the line of <i>murazzi</i> they +had been following—low breakwaters of great +strength—swept away from them outward and eastward towards a +distant opening. On the other side of the channel was a low line of +shore, broadening into the Lido proper, with its scattered houses +and churches, and soon lost in the mist as it stretched towards the +south.</p> +<p>"Ecco!—il Porto del Lido!" said the older boatman, +pointing far away to a line of deeper color beneath a dark and +lowering sky.</p> +<p>Kitty bent over the side of the boat staring towards the dim +spot he showed her—where was the mouth of the sea.</p> +<p>"Kitty!" said Cliffe's voice beside her, hoarse and +hurried—"one word, and I tell these fellows to set their helm +for Trieste. This boat will carry us well—and the wind is +with us."</p> +<p>She turned and looked him in the face.</p> +<p>"And then?"</p> +<p>"Then? We'll think it out together, Kitty—together!" He +bent his lips to her hand, bending so as to conceal the action from +the sailors. But she drew her hand away.</p> +<p>"You and I," she said, fiercely—"would tire of each other +in a week!"</p> +<p>"Have the courage to try! No!—you should not tire of me in +a week! I would find ways to keep you mine, Kitty—cradled, +and comforted, and happy."</p> +<p>"Happy!" Her slight laugh was the forlornest thing. "Take me out +to sea—and drop me there—with a stone round my neck. +That might be worth doing—perhaps."</p> +<p>He surveyed her unmoved.</p> +<p>"Listen, Kitty! This kind of thing can't go on forever."</p> +<p>"What are you waiting for?" she said, tauntingly. "You ought to +have gone last week."</p> +<p>"I am not going," he said, raising himself by a sudden +movement—"till you come with me!"</p> +<p>Kitty started, her eyes riveted to his.</p> +<p>"And yet go I will! Not even you shall stop me, Kitty. I'll take +the help I've gathered back to those poor devils—if I die for +it. But you'll come with me—you'll come!"</p> +<p>She drew back—trembling under an impression she strove to +conceal.</p> +<p>"If you will talk such madness, I can't help it," she said, with +shortened breath.</p> +<p>"Yes—you'll come!" he said, nodding. "What have you to do +with Ashe, Kitty, any longer? You and he are already divided. You +have tried life together and what have you made of it? You're not +fit for this mincing, tripping London life—nor am I? And as +for morals—- I'll tell you a strange thing, Kitty." He bent +forward and grasped her hands with a force which hurt—from +which she could not release herself. "I believe—yes, by God, +I believe!—that I am a better man than I was before I started +on this adventure. It's been like drinking at last at the very +source of life—living, not talking about it. One bitter night +last February, for instance, I helped a man—one of the +insurgents—who had taken to the mountains with his wife and +children—to carry his wife, a dying woman, over a +mountain-pass to the only place where she could possibly get help +and shelter. We carried her on a litter, six men taking turns. The +cold and the fatigue were such that I shudder now when I think of +it. Yet at the end I seemed to myself a man reborn. I was happier +than I had ever been in my life. Some mystic virtue had flowed into +me. Among those men and women, instead of being the selfish beast +I've been all these years, I can forget myself. Death seems +nothing—brotherhood—liberty!—everything! And +yet—"</p> +<p>His face relaxed, became ironical, reflective. But he held the +hands close, his grasp of them hidden by the folds of fur which +hung about her.</p> +<p>"And <i>yet</i>—I can say to you without a qualm—put +this marriage which has already come to naught behind you—and +come with me! Ashe cramps you. He blames you—you blame +yourself. What <i>reality</i> has all that? It makes you +miserable—it wastes life. <i>I</i> accept your nature—I +don't ask you to be anything else than yourself—your wild, +vain, adorable self! Ashe asks you to put restraint on +yourself—to make painful efforts—to be good for his +sake—the sake of something outside. <i>I</i> say—come +and look at the elemental things—death and +battle—hatred, solitude, love. <i>They'll</i> sweep us out of +ourselves!—no need to strive and cry for it—into the +great current of the world's being—bring us close to the +forces at the root of things—the forces which +create—and destroy. Dip your heart in that stream, Kitty, and +feel it grow in your breast. Take a nurse's dress—put your +hand in mine—and come! I can't promise you luxuries or ease. +You've had enough of those. Come and open another door in the House +of Life! Take starving women and hunted children into your +arms—- feel with them—weep with them—look with +them into the face of death! Make friends with nature—with +rocks, forests, torrents—with night and dawn, which you've +never seen, Kitty! They'll love you—they'll support +you—the rough people—and the dark forests. They'll draw +nature's glamour round you—they'll pour her balm into your +soul. And I shall be with you—beside you!—your +guardian—your lover—your <i>lover</i>, Kitty—till +death do us part."</p> +<p>He looked at her with the smile which was his only but +sufficient beauty; the violent, exciting words flowed in her ear, +amid the sound of rising waves and the distant talk of the +fishermen. His hand crushed hers; his mad, imploring eyes repelled +and constrained her. The wild hungers and curiosities of her being +rushed to meet him; she heard the echo of her own words to Ashe: +"More life—more <i>life</i>!—even though it lead to +pain—and agony—and tears!"</p> +<p>Then she wrenched herself away—suddenly, +contemptuously.</p> +<p>"Of course, that's all nonsense—romantic nonsense. You've +perhaps forgotten that I am one of the women who don't stir without +their maid."</p> +<p>Cliffe's expression changed. He thrust his hands into his +pockets.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, if you must have a maid," he said, dryly, "that +settles it. A maid would be the deuce. And yet—I think I +could find you a Bosnian girl—strong and faithful—"</p> +<p>Their eyes met—his already full of a kind of ownership, +tender, confident, humorous even—hers alive with passionate +anger and resistance.</p> +<p>"<i>Without a qualm</i>!" she repeated, in a low +voice—"without a qualm! Mon Dieu!"</p> +<p>She turned and looked towards the Adriatic.</p> +<p>"Where are we?" she said, imperiously.</p> +<p>For a gesture of command on Cliffe's part, unseen by her, had +sent the boat eastward, spinning before the wind. The lagoon was no +longer tranquil. It was covered with small waves; and the roar of +the outer sea, though still far off, was already in their ears. The +mist lifting showed white, distant crests of foam on a tumbling +field of water, and to the north, clothed in tempestuous purple, +the dim shapes of mountains.</p> +<p>Kitty raised herself, and beckoned towards the captain of the +<i>bragozzo</i>.</p> +<p>"Giuseppe!"</p> +<p>"Commanda, Eccellenza!"</p> +<p>The man came forward.</p> +<p>With a voice sharp and clear, she gave the order to return at +once to Venice. Cliffe watched her, the veins on his forehead +swelling. She knew that he debated with himself whether he should +give a counter-order or no.</p> +<p>"A Venezia!" said Kitty, waving her hand towards the sailors, +her eyes shining under the tangle of her hair.</p> +<p>The helm was put round, and beneath a tacking sail the boat +swept southward.</p> +<p>With an awkward laugh Cliffe fell back into his seat, stretching +his long limbs across the boat. He had spoken under a strong and +genuine impulse. His passion for her had made enormous strides in +these few wild days beside her. And yet the fantastic poet's sense +responded at a touch to the new impression. He shook off the heroic +mood as he had doffed his Bosnian cloak. In a few minutes, though +the heightened color remained, he was chatting and laughing as +though nothing had happened.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>She, exhausted physically and morally by her conflict with him, +hardly spoke on the way home. He entertained her, watching her all +the time—a hundred speculations about her passing through his +brain. He understood perfectly how the insight which she had +allowed him into her grief and her remorse had broken down the +barriers between them. Her incapacity for silence, and reticence, +had undone her. Was he a villain to have taken advantage of it?</p> +<p>Why? With a strange, half-cynical clearness he saw her, as the +obstacle that she was, in Ashe's life and career. For +Ashe—supposing he, Cliffe, persuaded her—there would be +no doubt a first shock of wrath and pain—then a sense of +deliverance. For her, too, deliverance! It excited his artist's +sense to think of all the further developments through which he +might carry that eager, plastic nature. There would be a new Kitty, +with new capacities and powers. Wasn't that justification enough? +He felt himself a sculptor in the very substance of life, moulding +a living creature afresh, disengaging it from harsh and hindering +conditions. What was there vile in that?</p> +<p>The argument pursued itself.</p> +<p>"The modern judges for himself—makes his own laws, as a +god, knowing good and evil. No doubt in time a new social law will +emerge—with new sanctions. Meanwhile, here we are, in a +moment of transition, manufacturing new types, exploring new +combinations—by which let those who come after profit!"</p> +<p>Little delicate, distinguished thing!—every aspect of her, +angry or sweet, sad or wilful, delighted his taste and sense. +Moreover, she was <i>his</i> deliverance, too—from an ugly +and vulgar entanglement of which he was ashamed. He shrank +impatiently from memories which every now and then pursued him of +the Ricci's coarse beauty and exacting ways. Kitty had just +appeared in time! He felt himself rehabilitated in his own eyes. +Love may trifle as it pleases with what people call "law"; but +there are certain æsthetic limits not to be transgressed.</p> +<p>The Ricci, of course, was wild and thirsting for revenge. Let +her! Anxieties far more pressing disturbed him. What if he tempted +Kitty to this escapade—and the rough life killed her? He saw +clearly how frail she was.</p> +<p>But it was the artificiality of her life, the innumerable +burdens of civilization, which had brought her to this! Women were +not the weaklings they seemed, or believed themselves to be. For +many of them, probably for Kitty, a rude and simple life would mean +not only fresh mental but fresh physical strength. He had seen what +women could endure, for love's or patriotism's sake! Make but +appeal to the spirit—the proud and tameless spirit—and +how the flesh answered! He knew that his power with Kitty came +largely from a certain stoicism, a certain hardness, mingled, as he +would prove to her, with a boundless devotion. Let him carry it +through—without fears—and so enlarge her being and his +own! And as to responsibilities beyond, as to their later +lives—let time take care of its own births. For the modern +determinist of Cliffe's type there <i>is</i> no responsibility. He +waits on life, following where it leads, rejoicing in each new +feeling, each fresh reaction of consciousness on experience, and so +links his fatalist belief to that Nietzsche doctrine of +self-development at all costs, and the coming man, in which +Cliffe's thought anticipated the years.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Kitty meanwhile listened to his intermittent talk of Venice, or +Bosnia, with all its suggestions of new worlds and far horizons, +and scarcely said a word.</p> +<p>But through the background of the brain there floated with her, +as with him, a procession of unspoken thoughts. She had received +three letters from William. Immediately on his arrival he had +tendered his resignation. Lord Parham had asked him to suspend the +matter for ten days. Only the pressure of his friends, it seemed, +and the consternation of his party had wrung from Ashe a reluctant +consent. Meanwhile, all copies of the book had been bought up; the +important newspapers had readily lent themselves to the suppression +of the affair; private wraths had been dealt with by conciliatory +lawyers; and in general a far more complete hushing-up had been +attained than Ashe had ever imagined possible. There was no doubt +infinite gossip in the country-houses. But sympathy for Kitty in +her grief, for Ashe himself, and Lady Tranmore, had done much to +keep it within bounds. The little Dean especially, beloved of all +the world, had been incessantly active on behalf of peace and +oblivion.</p> +<p>All this Kitty read or guessed from William's letters. After +all, then, the harm had not been so great! Why such a +panic!—such a hurry to leave her!—when she was +ill—and sorry? And now how curtly, how measuredly he wrote! +Behind the hopefulness of his tone she read the humiliation and +soreness of his mind—and said to herself, with a more +headlong conviction than ever, that he would never forgive her.</p> +<p>No, <i>never!</i>—and especially now that she had added a +thousandfold to the original offence. She had never written to him +since his departure. Margaret French, too, was angry with +her—had almost broken with her.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They left their boat on the Riva, and walked to the +<i>Piazza</i>, through the now starry dusk. As they passed the +great door of St. Mark's, two persons came out of the church. Kitty +recognized Mary Lyster and Sir Richard. She bowed slightly; Sir +Richard put his hand to his hat in a flurried way; but Mary, +looking them both in the face, passed without the smallest sign, +unless the scorn in face and bearing might pass for +recognition.</p> +<p>Kitty gasped.</p> +<p>"She cut me!" she said, in a shaking voice.</p> +<p>"Oh no!" said Cliffe. "She didn't see you in the dark."</p> +<p>Kitty made no reply. She hurried along the northern side of the +Piazza, avoiding the groups which were gathered in the sunset light +round the flocks of feeding pigeons, brushing past the tables in +front of the cafe's, still well filled on this mild evening.</p> +<p>"Take care!" said Cliffe, suddenly, in a low, imperative +voice.</p> +<p>Kitty looked up. In her abstraction she saw that she had nearly +come into collision with a woman sitting at a café table and +surrounded by a noisy group of men.</p> +<p>With a painful start Kitty perceived the mocking eyes of +Mademoiselle Ricci. The Ricci said something in Italian, staring +the while at the English lady; and the men near her laughed, some +furtively, some loudly.</p> +<p>Cliffe's face set. "Walk quickly!" he said in her ear, hurrying +her past.</p> +<p>When they had reached one of the narrow streets behind the +Piazza, Kitty looked at him—white and haughtily tremulous. +"What did that mean?"</p> +<p>"Why should you deign to ask?" was Cliffe's impatient reply. "I +have ceased to go and see her. I suppose she guesses why."</p> +<p>"I will have no rivalry with Mademoiselle Ricci!" cried +Kitty.</p> +<p>"You can't help it," said Cliffe, calmly. "The powers of light +are always in rivalry with the powers of darkness."</p> +<p>And without further pleading or excuse he stalked on, his gaunt +form and striking head towering above the crowded pavement. Kitty +followed him with difficulty, conscious of a magnetism and a force +against which she struggled in vain.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>About a week afterwards Kitty shut herself up one evening in her +room to write to Ashe. She had just passed through an agitating +conversation with Margaret French, who had announced her intention +of returning to England at once, alone, if Kitty would not +accompany her. Kitty's hands were trembling as she began to +write.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"I am glad—oh! so glad, William—that you <i>have</i> +withdrawn your resignation—that people have come forward so +splendidly, and <i>made</i> you withdraw it—that Lord Parham +is behaving decently—and that you have been able to get hold +of all those copies of the book. I always hoped it would not be +quite so bad as you thought. But I know you must have gone through +an awful time—and I'm <i>sorry</i>.</p> +<p>"William, I want to tell you something—for I can't go on +lying to you—or even just hiding the truth. I met Geoffrey +Cliffe here—before you left—and I never told you. I saw +him first in a gondola the night of the serenata—and then at +the Armenian convent. Do you remember my hurrying you and Margaret +into the garden? That was to escape meeting him. And that same +afternoon when I was in the unused rooms of the Palazzo +Vercelli—the rooms they show to tourists—he suddenly +appeared—and somehow I spoke to him, though I had never meant +to do so again.</p> +<p>"Then when you left me I met him again—that +afternoon—and he found out I was very miserable and made me +tell him everything. I know I had no right to do so—they were +your secrets as well as mine. But you know how little I can control +myself—it's wretched, but it's true.</p> +<p>"William, I don't know what will happen. I can't make out from +Margaret whether she has written to you or not—she won't tell +me. If she has, this letter will not be much news to you. But, +mind, I write it of my own free will, and not because Margaret may +have forced my hand. I should have written it anyway. Poor old +darling!—she thinks me mad and bad, and to-night she tells me +she can't take the responsibility of looking after me any longer. +Women like her can never understand creatures like me—and I +don't want her to. She's a dear saint, and as true as +steel—not like your Mary Lysters! I could go on my knees to +her. But she can't control or save me. Not even you could, William. +You've tried your best, and in spite of you I'm going to perdition, +and I can't stop myself.</p> +<p>"For, William, there's something broken forever between you and +me. I know it was I who did the wrong, and that you had no choice +but to leave me when you did. But yet you <i>did</i> leave me, +though I implored you not. And I know very well that you don't love +me as you used to—why should you?—and that you never +can love me in the same way again. Every letter you write tells me +that. And though I have deserved it all, I can't bear it. When I +think of coming home to England, and how you would try to be nice +to me—how good and dear and magnanimous you would be, and +what a beast I should feel—I want to drown myself and have +done.</p> +<p>"It all seems to me so hopeless. It is my own nature—- the +stuff out of which I am cut—that's all wrong. I may promise +my breath away that I will be discreet and gentle and well behaved, +that I'll behave properly to people like Lady Parham, that I'll +keep secrets, and not make absurd friendships with absurd people, +that I'll try and keep out of debt, and so on. But what's the use? +It's the <i>will</i> in me—the something that drives, or +ought to drive—that won't work. And nobody ever taught me or +showed me, that I can remember, till I met you. In Paris at the +Place Vendôme, half the time I used to live with maman and +papa, be hideously spoiled, dressed absurdly, eat off silver plate, +and make myself sick with rich things—and then for days +together maman would go out or away, forget all about me, and I +used to storm the kitchen for food. She either neglected me or made +a show of me; she was my worst enemy, and I hated and fought +her—till I went to the convent at ten. When I was fourteen +maman asked a doctor about me. He said I should probably go +mad—and at the convent they thought the same. Maman used to +throw this at me when she was cross with me.</p> +<p>"Well, I don't repeat this to make you excuse me and think +better of me—- it's all too late for that—but because I +am such a puzzle to myself, and I try to explain things. I +<i>did</i> love you, William—I believe I do still—but +when I think of our living together again, my arms drop by my side +and I feel like a dead creature. Your life is too great a thing for +me. Why should I spoil or hamper it? If you loved me, as you did +once—if you still thought <i>everything</i> worth while, +then, if I had a spark of decency left, I might kill myself to free +you, but I should never do—what I may do now. But, William, +you'll forget me soon. You'll pass great laws, and make great +speeches, and the years when I tormented you—and all my +wretched ways—will seem such a small, small thing.</p> +<p>"Geoffrey says he loves me. And I think he does, though how long +it will last, or may be worth, no one can tell. As for me, I don't +know whether I love him. I have no illusion about him. But there +are moments when he absolutely holds me—when my will is like +wax in his hands. It is because, I think, of a certain +grandness—<i>grandeur</i> seems too strong—in his +character. It was always there; because no one could write such +poems as his without it. But now it's more marked, though I don't +know that it makes him a better man. He thinks it does; but we all +deceive ourselves. At any rate, he is often superb, and I feel that +I could die, if not for him, at least with him. And he is not +unlikely to die in some heroic way. He went out as you know simply +as correspondent and to distribute relief, but lately he has been +fighting for these people—of course he has!—and when he +goes back he is to be one of their regular leaders. When he talks +of it he is noble, transformed. It reminds me of Byron—his +wicked life here—and then his death at Missolonghi. Geoffrey +can do such base, cruel things—and yet—</p> +<p>"But I haven't yet told you. He asks me to go with him, back to +the fighting-lines in upper Bosnia. There seems to be a great deal +that women can do. I shall wear a nurse's uniform, and probably +nurse at a little hospital he founded—high up in one of the +mountain valleys. I know this will almost make you laugh. You will +think of me, not knowing how to put on a button without +Blanche—and wanting to be waited on every moment. But you'll +see; there'll be nothing of that sort. I wonder whether it's +hardship I've been thirsting for all my life—even when I +seemed such a selfish, luxurious little ape?</p> +<p>"At the same time, I think it will kill me—and that would +be the best end of all. To have some great, heroic experience, and +then—'cease upon the midnight with no pain!...'</p> +<p>"Oh, if I thought you'd care very, <i>very</i> much, I should +have pain—horrible pain. But I know you won't. Politics have +taken my place. Think of me sometimes, as I was when we were first +married—and of Harry—my little, little fellow!</p> +<p>"—Maman and I have had a ghastly scene. She came to scold +me for my behavior—to say I was the talk of Venice. +<i>She!</i> Of course I know what she means. She thinks if I am +divorced she will lose her allowance—and she can't bear the +thought of that, though Markham Warington is quite rich. My heart +just <i>boiled</i> within me. I told her it is the poison of her +life that works in me, and that whatever I do, <i>she</i> has no +right to reproach me. Then she cried—and I was like +ice—and at last she went. Warington, good fellow, has written +to me, and asked to see me. But what is the use?</p> +<p>"I know you'll leave me the £500 a year that was settled +on me. It'll be so good for me to be poor—and dressed in +serge—and trying to do something else with these useless +hands than writing books that break your heart. I am giving away +all my smart clothes. Blanche is going home. Oh, William, William! +I'm going to shut this, and it's like the good-bye of death—a +mean and ugly—<i>death</i>.</p> +<p>"... Later. They have just brought me a note from Danieli's. So +Margaret did write to you, and your mother has come. Why did you +send her, William? She doesn't love me—and I shall only stab +and hurt her. Though I'll try not—for your sake."</p> +<p>Two days later Ashe received almost by the same post which +brought him the letter from Kitty, just quoted, the following +letter from his mother:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"My DEAREST WILLIAM,—I have seen Kitty. With some +difficulty she consented to let me go and see her yesterday evening +about nine o'clock.</p> +<p>"I arrived between six and seven, having travelled straight +through without a break, except for an hour or two at Milan, and +immediately on arriving I sent a note to Margaret French. She came +in great distress, having just had a fresh scene with Kitty. Oh, my +dear William, her report could not well be worse. Since she wrote +to us Kitty seems to have thrown over all precautions. They used to +meet in churches or galleries, and go out for long days in the +gondola or a fishing-boat together, and Kitty would come home alone +and lie on the sofa through the evening, almost without speaking or +moving. But lately he comes in with her, and stays hours, reading +to her, or holding her hand, or talking to her in a low voice, and +Margaret cannot stop it.</p> +<p>"Yet she has done her best, poor girl! Knowing what we all knew +last year, it filled her with terror when she first discovered that +he was in Venice and that they had met. But it was not till it had +gone on about a week, with the strangest results on Kitty's spirits +and nerves, that she felt she must interfere. She not only spoke to +Kitty, but she spoke and wrote to him in a very firm, dignified +way. Kitty took no notice—only became very silent and +secretive. And he treated poor Margaret with a kind of courteous +irony which made her blood boil, and against which she could do +nothing. She says that Kitty seems to her sometimes like a person +moving in sleep—only half conscious of what she is doing; and +at others she is wildly excitable, irritable with everybody, and +only calming down and becoming reasonable when this man +appears.</p> +<p>"There is much talk in Venice. They seem to have been seen +together by various London friends who knew—about the +difficulties last year. And then, of course, everybody is aware +that you are not here—and the whole story of the book goes +from mouth to mouth—and people say that a separation has been +arranged—and so on. These are the kind of rumors that +Margaret hears, especially from Mary Lyster, who is staying in this +hotel with her father, and seems to have a good many friends +here.</p> +<p>"Dearest William—I have been lingering on these things +because it is so hard to have to tell you what passed between me +and Kitty. Oh! my dear, dear son, take courage. Even now everything +is not lost. Her conscience may awaken at the last moment; this bad +man may abandon his pursuit of her; I may still succeed in bringing +her back to you. But I am in terrible fear—and I must tell +you the whole truth.</p> +<p>"Kitty received me alone. The room was very dark—only one +lamp that gave a bad light—so that I saw her very +indistinctly. She was in black, and, as far as I could see, +extremely pale and weary. And what struck me painfully was her +haggard, careless look. All the little details of her dress and +hair seemed so neglected. Blanche says she is far too irritable and +impatient in the mornings to let her hair be done as usual. She +just rolls it into one big knot herself and puts a comb in it. She +wears the simplest clothes, and changes as little as possible. She +says she is soon going to have done with all that kind of thing, +and she must get used to it. My own impression is that she is going +through great agony of mind—above all, that she is +ill—ill in body and soul.</p> +<p>"She told me quite calmly, however, that she had made up her +mind to leave you; she said that she had written to you to tell you +so. I asked her if it was because she had ceased to love you. After +a pause she said 'No.' Was it because some one else had come +between you? She threw up her head proudly, and said it was best to +be quite plain and frank. She had met Geoffrey Cliffe again, and +she meant henceforward to share his life. Then she went into the +wildest dreams about going back with him to the Balkans, and +nursing in a hospital, and dying—she hopes!—of hard +work and privations. And all this in a torrent of words—and +her eyes blazing, with that look in them as though she saw nothing +but the scenes of her own imagination. She talked of +devotion—and of forgetting herself in other people. I could +only tell her, of course, that all this sounded to me the most +grotesque sophistry and perversion. She was forgetting her first +duty, breaking her marriage vow, and tearing your life asunder. She +shook her head, and said you would soon forget her. 'If he had +loved me he would never have left me!' she said, again and again, +with a passion I shall never forget.</p> +<p>"Of course that made me very angry, and I described what the +situation had been when you reached London—Lord Parham's +state of mind—and the consternation caused everywhere by the +wretched book. I tried to make her understand what there was at +stake—the hopes of all who follow you in the House and the +country—the great reforms of which you are the life and +soul—your personal and political honor. I impressed on her +the endless trouble and correspondence in which you had been +involved—and how meanwhile all your Home Office and cabinet +work had to be carried on as usual, till it was decided whether +your resignation should be withdrawn or no. She listened with her +head on her hands. I think with regard to the book she is most +genuinely ashamed and miserable. And yet all the time there is this +unreasonable, this monstrous feeling that you should not have left +her!</p> +<p>"As to the scandalous references to private persons, she said +that Madeleine Alcot had written to her about the country-house +gossip. That wretched being, Mr. Darrell, seems also to have +written to her, trying to save himself through her. And the only +time I saw her laugh was when she spoke of having had a furious +letter from Lady Grosville about the references to Grosville Park. +It was like the laugh of a mischievous, unhappy child.</p> +<p>"Then we came back to the main matter, and I implored her to let +me take her home. First I gave her your letter. She read it, +flushed up, and threw it away from her. 'He commands me!' she said, +fiercely. 'But I am no one's chattel.' I replied that you had only +summoned her back to her duty and her home, and I asked her if she +could really mean to repay your unfailing love by bringing anguish +and dishonor upon you? She sat dumb, and her stubbornness moved me +so that I fear I lost my self-control and said more, much +more—in denunciation of her conduct—than I had meant to +do. She heard me out, and then she got up and looked at me very +bitterly and strangely. I had never loved her, she said, and so I +could not judge her. Always from the beginning I had thought her +unfit to be your wife, and she had known it, and my dislike of her, +especially during the past year, had made her hard and reckless. It +had seemed no use trying. I just wanted her dead, that you might +marry a wife who would be a help and not a stumbling-block. Well, I +should have my wish, for she would soon be as good as dead, both to +you and to me.</p> +<p>"All this hurt me deeply, and I could not restrain myself from +crying. I felt so helpless, and so doubtful whether I had not done +more harm than good. Then she softened a little, and asked me to +let her go to bed—she would think it all over and write to me +in the morning....</p> +<p>"So, my dear William, I can only pray and wait. I am afraid +there is but little hope, but God is merciful and strong. He may +yet save us all.</p> +<p>"But whatever happens, remember that you have nothing to +reproach yourself with—that you have done all that man could +do. I should telegraph to you in the morning to say, 'Come, at all +hazards,' but that I feel sure all will be settled to-morrow one +way or the other. Either Kitty will start with me—or she will +go with Geoffrey Cliffe. You could do nothing—absolutely +nothing. God help us! She seems to have some money, and she told me +that she counted on retaining her jointure."</p> +</div> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>On the night following her interview with Lady Tranmore, Kitty +went from one restless, tormented dream into another, but towards +morning she fell into one of a different kind. She dreamed she was +in a country of great mountains. The peaks were snow-crowned, vast +glaciers filled the chasms on their flanks, forests of pines +clothed the lower sides of the hills, and the fields below were +full of spring flowers. She saw a little Alpine village, and a +church with an old and slender campanile. A plain stone building +stood by—it seemed to be an inn of the old-fashioned +sort—and she entered it. The dinner-table was ready in the +low-roofed <i>salle-à-manger</i>, and as she sat down to eat +she saw that two other guests were at the same table. She glanced +at them, and perceived that one was William and the other her +child, Harry, grown older—and transfigured. Instead of the +dull and clouded look which had wrung her heart in the old days, +against which she had striven, patiently and impatiently, in vain, +the blue eyes were alive with mind and affection. It was as if the +child beheld his mother for the first time and she him. As he +recognized her he gave a cry of joy, waving one hand towards her +while with the other he touched his father on the arm. William +raised his head. But when he saw his wife his face changed. He rose +from his seat, and drawing the little boy into his arms he walked +away. Kitty saw them disappear into a long passage, indeterminate +and dark. The child's face over his father's shoulder was turned in +longing towards his mother, and as he was carried away he stretched +out his little hands to her in lamentation.</p> +<p>Kitty woke up bathed in tears. She sprang out of bed and threw +the window nearest to her open to the night. The winter night was +mild, and a full moon sailed the southern sky. Not a sound on the +water, not a light in the palaces; a city of ebony and silver, +Venice slept in the moonlight. Kitty gathered a cloak and some +shawls round her, and sank into a low chair, still crying and half +conscious. At his inn, some few hundred yards away, between her and +the Piazzetta, was Geoffrey Cliffe waking too?—making his +last preparations? She knew that all his stores were ready, and +that he proposed to ship them and the twenty young fellows, +Italians and Dalmatians, who were going with him to join the +insurgents, that morning, by a boat leaving for Cattaro. He himself +was to follow twenty-four hours later, and it was his firm and +confident expectation that Kitty would go with him—passing as +his wife. And, indeed, Kitty's own arrangements were almost +complete, her money in her purse, the clothes she meant to take +with her packed in one small trunk, some of the Tranmore jewels +which she had been recently wearing ready to be returned on the +morrow to Lady Tranmore's keeping, other jewels, which she regarded +as her own, together with the remainder of her clothes, put aside, +in order to be left in the custody of the landlord of the apartment +till Kitty should claim them again.</p> +<p>One more day—which would probably see the departure of +Margaret French—one more wrestle with Lady Tranmore, and all +the links with the old life would be torn away. A bare, stripped +soul, dependent henceforth on Geoffrey Cliffe for every crumb of +happiness, treading in unknown paths, suffering unknown things, +probing unknown passions and excitements—it was so she saw +herself; not without that corroding double consciousness of the +modern, that it was all very interesting, and as such to be +forgiven and admired.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding what she had said to Ashe, she did +believe—with a clinging and desperate faith—that Cliffe +loved her. Had she really doubted it, her conduct would have been +inexplicable, even to herself, and he must have seemed a madman. +What else could have induced him to burden himself with a woman on +such an errand and at such a time? She had promised, indeed, to be +his lieutenant and comrade—and to return to Venice if her +health should be unequal to the common task. But in spite of the +sternness with which he put that task first—a sternness which +was one of his chief attractions for Kitty—she knew well that +her coming threw a glamour round it which it had never yet +possessed, that the passion she had aroused in him, and the triumph +of binding her to his fate, possessed him—for the moment at +any rate—heart and soul. He had the poet's resources, too, +and a mind wherewith to organize and govern. She shrank from him +still, but she already envisaged the time when her being would sink +into and fuse with his, and like two colliding stars they would +flame together to one fiery death.</p> +<p>Thoughts like these ran in her mind. Yet all the time she saw +the high mountains of her dream, the old inn, the receding face of +her child on William's shoulder; and the tears ran down her cheeks. +The letter from William that Lady Tranmore had given her lay on a +table near. She took it up, and lit a candle to read it.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Kitty—I bid you come home. I should have started for +Venice an hour ago, after reading Miss French's letter, but that +honor and public duty keep me here. But mother is going, and I +implore and command you, as your husband, to return with her. Oh, +Kitty, have I ever failed you?—have I ever been hard with +you?—that you should betray our love like this? Was I hard +when we parted—a month ago? If I was, forgive me, I was sore +pressed. Come home, you poor child, and you shall hear no +reproaches from me. I think I have nearly succeeded in undoing your +rash work. But what good will that be to me if you are to use my +absence for that purpose to bring us both to ruin? Kitty, the grass +is not yet green on our child's grave. I was at Haggart last +Sunday, and I went over in the dusk to put some flowers upon it. I +thought of you without a moment's bitterness, and prayed for us +both, if such as I may pray. Then next morning came Miss French's +letter. Kitty, have you no heart—and no conscience? Will you +bring disgrace on that little grave? Will you dig between us the +gulf which is irreparable, across which your hand and mine can +never touch each other any more? I cannot and I will not believe +it. Come back to me—come back!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>She reread it with a melting heart—with deep, shaking +sobs. When she first glanced through it the word "command" had +burned into her proud sense; the rest passed almost unnoticed. Now +the very strangeness in it as coming from William—the +strangeness of its grave and deep emotion—held and grappled +with her.</p> +<p>Suddenly—some tension of the whole being seemed to give +way. Her head sank back on the chair, she felt herself weak and +trembling, yet happy as a soul new-born into a world of light. +Waking dreams passed through her brain in a feverish succession, +reversing the dream of the night—images of peace and goodness +and reunion.</p> +<p>Minutes—hours—passed. With the first light she got +up feebly, found ink and paper, and began to write.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><i>From Lady Tranmore to William Ashe</i>:</p> +<p>"Oh! my dearest William—at last a gleam of hope.</p> +<p>"No letter this morning. I was in despair. Margaret reported +that Kitty refused to see any one—had locked her door, and +was writing. Yet no letter came. I made an attempt to see Geoffrey +Cliffe, who is staying at the 'Germania,' but he refused. He wrote +me the most audacious letter to say that an interview could only be +very painful, that he and Kitty must decide for themselves, that he +was waiting every hour for a final word from Kitty. It rested with +her, and with her only. Coercion in these matters was no longer +possible, and he did not suppose that either you or I would attempt +it.</p> +<p>"And now comes this blessed note—a respite at least! '<i>I +am going to Verona to-night with Blanche. Please let no one attempt +to follow me. I wish to have two days alone—absolutely alone. +Wait here. I will write. K</i>.'</p> +<p>"... Margaret French, too, has just been here. She was almost +hysterical with relief and joy—and you know what a calm, +self-controlled person she is. But her dear, round face has grown +white, and her eyes behind her spectacles look as though she had +not slept for nights. She says that Kitty will not see her. She +sent her a note by Blanche to ask her to settle all the accounts, +and told her that she should not say good-bye—it would be too +agitating for them both. In two days she should hear. Meanwhile the +maid Blanche is certainly going with Kitty; and the gondola is +ordered for the Milan train this evening.</p> +<p>"Two P.M. There is one thing that troubles me, and I must +confess it. I did not see that across Kitty's letter in the corner +was written 'Tell <i>nobody</i> about this letter.' And Polly +Lyster happened to be with me when it came. She has been <i>au +courant</i> of the whole affair for the last fortnight—that +is, as an on-looker. She and Kitty have only met once or twice +since Mary reached Venice; but in one way or another she has been +extraordinarily well informed. And, as I told you, she came to see +me directly I arrived and told me all she knew. You know her old +friendship for us, William? She has many weaknesses, and of late I +have thought her much changed, grown very hard and bitter. But she +is always <i>very</i> loyal to you and me—and I could not +help betraying my feeling when Kitty's note reached me. Mary came +and put her arms round me, and I said to her, 'Oh, Mary, thank +God!—she's broken with him! She's going to Verona to-night on +the way home!' And she kissed me and seemed so glad. And I was very +grateful to her for her sympathy, for I am beginning to feel my +age, and this has been rather a strain. But I oughtn't to have told +her!—or anybody! I see, of course, what Kitty meant. It is +incredible that Mary should breathe a word—or if she did that +it should reach that man. But I have just sent her a note to +Danieli's to warn her in the strongest way.</p> +<p>"Beloved son—if, indeed, we save her—we will be very +good to her, you and I. We will remember her bringing up and her +inheritance. I will be more loving—more like Christ. I hope +He will forgive me for my harshness in the past.... My +William!—I love you so! God be merciful to you and to your +poor Kitty!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Will the signora have her dinner outside or in the +<i>salle-à-manger?"</i></p> +<p>The question was addressed to Kitty by a little Italian waiter +belonging to the Albergo San Zeno at Verona, who stood bent before +her, his white napkin under his arm.</p> +<p>"Out here, please—and for my maid also."</p> +<p>The speaker moved wearily towards the low wall which bounded the +foaming Adige, and looked across the river. Far away the Alps that +look down on Garda glistened under the stars; the citadel on its +hill, the houses across the river were alive with lights; to the +left the great mediæval bridge rose, a dark, ponderous mass, +above the torrents of the Adige. Overhead, the little outside +restaurant was roofed with twining vine-stems from which the leaves +had fallen; colored lights twinkled among them and on the white +tables underneath. The night was mild and still, and a veiled moon +was just rising over the town of Juliet.</p> +<p>"Blanche!"</p> +<p>"Yes, my lady?"</p> +<p>"Bring a chair, Blanchie, and come and sit by me."</p> +<p>The little maid did as she was told, and Kitty slipped her hand +into hers with a long sigh.</p> +<p>"Are you very tired, my lady?"</p> +<p>"Yes—but don't talk!"</p> +<p>The two sat silent, clinging to each other.</p> +<p>A step on the cobble-stones disturbed them. Blanche looked up, +and saw a gentleman issuing from a lane which connected the narrow +quay whereon stood the old Albergo San Zeno with one of the main +streets of Verona.</p> +<p>There was a cry from Kitty. The stranger +paused—looked—advanced. The little maid rose, half +fierce, half frightened.</p> +<p>"Go, Blanche, go!" said Kitty, panting; "go back into the +hotel."</p> +<p>"Not unless your ladyship wishes me to leave you," said the +girl, firmly.</p> +<p>"Go at once!" Kitty repeated, with a peremptory gesture. She +herself rose from her seat, and with one hand resting on the table +awaited the new-comer. Blanche looked at +her—hesitated—and went.</p> +<p>Geoffrey Cliffe came to Kitty's side. As he approached her his +eyes fastened on the loveliness of her attitude, her fair head. In +his own expression there was a visionary, fantastic joy; it was the +look of the dreamer who, for once, finds in circumstance and the +real, poetry adequate and overflowing.</p> +<p>"Kitty!—why did you do this?" he said to her, +passionately, as he caught her hand.</p> +<p>Kitty snatched it away, trembling under his look. She began the +answer she had devised while he was crossing the flagged quay +towards her. But Cliffe paid no heed. He laid a hand on her +shoulder, and she sank back powerless into her chair as he bent +over her.</p> +<p>"Cruel—cruel child, to play with me so! Did you mean to +put me to a last test?—or did your hard little heart misgive +you at the last moment? I cross-examined your landlady—I +bribed the servants—the gondoliers. Not a word! They were +loyal—or you had paid them better. I went back to my hotel in +black despair. Oh, you artist!—you plotter! Kitty—you +shall pay me this some day! And there—there on my +table—all the time—lay your little crumpled note!"</p> +<p>"What note?" she gasped—"what note?"</p> +<p>"Actress!" he said, with an amused laugh.</p> +<p>And cautiously, playfully, lest she should snatch it from him, +he unfolded it before her.</p> +<p>Without signature and without date, the soiled half-sheet +contained this message, written in Italian and in a disguised +handwriting:</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Too many spectators. Come to +Verona to-night.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">"K."</span> +<br /></p> +<p>Kitty looked at it, and then at the face beside +her—infused with a triumphant power and passion. She seemed +to shrink upon herself, and her head fell back against one of the +supports of the <i>pergola</i>. One of the blue lights from above +fell with ghastly effect upon the delicate tilted face and closed +eyes. Cliffe bent over her in a sharp alarm, and saw that she had +fainted away.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_V" id="PART_V"></a>PART V</h2> +<h3>REQUIESCAT</h3> +<p class="figcenter">"Pluck, pluck cypress, O pale maidens,<br /> +Dusk the hall with yew!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> +<p>"How strange!" thought the Dean, as he once more stepped back +into the street to look at the front of the Home Secretary's house +in Hill Street. "He is certainly in town."</p> +<p>For, according to the <i>Times</i>, William Ashe the night +before had been hotly engaged in the House of Commons fighting an +important bill, of which he was in charge, through committee. Yet +the blinds of the house in Hill Street were all drawn, and the Dean +had not yet succeeded in getting any one to answer the bell.</p> +<p>He returned to the attack, and this time a charwoman appeared. +At sight of the Dean's legs and apron, she dropped a courtesy, or +something like one, informing him that they had workmen in the +house and Mr. Ashe was "staying with her ladyship."</p> +<p>The Dean took the Tranmores' number in Park Lane and departed +thither, not without a sad glance at the desolate hall behind the +charwoman and at the darkened windows of the drawing-room overhead. +He thought of that May day two years before when he had dropped in +to lunch with Lady Kitty; his memory, equally effective whether it +summoned the detail of an English chronicle or the features of a +face once seen, placed firm and clear before him the long-chinned +fellow at Lady Kitty's left, to whose villany that empty and +forsaken house bore cruel witness. And the little lady +herself—what a radiant and ethereal beauty! Ah me! ah me!</p> +<p>He walked on in meditation, his hands behind his back. Even in +this May London the little Dean was capable of an abstracted +spirit, and he had still much to think over. He had his appointment +with Ashe. But Ashe had written—evidently in a press of +business—from the House, and had omitted to mention his +temporary change of address. The Dean regretted it. He would rather +have done his errand with Lady Kitty's injured husband on some +neutral ground, and not in Lady Tranmore's house.</p> +<p>At Park Lane, however, he was immediately admitted.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ashe will be down directly, sir," said the butler, as he +ushered the visitor into the commodious library on the +ground-floor, which had witnessed for so long the death-in-life of +Lord Tranmore. But now Lord Tranmore was bedridden up-stairs, with +two nurses to look after him, and to judge from the aspect of the +tables piled with letters and books, and from the armful of papers +which a private secretary carried off with him as he disappeared +before the Dean, Ashe was now fully at home in the room which had +been his father's.</p> +<p>There was still a fire in the grate, and the small Dean, who was +a chilly mortal, stood on the rug looking nervously about him. Lord +Tranmore had been in office himself, and the room, with its +bookshelves filled with volumes in worn calf bindings, its solid +writing-tables and leather sofas, its candlesticks and inkstands of +old silver, slender and simple in pattern, its well-worn Turkey +carpet, and its political portraits—"the Duke," Johnny +Russell, Lord Althorp, Peel, Melbourne—seemed, to the +observer on the rug, steeped in the typical habit and reminiscence +of English public life.</p> +<p>Well, if the father, poor fellow, had been distinguished in his +day, the son had gone far beyond him. The Dean ruminated on a +conversation wherewith he had just beguiled his cup of tea at the +Athenæum—a conversation with one of the shrewdest +members of Lord Parham's cabinet, a "new man," and an enthusiastic +follower of Ashe.</p> +<p>"Ashe is magnificent! At last our side has found its leader. Oh! +Parham will disappear with the next appeal to the country. He is +getting too infirm! Above all, his eyes are nearly gone; his +oculist, I hear, gives him no more than six months' sight, unless +he throws up. Then Ashe will take his proper place, and if he +doesn't make his mark on English history, I'm a Dutchman. Oh! of +course that affair last year was an awful business—the two +affairs! When Parliament opened in February there were some of us +who thought that Ashe would never get through the session. A man so +changed, so struck down, I have seldom seen. You remember what a +handsome boy he was, up to last year even! Now he's a middle-aged +man. All the same, he held on, and the House gave him that quiet +sympathy and support that it can give when it likes a fellow. And +gradually you could see the life come back into him—and the +ambition. By George! he did well in that trade-union business +before Easter; and the bill that's on now—it's masterly, the +way in which he's piloting it through! The House positively likes +to be managed by him; it's a sight worthy of our best political +traditions. Oh yes, Ashe will go far; and, thank God, that wretched +little woman—what has become of her, by-the-way?—has +neither crushed his energy nor robbed England of his services. But +it was touch and go."</p> +<p>To all of which the Dean had replied little or nothing. But his +heart had sunk within him; and the doubtfulness of a certain +enterprise in which he was engaged had appeared to him in even more +startling colors than before.</p> +<p>However, here he was. And suddenly, as he stood before the fire, +he bowed his white head, and said to himself a couple of verses +from one of the Psalms for the day:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Who will lead me into the strong city: who will bring me into +Edom?<br /> +Oh, be thou our help in trouble: for vain is the help of man."</p> +</div> +<p>The door opened, and the Dean straightened himself impetuously, +every nerve tightening to its work.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"How do you do, my dear Dean?" said Ashe, enclosing the frail, +ascetic hand in both his own. "I trust I have not kept you waiting. +My mother was with me. Sit there, please; you will have the light +behind you."</p> +<p>"Thank you. I prefer standing a little, if you don't +mind—and I like the fire."</p> +<p>Ashe threw himself into a chair and shaded his eyes with his +hand. The Dean noticed the strains of gray in his curly hair, and +that aspect, as of something withered and wayworn, which had +invaded the man's whole personality, balanced, indeed, by an +intellectual dignity and distinction which had never been so +commanding. It was as though the stern and constant wrestle of the +mind had burned away all lesser things—the old, easy grace, +the old, careless pleasure in life.</p> +<p>"I think you know," began the Dean, clearing his throat, "why I +asked you to see me?"</p> +<p>"You wished, I think, to speak to me—about my wife," said +Ashe, with difficulty.</p> +<p>Under his sheltering hand, his eyes looked straight before him +into the fire.</p> +<p>The Dean fidgeted a moment, lifted a small Greek vase on the +mantel-piece, and set it down—then turned round.</p> +<p>"I heard from her ten days ago—the most piteous letter. As +you know, I had always a great regard for her. The news of last +year was a sharp sorrow to me—as though she had been a +daughter. I felt I must see her. So I put myself into the train and +went to Venice."</p> +<p>Ashe started a little, but said nothing.</p> +<p>"Or, rather, to Treviso, for, as I think you know, she is there +with Lady Alice."</p> +<p>"Yes, that I had heard."</p> +<p>The Dean paused again, then moved a little nearer to Ashe, +looking down upon him.</p> +<p>"May I ask—stop me if I seem impertinent—how much +you know of the history of the winter?"</p> +<p>"Very little!" said Ashe, in a low voice. "My mother got some +information from the English consul at Trieste, who is a friend of +hers—to whom, it seems, Lady Kitty applied; but it did not +amount to much."</p> +<p>The Dean drew a small note-book from a breast-pocket and looked +at some entries in it.</p> +<p>"They seem to have reached Marinitza in November If I understood +aright, Lady Kitty had no maid with her?"</p> +<p>"No. The maid Blanche was sent home from Verona."</p> +<p>"How Lady Kitty ever got through the journey!—or the +winter!" said the Dean, throwing up his hands. "Her health, of +course, is irreparably injured. But that she did not die a dozen +times over, of hardship and misery, is the most astonishing thing! +They were in a wretched village, nearly four thousand feet up, a +village of wooden huts, with a wooden hospital. All the winter +nearly they were deep in snow, and Lady Kitty worked as a nurse. +Cliffe seems to have been away fighting, very often, and at other +times came back to rest and see to supplies."</p> +<p>"I understand she passed as his wife?" said Ashe.</p> +<p>The Dean made a sign of reluctant assent.</p> +<p>"They lived in a little house near the hospital. She tells me +that after the first two months she began to loathe him, and she +moved into the hospital to escape him. He tried at first to melt +and propitiate her; but when he found that it was no use, and that +she was practically lost to him, he changed his temper, and he +might have behaved to her like the tyrant he is but that her hold +over the people among whom they were living, both on the +fighting-men and the women, had become by this time greater than +his own. They adored her, and Cliffe dared not ill-treat her. And +so it went on through the winter. Sometimes they were on more +friendly terms than at others. I gather that when he showed his +dare-devil, heroic side she would relent to him, and talk as though +she loved him. But she would never go back—to live with him; +and that after a time alienated him completely. He was away more +and more; and at last she tells me there was a handsome Bosnian +girl, and—well, you can imagine the rest. Lady Kitty was so +ill in March that they thought her dying, but she managed to write +to this consul you spoke of at Trieste, and he sent up a doctor and +a nurse. But this you probably know?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Ashe, hoarsely. "I heard that she was apparently +very ill when she reached Treviso, but that she had rallied under +Alice's nursing. Lady Alice wrote to my mother."</p> +<p>"Did she tell Lady Tranmore anything of Lady Kitty's state of +mind?" said the Dean, after a pause.</p> +<p>Ashe also was slow in answering. At last he said:</p> +<p>"I understand there has been great regret for the past."</p> +<p>"Regret!" cried the Dean. "If ever there was a terrible case of +the dealings of God with a human soul—"</p> +<p>He began to walk up and down impetuously, wrestling with +emotion.</p> +<p>"Did she give you any explanation," said Ashe, presently, in a +voice scarcely audible—"of their meeting at Verona? You know +my mother believed—that she had broken with him—that +all was saved. Then came a letter from the maid, written at Kitty's +direction, to say that she had left her mistress—and they had +started for Bosnia."</p> +<p>"No; I tried. But she seemed to shrink with horror from +everything to do with Verona. I have always supposed that fellow in +some way got the information he wanted—bought it no +doubt—and pursued her. But that she honestly meant to break +with him I have no doubt at all."</p> +<p>Ashe said nothing.</p> +<p>"Think," said the Dean, "of the effect of that man's sudden +appearance—of his romantic and powerful +personality—your wife alone, miserable—doubting your +love for her—"</p> +<p>Ashe raised his hand with a gesture of passion.</p> +<p>"If she had had the smallest love left for me she could have +protected herself! I had written to her—she knew—"</p> +<p>His voice broke. The Dean's face quivered.</p> +<p>"My dear fellow—God knows—" He broke off. When he +recovered composure he said:</p> +<p>"Let us go back to Lady Kitty. Regret is no word to express what +I saw. She is consumed by remorse night and day. She is also +still—as far as my eyes can judge—desperately ill. +There is probably lung trouble caused by the privations of the +winter. And the whole nervous system is shattered."</p> +<p>Ashe looked up. His aspect showed the effect of the words.</p> +<p>"Every provision shall be made for her," he said, in a voice +muffled and difficult. "Lady Alice has been told already to spare +no expense—to do everything that can be done."</p> +<p>"There is only one thing that can be done for her," said the +Dean.</p> +<p>Ashe did not speak.</p> +<p>"There is only one thing that you or any one else could do for +her," the Dean repeated, slowly, "and that is to love—and +forgive her!" His voice trembled.</p> +<p>"Was it her wish that you should come to me?" said Ashe, after a +moment.</p> +<p>"Yes. I found her at first very despairing—and extremely +difficult to manage. She regretted she had written to me, and +neither Lady Alice nor I could get her to talk. But one +day"—the old man turned away, looking into the fire, with his +back to Ashe, and with difficulty pursued his story—"one day, +whether it was, the sight of a paralyzed child that used to come to +Lady Alice's lace-class, or some impression from the service of the +mass to which she often goes in the early mornings with her sister, +I don't know, but she sent for me—and—and broke down +entirely. She implored me to see you, and to ask you if she might +live at Haggart, near the child's grave. She told me that according +to every doctor she has seen she is doomed, physically. But I don't +think she wants to work upon your pity. She herself declares that +she has much more vitality than people think, and that the doctors +may be all wrong. So that you are not to take that into account. +But if you will so far forgive her as to let her live at Haggart, +and occasionally to go and see her, that would be the only +happiness to which she could now look forward, and she promises +that she will follow your wishes in every respect, and will not +hinder or persecute you in any way."</p> +<p>Ashe threw up his hands in a melancholy gesture. The Dean +understood it to mean a disbelief in the ability of the person +promising to keep such an engagement. His face flushed—he +looked uncertainly at Ashe.</p> +<p>"For my part," he said, quickly, "I am not going to advise you +for a moment to trust to any such promise."</p> +<p>Rising from his seat, Ashe began to pace the room. The Dean +followed him with his eyes, which kindled more and more.</p> +<p>"But," he resumed, "I none the less urge and implore you to +grant Lady Kitty's prayer."</p> +<p>Ashe slightly shook his head. The little Dean drew himself +together.</p> +<p>"May I speak to you—with a full frankness? I have known +and loved you from a boy. And"—he stopped a moment, then +said, simply—"I am a Christian minister."</p> +<p>Ashe, with a sad and charming courtesy, laid his hand on the old +man's arm.</p> +<p>"I can only be grateful to you," he said, and stood waiting.</p> +<p>"At least you will understand me," said the Dean. "You are not +one of the small souls. Well—here it is! Lady Kitty has been +an unfaithful wife. She does not attempt to deny or cover it. But +in my belief she loves you still, and has always loved you. And +when you married her, you must, I think, have realized that you +were running no ordinary risks. The position and antecedents of her +mother—the bringing up of the poor child herself—the +wildness of her temperament, and the absence of anything like +self-discipline and self-control, must surely have made you +anxious? I certainly remember that Lady Tranmore was full of +fears."</p> +<p>He looked for a reply.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Ashe, "I was anxious. Or, rather, I saw the risks +clearly. But I was in love, and I thought that love could do +everything."</p> +<p>The Dean looked at him curiously—hesitated—and at +last said:</p> +<p>"Forgive me. Did you take your task seriously enough?—did +you give Lady Kitty all the help you might?"</p> +<p>The blue eyes scanned Ashe's face. Ashe turned away, as though +the words had touched a sore.</p> +<p>"I know very well," he said, unsteadily, "that I seemed to you +and others a weak and self-indulgent fool. All I can say is, it was +not in me to play the tutor and master to my wife."</p> +<p>"She was so young, so undisciplined," said the Dean, earnestly. +"Did you guard her as you might?"</p> +<p>A touch of impatience appeared in Ashe.</p> +<p>"Do you really think, my dear Dean," he said, as he resumed his +walk up and down, "that one human being has, ultimately, any +decisive power over another? If so, I am more of a believer +in—fate—or liberty—I am not sure which—than +you."</p> +<p>The Dean sighed.</p> +<p>"That you were infinitely good and loving to her we all +know."</p> +<p>"'Good'—'loving'?" said Ashe, under his breath, with a +note of scorn. "I—"</p> +<p>He restrained himself, hiding his face as he hung over the +fire.</p> +<p>There was a silence, till the Dean once more placed himself in +Ashe's path. "My dear friend—you saw the risks, and yet you +took them! You made the vow 'for better, for worse.' My friend, you +have, so to speak, lost your venture! But let me urge on you that +the obligation remains!"</p> +<p>"What obligation?"</p> +<p>"The obligation to the life you took into your own +hands—to the soul you vowed to cherish," said the Dean, with +an apostolic and passionate earnestness.</p> +<p>Ashe stood before him, pale, and charged with resolution.</p> +<p>"That obligation—has been cancelled—by the laws of +your own Christian faith, no less than by the ordinary laws of +society."</p> +<p>"I do not so read it!" cried the Dean, with vivacity. "Men say +so, 'for the hardness of their hearts.' But the divine pity which +transformed men's idea of marriage could never have meant to lay it +down that in marriage alone there was to be no forgiveness."</p> +<p>"You forget your text," said Ashe, steadily. "Saving for the +cause—'" His voice failed him.</p> +<p>"Permissive!" was the Dean's eager reply—"permissive only. +There are cases, I grant you—cases of impenitent +wickedness—where the higher law is suspended, finds no chance +to act—where relief from the bond is itself mercy and +justice. But the higher law is always there. You know the +formula—'It was said by them of old time. But <i>I</i> say +unto you—' And then follows the new law of a new society. And +so in marriage. If love has the smallest room to work—if +forgiveness can find the narrowest foothold—love and +forgiveness are imposed on—demanded of—the +Christian!—here as everywhere else. Love and +forgiveness—<i>not</i> penalty and hate!"</p> +<p>"There is no question of hate—and—I doubt whether I +am a Christian," said Ashe, quietly, turning away.</p> +<p>The Dean looked at him a little askance—breathing +fast.</p> +<p>"But you are a <i>heart</i>, William!" he said, using the +privilege, of his white hairs, speaking as he might have spoken to +the Eton boy of twenty years before—"ay, and one of the +noblest. You gathered that poor thing into your arms—knowing +what were the temptations of her nature, and she became the mother +of your child. Now—alas! those temptations have conquered +her. But she still turns to you—she still clings to +you—and she has no one else. And if you reject her she will +go down unforgiven and despairing to the grave."</p> +<p>For the first time Ashe's lips trembled. But his speech was very +quiet and collected.</p> +<p>"I must try and explain myself," he said. "Why should we talk of +forgiveness? It is not a word that I much understand, or that means +much to men of my type and generation. I see what has happened in +this way. Kitty's conduct last year hit me desperately hard. It +destroyed my private happiness, and but for the generosity of the +best friends ever man had it would have driven me out of public +life. I warned her that the consequences of the Cliffe matter would +be irreparable, and she still carried it through. She left me for +that man—and at a time when by her own action it was +impossible for me to defend either her or myself. What course of +action remained to me? I <i>did</i> remember her temperament, her +antecedents, and the certainty that this man, whatever might be his +moments of heroism, was a selfish and incorrigible brute in his +dealings with women. So I wrote to her, through this same consul at +Trieste. I let her know that if she wished it, and if there were +any chance of his marrying her, I would begin divorce proceedings +at once. She had only to say the word. If she did not wish it, I +would spare her and myself the shame and scandal of publicity. And +if she left him, I would make additional provision for her which +would insure her every comfort. She never sent a word of reply, and +I have taken no steps. But as soon as I heard she was at Treviso, I +wrote again—or, rather, this time my lawyers wrote, +suggesting that the time had come for the extra provision I had +spoken of, which I was most ready and anxious to make."</p> +<p>He paused.</p> +<p>"And this," said the Dean, "is all? This is, in fact, your +answer to me?"</p> +<p>Ashe made a sign of assent.</p> +<p>"Except," he added, with emotion, "that I have heard, only +to-day, that if Kitty wishes it, her old friend Miss French will go +out to her at once, nurse her, and travel with her as long as she +pleases. Miss French's brother has just married, and she is at +liberty. She is most deeply attached to Kitty, and as soon as she +heard Lady Alice's report of her state she forgot everything else. +Can you not persuade—Kitty"—he looked up +urgently—"to accept her offer?"</p> +<p>"I doubt it," said the Dean, sadly. "There is only one thing she +pines for, and without it she will be a sick child crossed. Ah! +well—well! So to allow her to share your life +again—however humbly and intermittently—is +impossible?"</p> +<p>It seemed to the Dean that a shudder passed through the man +beside him.</p> +<p>"Impossible," said Ashe, sharply. "But not only for private +reasons."</p> +<p>"You mean your public duty stands in the way?"</p> +<p>"Kitty left me of her own free will. I have put my hand to the +plough again—and I cannot turn back. You can see for yourself +that I am not at my own disposal—I belong to my party, to the +men with whom I act, who have behaved to me with the utmost +generosity."</p> +<p>"Of course Lady Kitty could no longer share your public life. +But at Haggart—in seclusion?"</p> +<p>"You know what her personality is—how absorbing—how +impossible to forget! No—if she returned to me, on any terms +whatever, all the old conditions would begin again. I should +inevitably have to leave politics."</p> +<p>"And that—you are not prepared to do?"</p> +<p>The Dean wondered at his own audacity, and a touch of proud +surprise expressed itself in Ashe.</p> +<p>"I should have preferred to put it that I have accepted great +tasks and heavy responsibilities—and that I am not my own +master."</p> +<p>The Dean watched him closely. Across the field of imagination +there passed the figure of one who "went away sorrowful, having +great possessions," and his heart—the heart of a child or a +knight-errant—burned within him.</p> +<p>But before he could speak again the door of the room opened and +a lady in black entered. Ashe turned towards her.</p> +<p>"Do you forbid me, William?" she said, quietly—"or may I +join your conversation?"</p> +<p>Ashe held out his hand and drew her to him. Lady Tranmore +greeted her old friend the Dean, and he looked at her overcome with +emotion and doubt.</p> +<p>"You have come to us at a critical moment," he said—"and I +am afraid you are against me."</p> +<p>She asked what they had been discussing, though, indeed, as she +said, she partly guessed. And the Dean, beginning to be shaken in +his own cause, repeated his pleadings with a sinking heart. They +sounded to him stranger and less persuasive than before. In doing +what he had done he had been influenced by an instinctive feeling +that Ashe would not treat the wrong done him as other men might +treat it; that, to put it at the least, he would be able to handle +it with an ethical originality, to separate himself in dealing with +it from the mere weight of social tradition. Yet now as he saw the +faces of mother and son together—the mother leaning on the +son's arm—and realized all the strength of the social ideas +which they represented, even though, in Ashe's case, there had been +a certain individual flouting of them, futile and powerless in the +end—the Dean gave way.</p> +<p>"There—there!" he said, as he finished his plea, and Lady +Tranmore's sad gravity remained untouched. "I see you both think me +a dreamer of dreams!"</p> +<p>"Nay, dear friend!" said Lady Tranmore, with the melancholy +smile which lent still further beauty to the refined austerity of +her face; "these things seem possible to you, because you are the +soul of goodness—"</p> +<p>"And a pious old fool to boot!" said the Dean, impatiently. "But +I am willing—like St. Paul and my betters—to be a fool +for Christ's sake. Lady Tranmore, are you or are you not a +Christian?"</p> +<p>"I hope so," she said, with composure, while her cheek flushed. +"But our Lord did not ask impossibilities. He knew there were +limits to human endurance—and human pardon—though there +might be none to God's."</p> +<p>"'Be ye perfect, as your Father which is in heaven is perfect,'" +cried the Dean. "Where are the limits there?"</p> +<p>"There are other duties in life besides that to a wife who has +betrayed her husband," she said, steadily. "You ask of William what +he has not the strength to give. His life was wrecked, and he has +pieced it together again. And now he has given it to his country. +That poor, guilty child has no claim upon it."</p> +<p>"But understand," said Ashe, interposing, with an energy that +seemed to express the whole man—"while I live, +<i>everything</i>—short of what you ask—that can be +done to protect or ease her, shall be done. Tell her that."</p> +<p>His features worked painfully. The Dean took up his hat and +stick.</p> +<p>"And may I tell her, too," he said, pausing—"that you +forgive her?"</p> +<p>Ashe hesitated.</p> +<p>"I do not believe," he said, at last, "that she would attach any +more meaning to that word than I do. She would think it unreal. +What's done is done."</p> +<p>The Dean's heart leaped up in the typical Christian challenge to +the fatal and the irrevocable. While life lasts the lost sheep can +always be sought and found; and love, the mystical wine, can always +be poured into the wounds of the soul, healing and recreating! But +he said no more. He felt himself humiliated and defeated.</p> +<p>Ashe and Lady Tranmore took leave of him with an extreme +gentleness and affection. He would almost rather they had treated +him ill. Yes, he was an optimist and a dreamer!—one who had, +indeed, never grappled in his own person with the worst poisons and +corrosions of the soul. Yet still, as he passed along the London +streets—marked here and there by the newspaper placards which +announced Ashe's committee triumphs of the night before—he +was haunted anew by the immortal words:</p> +<p>"One thing thou lackest," ... and "Come, follow me!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Ah!—could he have done such a thing himself? or was he +merely the scribe carelessly binding on other men's shoulders +things grievous to be borne? The answering passion of his faith +mounted within him—joined with a scorn for the easy +conditions and happy, scholarly pursuits of his own life, and a +thirst which in the early days of Christendom would have been a +thirst for witness and for martyrdom.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Three days later the Dean—a somewhat shrunken and +diminished figure, in ordinary clerical dress, without the buckles +and silk stockings that typically belonged to him—stood once +more at the entrance of a small villa outside the Venetian town of +Treviso.</p> +<p>He was very weary, and as he sought disconsolately through all +his pockets for the wherewithal to pay his fly, while the spring +rain pattered on his wide-awake, he produced an impression as of +some delicate, draggled thing, which would certainly have gone to +the heart of his adoring wife could she have beheld it. The Dean's +ways were not sybaritic. He pecked at food and drink like a bird; +his clothes never caused him a moment's thought; and it seemed to +him a waste of the night to use it for sleeping. But none the less +did he go through life finely looked after. Mrs. Winston dressed +him, took his tickets and paid his cabs, and without her it was an +arduous matter for the Dean to arrive at any destination whatever. +As it was, in the journey from Paris he had lost one of the two +bags which Mrs. Winston had packed for him, and he looked +remorsefully at the survivor as it was deposited on the steps +beside him.</p> +<p>It did not, however, remain on the steps. For when Lady Alice's +maid-housekeeper appeared, she informed the Dean, with a certain +flurry of manner, that the ladies were not at home. They had gone +off that morning—suddenly—to Venice, leaving a letter +for him, should he arrive.</p> +<p>"<i>Fermate!</i>" cried the Dean, turning towards the cab, which +was trailing away, and the man, who had been scandalously overpaid, +came back with alacrity, while the Dean stepped in to read the +letter.</p> +<p>When he came out again he was very pale and in a great haste. He +bade the man replace the bag and drive him at once to the +railway-station.</p> +<p>On the way thither he murmured to himself, "Horrible!— +horrible!"—and both the letter and a newspaper which had been +enclosed in it shook in his hands.</p> +<p>He had half an hour to wait before the advent of the evening +train for Venice, and he spent it in a quiet corner poring over the +newspaper. And not that newspaper only, for he presently became +aware that all the small, ill-printed sheets offered him by an old +newsvender in the station were full of the same news, and some with +later detail—nay, that the people walking up and down in the +station were eagerly talking of it.</p> +<p>An Englishman had been assassinated in Venice. It seemed that a +body had been discovered early on the preceding morning floating in +one of the small canals connecting the Fondamente Nuove with the +Grand Canal. It had been stabbed in three places; two of the wounds +must have been fatal. The papers in the pocket identified the +murdered man as the famous English traveller, poet, and journalist, +Mr. Geoffrey Cliffe. Mr. Cliffe had just returned from an arduous +winter in the Balkans, where he had rendered superb service to the +cause of the Bosnian insurgents. He was well known in Venice, and +the terrible event had caused a profound sensation there. No clew +to the outrage had yet been obtained. But Mr. Cliffe's purse and +watch had not been removed.</p> +<p>The Dean arrived in Venice by the midnight train, and went to +the hotel on the Riva whither Lady Alice had directed him. She was +still up, waiting to see him, and in the dark passage outside +Kitty's door she told him what she knew of the murder. It appeared +that late that night a startling arrest had been made—of no +less a person than the Signorina Ricci, the well-known actress of +the Apollo Theatre, and of two men supposed to have been hired by +her for the deed. This news was still unknown to Kitty—she +was in bed, and her companion had kept it from her.</p> +<p>"How is she?" asked the Dean.</p> +<p>"Frightfully excited—or else dumb. She let me give her +something to make her sleep. Strangely enough, she said to me this +morning on the way from Treviso: 'It is a woman—and I know +her!'"</p> +<p>The following day, when the Dean entered the dingy hotel +sitting-room, a thin figure in black came hurriedly out of the +bedroom beside it, and Kitty caught him by the hand.</p> +<p>"Isn't it horrible?" she said, staring at him with her changed, +dark-rimmed eyes. "She tried once, in Bosnia. One of the Italians +who came out with us—she had got hold of him. Do you +think—he suffered?"</p> +<p>Her voice was quite quiet. The Dean shuddered.</p> +<p>"One of the stabs was in the heart," he said. "But try and put +it from you, Lady Kitty. Sit down." He touched her gently on the +shoulder.</p> +<p>Kitty nodded.</p> +<p>"Ah, then," she said—"<i>then</i> he couldn't have +suffered—could he? I'm glad."</p> +<p>She let the Dean put her in a chair, and, clasping her hands +round her knees, she seemed to pursue her own thoughts.</p> +<p>Her aspect affected him almost beyond bearing. Ashe's brilliant +wife?—London's spoiled child?—this withered, tragic +little creature, of whom it was impossible to believe that, in +years, she was not yet twenty-four? So bewildered in mind, so +broken in nerve was she, that it was not till he had sat with her +some time, now entering perforce into the cloud of horror that +brooded over her, now striving to drag her from it, that she asked +him about his visit to England.</p> +<p>He told her in a faltering voice.</p> +<p>She received it very quietly, even with a little, queer, +twisting laugh.</p> +<p>"I thought he wouldn't. Was Lady Tranmore there?"</p> +<p>The Dean replied that Lady Tranmore had been there.</p> +<p>"Ah, then, of course there was no chance," said Kitty. "When one +is as good as that, one never forgives."</p> +<p>She looked up quickly. "Did William say he forgave me?"</p> +<p>The Dean hesitated.</p> +<p>"He said a great deal that was kind and generous."</p> +<p>A slight spasm passed over Kitty's face.</p> +<p>"I suppose he thought it ridiculous to talk of forgiving. So did +I—once."</p> +<p>She covered her eyes with her hands—removing them to say, +impatiently:</p> +<p>"One can't go on being sorry every moment of the day. No, one +can't! Why are we made so? William would agree with me there."</p> +<p>"Dear Lady Kitty!" said the Dean, tenderly—"God +forgives—and with Him there is always hope, and fresh +beginning."</p> +<p>Kitty shook her head.</p> +<p>"I don't know what that means," she said. "I wonder +whether"—she looked at him with a certain piteous and yet +affectionate malice—"if you'd been as deep as I, whether +<i>you</i>'d know."</p> +<p>The Dean flushed. The hidden wound stung again. Had he, then, no +right to speak? He felt himself the elder son of the +parable—and hated himself anew.</p> +<p>But he was a Christian, on his Master's business. He must obey +orders, even though he could feel no satisfaction, or belief in +himself—though he seem to himself such a shallow and +perfunctory person. So he did his tender best for Kitty. He spent +his loving, enthusiastic, pitiful soul upon her; and while he +talked to her she sat with her hands crossed on her lap, and her +eyes wandering through the open window to the forests of masts +outside and the dancing wavelets of the lagoon. When at last he +spoke of the further provision Ashe wished to make for her, when he +implored her to summon Margaret French, she shook her head. "I must +think what I shall do," she said, quietly; and a minute afterwards, +with a flash of her old revolt—"He cannot prevent my going to +Harry's grave!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Early the following morning the murdered man was carried to the +cemetery at San Michele. In spite of some attempt on the part of +the police to keep the hour secret, half Venice followed the +black-draped barca, which bore that flawed poet and dubious hero to +his rest.</p> +<p>It was a morning of exceeding beauty. On the mean and solitary +front of the Casa dei Spiriti there shone a splendor of light; the +lagoon was azure and gold; the main-land a mist of trees in their +spring leaf; while far away the cypresses of San Francesco, the +slender tower of Torcello, and the long line of Murano—and +farther still the majestic wall of silver Alps—greeted the +eyes that loved them, as the ear is soothed by the notes of a +glorious and yet familiar music.</p> +<p>Amid the crowd of gondolas that covered the shallow stretch of +lagoon between the northernmost houses of Venice and the island +graveyard, there was one which held two ladies. Alice Wensleydale +was there against her will, and her pinched and tragic face showed +her repulsion and irritation. She had endeavored in vain to +dissuade Kitty from coming; but in the end she had insisted on +accompanying her. Possibly, as the boat glided over the water amid +a crowd of laughing, chattering Italians, the silent Englishwoman +was asking herself what was to be the future of the trust she had +taken on herself. Kitty in her extremity had remembered her +half-sister's promise, and had thrown herself upon it. But a few +weeks' experience had shown that they were strange and uncongenial +to each other. There was no true affection between them—only +a certain haunting instinct of kindred. And even this was weakened +or embittered by those memories in Alice's mind which Kitty could +never approach and Alice never forget. What was she to do with her +half-sister, stranded and dishonored as she was?—How content +or comfort her?—How live her own life beside her?</p> +<p>Kitty sat silent, her eyes fixed upon the barca which held the +coffin under its pall. Her mind was the scene of an infinite number +of floating and fragmentary recollections; of the day when she and +Cliffe had followed the <i>murazzi</i> towards the open sea; of the +meeting at Verona; of the long winter, with its hardship and its +horror; and that hatred and contempt which had sprung up between +them. Could she love no one, cling faithfully to no one? And now +the restless brain, the vast projects, the mixed nature, the +half-greatness of the man had been silenced—crushed—in +a moment, by the stroke of a knife. He had been killed by a jealous +woman—because of his supposed love for another woman, whose +abhorrence, in truth, he had earned in a few short weeks. There was +something absurd mingled with the horror—as though one +watched the prank of a demon.</p> +<p>Her sensuous nature was tormented by the thought of the last +moment. Had he had time to feel despair—the thirst for life? +She prayed not. She thought of the Sunday afternoon at Grosville +Park when they had tried to play billiards, and Lord Grosville had +come down on them; or she saw him sitting opposite to her, at +supper, on the night of the fancy ball, in the splendid Titian +dress, while she gloated over the thoughts of the trick she had +played on Mary Lyster—or bending over her when she woke from +her swoon at Verona. Had she ever really loved him for one +hour?—and if not, what possible excuse, before gods or men, +was there for this ugly, self-woven tragedy into which she had +brought herself and him, merely because her vanity could not bear +that William had not been able to love her, for long, far above all +her deserts?</p> +<p>William! Her heart leaped in her breast. He was +thirty-six—and she not twenty-four. A strange and desolate +wonder overtook her as the thought seized her of the years they +might still spend on the same earth—members of the same +country, breathing the same air—and yet forever separate. +Never to see him—or speak to him again!—the thought +stirred her imagination, as it were, while it tortured her; there +was in it a certain luxury and romance of pain.</p> +<p>Thus, as she followed Cliffe to his last blood-stained rest, did +her mind sink in dreams of Ashe—and in the dismal reckoning +up of all that she had so lightly and inconceivably lost. Sometimes +she found herself absorbed in a kind of angry marvelling at the +strength of the old moral commonplaces.</p> +<p>It had been so easy and so exciting to defy them. Stones which +the builders of life reject—do they still avenge themselves +in the old way? There was a kind of rage in the thought.</p> +<p>On the way home Kitty expressed a wish to go into St. Mark's +alone. Lady Alice left her there, and in the shadow of the atrium +Kitty looked at her strangely, and kissed her.</p> +<p>An hour after Lady Alice had reached the hotel a letter was +brought to her. In it Kitty bade her—and the +Dean—farewell, and asked that no effort should be made to +track her. "I am going to friends—where I shall be safe and +at peace. Thank you both with all my heart. Let no one think about +me any more."</p> +<p>Of course they disobeyed her. They made what search in Venice +they could, without rousing a scandal, and Ashe rushed out to join +it, using the special means at a minister's disposal. But it was +fruitless. Kitty vanished like a wraith in the dawn; and the living +world of action and affairs knew her no more.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> +<p>"Well, I must have a carriage!" said William Ashe to the +landlord of one of the coaching inns of Domo Dossola—"and if +you can't give me one for less, I suppose I shall have to pay this +most ridiculous charge. Tell the man to put to at once."</p> +<p>The landlord who owned the carriages, and would be sitting +snugly at home while the peasant on the box faced the elements in +consideration of a large number of extra francs to his master, +retired with a deferential smile, and told Emilio to bring the +horses.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Ashe finished an indifferent dinner, paid a large +bill, and went out to survey the preparations for departure, so far +as the pelting rain in the court-yard would let him. He was going +over the Simplon, starting rather late in the day, and the weather +was abominable. His valet, Richard Dell, kept watch over the +luggage and encouraged the ostlers, with a fairly stoical +countenance. He was an old traveller, and though he would have +preferred not to travel in a deluge, he disliked Italy, as a +country of sour wine, and would be glad to find himself across the +Alps. Moreover, he knew the decision of his master's character, +and, being a man of some ability and education, he took a pride in +the loftiness of the affairs on which Ashe was generally engaged. +If Mr. Ashe said that he <i>must</i> get to Geneva the following +morning, and to London the morning after, on important +business—why, he <i>must</i>, and it was no good talking +about weather.</p> +<p>They rattled off through the streets of Domo Dossola, Dell in +front with the driver, under a waterproof hood and apron, Ashe in +the closed landau behind, with a plentiful supply of books, +newspapers, and cigars to while away the time.</p> +<p>At Isella, the frontier village, he took advantage of the +custom-house formalities and of a certain lull in the storm to +stroll a little in front of the inn. On the Italian side, looking +east, there was a certain wild lifting of the clouds, above the +lower course of the stream descending from the Gondo ravine; upon +the distant meadows and mountain slopes that marked the opening of +the Tosa valley, storm-lights came and went, like phantom deer +chased by the storm-clouds; beside him the swollen river thundered +past, seeking a thirsty Italy; and behind, over the famous Gondo +cleft, lay darkness, and a pelting tumult of rain.</p> +<p>Ashe turned back to the carriage, bidding a silent farewell to a +country he did not love—a country mainly significant to him +of memories which rose like a harsh barrier between his present +self and a time when he, too, fleeted life carelessly, like other +men, and found every hour delightful. Never, as long as he lived, +should he come willingly to Italy. But his mother this year had +fallen into such an exhaustion of body and mind, caused by his +father's long agony, that he had persuaded her to let him carry her +over the Alps to Stresa—a place she had known as a girl and +of which she often spoke—for a Whitsuntide holiday. He +himself was no longer in office. A coalition between the Tories and +certain dissident Liberals had turned out Lord Parham's government +in the course of a stormy autumn session, some eight months before. +It had been succeeded by a weak administration, resting on two or +three loosely knit groups—with Ashe as leader of the +Opposition. Hence his comparative freedom, and the chance to be his +mother's escort.</p> +<p>But at Stresa he had been overtaken by some startling political +news—news which seemed to foreshadow an almost immediate +change of ministry; and urgent telegrams bade him return at once. +The coalition on which the government relied had broken down; the +resignation of its chief, a "transient and embarrassed phantom," +was imminent; and it was practically certain, in the singular +dearth of older men on his own side, since the retirement of Lord +Parham, that within a few weeks, if not days, Ashe would be called +upon to form an administration....</p> +<p>The carriage was soon on its way again, and presently, in the +darkness of the superb ravine that stretches west and north from +Gondo, the tumult of wind and water was such that even Ashe's +slackened pulses felt the excitement of it. He left the carriage, +and, wrapped in a waterproof cape, breasted the wind along the +water's edge. Wordsworth's magnificent lines in the "Prelude," +dedicated to this very spot, came back to him, as to one who in +these later months had been able to renew some of the literary +habits and recollections of earlier years</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"—Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light!"</p> +</div> +<p>But here on this wild night were only tumult and darkness; and +if Nature in this aspect were still to be held, as Wordsworth makes +her, the Voice and Apocalypse of God, she breathed a power pitiless +and terrible to man. The fierce stream below, the tiny speck made +by the carriage and horses straining against the hurricane of wind, +the forests on the farther bank climbing to endless heights of +rain, the flowers in the rock crannies lashed and torn, the gloom +and chill which had thus blotted out a June evening: all these +impressions were impressions of war, of struggle and attack, of +forces unfriendly and overwhelming.</p> +<p>A certain restless and melancholy joy in the challenge of the +storm, indeed, Ashe felt, as many another strong man has felt +before him, in a similar emptiness of heart. But it was because of +the mere provocation of physical energy which it involved; not, as +it would have been with him in youth, because of the infinitude and +vastness of nature, breathing power and expectation into man:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Effort, and expectation and desire—<br /> +And something evermore about to be!"</p> +</div> +<p>He flung the words upon the wind, which scattered them as soon +as they were uttered, merely that he might give them a bitter +denial, reject for himself, now and always, the temper they +expressed. He had known it well, none better!—gone to bed, +and risen up with it—the mere joy in the "mere living." It +had seasoned everything, twined round everything, great and +small—a day's trout-fishing or deer-stalking; a new book, a +friend, a famous place; then politics, and the joys of power.</p> +<p>Gone! Here he was, hurrying back to England, to take perhaps in +his still young hand the helm of her vast fortunes; and of all the +old "expectation and desire," the old passion of hope, the old +sense of the magic that lies in things unknown and ways untrodden, +he seemed to himself now incapable. He would do his best, and +without the political wrestle life would be too trifling to be +borne; but the relish and the savor were gone, and all was +gray.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Ah!—he remembered one or two storm-walks with Kitty in +their engaged or early married days—in Scotland chiefly. As +he trudged up this Swiss pass he could see stretches of Scotch +heather under drifting mist, and feel a little figure in its tweed +dress flung suddenly by the wind and its own soft will against his +arm. And then, the sudden embrace, and the wet, fragrant cheek, and +her Voice—mocking and sweet!</p> +<p>Oh, God! where was she now? The shock of her disappearance from +Venice had left in some ways a deeper mark upon him than even the +original catastrophe. For who that had known her could think of +such a being, alone, in a world of strangers, without a peculiar +dread and anguish? That she was alive he knew, for her five hundred +a year—and she had never accepted another penny from him +since her flight—was still drawn on her behalf by a banking +firm in Paris. His solicitors, since the failure of their first +efforts to trace her after Cliffe's death, had made repeated +inquiries; Ashe had himself gone to Paris to see the bankers in +question. But he was met by their solemn promise to Kitty to keep +her secret inviolate. Madame d'Estrées supplied him with the +name of the convent in which Kitty had been brought up; but the +mother superior denied all knowledge of her. Meanwhile no course of +action on Kitty's part could have restored her so effectually to +her place in Ashe's imagination. She haunted his days and nights. +So also did his memory of the Dean's petition. Insensibly, without +argument, the whole attitude of his mind thereto had broken down; +since he had been out of office, and his days and nights were no +longer absorbed in the detail of administration and Parliamentary +leadership, he had been the defenceless prey of grief; yearning and +pity and agonized regret, rising from the deep subconscious self, +had overpowered his first recoil and determination; and in the +absence of all other passionate hope, the one desire and dream +which still lived warm and throbbing at his heart was the dream +that still in some crowd, or loneliness, he might again, before it +was too late, see Kitty's face and the wildness of Kitty's +eyes.</p> +<p>And he believed much the same process had taken place in his +mother's feeling. She rarely spoke of Kitty; but when she did the +doubt and soreness of her mind were plain. Her own life had grown +very solitary. And in particular the old friendship between her and +Polly Lyster had entirely ceased to be. Lady Tranmore shivered when +she was named, and would never herself speak of her if she could +help it. Ashe had tried in vain to make her explain herself. Surely +it was incredible that she could in any way blame Mary for the +incident at Verona? Ashe, of course, remembered the passage in his +mother's letter from Venice, and they had the maid Blanche's report +to Lady Tranmore, of Kitty's intentions when she left Venice, of +her terror when Cliffe appeared—of her swoon. But he believed +with the Dean that any treacherous servant could have brought about +the catastrophe. Vincenzo, one of the gondoliers who took Kitty to +the station, had seen the luggage labelled for Verona; no doubt +Cliffe had bribed him; and this explanation was, indeed, suggested +to Lady Tranmore by the maid. His mother's suspicion—if +indeed she entertained it—was so hideous that Ashe, finding +it impossible to make his own mind harbor it for an instant, was +harrowed by the mere possibility of its existence; as though it +represented some hidden sore of consciousness that refused either +to be probed or healed.</p> +<p>As he labored on against the storm all thought of his present +life and activities dropped away from him; he lived entirely in the +past. "What is it in me," he thought, "that has made the difference +between my life and that of other men I know—that weakened me +so with Kitty?" He canvassed his own character, as a third person +might have done.</p> +<p>The Christian, no doubt, would say that his married life had +failed because God had been absent from it, because there had been +in it no consciousness of higher law, of compelling grace.</p> +<p>Ashe pondered what such things might mean. "The +Christian—in speculative belief—fails under the +challenge of life as often as other men. Surely it depends on +something infinitely more primitive and fundamental than +Christianity?—something out of which Christianity itself +springs? But this something—does it really exist—or am +I only cheating myself by fancying it? Is it, as all the sages have +said, the pursuit of some eternal good, the identification of the +self with it—the 'dying to live'? And is this the real +meaning at the heart of Christianity?—at the heart of all +religion?—the everlasting meaning, let science play what +havoc it please with outward forms and statements?"</p> +<p>Had he, perhaps, <i>doubted the soul?</i></p> +<p>He groaned aloud. "O my God, what matter that I should grow +wise—if Kitty is lost and desolate?"</p> +<p>And he trampled on his own thoughts—feeling them a mere +hypocrisy and offence.</p> +<p>As they left the Gondo ravine and began to climb the zigzag road +to the Simplon inn, the storm grew still wilder, and the driver, +with set lips and dripping face, urged his patient beasts against a +deluge. The road ran rivers; each torrent, carefully channelled, +that passed beneath it brought down wood and soil in choking +abundance; and Ashe watched the downward push of the rain on the +high, exposed banks above the carriage. Once they passed a fragment +of road which had been washed away; the driver pointing to it said +something sulkily about "<i>frane"</i> on the "other side."</p> +<p>This bad moment, however, proved to be the last and worst, and +when they emerged upon the high valley in which stands the village +of Simplon, the rain was already lessening and the clouds rolling +up the great sides and peaks of the Fletschhorn. Ashe promised +himself a comparatively fine evening and a rapid run down to +Brieg.</p> +<p>Outside the old Simplon posting-house, however, they presently +came upon a crowd of vehicles of every description, of which the +drivers were standing in groups with dripping rugs across their +shoulders—shouting and gesticulating.</p> +<p>And as they drove up the news was thundered at them in every +possible tongue. Between the hospice and Bérizal two hundred +metres of road had been completely washed away. The afternoon +diligence had just got through by a miracle an hour before the +accident occurred; before anything else could pass it would take at +least ten or twelve hours' hard work, through the night, before the +laborers now being requisitioned by the commune could possibly +provide even a temporary passage.</p> +<p>Ashe in despair went into the inn to speak with the landlord, +and found that unless he was prepared to abandon books and papers, +and make a push for it over mountain paths covered deep in fresh +snow, there was no possible escape from the dilemma. He must stay +the night. The navvies were already on their way; and as soon as +ever the road was passable he should know. For not even a future +Prime Minister of England could Herr Ludwig do more.</p> +<p>He and Dell went gloomily up the narrow stone stairs of the inn +to look at the bedrooms, which were low-roofed and primitive, +penetrated everywhere by the roar of a stream which came down close +behind the inn. Through the open door of one of the rooms Ashe saw +the foaming mass, framed as it were in a window, and almost in the +house.</p> +<p>He chose two small rooms looking on the street, and bade Dell +get a fire lit in one of them, a bed moved out, an arm-chair moved +in, and as large a table set for him as the inn could provide, +while he took a stroll before dinner. He had some important letters +to answer, and he pointed out to Dell the bag which contained +them.</p> +<p>Then he stepped out into the muddy street, which was still a +confusion of horses, vehicles, and men, and, turning up a path +behind the inn, was soon in solitude. An evening of splendor! +Nature was still in a tragic, declamatory mood—sending piled +thunder-clouds of dazzling white across a sky extravagantly blue, +and throwing on the high snow-fields and craggy tops a fierce, +flame-colored light. The valley was resonant with angry sound, and +the village, now in shadow, with its slender, crumbling campanile, +seemed like a cowering thing over which the eagle has passed.</p> +<p>The grandeur and the freshness, the free, elemental play of +stream and sky and mountain, seized upon a man in whom the main +impulses of life were already weary, and filled him with an +involuntary physical delight. He noticed the flowers at his feet, +in the drenched grass which was already lifting up its battered +stalks, and along the margins of the streams—deep blue +colombines, white lilies, and yellow anemones. Incomparable beauty +lived and breathed in each foot of pasture; and when he raised his +eyes from the grass they fed on visionary splendors of snow and +rock, stretching into the heavens.</p> +<p>No life visible—except a line of homing cattle, led by a +little girl with tucked-up skirt and bare feet. And—in the +distance—the slender figure of a woman walking—stopping +often to gather a flower—or to rest? Not a woman of the +valley, clearly. No doubt a traveller, weather-bound like himself +at the inn. He watched the figure a little, for some vague grace of +movement that seemed to enter into and make a part of that high +beauty in which the scene was steeped; but it disappeared behind a +fold of pasture, and he did not see it again.</p> +<p>In spite of the multitude of vehicles gathered about the inn +there were not so many guests in the <i>salle-à-manger</i>, +when Ashe entered it, as he had expected. He supposed that a +majority of these vehicles must be return carriages from Brieg. +Still there was much clatter of talk and plates, and German seemed +to be the prevailing tongue. Except for a couple whom Ashe took to +be a Genevese professor and his wife, there was no lady in the +room.</p> +<p>He lingered somewhat late at table, toying with his orange, and +reading a <i>Journal de Genève</i>, captured from a +neighbor, which contained an excellent "London letter." The room +emptied. The two Swiss handmaidens came in to clear away soiled +linen and arrange the tables for the morning's coffee. Only, at a +farther table, a <i>couvert</i> for one person, set by itself, +remained still untouched.</p> +<p>He happened to be alone in the room when the door again opened +and a lady entered. She did not see him behind his newspaper, and +she walked languidly to the farther table and sat down. As she did +so she was seized with a fit of coughing, and when it was over she +leaned her head on her hands, gasping.</p> +<p>Ashe had half risen—the newspaper was crushed in his +hand—when the Swiss waitress whom the men of the inn called +Fräulein Anna—who was, indeed, the daughter of the +landlord—came back.</p> +<p>"How are you, madame?" she said, with a smile, and in a slow +English of which she was evidently proud.</p> +<p>"I'm better to-day," said the other, hastily. "I shall start +to-morrow. What a noise there is to-night!" she added, in a tone +both fretful and weary.</p> +<p>"We are so full—it is the accident to the road, madame. +Will madame have a <i>thé complet</i> as before?"</p> +<p>The lady nodded, and Frãulein Anna, who evidently knew +her ways, brought in the tea at once, stayed chatting beside her +for a minute, and then departed, with a long, disapproving look at +the gentleman in the corner who was so long over his coffee and +would not let her clear away.</p> +<p>Ashe made a fierce effort to still the thumping in his breast +and decide what he should do. For the guests there was only one +door of entrance or exit, and to reach it he must pass close beside +the new-comer.</p> +<p>He laid down his newspaper. She heard the rustling, and +involuntarily looked round.</p> +<p>There was a slight sound—an exclamation. She rose. He +heard and saw her coming, and sat tranced and motionless, his eyes +bent upon her. She came tottering, clinging to the chairs, her hand +on her side, till she reached the corner where he was.</p> +<p>"William!" she said, with a little, glad sob, under her +breath—"William!"</p> +<p>He himself could not speak. He stood there gazing at her, his +lips moving without sound. It seemed to him that she turned her +head a moment, as though to look for some one beside him—with +an exquisite tremor of the mouth.</p> +<p>"Isn't it strange?" she said, in the same guarded voice. "I had +a dream once—a valley—and mountains—and an inn. +You sat here—just like this—and—"</p> +<p>She put up her hands to her eyes a moment, shivered, and +withdrew them. From her expression she seemed to be waiting for him +to speak. He moved and stood beside her.</p> +<p>"Where can we talk?" he said, with difficulty. She shook her +head vaguely, looking round her with that slight frown, complaining +and yet sweet, which was like a touch of fire on memory.</p> +<p>The waitress came back into the room.</p> +<p>"It <i>is</i> odd to have met you here!" said Kitty, in a +laughing voice. "Let us go into the <i>salon de lecture</i>. The +maids want to clear away. Please bring your newspaper."</p> +<p>Fräulein Anna looked at them with a momentary curiosity, +and went on with her work. They passed into the passage-way +outside, which was full of smokers overflowing from the crowded +room beyond, where the humbler frequenters of the inn ate and +drank.</p> +<p>Kitty glanced round her in bewilderment. "The <i>salon de +lecture</i> will be full, too. Where shall we go?" she said, +looking up.</p> +<p>Ashe's hand clinched as it hung beside him. The old +gesture—and the drawn, emaciated face—they pierced the +heart.</p> +<p>"I told my servant to arrange me a sitting-room up-stairs," he +said, hurriedly, in her ear. "Will you go up first?—number +ten."</p> +<p>She nodded, and began slowly to mount the stairs, coughing as +she went. The man whom Ashe had taken for a Genevese professor +looked after her, glanced at his neighbor, and shrugged his +shoulders. "Phthisique," he said, with a note of pity. The other +nodded. "Et d'un type très avancé!"</p> +<p>They moved towards the door and stood looking into the night, +which was dark with intermittent rain. Ashe studied a map of the +commune which hung on the wall beside him, till at a moment when +the passage had become comparatively clear he turned and went +up-stairs.</p> +<p>The door of his improvised <i>salon</i> was ajar. Beyond it his +valet was coming out of his bedroom with wet clothes over his arm. +Ashe hesitated. But the man had been with him through the greater +part of his married life, and was a good heart. He beckoned him +back into the room he was leaving, and the two stepped inside.</p> +<p>"Dell, my good fellow, I want your help. I have just met my wife +here—Lady Kitty. You understand. Neither of us, of course, +had any idea. Lady Kitty is very ill. We wish to have a +conversation—uninterrupted. I trust you to keep guard."</p> +<p>The young man, son of one of the Haggart gardeners, started and +flushed, then gave his master a look of sympathy.</p> +<p>"I'll do my best, sir."</p> +<p>Ashe nodded and went back to the next room. He closed the door +behind him. Kitty, who was sitting by the fire, half rose. Their +eyes met. Then with a stifled cry he flung himself down, kneeling +beside her, and she sank into his arms. His tears fell on her face, +anguish and pity overwhelmed him.</p> +<p>"You may!" she said, brokenly, putting up her hand to his cheek, +and kissing him—"you may! I'm not mad or wicked now—and +I'm dying!"</p> +<p>Agonized murmurs of love, pardon, self-abasement passed between +them. It was as though a great stream bore them on its breast; an +awful and majestic power enwrapped them, and made each word, each +kiss, wonderful, sacramental. He drew himself away at last, holding +her hair back from her brow and temples, studying her features, his +own face convulsed.</p> +<p>"Where have you been? Why did you hide from me?"</p> +<p>"You forbade me," she said, stroking his hair. "And it was quite +right. The dear Dean told me—and I quite understood. If I'd +gone to Haggart then there'd have been more trouble. I should have +tried to get my old place back. And now it's all over. You can give +me all I want, because I can't live. It's only a question of +months, perhaps weeks. Nobody could blame you, could they? People +don't laugh when—it's death. It simplifies things +so—doesn't it?"</p> +<p>She smiled, and nestled to him again.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" he said, almost violently. "Why are you so +ill?"</p> +<p>"It was Bosnia first, and then—being miserable—I +suppose. And Poitiers was very cold—and the nuns very stuffy, +bless them—they wouldn't let me have air enough."</p> +<p>He groaned aloud while he remembered his winter in London, in +the forlorn luxury of the Park Lane house.</p> +<p>"Where have you been?" he repeated.</p> +<p>"Oh! I went to the Soeurs Blanches—you +remember?—where I used to be. You went there, didn't +you?"—he made a sign of miserable assent—"but I made +them promise not to tell! There was an old mistress of novices +there still who used to be very fond of me. She got one of the +houses of the Sacré Coeur to take me in—at Poitiers. +They thought they were gathering a stray sheep back into the fold, +you understand, as I was brought up a Catholic—of sorts. And +I didn't mind!" The familiar intonation, soft, complacent, +humorous, rose like a ghost between them. "I used to like going to +mass. But this Easter they wanted to make me 'go to my +duties'—you know what it means?—and I wouldn't. I +wanted to confess." She shuddered and drew his face down to hers +again—"but only once—to—you—and then, well +then, to die, and have done with it. You see, I knew one can't get +on long with three-quarters of a lung. And they were rather +tiresome—they didn't understand. So three weeks ago I drew +some money out and said good-bye to them. Oh! they were very kind, +and very sorry for me. They wanted me to take a maid, and I meant +to. But the one they found wouldn't come with me when she saw how +ill I was—and it all lingered on—so one day I just +walked out to the railway-station and went to Paris. But Paris was +rainy—and I felt I must see the sun again. So I stayed two +nights at a little hotel maman used to go to—horrid +place!—and each night I read your speeches in the +reading-room—and then I got my things from Poitiers, and +started—"</p> +<p>A fit of coughing stopped her, coughing so terrible and +destructive that he almost rushed for help. But she restrained him. +She made him understand that she wanted certain remedies from her +own room across the corridor. He went for them. The door of this +room had been shut by the observant Dell, who was watching the +passage from his own bedroom farther on. When Ashe had opened it he +found himself face to face as it were with the foaming stream +outside. The window, as he had seen it before, was wide open to the +water-fall just beyond it, and the temperature was piercingly cold +and damp. The furniture was of the roughest, and a few of Kitty's +clothes lay scattered about. As he fumbled for a light, there +hovered before his eyes the remembrance of their room in Hill +Street, strewn with chiffons and all the elegant and costly trifles +that made the natural setting of its mistress.</p> +<p>He found the medicines and hurried back. She feebly gave him +directions. "Now the strychnine!—and some brandy."</p> +<p>He did all he could. He drew some chairs together before the +fire, and made a couch for her with pillows and rugs. She thanked +him with smiles, and her eyes followed his every movement.</p> +<p>"Tell your man to get some milk! And listen"—she caught +his hand. "Lock my door. That nice woman down-stairs will come to +look after me, and she'll think I'm asleep."</p> +<p>It was done as she wished. Ashe took in the milk from Dell's +hands, and a fresh supply of wood. Then he turned the key in his +own door and came back to her. She was lying quiet, and seemed +revived.</p> +<p>"How cosey!" she said, with a childish pleasure, looking round +her at the bare white walls and scoured boards warmed with the +fire-light. The bitter tears swam in Ashe's eyes. He fell into a +chair on the other side of the fire, and stared—seeing +nothing—at the burning logs.</p> +<p>"You needn't suppose that I don't get people to look after me!" +she went on, smiling at him again, one shadowy hand propping her +cheek. And she prattled on about the kindness of the chambermaids +at Vevey and Brieg, and how one of them had wanted to come with her +as her maid. "Oh! I shall find one at Florence if I get +there—or a nurse. But just for these few days I wanted to be +free! In the winter there were so many people about—so many +eyes! I just pined to cheat them—get quit of them. A maid +would have bothered me to stay in bed and see doctors—and you +know, William, with this illness of mine you're so +<i>restless</i>!"</p> +<p>"Where were you going to?" he said, without looking up.</p> +<p>"Oh! to Italy somewhere—just to see some flowers +again—and the sun. Only not to Venice!"</p> +<p>There was a silence, which she broke by a sudden cry as she drew +him down to her.</p> +<p>"William! you know—I was coming home to you, when that +man—found me."</p> +<p>"I know. If it had only been I who killed him!"</p> +<p>"I'm just—<i>Kitty</i>!" she said, choking—"as bad +as bad can be. But I couldn't have done what Mary Lyster did."</p> +<p>"Kitty—for God's sake!"</p> +<p>"Oh, I know it," she said, almost with triumph—"now I +<i>know</i> it. I determined to know—and I got people in +Venice to find out. She sent the message—that told him where +I was—and I know the man who took it. I suppose it would be +pathetic if I sent her word that I had forgiven her. But I +<i>haven't</i>!"</p> +<p>Ashe cried out that it was wholly and utterly inconceivable.</p> +<div><a name="image-556.jpg" id="image-556.jpg"></a></div> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/image-556.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-556.jpg" width="80%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"HE DREW SOME CHAIRS TOGETHER BEFORE THE FIRE"</b></p> +<p>"Oh no!—she hated me because I had robbed her of Geoffrey. +I had killed her life, I suppose—she killed mine. It was what +I deserved, of course; only just at that moment—If there is a +God, William, how could He have let it happen so?"</p> +<p>The tears choked her. He left his seat, and, kneeling beside +her, he raised her in his arms, while she murmured broken and +anguished confessions.</p> +<p>"I was so weak—and frightened. And <i>he</i> said, it was +no good trying to go back to you. Everybody knew I had gone to +Verona—and he had followed me—No one would ever +believe—And he wouldn't go—wouldn't leave me. It would +be mere cruelty and desertion, he said. My real life was—with +him. And I seemed—paralyzed. Who <i>had</i> sent that +message? It never occurred to me—I felt as if some demon held +me—and I couldn't escape—"</p> +<p>And again the sighs and tears, which wrung his heart—with +which his own mingled. He tried to comfort her; but what comfort +could there be? They had been the victims of a crime as hideous as +any murder; and yet—behind the crime—there stretched +back into the past the preparations and antecedents by which they +themselves, alack, had contributed to their own undoing. Had they +not both trifled with the mysterious test of life—he no less +than she? And out of the dark had come the axe-stroke that ends +weakness, and crushes the unsteeled, inconstant will.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>After long silence, she began to talk in a rambling, delirious +way of her months in Bosnia. She spoke of the <i>cold</i>—of +the high mountain loneliness—of the terrible sights she had +seen—till he drew her, shuddering, closer into his arms. And +yet there was that in her talk which amazed him; flashes of +insight, of profound and passionate experience, which seemed to +fashion her anew before his eyes. The hard peasant life, in contact +with the soil and natural forces; the elemental facts of birth and +motherhood, of daily toil and suffering; what it means to fight +oppressors for freedom, and see your dearest—son, lover, +wife, betrothed—die horribly amid the clash of arms; into +this caldron of human fate had Kitty plunged her light soul; and in +some ways Ashe scarcely knew her again.</p> +<p>She recurred often to the story of a youth, handsome and +beardless, who had been wounded by a stray Turkish shot in the +course of the long climb to the village where she nursed. He had +managed to gain the height, and then, killed by the march as much +as by the shot, he had sunk down to die on the ground-floor of the +house where Kitty lived.</p> +<p>"He was a stranger—no one knew him in the village—no +one cared. They had their own griefs. I dressed his wound—and +gave him water. He thought I was his mother, and asked me to kiss +him. I kissed him, William—and he smiled once—before +the last hemorrhage. If you had seen the cold, dismal +room—and his poor face!"</p> +<p>Ashe gathered her to his breast. And after a while she said, +with closed eyes:</p> +<p>"Oh, what pain there is in the world, William!—what +<i>pain</i>! That's what—I never knew."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The evening wore on. All the noises ceased down-stairs. One by +one the guests came up the stone stairs and along the creaking +corridor. Boots were thrown out; the doors closed. The strokes of +eleven o'clock rang out from the village campanile; and amid the +quiet of the now drizzling rain the echoes of the bell lingered on +the ear. Last of all a woman's step passed the door—stopped +at the door of Kitty's room, as though some one listened, and then +gently returned. "Fräulein Anna!" said Kitty—"she's a +good soul."</p> +<p>Soon nothing was heard but the roar of the flooded stream on one +side of the old narrow building and the dripping of rain on the +other. Their low voices were amply covered by these sounds. The +night lay before them, safe and undisturbed. Candles burned on the +mantel-piece, and on a table behind Kitty's head was a paraffine +lamp. She seemed to have a craving for light.</p> +<p>"Kitty!" said Ashe, suddenly bending over her—"understand! +I shall never leave you again."</p> +<p>She started, her head fell back on his arm, and her brown eyes +considered him:</p> +<p>"William! I saw the <i>Standard</i> at Geneva. Aren't you going +home—because of politics?"</p> +<p>"A few telegrams will settle that. I shall take you to Geneva +to-morrow. We shall get doctors there."</p> +<p>A little smile played about her mouth—a smile which did +not seem to have any reference to his words or to her next +question.</p> +<p>"Nobody thinks of the book now, do they, William?"</p> +<p>"No, Kitty, no! It's all forgotten, dear."</p> +<p>"Oh, it was abominable!" She drew a long breath. "But I can't +help it—I did get a horrid pleasure out of writing +it—till Venice—till you left off loving me. Oh, +William! William!—what a good thing it is I'm dying!"</p> +<p>"Hush, Kitty—hush."</p> +<p>"It gives one such an unfair advantage, though, doesn't it? You +can't ever be angry with me again. There won't be time. William, +dear!—I haven't had a brain like other people. I know it. +It's only since I've been so ill—that I've been sane! It's a +strange feeling—as though one had been <i>bled</i>—and +some poison had drained away. But it would never do for me to take +a turn and live! Oh no!—people like me are better safely +under the grass. Oh, my beloved! my beloved! I just want to say +that all the time, and nothing else—I've hungered so to say +it!"</p> +<p>He answered her with all the anguish, all the passionate, +fruitless tenderness and vain comfortings that rise from the human +heart in such a strait. But when he asked her pardon for his +hardness towards the Dean's petition, when he said that his +conscience had tormented him thenceforward, she would scarcely hear +a word.</p> +<p>"You did quite right," she said, peremptorily—"quite +right."</p> +<p>Then she raised herself on her arm and looked at him.</p> +<p>"William!" she said, with a strange, kindled expression. +"I—I don't think I can live any more! I think—I'm +dying—here—now!"</p> +<p>She fell back on her pillows, and he sprang to his feet, crying +that he must go for Fräulein Anna and a doctor. But she held +him feebly, motioning towards the brandy and strychnine. "That's +all—you can do."</p> +<p>He gave them to her, and again she revived and smiled at +him.</p> +<p>"Don't be frightened. It was a sudden feeling—it came over +me—that this dear little room—and your arms—would +be the end. Oh, how much best! There!—that was +foolish!—I'm better. It isn't only the lungs, you see; they +say the heart's worst. I nearly went at Vevey, one night. It was +such a long faint."</p> +<p>Then she lay quiet, with her hand in his, in a dreamy, peaceful +state, and his panic subsided. Once she sent messages to Lady +Tranmore—messages full of sorrow, touched also—by a +word here, a look there—by the charm of the old Kitty.</p> +<p>"I don't deserve to die like this," she said, once, with a +half-impatient gesture. "Nothing can prevent it's being +beautiful—and touching—you know; our meeting like +this—and your goodness to me. Oh, I'm glad! But I don't want +to glorify—what I've done. <i>Shame! Shame!"</i></p> +<p>And again her face contracted with the old habitual agony, only +to be soothed away gradually by his tone and presence, the spending +of his whole being in the broken words of love.</p> +<p>Towards the morning, when, as it seemed to him, she had been +sleeping for a time, and he had been, if not sleeping, at least +dreaming awake beside her, he heard a little, low laugh, and looked +round. Her brown eyes were wide open, till they seemed to fill the +small, blighted face; and they were fixed on an empty chair the +other side of the fire.</p> +<p>"It's so strange—in this illness," she +whispered—"that it makes one dream—and generally kind +dreams. It's fever—but it's nice." She turned and looked at +him. "Harry was there, William—sitting in that chair. Not a +baby any more—but a little fellow—and so lively, and +strong, and quick. I had you both—<i>both</i>."</p> +<p>Looking back afterwards, also, he remembered that she spoke +several times of religious hopes and beliefs—especially of +the hope in another life—and that they seemed to sustain her. +Most keenly did he recollect the delicacy with which she had +refrained from asking his opinion upon them, lest it should trouble +him not to be able to uphold or agree with her; while, at the same +time, she wished him to have the comfort of remembering that she +had drawn strength and calm, in these last hours, from religious +thoughts.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>For they proved, indeed, to be the last hours. About three the +morning began to dawn, clear and rosy, with rich lights striking on +the snow. Suddenly Kitty sat up, disengaged herself from her wraps, +and tottered to her feet.</p> +<p>"I'll go back to my room," she said, in bewilderment. "I'd +rather."</p> +<p>And as she clung to him, with a startled yet half-considering +look, she gazed round her, at the bright fire, the morning light, +the chair from which he had risen—his face.</p> +<p>He tried to dissuade her. But she would go. Her aspect, however, +was deathlike, and as he softly undid the doors, and half-helped, +half-carried her across the passage, he said to her that he must go +and waken Fräulein Anna and find a doctor.</p> +<p>"No—no." She grasped him with all her remaining strength; +"stay with me."</p> +<p>They entered the little room, which seemed to be in a glory of +light, for the sun striking across the low roof of the inn had +caught the foamy water-fall beyond, and the reflection of it on the +white walls and ceiling was dazzling.</p> +<p>Beside the bed she swayed and nearly fell.</p> +<p>"I won't undress," she murmured—"I'll just lie down."</p> +<p>She lay down with his help, turning her face to make a fond, +hardly articulate sound, and press her cheek against his. In a few +minutes it seemed to him that she was sleeping again. He softly +went out of the room and down-stairs. There, early as it was, he +found Fräulein Anna, who looked at him with amazement.</p> +<p>"Where can I find a doctor?" he asked her; and they talked for a +few minutes, after which she went up-stairs beside him, trembling +and flushed.</p> +<p>They found Kitty lying on her side, her face hidden entirely in +the curls which had fallen across it, and one arm hanging. There +was that in her aspect which made them both recoil. Then Ashe +rushed to her with a cry, and as he passionately kissed her cold +cheek he heard the clamor of the frightened girl behind him. "Ach, +Gott!—Ach Gott!"—and the voices of others, men and +women, who began to crowd into the narrow room.</p> +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14126 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-000.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-000.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..64361cb --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-000.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-002.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..49e8333 --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-002.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-006.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0697157 --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-006.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-044.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-044.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b016d0e --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-044.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-200.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-200.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..469230b --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-200.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-278.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-278.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1fd8346 --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-278.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-474.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-474.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..375a923 --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-474.jpg diff --git a/14126-h/images/image-556.jpg b/14126-h/images/image-556.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ff1cd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/14126-h/images/image-556.jpg |
