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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hoyden, by Mrs. Hungerford
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Hoyden
+
+Author: Mrs. Hungerford
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2005 [EBook #16137]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont <daniel.fromont@cnc.fr>
+April 2005
+2005 is the 150th anniversary of Mrs. Hungerford's birthday.
+
+
+
+
+
+Mrs. Hungerford (Margaret Wolfe Hamilton) (1855?-1897)
+
+The Hoyden (1894)
+Tauchnitz edition
+
+
+
+
+
+
+_The Hoyden_ reviewed in the _Scotsman_ :
+
+"A clever, sprightly story... Fresh, sunshiny, and delightful"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTION
+
+OF
+
+BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+
+
+VOL. 2956.
+
+
+
+THE HOYDEN.
+BY MRS. HUNGERFORD.
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+
+
+
+VOL. I.
+
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+
+
+By the same Author.
+
+
+
+MOLLY BAWN 2 vols.
+
+MRS. GEOFFREY 2 vols.
+
+FAITH AND UNFAITH 2 vols.
+
+PORTIA 2 vols.
+
+LOYS, LORD BERRESFORD, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+HER FIRST APPEARANCE, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+PHYLLIS 2 vols.
+
+ROSSMOYNE 2 vols.
+
+DORIS 2 vols.
+
+A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+A PASSIVE CRIME, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+GREEN PLEASURE AND GREY GRIEF 2 vols.
+
+A MENTAL STRUGGLE 2 vols.
+
+HER WEEK'S AMUSEMENT, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+LADY BRANKSMERE 2 vols.
+
+LADY VALWORTH'S DIAMONDS 1 vol.
+
+A MODERN CIRCE 2 vols.
+
+MARVEL 2 vols.
+
+THE HON. MRS. VEREKER 1 vol.
+
+UNDER-CURRENTS 2 vols.
+
+IN DURANCE VILE, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+A TROUBLESOME GIRL, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+A LIFE'S REMORSE 2 vols.
+
+A BORN COQUETTE 2 vols.
+
+THE DUCHESS 1 vol.
+
+LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT 1 vol.
+
+A CONQUERING HEROINE, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+NORA CREINA 2 vols.
+
+A MAD PRANK, ETC. 1 vol.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE HOYDEN
+
+
+
+A NOVEL
+
+
+
+BY MRS. HUNGERFORD
+
+
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"MOLLY BAWN," "PHYLLIS," "A CONQUERING
+HEROINE,"
+
+ETC. ETC.
+
+
+
+_COPYRIGHT EDITION._
+
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+
+
+
+VOL. I.
+
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1894.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+OF VOLUME I.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+How Diamond cut Diamond, and how the Sparks flew
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+How Margaret pleads for the little Hoyden, and with what Ill-success
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+How Lady Rylton says a few Things that would have been better left
+unsaid. How "The Scheme" is laid before Sir Maurice, and how he
+refuses to have anything to do with it
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+How the Heart of Maurice grew hot within him, and how he put the
+Question to the Touch, and how he neither lost nor won
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Showing how, when People do congregate together much Knowledge may
+be found, and how the little Hoyden has some kind Things said about
+her
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+How Games were played, "of Sorts"; and how Tita was much harried,
+but how she bore herself valiantly, and, how, not knowing of her
+Victories, she won all through
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+How the Argument grows higher; and how Marian loses her Temper, and
+how Margaret objects to the Ruin of one young Life
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+How a Storm raged; and how, when a Man and Woman met Face to Face,
+the Victory--for a Wonder--went to the Man
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+How Maurice places his Life in the Hands of the Hoyden, and how she
+tells him many Things, and desires many Things of him
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+How Maurice gives Way to Temper, and how Lady Rylton plants a Shaft
+or two. And how Margaret says a Word in Season, and how in return
+Colonel Neilson says a Word to her
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+How the last Day comes, and how some strange Words are said before
+the Marriage is accomplished; and how Marion Bethune scores a Point
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+How Tita comes back from her Honeymoon, and how her Husband's Mother
+tells her of certain Things that should have been left untold
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+How a young and lovely Nature takes a Shock most cruelly
+administered. And how a Dowager takes a new Name as a direct Insult.
+And how Tita declines to promise anything
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+How Tita comes to Oakdean, and is glad. And how Maurice calls to
+her, and she performs an Acrobatic Feat. And how a Discussion arises
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+How Tita tells of two strange Dreams, and of how they moved her. And
+how Maurice sets his Soul on asking a Guest to Oakdean; and how he
+gains his Desire
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+How a dull Morning gives Birth to a strange Afternoon. And how
+Rylton's Eyes are widened by a Friend
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+How Tita suggests a Game of Blind Man's Buff, and what comes of it
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+How Tita gets a Scolding, and how she rebels and accuses Sir Maurice
+of Breach of Contract
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+How Rylton's Heart condemns him. And how, as he walks, a Serpent
+stings him. And how he is recovered of his Wound. And how the little
+Rift is mended--but with too fine Thread
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+How Tita takes high Ground, and how she brings her Husband, of all
+People, to her Feet
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+How everyone goes to Lady Warbeck's Dance, and helps to make it a
+Success; and how many curious Things are said and done there
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+How Rylton asks his Wife to tread a Measure with him, and how the
+Fates weave a little Mesh for Tita's pretty Feet
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+How Marian fights for Mastery; and how the Battle goes; and how
+Chance befriends the Enemy
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+How Rylton makes a most dishonourable Bet, and how he repents of it;
+and how, though he would have withdrawn from it, he finds he cannot
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+How Tita told a Secret to Tom Hescott in the Moonlight; and how he
+sought to discover many Things, and how he was most innocently
+baffled
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+How Tita looks at herself in the Glass, and wonders; and how she
+does her Hair in quite a new Style, and goes to ask Sir Maurice what
+he thinks of it; and how he answers her
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+How Sir Maurice feels uneasy; and how Tita, for once, shows herself
+implacable, and refuses to accept the Overtures of Peace. And how a
+little Gossip warms the Air
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE HOYDEN.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND, AND HOW THE SPARKS FLEW.
+
+
+
+The windows are all wide open, and through them the warm, lazy
+summer wind is stealing languidly. The perfume of the seringas from
+the shrubbery beyond, mingled with all the lesser but more delicate
+delights of the garden beneath, comes with the wind, and fills the
+drawing-room of The Place with a vague, almost drowsy sense of
+sweetness.
+
+Mrs. Bethune, with a face that smiles always, though now her very
+soul is in revolt, leans back against the cushions of her lounging
+chair, her fine red hair making a rich contrast with the pale-blue
+satin behind it.
+
+"You think he will marry her, then?"
+
+"Think, think!" says Lady Rylton pettishly. "I can't afford to
+_think_ about it. I tell you he _must_ marry her. It has come to the
+very last ebb with us now, and unless Maurice consents to this
+arrangement----"
+
+She spreads her beautiful little hands abroad, as if in eloquent
+description of an end to her sentence.
+
+Mrs. Bethune bursts out laughing. She can always laugh at pleasure.
+
+"It sounds like the old Bible story," says she; "you have an only
+son, and you must sacrifice him!"
+
+"Don't study to be absurd!" says Lady Rylton, with a click of her
+fan that always means mischief.
+
+She throws herself back in her chair, and a tiny frown settles upon
+her brow. She is such a small creation of Nature's that only a frown
+of the slightest dimensions _could_ settle itself comfortably
+between her eyes. Still, as a frown, it is worth a good deal! It has
+cowed a good many people in its day, and had, indeed, helped to make
+her a widow at an early age. Very few people stood up against Lady
+Rylton's tempers, and those who did never came off quite unscathed.
+
+"Absurd! Have I been absurd?" asks Mrs. Bethune. "My dear
+Tessie"--she is Lady Rylton's niece, but Lady Rylton objects to
+being called aunt--"such a sin has seldom been laid to my charge."
+
+"Well, _I_ lay it," says Lady Rylton with some emphasis.
+
+She leans back in her chair, and, once again unfurling the huge
+black fan she carries, waves it to and fro.
+
+Marian Bethune leans back in her chair too, and regards her aunt
+with a gaze that never wavers. The two poses are in their way
+perfect, but it must be confessed that the palm goes to the younger
+woman.
+
+It might well have been otherwise, as Lady Rylton is still, even at
+forty-six, a very graceful woman. Small--very small--a sort of
+pocket Venus as it were, but so carefully preserved that at
+forty-six she might easily be called thirty-five. If it were not for
+her one child, the present Sir Maurice Rylton, this fallacy might
+have been carried through. But, unfortunately, Sir Maurice is now
+twenty-eight by the church register. Lady Rylton hates church
+registers; they tell so much; and truth is always so rude!
+
+She is very fair. Her blue eyes have still retained their azure
+tint--a strange thing at her age. Her little hands and feet are as
+tiny now as when years ago they called all London town to look at
+them on her presentation to her Majesty. She has indeed a charming
+face, a slight figure, and a temper that would shame the devil.
+
+It isn't a quick temper--one can forgive that. It is a temper that
+remembers--remembers always, and that in a mild, ladylike sort of
+way destroys the one it fastens upon. Yet she is a dainty creature;
+fragile, fair, and pretty, even now. It is generally in these
+dainty, pretty, soulless creatures that the bitterest venom of all
+is to be found.
+
+Her companion is different. Marian Bethune is a tall woman, with a
+face not perhaps strictly handsome, but yet full of a beautiful
+_diablerie_ that raises it above mere comeliness. Her hair is red--a
+rich red--magnificent red hair that coils itself round her shapely
+head, and adds another lustre to the exquisite purity of her skin.
+Her eyes have a good deal of red in them, too, mixed with a warm
+brown--wonderful eyes that hold you when they catch you, and are
+difficult to forget. Some women are born with strange charms; Marian
+Bethune is one of them. To go through the world with such charms is
+a risk, for it must mean ruin or salvation, joy or desolation to
+many. Most of all is it a risk to the possessor of those charms.
+
+There have been some who have denied the right of Marian to the
+title beautiful. But for the most part they have been women, and
+with regard to those others--the male minority--well, Mrs. Bethune
+could sometimes prove unkind, and there are men who do not readily
+forgive. Her mouth is curious, large and full, but not easily to be
+understood. Her eyes may speak, but her mouth is a sphinx. Yet it is
+a lovely mouth, and the little teeth behind it shine like pearls.
+For the rest, she is a widow. She married very badly; went abroad
+with her husband; buried him in Montreal; and came home again. Her
+purse is as slender as her figure, and not half so well worth
+possessing. She says she is twenty-eight, and to her praise be it
+acknowledged that she speaks the truth. Even _good_ women sometimes
+stammer over this question!
+
+"My sin, my sin?" demands she now gaily, smiling at Lady Rylton.
+
+She flings up her lovely arms, and fastens them behind her head. Her
+smile is full of mockery.
+
+"Of course, my dear Marian, you cannot suppose that I have been
+blind to the fact that you and Maurice have--for the past
+year--been--er----"
+
+"Philandering?" suggests Mrs. Bethune lightly.
+
+She leans a little forward, her soft curved chin coming in
+recognition.
+
+"I beg, Marian, you won't be vulgar," says Lady Rylton, fanning
+herself petulantly. "It's worse than being immoral."
+
+"Far, _far_ worse!" Mrs. Bethune leans back in her chair, and laughs
+aloud. "Well, I'm not immoral," says she.
+
+Her laughter rings through the room. The hot sun behind her is
+lighting the splendid masses of her red hair, and the disdainful
+gleam that dwells in her handsome eyes.
+
+"Of course not," says Lady Rylton, a little stiffly; "even to
+_mention_ such a thing seems to be--er--a little----"
+
+"_Only_ a little?" says Mrs. Bethune, arching her brows. "Oh,
+Tessie!" She pauses, and then with an eloquent gesture goes on
+again. "After all, why shouldn't I be immoral?" says she. Once again
+she flings her arms above her head so that her fingers grow clasped
+behind it. "It pays! It certainly pays. It is only the goody-goodies
+who go to the wall."
+
+"My _dear_ Marian!" says Lady Rylton, with a delicate pretence at
+horror; she puts up her hands, but after a second or so bursts out
+laughing. "I always say you are the one creature who amuses me,"
+cries she, leaning back, and giving full play to her mirth. "I never
+get _at_ you, somehow. I am never _quite_ sure whether you are very
+good or very--well, very much the other thing. That is your charm."
+
+The stupid, pretty little woman has reached a truth in spite of
+herself--that _is_ Mrs. Bethune's charm.
+
+A quick change passes over the latter's face. There is extreme
+hatred in it. It is gone, however, as soon as born, and remains for
+ever a secret to her companion.
+
+"Does that amuse you?" says she airily. "I dare say a perpetual
+riddle _is_ interesting. One can never guess it."
+
+"As for that, I can read you easily enough," says Lady Rylton, with
+a superior air. "You are original, but--yes--I can read you." She
+could as easily have read a page of Sanscrit. "It is your
+originality I like. I have never, in spite of many things, been in
+the least sorry that I gave you a home on the death of
+your--er--rather disreputable husband."
+
+Mrs. Bethune looks sweetly at her.
+
+"And _such_ a home!" says she.
+
+"Not a word, not a word," entreats Lady Rylton graciously. "But to
+return to Maurice. I shall expect you to help me in this matter,
+Marian."
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"I have quite understood your relations with Maurice during the past
+year. One, as a matter of course," with a shrug of her dainty
+shoulders, "lets the nearest man make love to one---- But Maurice
+must marry for money, and so must you."
+
+"You are all wisdom," says Marian, showing her lovely teeth. "And
+this girl? She has been here a week now, but as yet you have told me
+nothing about her."
+
+"I picked her up!" says Lady Rylton. She lays down her fan--looks
+round her in a little mysterious fashion, as though to make doubly
+sure of the apparent fact that there is no one in the room but her
+niece and herself. "It was the most providential thing," she says;
+"I was staying at the Warburtons' last month, and one day when
+driving their abominable ponies along the road, suddenly the little
+beasts took fright and bolted. You know the Warburtons, don't you?
+They haven't an ounce of manners between them--themselves, or their
+ponies, or anything else belonging to them. Well! They tore along as
+if possessed----"
+
+"The Warburtons?"
+
+"No, the ponies; don't be silly?"
+
+"_Such_ a relief!"
+
+"And I really think they would have taken me over a precipice. You
+can see"--holding out her exquisite little hands--"how inadequate
+these would be to deal with the Warburton ponies. But for the timely
+help of an elderly gentleman and a young girl--she looked a mere
+child----"
+
+"This Miss Bolton?"
+
+"Yes. The old gentleman caught the ponies' heads--so did the girl.
+You know my slender wrists--they were almost powerless from the
+strain, but that _girl!_ her wrists seemed made of iron. She held
+and held, until the little wretches gave way and returned to a sense
+of decency."
+
+"Perhaps they _are_ made of iron. Her people are in trade, you say?
+It is iron, or buttons, or what?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure, but at all events she is an heiress to
+quite a tremendous extent. Two hundred thousand pounds, the
+Warburtons told me afterwards; even allowing for exaggeration,
+still, she must be worth a good deal, and poor dear Maurice, what is
+_he_ worth?"
+
+"Is it another riddle?" asks Mrs. Bethune.
+
+"No, no, indeed! The answer is plain to all the world. The
+Warburtons didn't know these people, these Boltons (so silly of
+them, with a third son still unmarried), but when I heard of her
+money I made inquiries. It appeared that she lived with her uncle.
+Her father had died early, when she was quite young. Her mother was
+dead too; this last was a _great_ comfort. And the uncle had kept
+her in seclusion all her life. They are nobodies, dear Marian!
+Nobodies at all, but that girl has two hundred thousand pounds, and
+can redeem the property of all its mortgages--if only Maurice will
+let her do it."
+
+"But how did you ask her here?"
+
+"How? What is simpler? The moment the Warburtons told me of the
+wealth that would be that girl's on her marriage (I was careful to
+make sure of the marriage point), I felt that an overpowering sense
+of gratitude compelled me to go and call on her. She and her uncle
+were new-comers in that county, and--it is very exclusive--so that
+when I _did_ arrive, I was received with open arms. I was charming
+to the old uncle, a frosty sort of person, but not objectionable in
+any way, and I at once asked the niece to pay me a visit. They were
+flattered, the uncle especially so; I expect he had been wanting to
+get into Society--and as for the girl, she seemed overcome with
+delight! A very second-class little creature I thought her. No
+style! No suppression of her real feelings! She said at once how
+glad she would be to come to me; she gave me the impression that she
+would be glad to get away from her uncle! No idea of _hiding_
+anything! So strange!"
+
+"Strange enough to be almost a fresh fashion. Fancy her saying she
+would be glad to come to _you!_ No wonder you were startled!"
+
+"Well, she's here," says Lady Rylton, furling her fan. Mrs.
+Bethune's little sarcasm has been lost upon her. "And now, how to
+_use_ her? Maurice, though I have thrust the idea upon him, seems
+averse to it."
+
+"The idea?"
+
+"Of marrying her, of course, and so redeeming himself. She is not
+what I would have chosen for him, I admit that; but all things must
+give way before the ruin that threatens us."
+
+"Yes; true--all things," says Mrs. Bethune in a low tone.
+
+"You see that. But how to bring Maurice to the point? He is so very
+difficult. _You,_ Marian--you have influence with him----"
+
+"I?"
+
+Mrs. Bethune rises in the slow, beautiful fashion that is hers
+always; she moves towards the window. There is no hurry, no undue
+haste, to betray the disquietude of her soul.
+
+"You--you, of course," says Lady Rylton peevishly. "I always rely
+upon you."
+
+"I have no influence!"
+
+"You mean, of course, that you will not use it," says Lady Rylton
+angrily. "You still think that you will marry him yourself, that
+perhaps his uncle will die and leave him once more a rich man--the
+master of The Place, as the old Place's master should be; but that
+is a distant prospect, Marian."
+
+Mrs. Bethune has swung around, her beautiful figure is drawn up to
+its most stately height.
+
+"Not another word!" says she imperiously. "What have I to do with
+your son? Let him marry--let him marry----" She pauses as if
+choking, but goes on again: "I tell you I have no influence--_none!_
+Appeal to Margaret, she may help you!"
+
+"She--no!"
+
+"Hush! here she is. Yes; ask her," says Mrs. Bethune, as if desirous
+of letting Lady Rylton hear the opinion of the new-comer on this
+extraordinary subject.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HOW MARGARET PLEADS FOR THE LITTLE HOYDEN, AND WITH WHAT
+ILL-SUCCESS.
+
+
+
+Margaret Knollys, entering the room and seeing the signs of
+agitation in the two faces before her, stops on the threshold.
+
+"I am disturbing you. I can come again," says she, in her clear,
+calm voice.
+
+"No," says Mrs. Bethune abruptly.
+
+She makes a gesture as if to keep her.
+
+"Not at all. Not at all, dear Margaret. Pray stay, and give me a
+little help," says Lady Rylton plaintively.
+
+She pulls forward a little chair near her, as if to show Margaret
+that she must say, and Miss Knollys comes quickly to her. Marian
+Bethune is Lady Rylton's real niece. Margaret is her niece by
+marriage.
+
+A niece to be proud of, in spite of the fact that she is thirty
+years of age and still unmarried. Her features, taken separately,
+would debar her for ever from being called either pretty or
+beautiful; yet there have been many in her life-time who admired
+her, and three, at all events, who would have gladly given their all
+to call her theirs. Of these one is dead, and one is married, and
+one--still hopes.
+
+There had been a fourth. Margaret loved him! Yet he was the only one
+whom Margaret should not have loved. He was unworthy in all points.
+Yet, when he went abroad, breaking cruelly and indifferently all
+ties with her (they had been engaged), Margaret still clung to him,
+and ever since has refused all comers for his sake. Her face is long
+and utterly devoid of colour; her nose is too large; her mouth a
+trifle too firm for beauty; her eyes, dark and earnest, have,
+however, a singular fascination of their own, and when she smiles
+one feels that one _must_ love her. She is a very tall woman, and
+slight, and gracious in her ways. She is, too, a great heiress, and
+a woman of business, having been left to manage a huge property at
+the age of twenty-two. Her management up to this has been faultless.
+
+"Now, how can I help you?" asks she, looking at Lady Rylton. "What
+is distressing you?"
+
+"Oh! you know," says Mrs. Bethune, breaking impatiently into the
+conversation. "About Maurice and this girl! This new girl! There,"
+contemptuously, "have been so many of them!"
+
+"You mean Miss Bolton," says Margaret, in her quiet way. "Do you
+seriously mean," addressing Lady Rylton, "that you desire this
+marriage?"
+
+_ "Desire_ it? No. It is a necessity!" says Lady Rylton. "Who could
+desire a daughter-in-law of no lineage, and with the most
+objectionable tastes? But she has money! That throws a cloak over
+all defects."
+
+"I don't think that poor child has so many defects as you fancy,"
+says Miss Knollys. "But for all that I should not regard her as a
+suitable wife for Maurice."
+
+Mrs. Bethune leans back in her chair and laughs.
+
+"A suitable wife for Maurice!" repeats she. "Where is _she_ to be
+found?"
+
+"Here! In this girl!" declares Lady Rylton solemnly. "Margaret, you
+know how we are situated. You know how low we have fallen--_you_ can
+understand that in this marriage lies our last hope. If Maurice can
+be induced to marry Miss Bolton----"
+
+A sound of merry laughter interrupts her here. There comes the sound
+of steps upon the terrace--running steps. Instinctively the three
+women within the room grow silent and draw back a little. Barely in
+time; a tiny, vivacious figure springs into view, followed by a
+young man of rather stout proportions.
+
+"No, no, no!" cries the little figure, "you couldn't beat me. I bet
+you anything you like you couldn't. You may play me again if you
+will, and then," smiling and shaking her head at him, "we shall
+see!"
+
+The windows are open and every word can be heard.
+
+"Your future daughter-in-law," says Mrs. Bethune, in a low voice,
+nodding her beautiful head at Lady Rylton.
+
+"Oh, it is detestable! A hoyden--a mere _hoyden_," says Lady Rylton
+pettishly. "Look at her hair!"
+
+And, indeed, it must be confessed that the hoyden's hair is not all
+it ought to be. It is in effect "all over the place"--it is straight
+here, and wandering there; but perhaps its wildness helps to make
+more charming the naughty childish little face that peeps out of it.
+
+"She has no manners--_none!"_ says Lady Rylton. "She----"
+
+"Ah, is that you, Lady Rylton?" cries the small creature on the
+terrace, having caught a glimpse of her hostess through the window.
+
+"Yes, come in--come in!" cries Lady Rylton, changing her tone at
+once, and smiling and beckoning to the girl with long fingers. "I
+hope you have not been fatiguing yourself on the tennis-courts, you
+dearest child!"
+
+Her tones are cooing.
+
+"I have won, at all events!" says Tita, jumping in over the
+window-sill. "Though Mr. Gower," glancing back at her companion,
+"won't acknowledge it."
+
+"Why should I acknowledge it?" says the stout young man. "It's folly
+to acknowledge anything."
+
+"But the truth is the truth!" says the girl, facing him.
+
+"Oh, no; on the contrary, it's generally a lie," says he.
+
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," says Miss Bolton, turning her
+back on him, which proceeding seems to fill the stout young man's
+soul with delight.
+
+"Do come and sit down, dear child; you look exhausted," says Lady
+Rylton, still cooing.
+
+"I'm not," says Tita, shaking her head. "Tennis is not so very
+exhausting--is it, Mrs. Bethune?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. It seems to have exhausted your hair, at
+all events," says Mrs. Bethune, with her quick smile. "I think you
+had better go upstairs and settle it; it is very untidy."
+
+"Is it? Is it?" says Tita.
+
+She runs her little fingers through her pretty short locks, and
+gazes round. Her eyes meet Margaret's.
+
+"No, no," says the latter, laughing. "It looks like the hair of a
+little girl. You," smiling, _"are_ a little girl. Go away and finish
+your fight with Mr. Gower."
+
+"Yes. Come! Miss Knollys is on my side. She knows I shall win," says
+the stout young man; and, whilst disputing with him at every step,
+Tita disappears.
+
+"What a girl! No style, no manners," says Lady Rylton; "and yet I
+must receive her as a daughter. Fancy living with that girl! A silly
+child, with her hair always untidy, and a laugh that one can hear a
+mile off. Yet it must be done."
+
+"After all, it is Maurice who will have to live with her," says Mrs.
+Bethune.
+
+"Oh, I hope not," says Margaret quickly.
+
+"Why?" asks Lady Rylton, turning to her with sharp inquiry.
+
+"It would never do," says Margaret with decision. "They are not
+suited to each other. Maurice! and that _baby!_ It is absurd! I
+should certainly not counsel Maurice to take such a step as that!"
+
+"Why not? Good heavens, Margaret, I hope you are not in love with
+him, too!" says Lady Rylton.
+
+"Too?"
+
+Margaret looks blank.
+
+"She means me," says Mrs. Bethune, with a slight, insolent smile.
+"You know, don't you, how desperately in love with Maurice I am?"
+
+"I know nothing," says Miss Knollys, a little curtly.
+
+"Ah, you will!" says Mrs. Bethune, with her queer smile.
+
+"The fact is, Margaret," says Lady Rylton, with some agitation,
+"that if Maurice doesn't marry this girl, there--there will be an
+end of us all. He _must_ marry her."
+
+"But he doesn't love--he barely knows her--and a marriage without
+love----"
+
+"Is the safest thing known."
+
+"Under given circumstances! I grant you that if two people well on
+in life, old enough to know their own minds, and what they are
+doing, were to marry, it might be different. They might risk a few
+years of mere friendship together, and be glad of the venture later
+on. But for two _young_ people to set out on life's journey with
+nothing to steer by--that would be madness!"
+
+"Ah! yes. Margaret speaks like a book," says Mrs. Bethune, with an
+amused air; "Maurice, you see, is _so_ young, _so_
+inexperienced----"
+
+"At all events, Tita is only a child."
+
+"Tita! Is that her name?"
+
+"A pet name, I fancy. Short for Titania; she is such a little
+thing."
+
+"Titania--Queen of the Fairies; I wonder if the original Titania's
+father dealt in buttons! Is it buttons, or soap, or tar? You didn't
+say," says Mrs. Bethune, turning to Lady Rylton.
+
+"I really don't know--and as it _has_ to be trade, I can't see that
+it matters," says Lady Rylton, frowning.
+
+"Nothing matters, if you come to think of it," says Mrs. Bethune.
+"Go on, Margaret--you were in the middle of a sermon; I dare say we
+shall endure to the end."
+
+"I was saying that Miss Bolton is only a child."
+
+"She is seventeen. She told us about it last night at dinner. Gave
+us month and day. It was very clever of her. We _ought_ to give her
+birthday-gifts, don't you think? And yet you call her a child!"
+
+"At seventeen, what else?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous, Margaret," says Lady Rylton pettishly; "and,
+above all things, don't be old-fashioned. There is no such product
+nowadays as a child of seventeen. There isn't _time_ for it. It has
+gone out! The idea is entirely exploded. Perhaps there were children
+aged seventeen long ago--one reads of them, I admit, but it is too
+long ago for one to remember. Why, I was only eighteen when I
+married your uncle."
+
+"Pour uncle!" says Mrs. Bethune; her tone is full of feeling.
+
+Lady Rylton accepts the feeling as grief for the uncle's death; but
+Margaret, casting a swift glance at Mrs. Bethune, wonders if it was
+meant for grief for the uncle's life--_with_ Lady Rylton.
+
+"He was the ugliest man I ever saw, without exception," says Lady
+Rylton placidly; "and I was never for a moment blind to the fact,
+but he was well off at that time, and, of course, I married him. I
+wasn't in love with him." She pauses, and makes a little apologetic
+gesture with her fan and shoulders. "Horrid expression, isn't it?"
+says she. "In love! So terribly _bourgeois_. It ought to be done
+away with. However, to go on, you see how admirably my marriage
+turned out. Not a hitch anywhere. Your poor dear uncle and I never
+had a quarrel. I had only to express a wish, and it was gratified."
+
+"Poor dear uncle was so clever," says Mrs. Bethune, with lowered
+lids.
+
+Again Margaret looks at her, but is hardly sure whether sarcasm is
+really meant.
+
+"Clever? Hardly, perhaps," says Lady Rylton meditatively. "Clever is
+scarcely the word."
+
+"No, wise--wise is the word," says Mrs. Bethune.
+
+Her eyes are still downcast. It seems to Margaret that she is
+inwardly convulsed with laughter.
+
+"Well, wise or not, we lived in harmony," says Lady Rylton with a
+sigh and a prolonged sniff at her scent-bottle. "With us it was
+peace to the end."
+
+"Certainly; it was peace _at_ the end," says Mrs. Bethune solemnly.
+
+It was, indeed, a notorious thing that the late Sir Maurice had
+lived in hourly fear of his wife, and had never dared to contradict
+her on any subject, though he was a man of many inches, and she one
+of the smallest creatures on record.
+
+"True! true! _You_ knew him so well!" says Lady Rylton, hiding her
+eyes behind the web of a handkerchief she is holding. One tear would
+have reduced it to pulp. "And when he was----" She pauses.
+
+"Was dead?" says Margaret kindly, softly.
+
+"Oh, _don't,_ dear Margaret, _don't!"_ says Lady Rylton, with a
+tragical start. "That dreadful word! One should never mention death!
+It is so rude! He, your poor uncle--he _left_ us with the sweetest
+resignation on the 18th of February, 1887."
+
+"I never _saw_ such resignation," says Mrs. Bethune, with deep
+emphasis.
+
+She casts a glance at Margaret, who, however, refuses to have
+anything to do with it. But, for all that, Mrs. Bethune is clearly
+enjoying herself. She can never, indeed, refrain from sarcasm, even
+when her audience is unsympathetic.
+
+"Yes, yes; he was resigned," says Lady Rylton, pressing her
+handkerchief to her nose.
+
+"So much so, that one might almost think he was _glad_ to go," says
+Mrs. Bethune, nodding her head with beautiful sympathy.
+
+She is now shaking with suppressed laughter.
+
+"Yes; glad. It is such a comfort to dwell on it," says Lady Rylton,
+still dabbing her eyes. "He was happy--quite happy when he left me."
+
+"I never saw anyone so happy," says Mrs. Bethune.
+
+Her voice sounds choking; no doubt it is emotion. She rises and goes
+to the window. The emotion seems to have got into her shoulders.
+
+"All which proves," goes on Lady Rylton, turning to Margaret, "that
+a marriage based on friendship, even between two young people, is
+often successful."
+
+"But surely in your case there was love on one side," says Miss
+Knollys, a little impatiently. "My uncle----"
+
+"Oh, he _adored_ me!" cries she ecstatically, throwing up her pretty
+hands, her vanity so far overcoming her argument that she grows
+inconsistent. "You know," with a little simper, "I was a belle in my
+day."
+
+"I have heard it," says Margaret hastily, who, indeed, has heard it
+_ad nauseam_. "But with regard to this marriage, Tessie, I don't
+believe you will get Maurice to even think of it."
+
+"If I don't, then he is ruined!" Lady Rylton gets up from her chair,
+and takes a step or two towards Margaret. "This house-party that I
+have arranged, with this girl in it, is a last effort," says she in
+a low voice, but rather hysterically. She clasps her hands together.
+"He must--he _must_ marry her. If he refuses----"
+
+"But she may refuse him," says Margaret gently; "you should think of
+that."
+
+"She--she refuse? You are mad!" says Lady Rylton. "A girl--a girl
+called _Bolton."_
+
+"It is certainly an ugly name," says Margaret in a conciliatory way.
+
+"And yet you blame me because I desire to give her Rylton instead, a
+name as old as England itself. I tell you, Margaret," with a little
+delicate burst of passion, "that it goes to my very soul to accept
+this girl as a daughter. She--she is _hateful_ to me, not only
+because of her birth, but in every way. She is antagonistic to me.
+She--would you believe it?--she has had the audacity to argue with
+me about little things, as if she--_she,"_ imperiously, "should have
+an opinion when I was present."
+
+"My dear Tessie, we all have opinions, and you know you said
+yourself that at seventeen nowadays one is no longer a child."
+
+"I wish, Margaret, you would cure yourself of that detestable habit
+of repeating one's self _to_ one's self," says Lady Rylton
+resentfully. "There," sinking back in her chair, and saturating her
+handkerchief with some delicate essence from a little Louis Quatorze
+bottle beside her, "it isn't worth so much worry. But to say that
+she would refuse Maurice----"
+
+"Why should she not? She looks to me like a girl who would not care
+to risk all her future life for mere position. I mean," says
+Margaret a little sadly, "that she looks to me as if she would be
+like that when she is older, and understands."
+
+"Then she must look to you like a fool," says Lady Rylton
+petulantly.
+
+"Hardly that. Like a girl, rather, with sense, and with a heart."
+
+"My dear girl, we know how romantic you are, we know that old story
+of yours," says Lady Rylton, who can be singularly nasty at times.
+"Such an _old_ story, too. I think you might try to forget it."
+
+"Does one ever forget?" says Margaret coldly. A swift flush has dyed
+her pale face. "And story or no story, I shall always think that the
+woman who marries a man without caring for him is a far greater fool
+than the woman who marries a man for whom she does care."
+
+"After all, I am not thinking of a woman," says Lady Rylton with a
+shrug. "I am thinking of Maurice. This girl has money; and, of
+course, she will accept him if I can only induce him to ask her."
+
+"It is not altogether of course!"
+
+_"I_ think it is," says Lady Rylton obstinately.
+
+Miss Knollys shrugs her shoulders.
+
+All at once Mrs. Bethune turns from the window and advances towards
+Margaret. There is a sudden fury in her eyes.
+
+"What do you mean?" says she, stopping short before Miss Knollys,
+and speaking with ill-suppressed rage. "Who is _she_, that she
+should refuse him? That little, contemptible child! That nobody! I
+tell you, she would not dare refuse him if she asked her! It would
+be too great an honour for her."
+
+She stops. Her fingers tighten on her gown. Then, as suddenly as it
+grew, her ungovernable fit of anger seems to die checked, killed by
+her own will. She sinks into the chair behind her, and looks
+deliberately at Margaret with an air that, if not altogether
+smiling, is certainly altogether calm. It must have cost her a good
+deal to do it.
+
+"It is beyond argument," says she; "he will not ask her."
+
+"He _shall,"_ says Lady Rylton in a low tone.
+
+Margaret rises, and moves slowly towards one of the open windows;
+she pauses there a moment, then steps out on to the balcony, and so
+escapes. These incessant discussions are abhorrent to her, and just
+now her heart is sad for the poor child who has been brought down
+here ostensibly for amusement, in reality for business. Of course,
+Maurice will not marry her--she knows Maurice, he is far above all
+that sort of thing; but the very attempt at the marriage seems to
+cover the poor child with insult. And she is such a pretty child.
+
+At this moment the pretty child, with Randal Gower, comes round the
+corner; she has her skirt caught up at one side, and Miss Knollys
+can see it is full of broken biscuits. The pulling up of the skirt
+conduces a good deal to the showing of a lovely little foot and
+ankle, and Margaret, who has the word "hoyden" still ringing in her
+ears, and can see Lady Rylton's cold, aristocratic, disdainful face,
+wishes the girl had had the biscuit in a basket.
+
+"Oh, here is Miss Knollys!" cries Tita, running to her. "We are going
+to feed the swans" (she looks back at her companion). "He has got
+some more biscuits in his pockets."
+
+"It's quite true," says Mr. Gower; "I'm nothing but biscuits. Every
+pocket's full of 'em, and they've gone to dust. I tried to blow my
+nose a moment ago, but I couldn't. One can't blow one's nose in
+biscuit."
+
+"Come with us, Miss Knollys--do," says Tita coaxingly.
+
+"I can't. Not now. I can't," says Margaret, who is a little troubled
+at heart. "Go, dear child, and feed the swans, and take care of her,
+Randy--take care of her."
+
+"I'll do my best," says Mr. Gower, with much solemnity; "but it's
+small--very small. As a rule, Miss Bolton takes care of me."
+
+Margaret gives him a last admonitory glance and turns away. In
+truth, Mr. Gower is but a broken reed to lean upon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HOW LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER LEFT
+UNSAID. HOW "THE SCHEME" IS LAID BEFORE SIR MAURICE, AND HOW HE
+REFUSES TO HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT.
+
+
+
+In the meantime the conversation in the drawing-room has been going
+on.
+
+"Of course, if you think you can persuade him," says Mrs. Bethune
+presently.
+
+"I know I shall. One can always persuade a man where his interests
+lie. Besides, I have great weight with him. I tell you I shall
+manage him. I could always manage his father."
+
+A curious expression crosses Mrs. Bethune's face. The present
+Baronet may not prove so easy of management as his father!
+
+"Well, I can only wish you success," says she, with a shrug. "By the
+way, Margaret did not back you up in this scheme as cordially as I
+deemed possible."
+
+"Margaret is troublesome," says Lady Rylton. "Just when you expect
+her to sympathize with you, she starts off at a tangent on some
+other absurd idea. She is full of fads. After all, it would be rash
+to depend on her. But _you_, Marian--you owe me much."
+
+"How much? My life's blood?"
+
+Mrs. Bethune lets her hands fall clasped upon her knees, and,
+leaning over them, looks at her aunt--such a wonderfully young aunt,
+with her yellow hair and her sparkling eyes! Marian's lips have
+taken a cynical turn; her smile now is unpleasant.
+
+"What a hideous expression!" says Lady Rylton, shuddering. "You
+spoil yourself, Marian; you do indeed. You will never make a good
+marriage if you talk like that. 'Life's blood'!--_detestable!"_
+
+"I don't desire a good marriage, as _you_ regard it."
+
+Lady Rylton sits suddenly quite upright.
+
+"If you mean marriage with Maurice," says she, "put that out of your
+head. You must be mad to cherish such a hope. You are both paupers,
+for one thing, and for the rest, I assure you, my dear, Maurice is
+not as infatuated about you as you are about him!"
+
+Mrs. Bethune makes a sudden movement; it is slight. Her face
+darkens. One reading between the lines might at this moment see that
+she could have killed Lady Rylton with a wondrous joy. Killing has
+its consequences, however, and she only stands quite quiet, looking
+at her foe. What a look it is!
+
+"It is you who are mad," says she calmly. "What I meant was that I
+should probably marry some rich nobody for the sake of his wealth.
+It would be quite in my line. I should arrange him, form him, bring
+him into Society, even against Society's will! There is a certain
+excitement in the adventure. As for Maurice, he is no doubt in your
+eyes a demigod--in mine," with infinite contempt, "he is a man."
+
+"Well, I hope you will keep to all that," says Lady Rylton, who is
+shrewd as she is cruel, "and that you will not interfere with this
+marriage I have arranged for Maurice."
+
+"Why would I interfere?"
+
+"Because you interfere always. You can't bear to see any man love
+any woman but yourself."
+
+Mrs. Bethune smiles. "A common fault. It belongs to most women. But
+this girl--you like her?"
+
+"On the contrary, as I have told you, I detest her. Once Maurice has
+her money safely in his hands, I shall know how to deal with her. A
+little, ignorant, detestable child! I tell you, Marian, that the
+time will come when I shall pay her out for her silly insolence
+towards me."
+
+"She is evidently going to have a good time if Maurice proposes to
+her."
+
+"He _shall_ propose. Why----" She breaks off suddenly. "Not another
+word," says she, putting up her hand. "Here is Maurice. I shall
+speak to him now."
+
+"Shall I stay and help you?"
+
+"No, thank you," says Lady Rylton, with a little knowing grimace.
+
+Seeing it, Marian's detestation grows apace. She rises--and calmly,
+yet swiftly, leaves the room. Sir Maurice is only crossing the lawn
+now, and by running through the hall outside, and getting on to the
+veranda outside the dining-room window, she can see him before he
+enters the drawing-room.
+
+Gaining the veranda, she leans over the railings and makes a signal
+to him; it is an old signal. Rylton responds to it, and in a second
+is by her side.
+
+"Oh no, you must not stay; your mother is waiting for you in the
+south drawing-room. She saw you coming; she wants you."
+
+"Well, but about what?" asks Rylton, naturally bewildered.
+
+"Nothing--only--she is going to advise you for your good. Shall I,"
+smiling at him in her beautiful way, and laying one hand upon his
+breast--"shall I advise you, too?"
+
+"Yes, yes," says Rylton; he takes the hand lying on his breast and
+lifts it to his lips. "Advise me."
+
+"Ah, no!" She pauses, a most eloquent pause, filled with a long deep
+glance from her dark eyes. _"There, go!"_ she says, suddenly pushing
+him from her.
+
+"But your advice?" asks he, holding her.
+
+"Pouf! as if that was worth anything." She looks up at him from
+under her lowered lids. "Well, take it. My advice to you is to come
+to the rose-garden as soon as possible, and see the roses before
+they fade out of all recognition! _I_ am going there now. You know
+how I love that rose-garden; I almost live there nowadays."
+
+"I wish I could live there too," says Rylton, laughing.
+
+He lifts her hand again and presses it fondly to his lips.
+Something, however, in his air, though it had breathed devotion,
+troubles Mrs. Bethune; she frowns as he leaves her, and, turning
+into a side-path the leads to the rose-garden, gives herself up a
+prey to thought.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+Rylton, with a shrug, goes toward the room where Marian had told him
+his mother was awaiting him. He could very readily (as Lady Rylton
+had not formally requested his presence) have stayed away, but long
+experience has driven into him the knowledge that when his mother
+wants anything, all the delays and subterfuges and evasions in the
+world will not prevent her having it. To get it over, then, as soon
+as possible is the chief thing. And, after all, he is so far happy
+in that he knows what the immediate interview is to be about. That
+little ridiculous girl--not half a bad little girl--but----
+
+It is with quite a resigned air that he seats himself on the lounge,
+and agrees with himself to make his mother happy by letting her talk
+to him uninterruptedly for ten minutes.
+
+"Women like to talk," says Sir Maurice to himself, as he sits on the
+lounge where Marian had just now sat. He finds consolation in his
+mother's poodle, who climbs on his knees, giving herself up a
+willing prey to his teasing.
+
+"Maurice, you are not attending," says Lady Rylton at last, with a
+touch of serious anger.
+
+"I am indeed--I am, I assure you," says Maurice, looking up. "If I'm
+not, it's your poodle's fault; she is such a fascinating creature."
+
+As he says this he makes a little attack on the poodle, who snaps
+back at him, barking vigorously, and evidently enjoying herself
+immensely.
+
+"I want a decisive answer from you," says his mother.
+
+"A decisive answer! How can I give that?"
+
+He is still laughing, but even as he laughs a sound from without
+checks him. It is another laugh--happy, young, joyous. Instinctively
+both he and Lady Rylton look towards the open window. There below,
+still attended by Mr. Gower, and coming back from her charitable
+visit to the swans, is Tita, her little head upheld, her bright eyes
+smiling, her lips parted. There is a sense of picturesque youth
+about the child that catches Rylton's attention, and holds it for
+the moment.
+
+"There she is," says he at last, looking back over his shoulder at
+his mother. "Is _that_ the wife you have meted out for me--that
+baby?"
+
+"Be serious about it, Maurice; it is a serious latter, I assure
+you."
+
+"Fancy being serious with a baby! She's too young, my dear mother.
+She couldn't know her duty to her neighbours yet, to say nothing of
+her duty to her husband."
+
+"You could teach her."
+
+"I doubt it. They have taken that duty off nowadays, haven't they?"
+He is still looking at Tita through the window; her gay little laugh
+comes up to him again. "Do you know, she is very pretty," says he
+dispassionately; "and what a little thing! She always makes me think
+of a bird, or a mouse, or a----"
+
+"Think of her as a girl," says his mother impatiently.
+
+"Certainly. After all, it would be impossible to think of her as a
+boy; she's too small."
+
+"I don't know about that," said Lady Rylton, shrugging her
+shoulders. "She's much more a boy than a girl, where her manners are
+concerned."
+
+"Poor little hoyden! That's what you call her, isn't it--a hoyden?"
+
+"Did Marian tell you that?"
+
+"Marian? Certainly not!" says Sir Maurice, telling his lie
+beautifully. "Marian thinks her beneath notion. So would you,
+if----" He pauses. "If she hadn't a penny you wouldn't know her," he
+says presently; "and you admit she has no manners, yet you ask me to
+marry her. Now, if I did marry her, what should I do with her?"
+
+"Educate her! Control her! Says his mother, a little viciously.
+
+"I confess I am not equal to the occasion. I could not manage a
+baby. The situation doesn't suit me."
+
+"Maurice--it _must!"_ Lady Rylton rises, and, standing near him with
+her hand on the table, looks at him with a pale face. "You find
+fault with her; so do I, and frankly admit she is the last woman in
+the world I should have chosen for you if I could help it, but she
+is one of the richest girls in England. And after all, though I
+detest the very sound of it, Trade is now our master. You object to
+the girl's youth; that, however, is in her favour. You can mould her
+to your own designs, and"--she casts a bitter glance at him that
+will not be suppressed--"all women cannot be widows. Then, as for
+her being so little a creature, she is surely quite as tall as I am,
+and your father--you know, Maurice, how devoted he was to me."
+
+"Oh yes, poor old Dad!" says Maurice, with a movement that might
+mean pain. He seldom speaks of his father--_never_ to his mother. He
+had certainly loved his father. He moves quickly to the further end
+of the room.
+
+"You will think of this girl, Maurice?"
+
+"Oh, if that's all," laughing shortly, "you have arranged for that.
+One can't help thinking of the thing that is thrust under one's eyes
+morning, noon, and night. I shall think of her certainly until she
+goes away." He stops, and then says abruptly, "When is she going?"
+
+"When her engagement to you is an accomplished fact."
+
+"My dear mother, how absurd it all is! Poor little girl, and what a
+shame too! She doesn't even like me! We shouldn't be taking her name
+in vain like this. By-the-bye, what queer eyes she has!--have you
+noticed?"
+
+"She has two hundred thousand pounds," says Lady Rylton solemnly.
+"That is of far greater consequence. You know how it is with us,
+Maurice. We can hold on very little longer. If you persist in
+refusing this last chance, the old home will have to go. We shall be
+beggars!" She sinks back in her chair, and sobs softly but bitterly.
+
+"Don't go on like that--don't!" says Rylton, coming over to her and
+patting her shoulder tenderly. "There must be some other way out of
+it. I know we are in a hole more or less, but----"
+
+"How lightly you speak of it! Who is to pay your debts? You know how
+your gambling on the turf has ruined us--brought us to the very
+verge of disgrace and penury, and now, when you _can _help to set
+the old name straight again, you refuse--refuse!" She stops as if
+choking.
+
+"I don't think my gambling debts are the actual cause of our
+worries," says her son, rather coldly. "If I have wasted a few
+hundred on a race here and there, it is all I have done. When the
+property came into my hands it was dipped very deeply."
+
+"You would accuse your father----" begins she hotly.
+
+Rylton pauses. "No; not my father," says he distinctly, if gently.
+
+"You mean, then, that you accuse _me!"_ cries she, flashing round at
+him.
+
+All at once her singularly youthful face grows as old as it ought to
+be--a vindictive curve round the mouth makes that usually charming
+feature almost repulsive.
+
+"My dear mother, let us avoid a scene," says her son sternly. "To
+tell you the truth, I have had too many of them of late."
+
+Something in his manner warns her to go no farther in the late
+direction. If she is to win the cause so close to her heart, she had
+better refrain from recrimination--from an accusation of any sort.
+
+"Dearest Maurice," says she, going to him and taking his hand in
+hers, "you know it is for your sake only I press this dreadful
+matter. She is so rich, and you--we--are so poor! She has a house in
+Surrey, and one in the North--delightful places, I have been
+told--and, of course, she would like you to keep up your own house
+in town. As for me, all I ask is this old house--bare and
+uncomfortable as it is."
+
+"Nonsense, mother," letting her hand go and turning away
+impatiently. "You speak as if it were all settled."
+
+"Why should it _not_ be settled?"
+
+"You talk without thinking!" He is frowning now, and his tone is
+growing angry. "Am I the only one to be consulted?"
+
+"Oh! as for her--that child! Of course you can influence her."
+
+"I don't want to," wearily.
+
+"You can do more than that. You are very good-looking, Maurice. You
+can----" She hesitates.
+
+"Can what?" coldly.
+
+"Fascinate her."
+
+"I shall certainly not even try to do that. Good heavens! what do
+you mean?" says her son, colouring a dark red with very shame. "Are
+you asking me to make love to this girl--to pretend an admiration
+for her that I do not feel? To--to--_lie_ to her?"
+
+"I am only asking you to be sensible," says his mother sullenly. She
+has gone back to her chair, and now, with lowered lids and
+compressed lips, is fanning herself angrily.
+
+"I shan't be sensible in that way," says her son, very hotly. "Put
+it out of your head. To me Miss Bolton (it is really ridiculous to
+call her Miss anything; she ought to be Betty, or Lizzie, or Lily,
+or whatever her name is, to everyone at her age)--to me she seems
+nothing but a baby--and--I _hate_ babies!"
+
+"Marian has taught you!" Says his mother, with a sneer. "_She_
+certainly is not a baby, whatever else she may be. But I tell you
+this, Maurice, that you will hate far more being left a beggar in
+the world, without enough money to keep yourself alive."
+
+"I am sure I can keep myself alive."
+
+"Yes, but how? _You_, who have been petted and pampered all your
+life?"
+
+"Oh, _don't_ speak to me as if I were in the cradle!" says Maurice,
+with a shrug.
+
+"Do you never think?"
+
+"Sometimes".
+
+"Oh yes, of Marian. That designing woman! Do you believe _I_ haven't
+read her, if you are still blind? She will hold you on and on and
+on. And if your uncle _should_ chance to die, why, then she will
+marry you; but if in the meantime she meets anyone with money who
+will marry her, why, good-bye to _you_. But you must not marry! Mind
+that! You must be held in chains whilst she goes free. Really,
+Maurice," rising and regarding him with extreme contempt, "your
+folly is so great over this absurd infatuation for Marian, that
+sometimes I wonder if you can be my own son."
+
+"I am my father's son also," says Maurice. "He, I believe, did
+sometimes believe in somebody. He believed in you."
+
+He turns away abruptly, and an inward laugh troubles him. Was that
+last gibe not an argument against himself, his judgment? Like his
+father; _is_ he like his father? Can he, too, see only gold where
+dross lies deep? Sometimes, of late he has doubted. The laughter
+dies away, he sighs heavily.
+
+"He was wise," says Lady Rylton coolly. "He had no cause to regret
+his belief. But you, you sit in a corner, as it were, and see
+nothing but Marian smiling. You never see Marian frowning. Your
+corner suits you. It would trouble you too much to come out into the
+middle of the room and look around Marian. And in the end what will
+it all come to? _Nothing!"_
+
+"Then why make yourself so unhappy about nothing?"
+
+"Because----"
+
+"My dear mother," turning rather fiercely on her, "let us have an
+end of this. Marian would not marry me. She has refused me many
+times."
+
+"I am quite aware of that," says Lady Rylton calmly. "She has taken
+care to tell me so. She will never marry you unless you get your
+uncle's money (and he is as likely to live to be a Methuselah as
+anyone I ever saw; the scandalous way in which he takes care of his
+health is really a byword!), but she will hold you on until----"
+
+"I asked you not to go on with this," says Rylton, interrupting he
+again. "If you have nothing better to say to me than the abuse of
+Marian, I----"
+
+"But I have. What is Marian, what is _anything_ to me except your
+marriage with Tita Bolton? Maurice, think of it. Promise me you will
+think of it. Maurice, don't go."
+
+She runs to him, lays her hand on his arm, and tries to hold him.
+
+"I must." He lifts her hand from his arm, presses it, and drops it
+deliberately. "My dear mother, I can't; I can't, really," says he.
+
+She stands quite still. As he reaches the door, he looks back. She
+is evidently crying. A pang shoots through his heart. But it is all
+so utterly impossible. To marry that absurd child! It is out of
+question. Still, her tears trouble him. He can see her crying as he
+crosses the hall, and then her words begin to trouble him even more.
+What was it she had said about Marian? It was a hint, a very broad
+one. It meant that Marian might love him if he were a poor man, but
+could love him much more if he were a rich one. As a fact, she would
+marry him if he had money, but not if he were penniless. After all,
+why not? She, Marian, had often said all that to him, or at least
+some of it. But that other word, of her marrying some other man
+should he appear----
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+HOW THE HEART OF MAURICE GREW HOT WITHIN HIM, AND HOW HE PUT THE
+QUESTION TO THE TOUCH, AND HOW HE NEITHER LOST NOR WON.
+
+
+
+Mrs. Bethune, sauntering slowly between the bushes laden with
+exquisite blooms, all white and red and yellow, looks up as he
+approaches her with a charming start.
+
+"You!" she says, smiling, and holding out her hand--a large hand but
+beautiful. "It is my favourite spot. But that _you_ should have come
+here too!"
+
+"You knew I should come!" returns he gravely. Something in her
+charming air of surprise jars upon him at this moment. Why should
+she pretend?--and to him!
+
+"I knew?"
+
+"You told me you were coming here."
+
+"Ah, what a lovely answer!" says she, with a glance from under her
+long lashes, that--whatever her answer may be--certainly _is_
+lovely.
+
+Rylton regards her moodily. If she really loved him, would she
+coquet with him like this--would she so pretend? All in a second, as
+he stands looking at her, the whole of the past year comes back to
+him. A strange year, fraught with gladness and deep pain--with fears
+and joys intense! What had it all meant? If anything, it had meant
+devotion to her--to his cousin, who, widowed, all but penniless, had
+been flung by the adverse winds of Fate into his home.
+
+She was the only daughter of Lady Rylton's only brother, and the
+latter had taken her in, and in a measure adopted her. It was a
+strange step for her to take--for one so little led by kindly
+impulses, or rather for one who had so few kindly impulses to be led
+by; but everyone has a soft spot somewhere in his heart, and Lady
+Rylton had loved her brother, good-for-nothing as he was. There
+might have been a touch of remorse, too, in her charity; she had
+made Marian's marriage!
+
+Grudgingly, coldly, she opened her son's doors to her niece, but
+still she opened them. She was quite at liberty to do this, as
+Maurice was seldom at home, and gave her always _carte blanche_ to
+do as she would with all that belonged to him. She made Marian
+Bethune's life for the first few months a burden to her, and then
+Marian Bethune, who had waited, took the reins in a measure; at all
+events, she made herself so useful to Lady Rylton that the latter
+could hardly get on without her.
+
+Maurice had fallen in love with her almost at once; insensibly but
+thoroughly. There had been an hour in which he had flung himself,
+metaphorically, at her feet (one never does the real thing now,
+because it spoils one's trousers so), and offered his heart, and all
+the fortune still left to him after his mother's reign; and Marian
+had refused it all, very tenderly, very sympathetically, very
+regretfully--to tell the truth--but she _had_ refused it.
+
+She had sweetened the refusal by declaring that, as she could not
+marry him--as she could not to be so selfish as to ruin his
+prospects--she would never marry at all. She had looked lovely in
+the light of the dying sunset as she said all this to him, and
+Maurice had believed in her a thousand times more than before, and
+had loved her a thousand times deeper. And in a sense his belief was
+justified. She did love him, as she had never loved before, but not
+well enough to risk poverty again. She had seen enough of that in
+her first marriage, and in her degradation and misery had sworn a
+bitter oath to herself never again to marry, unless marriage should
+sweep her into the broad river of luxury and content. Had Maurice's
+financial affairs been all they ought to have been but for his
+mother's extravagances, she undoubtedly would have chosen him before
+all the world; but Maurice's fortunes were (and are) at a low ebb,
+and she would risk nothing. His uncle _might_ die, and then Maurice,
+who was his heir, would be a rich man; but his uncle was only
+sixty-five, and he might marry again, and---- No, she would refuse!
+
+Rylton had pressed his suit many times, but she had never yielded.
+It was always the same argument, she would not ruin _him_. But one
+day--only the other day, indeed--she had said something that made
+him know she sometimes counted on his uncle's death. She would marry
+him then! She would not marry a poor man, however much she loved
+him. The thought that she was waiting for his uncle's death revolted
+him at the moment, and though he forgave her afterwards, still the
+thought rankled.
+
+It hurt him, in a sense, that she could _desire_ death--the death of
+another--to create her own content.
+
+His mother had hinted at it only just now! Marian feared, she
+said--feared to step aboard his sinking ship. Where, then, was her
+love, that perfect love that casteth out all fear?
+
+A wave of anger rushes over him as he looks at her now--smiling,
+fair, with large, deep, gleaming eyes. He tells himself he will know
+at once what it is she means--what is the worth of her love.
+
+She is leaning towards him, a soft red rosebud crushed against her
+lips.
+
+"Ah, yes! It is true. I _did_ know you were coming," says she
+tenderly.
+
+She gives a hasty, an almost imperceptible glance around. Lady
+Rylton is often a little--just a _little_--prone to
+prying--especially of late; ever since the arrival of that small
+impossible heiress, for example; and then very softly she slips her
+hand into his.
+
+"What an evening!" says she with delicate fervour. "How sweet, how
+perfect, Maurice!"
+
+"Well?" in a rather cold, uncompromising way.
+
+Mrs. Bethune gives him a quick glance.
+
+"What a tone!" says she; "you frighten me!"
+
+She laughs softly, sweetly. She draws closer to him--closer
+still;--and, laying her cheek against his arm, rubs it lightly,
+caressingly, up and down.
+
+"Look here!" says he quickly, catching her by both arms, and holding
+her a little away from him; "I have a question to ask you."
+
+"There is always a question," says she, smiling still, "between
+friends and foes, then why not between--_lovers?"_
+
+She lingers over the word, and, stooping her graceful head, runs her
+lips lightly across the hand that is holding her right arm.
+
+A shiver runs through Rylton. Is she true or false? But, however it
+goes, how exquisite she is!
+
+"And now your question," says she; "how slow you are to ask it. Now
+_what_ is it?--what--what?"
+
+"Shall I ask it, Marian? I have asked it too often before."
+
+He is holding her arms very tightly now, and his eyes are bent on
+hers. Once again he is under the spell of her beauty.
+
+"Ask--ask what you will!" cries she. She laughs gaily, and throws
+back her head. The last rays of the sunlight catch her hair, and
+lift it to a very glory round her beautiful face. "Go on, go on,"
+she says lightly. There is, perhaps, some defiance in her tone, but,
+if so, it only strengthens her for the fight. "I am your captive!"
+She gives a little expressive downward glance at his hands, as he
+holds her arms. "Speak, my lord! and your slave answers." She has
+thrown some mockery into her tone.
+
+"I am not your lord," says Rylton. He drops her arms, and lets her
+go, and stands well back from her. "That is the last part assigned
+to me."
+
+Mrs. Bethune's gaze grows concentrated. It is fixed on him. What
+does he mean? What is the object of this flat rebellion--this
+receding from her authority? Strength is hers, as well as charm, and
+she comes to the front bravely.
+
+"Now what _is_ it?" asks she, creeping up to him again, and now
+slipping her arm around his neck. "How have I vexed you? Who has
+been saying nasty little things about me? The dear mother, eh?"
+
+"I want no one to tell me anything, but you."
+
+"Speak, then; did I not tell you I should answer?"
+
+"I want an answer to one question, and one only," says Rylton
+slowly.
+
+"That is modesty itself."
+
+"Will you marry me?"
+
+"Marry you?" She repeats his words almost in a whisper, her eyes on
+the ground, then suddenly she uplifts her graceful form, and, lazily
+clasping her arms behind her head, looks at him. "Surely we have
+been through this before," says she, with a touch of reproach.
+
+"Many times!" His lips have grown into a rather straight line.
+"Still I repeat my question."
+
+"Am I so selfish as this in your eyes?" asks she. "Is it thus you
+regard me?" Her large eyes have grown quite full of tears. "Is my
+own happiness so much to me that for the sake of it I would
+deliberately ruin yours?"
+
+"It would not ruin mine! Marry me, Marian, if--you love me!"
+
+"You know I love you." Her voice is tremulous now and her face very
+pale. "But _how_ can we marry? I am a beggar, and you----"
+
+"The same!" returns he shortly. "We are in the same boat."
+
+"Still, one must think."
+
+"And you are the one. Do you know, Marian"--he pauses, and then goes
+on deliberately--"I have been thinking, too, and I have come to the
+conclusion that when one truly loves, one never calculates."
+
+"Not even for the one beloved?"
+
+"For no one!"
+
+"Is love, then, only selfishness incarnate?"
+
+"I cannot answer that. It is a great mixture; but, whatever it is,
+it rules the world, or should rule it. It rules _me_. You tell
+me--you are for ever telling me--that marriage with you, who are
+penniless, would be my ruin, and yet I would marry you. Is _that
+_selfishness?"
+
+"No; it is only folly," says she in a low, curious tone.
+
+Maurice regards her curiously.
+
+"Marian," says he quickly, impulsively, "there are other places. If
+you would come abroad with me, I could carve out a fresh life for
+us--I could work for you, live for you, endure all things for you.
+Come! come!"
+
+He holds out his hands to her.
+
+"But why--why not wait?" exclaims she with deep agitation. "Your
+uncle--he _cannot_ live for ever."
+
+"I detest dead men's shoes," returns he coldly. Her last words have
+chilled him to his heart's core. "And besides, my uncle has as good
+a life as my own."
+
+To this she makes no answer; her eyes are downbent. Rylton's face is
+growing hard and cold.
+
+"You refuse, then?" says he at last.
+
+"I refuse nothing, but----" She breaks off. "Maurice," cries she
+passionately, "why do you talk to me like this? What has changed
+you? Your mother? Ah, I know it! She has set her heart on your
+marriage with this--this little _nobody_, and she is poisoning your
+mind against me. But you--_you_--you will not forsake me for her!"
+
+"It is you who are forsaking me," returns he violently. "Am I
+nothing to you, except as a medium by which you may acquire all the
+luxuries that women seem ready to sell their very souls for? Come,
+Marian, rose above it all. I am a poor man, but I am young, and I
+can work. Marry me as I am, and for what I am in your sight, and
+seek a new life with me abroad."
+
+"It is madness," says she, in a voice so low as to be almost
+inaudible. For a short, _short_ minute the plan held out to her had
+tempted her, but something stronger than her love prevailed. She
+could wait--she _would;_ and she is so sure of him. He is her own,
+her special property. Yes! she can afford to wait. Something must
+occur shortly to change the state of his affairs, and even if things
+come to the very worst--there are others. "I tell you," says she,
+"that I will not spoil your life. Your uncle--he would be furious if
+you married me, and----"
+
+Rylton put her somewhat roughly from him.
+
+"I am tired of that old excuse," says he, his tone even rougher than
+his gesture. He turns away.
+
+"Maurice!" says she sharply--there is real anguish in her tone, her
+face has grown white as death--"Maurice, come back." She holds out
+her arms to him. "Oh--darling, do not let your mother come between
+us! That girl--she will _make_ you marry that girl. She has money,
+whereas I--what am I? A mere castaway on life's sea! Yes, yes." She
+covers her face with her hands in a little paroxysm of despair.
+"Yes," faintly, "you will marry that girl."
+
+"Well, why not?" sullenly. He is as white as she is--his face is
+stern. "If she will deign to accept me. I have not so far," with a
+bitter laugh, "been very successful in love affairs."
+
+"Oh! _How_ can you say that--and to me?"
+
+She bursts into tears, and in a moment he has her in his arms. His
+beautiful darling! He soothes her, caresses her, lets her weave the
+bands of her fascination over him all fresh again.
+
+It is only afterwards he remembers that through all her grief and
+love she had never so forgotten herself as to promise to exile
+herself for his sake in a foreign land.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SHOWING HOW, WHEN PEOPLE DO CONGREGATE TOGETHER, MUCH KNOWLEDGE MAY
+BE FOUND, AND HOW THE LITTLE HOYDEN HAD SOME KIND THINGS SAID ABOUT
+HER.
+
+
+
+"Game and set," cries Tita at the top of her young voice, from the
+other end the court. It would be useless to pretend she doesn't
+_shout_ it. She is elated--happy. She has won. She tears off the
+little soft round cap that, defiant of the sun, she wears, and
+flings it sky-high, catching it deftly as it descends upon the top
+of her dainty head, a _little_ sideways. Her pretty, soft, fluffy
+hair, cut short, and curled all over her head by Mother Nature, is
+flying a little wildly across her brows, her large gray eyes (that
+sometimes are so nearly black) are brilliant. Altogether she is just
+a little, a _very_ little, pronounced in her behaviour. Her
+opponents, people who have come over to The Place for the day,
+whisper something to each other, and laugh a little. After all, they
+have lost--perhaps they are somewhat spiteful. Lady Rylton, sitting
+on the terrace above, bites her lips. What an impossible girl! and
+yet how rich! Things must be wrong somewhere, when Fate showers
+money on such a little ill-bred creature.
+
+"How funny she is!" says Mrs. Chichester, who is sitting near Lady
+Rylton, a guest at The Place in this house-party, this last big
+entertainment, that is to make or mar its master. Lady Rylton had
+organized it, and Sir Maurice, who never contradicted her, and who
+had not the slightest idea of the real meaning of it, had shrugged
+his shoulders. After all, let her have her own way to the last.
+There would be enough to pay the debts and a little over for her;
+and for him, poverty, a new life, and emancipation. He is tired of
+his mother's rule. "And how small!" goes on Mrs. Chichester, a tall
+young woman with light hair and queer eyes, whose husband is abroad
+with his regiment. "Like a doll. I love dolls; don't you, Captain
+Marryatt?"
+
+"Are _you_ a doll?" asks Captain Marryatt, who is leaning over her.
+
+He is always leaning over her!
+
+"I never know what I am," says Mrs. Chichester frankly, her queer
+eyes growing a little queerer. "But Miss Bolton, how delightful she
+is! so natural, and Nature is always so--so----"
+
+"Natural!" supplies Mr. Gower, who is lying on a rug watching the
+game below.
+
+"Oh, get out!" says Mrs. Chichester, whose manners are not her
+strong point.
+
+She is sitting on a garden chair behind him, and she gives him a
+little dig in the back with her foot as she speaks.
+
+"Don't! I'm bad there!" says he.
+
+"I believe you are bad everywhere," says she, with a pout.
+
+"Then you believe wrong! My heart is a heart of gold," says Mr.
+Gower ecstatically.
+
+"I'd like to see it," says Mrs. Chichester, who is not above a
+flirtation with a man whom she knows is beyond temptation; and truly
+Randal Gower is hard to get at!
+
+"Does that mean that you would gladly see me dead?" asks he. "Oh,
+cruel woman!"
+
+"I'm tired of seeing you as you are, any way," says she, tilting her
+chin. "Why don't you fall in love with somebody, for goodness'
+sake?"
+
+"Well, I'm trying," says Mr. Gower, "I'm trying hard; but," looking
+at her, "I don't seem to get on. You don't encourage me, you know,
+and I'm very shy!"
+
+"There, don't be stupid," says Mrs. Chichester, seeing that Marryatt
+is growing a little enraged. "We were talking of Miss Bolton. We
+were saying----"
+
+"That she was Nature's child."
+
+"Give me Nature!" says Captain Marryatt, breaking into the
+_tête-à-tête_ a little sulkily. "Nothing like it."
+
+"Is that a proposal?" demands Mr. Gower, raising himself on his
+elbow, and addressing him with deep interest. "It cannot be _Mrs._
+Bolton you refer to, as she is unfortunately dead. Nature's child,
+however, is still among us. Shall I convey your offer to her?"
+
+"Yes, shall he?" asks Mrs. Chichester.
+
+She casts a teasing glance at her admirer; a little amused light has
+come into her green-gray eyes.
+
+"I should think _you,_ Randal, would be the fitting person to
+propose to her, considering how you haunt her footsteps day and
+night," says a strange voice.
+
+It comes from a tall, gaunt old lady, who, with ringlets flying,
+advances towards the group. She is a cousin of the late Sir Maurice,
+and an aunt of Gower's, from whom much is to be expected by the
+latter at her death. There is therefore, as you see, a cousinship
+between the Gowers and the Ryltons.
+
+"My dear aunt, is that you?" says Mr. Gower with enthusiasm. "Come
+and sit here; _do,_ just here _beside_ me!"
+
+He pats the rug on which he is reclining as he speaks, beckoning her
+warmly to it, knowing as he well does that her bones would break if
+she tried to bring them to so low a level.
+
+"Thank you, Randal, I prefer a more elevated position," replies she
+austerely.
+
+"Ah, you would! you would!" says Randal, who really ought to be
+ashamed of himself. "You were meant for high places."
+
+He sighs loudly, and goes back on his rug.
+
+"Miss Gower is right," says Mrs. Bethune gaily, who has just
+arrived. "Why don't _you_ go in for Miss Bolton?"
+
+"She wouldn't have me!" says Gower tragically. "I've hinted all
+sorts of lovely things to her during the past week, but she has been
+apparently blind to the brilliant prospects opened to her. It has
+been my unhappy lot to learn that she prefers lollipops to lovers."
+
+"You tried her?" asks Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Well, I believe I _did_ do a good deal in the chocolate-cream
+business," says Mr. Gower mildly.
+
+"And she preferred the creams?"
+
+"Oh! much, _much!"_ says Gower.
+
+"So artless of her," says Mrs. Bethune, with a shrug. "I do love the
+nineteenth-century child!"
+
+"If you mean Miss Bolton, so do I," says a young man who has been
+listening to them, and laughing here and there--a man from the
+Cavalry Barracks at Ashbridge. "She's quite out-of-the-way
+charming."
+
+Mrs. Bethune looks at him--he is only a boy and easily to be
+subdued, and she is glad of the opportunity of giving some little
+play to the jealous anger that is raging within her.
+
+"She has a hundred thousand charming ways," says she, smiling, but
+very unpleasantly. "An heiress is always charming."
+
+"Oh no! I didn't look at it in that way at all," says the boy,
+reddening furiously. "One wouldn't, you know--when looking at
+_her."_
+
+"Wouldn't one?" says Mrs. Bethune. She is smiling at him always; but
+it is a fixed smile now, and even more bitter. "And yet one might,"
+says she.
+
+She speaks almost without knowing it. She is thinking of
+Rylton--might _he?_
+
+"I think not," says the boy, stammering.
+
+It is his first lesson in the book that tells one that to praise a
+woman to a woman is to bring one to confusion. It is the worst
+manners possible.
+
+"I agree with you, Woodleigh," says Gower, who is case-hardened and
+doesn't care about his manners, and who rather dislikes Mrs.
+Bethune. "She's got lovely little ways. Have _you_ noticed them?"
+
+He looks direct at Marian.
+
+"No," says she, shaking her head, but very sweetly. "But, then, I'm
+so dull."
+
+"Well, she has," says Gower, in quite a universally conversational
+tone, looking round him. He turns himself on his rug, pulls a
+cushion towards him, and lies down again. "And they're all her own,
+too."
+
+"What a comfort!" says Mrs. Bethune, rather nastily.
+
+Gower looks at her.
+
+"Yes, you're right," says he. "To be original--honestly original--is
+the thing nowadays. Have you noticed when she laughs? Those little
+slender shoulders of hers actually shake."
+
+"My _dear_ Mr. Gower," says Mrs. Bethune, "do spare us! I'm sure you
+must be portraying Miss Bolton wrongly. Emotion--to betray
+emotion--how vulgar!"
+
+"I like emotion," says Mr. Gower calmly; "I'm a perfect mass of it
+myself. Have you noticed Miss Bolton's laugh, Rylton?" to Sir
+Maurice, who had come up a moment ago, and had been listening to
+Mrs. Bethune's last remark. "It seems to run all through her. Not an
+inch that doesn't seem to enjoy it."
+
+"Well, there aren't _many _inches," says Sir Maurice, with am amused
+air.
+
+"And the laugh itself--so gay."
+
+"You are en enthusiast," says Sir Maurice, who is standing near Mrs.
+Bethune.
+
+"My dear fellow, who wouldn't be, in such a cause?" says the young
+cavalryman, with a rather conscious laugh.
+
+"Here she is," says Mrs. Chichester, who is one of those people whom
+Nature has supplied with eyes behind and before.
+
+Tita running up the slope at this moment like a young deer--a steep
+embankment that would have puzzled a good many people--puts an
+effectual end to the conversation. Mr. Gower graciously deigning to
+give her half of his rug, she sinks upon it gladly. She likes Gower.
+
+Lady Rylton calls to her.
+
+"Not on the grass, Tita dearest," cries she, in her little shrill,
+old-young voice. "Come here to me, darling. Next to me on this seat.
+Marian," to Mrs. Bethune, who has been sitting on the garden-chair
+with her, "you can make a little room, eh?"
+
+"A great deal," says Marian.
+
+She rises.
+
+"Oh no! don't stir. Not for me," says Tita, making a little gesture
+to her to reseat herself. "No, thank you, Lady Rylton; I shall stay
+here. I'm quite happy here. I like sitting on the grass."
+
+She makes herself a little more comfortable where she is, regardless
+of the honour Lady Rylton would have done her--regardless, too, of
+the frown with which her hostess now regards her.
+
+Mr. Gower turns upon her a beaming countenance.
+
+"What you really mean is," says he, "that you like sitting near
+_me."_
+
+"Indeed I do not," says Tita indignantly.
+
+"My dear girl, _think_. Am I to understand, then, that you don't
+like sitting near me?"
+
+"Ah, that's a different thing," says Tita, with a little side-glance
+at him that shows a disposition to laughter.
+
+"You see! you see!" says Mr. Gower triumphantly--he has a talent for
+teasing. "Then you do wish to sit beside me! And why not?" He
+expands his hands amiably. "Could you be beside a more delightful
+person?"
+
+"Maybe I could," says Tita, with another glance.
+
+Rylton, who is listening, laughs.
+
+His laugh seems to sting Mrs. Bethune to her heart. She turns to
+him, and lets her dark eyes rest on his.
+
+"What a little flirt!" says she contemptuously.
+
+"Oh no! a mere child," returns he.
+
+"Miss Bolton! What an answer!" Gower is now at the height of his
+enjoyment. "And after last night, too; you _must_ remember what you
+said to me last night."
+
+"Last night?" She is staring at him with a small surprised face--a
+delightful little face, as sweet as early spring. "What did I say to
+you last night?"
+
+"And have you forgotten?" Mr. Gower has thrown tragedy into his
+voice. _"Already?_ Do you mean to tell me that you don't recollect
+saying to me that you preferred me to all the rest of my sex?"
+
+"I _never_ said that!" says Tita, with emphasis; "never! never! Why
+should I say that?"
+
+She looks at Gower as if demanding an answer.
+
+"I'm not good at conundrums," says he. "Ask me another."
+
+"No; I won't," says she_. "Why?"_
+
+Upon this Mr. Gower rolls himself over in the rug, and covers his
+head. It is plain that answers are not to be got out of _him_.
+
+"Did I say that?" says Tita, appealing to Sir Maurice.
+
+"I hope not," returns he, laughing. "Certainly I did not hear it."
+
+"And certainly he didn't either," says Tita with decision.
+
+"After that," says Gower, unrolling himself, "I shall retire from
+public life; I shall give myself up to"--he pauses and looks round;
+a favourite ladies' paper is lying on the ground near him--"to
+literature."
+
+He turns over on his side, and apparently becomes engrosses in it.
+
+"Have you been playing, Maurice?" asks Mrs. Bethune presently.
+
+Her tone is cold. That little speech of his to Tita, uttered some
+time ago, "I hope not," had angered her.
+
+"No," returns he as coldly.
+
+He is on one of his uncertain moods with regard to her. Distrust,
+disbelief, a sense of hopelessness--all are troubling him.
+
+"What a shame, Sir Maurice!" says Mrs. Chichester, leaning forward.
+As I have hinted, she would have flirted with a broomstick. "And
+you, who are our champion player."
+
+"I'll play now if you will play with me," says Sir Maurice
+gallantly.
+
+"A safe answer," looking at him with a pout, and through half-closed
+lids. She finds that sort of glance effective sometimes. "You know I
+don't play."
+
+"Not _that_ game," says Mr. Gower, who never can resist a thrust.
+
+"I thought you were reading your paper," says Mrs. Chichester
+sharply. "Come, what's in it? I don't believe," scornfully, "you are
+reading it at all."
+
+"I am, however," says Mr. Gower. "These ladies' papers are so full
+of information. I'm quite enthralled just now. I've got on to the
+Exchange and Mart business, and it's too exciting for _words_. Just
+listen to this: 'Two dozen old tooth-brushes (in _good_
+preservation) would be exchanged for a gold bangle (_unscratched_).
+Would not be sent on approval (mind, it must not be set _scratched!_
+good old toothbrushes!) without deposit of ten shillings. Address,
+'Chizzler, office of this paper.'"
+
+"It isn't true. I don't believe a word of it," says Tita, making a
+snatch at the paper.
+
+"My dear girl, why not? Two dozen old toothbrushes. _Old_
+toothbrushes, you notice. Everything old now goes for a large sum,
+except," thoughtfully, "aunts."
+
+He casts a lingering glance round, but providentially Miss Gower has
+disappeared.
+
+"But toothbrushes! Show me that paper."
+
+"Do you, then, disbelieve in my word?"
+
+"Nobody could want a toothbrush."
+
+"Some people want them awfully," says Mr. Gower. "Haven't you
+noticed?"
+
+But here Sir Maurice sees it his duty to interfere.
+
+"Miss Bolton, will you play this next set with me?" says he, coming
+up to Tita.
+
+"Oh, I should _love_ it!" cries she. "You are so good a player. Do
+get us some decent people to play against, though; I hate a weak
+game."
+
+"Well, come, we'll try and manage it," says he, amused at her
+enthusiasm.
+
+They move away together.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED, "OF SORTS"; AND HOW TITA WAS MUCH HARRIED,
+BUT HOW SHE BORE HERSELF VALIANTLY, AND HOW, NOT KNOWING OF HER
+VICTORIES, SHE WON ALL THROUGH.
+
+
+
+There had been no question about it; it had been a walk-over. Even
+Lord Eshurst and Miss Staines, who are considered quite crack people
+at tennis in this part of the county, had not had a chance. Tita had
+been everywhere; she seemed to fly. Every ball caught, and every
+ball so well planted. Rylton had scarcely been in it, though a good
+player. That little thing was here and there and everywhere, yet
+Rylton could not say she poached. Whatever she did, however, she
+_won_.
+
+She does not throw up her cap this time--perhaps she had seen a
+little of that laughter before--but she claps her hands joyfully,
+and pats Rylton's arm afterwards in a _bon camarade_ fashion that
+seems to amuse him. And is she tired? There is no sense of fatigue,
+certainly, in the way she runs up the slope again, and flings
+herself gracefully upon the rug beside Mr. Gower. Mr. Gower has not
+stirred from that rug since. He seldom stirs. Perhaps he would not
+be quite so stout if he did.
+
+"You won your game?" says Margaret Knollys, bending towards Tita,
+with a smile.
+
+Old Lady Eshurst is smiling at her, too.
+
+"Oh yes; how could I help it? Sir Maurice"--with a glance at the
+latter as he climbs the slope in turn--"plays like an angel."
+
+"Oh no; it is you who do that," says he, laughing.
+
+"Are you an angel, Miss Bolton?" asks Mrs. Bethune, who is standing
+next Rylton.
+
+He had gone straight to her, but she had not forgiven his playing
+with the girl at all, and a sense of hatred towards Tita is warming
+her breast.
+
+"I don't know," says Tita, with a slight grimace. It is not the
+answer expected. Marian had expected to see her shy, confused; Tita,
+on the contrary, is looking at her with calm, inquiring eyes. "Do
+you?" asks she.
+
+"I have not gone into it," says Mrs. Bethune, with as distinct a
+sneer as she can allow herself.
+
+Mr. Gower laughs.
+
+"You're good at games," says he to Tita.
+
+He might have meant her powers at tennis, he might have meant
+_anything_.
+
+"That last game you are thinking of?"
+
+"Decidedly, the last game," says Gower, who laughs again
+immoderately.
+
+"I don't see what there is to laugh at," says Miss Bolton, with some
+indignation. "'They laugh who win,' is an old proverb. But _you_
+didn't win; you weren't in it."
+
+"I expect I never shall be," says Gower. "Yet lookers-on have their
+advantage ascribed to them by a pitiful Providence. They see most of
+the game."
+
+"It is I who should laugh," says Tita, who has not been following
+him. _"I_ won--we"--looking, with an honest desire to be just to all
+people, at Sir Maurice--_"we_ won."
+
+"No, no; leave it in the singular," says Maurice, making her a
+little gesture of self-depreciation.
+
+"You seem very active," says Margaret kindly. "I watched you at golf
+yesterday. You liked it?"
+
+"Yes; there is so little else to like," says Tita, looking at her,
+"except my horses and my dogs."
+
+"A horse is the best companion of all," says Mr. Woodleigh, his eyes
+bent on her charming little face.
+
+"I'm not sure, the dogs are so kind, so affectionate; they _want_
+one so," says Tita. "And yet a horse--oh, I _do_ love my last
+mount--a brown mare! She's lying up now."
+
+"You ride, then?" says Sir Maurice.
+
+"Ride! you bet!" says Tita. She rolls over on the rug, and, resting
+on her elbows, looks up at him; Lady Rylton watching, shudders.
+"I've been in the saddle all my life. Just before I came here I had
+a real good run--my uncle's groom had one horse, I had the other; it
+was over the downs. _I_ won."
+
+She rests her chin upon her hands.
+
+Lady Rylton's face pales with horror. A race with a groom!
+
+"Your uncle must give you good mounts," says Mr. Woodleigh.
+
+"It is all he _does_ give me," says the girl, with a pout. "Yes; I
+may ride, but that is all. I never _see_ anybody--there is nobody to
+see; my uncle knows nobody."
+
+Lady Rylton makes an effort. It is growing _too_ dreadful. She turns
+to Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Why don't you play?" asks she.
+
+"Tennis? I hate it; it destroys one's clothes so," says Mrs.
+Chichester. "And those shoes, they are terrible. If I knew any
+girls--I never do know them, as a rule--I should beg of them not to
+play tennis; it is destruction so far as feet go."
+
+"Fancy riding so much as that!" says Mr. Woodleigh, who, with Sir
+Maurice and the others, has been listening to Tita's stories of
+hunts and rides gone and done. "Why, how _long_ have you been
+hunting?"
+
+"Ever since I was thirteen," says Tita.
+
+"Why, that is about your age now, isn't it?" says Gower.
+
+"We lived at Oakdean then," goes on Tita, taking, very properly, no
+notice of him, "and my father liked me to ride. My cousin was with
+us there, and he taught me. I rode a great deal before"--she pauses,
+and her lips quiver; she is evidently thinking of some grief that
+has entered into her young life and saddened it--"before I went to
+live with my uncle."
+
+"It was your cousin who taught you to ride, then? Is he a son of
+the--the uncle with whom you now live?" asks Sir Maurice, who is
+rather ashamed of exhibiting such interest in her.
+
+"No, no, indeed! He is a son of my aunt's--my father's sister. She
+married a man in Birmingham--a sugar merchant. I did love Uncle
+Joe," says Tita warmly.
+
+"No wonder!" says Mrs. Bethune. "I wish _I_ had an uncle a sugar
+merchant. It does sound sweet."
+
+"I'm not sure that _you _would think my uncle Joe sweet!" says Miss
+Bolton thoughtfully. "He wasn't good to look at. He had the biggest
+mouth that ever _I_ saw, and his nose was little and turned up, but
+I loved him. I love him now, even when he is gone. And one _does_
+forget, you know! He said such good things to people, and"--covering
+her little face with her hands, and bursting into an irrepressible
+laugh--"he told such funny stories!"
+
+Lady Rylton makes a sudden movement.
+
+"Dear Lady Eshurst, wouldn't you like to come and see the houses?"
+asks she.
+
+"I am afraid I must be going home," says old Lady Eshurst. "It is
+very late; you must forgive my staying so long, but your little
+friend--by-the-bye, is she a friend or relation?"
+
+"A friend!" says Lady Rylton sharply.
+
+"Well, she is so entertaining that I could not bear to go away
+sooner."
+
+"Yes--yes; she is very charming," says Lady Rylton, as she hurries
+Lady Eshurst down the steps that lead to the path below.
+
+Good heavens! If she should hear some of Uncle Joe's funny stories!
+She takes Lady Eshurst visibly in tow, and walks her out of hearing.
+
+"What a good seat you must have!" says Mr. Woodleigh presently, who
+has been dwelling on what Tita has said about her riding.
+
+"Oh, pretty well! Everyone should ride," says Tita indifferently. "I
+despise a man who can't conquer a horse. I," laughing, "never saw
+the horse that _I_ couldn't conquer."
+
+"You? Look at your hands!" says Gower, laughing.
+
+"Well, what's the matter with them?" says she. "My cousin, when he
+was riding, used to say they were made of iron."
+
+"Of velvet, rather."
+
+"No. He said my heart was made of that." She laughs gaily, and
+suddenly looking up at Rylton, who is looking down at her, she fixes
+her eyes on his. She spreads her little hands abroad, brown as
+berries though they are with exposure to all sorts of weather. They
+are small brown hands, and very delicately shaped. "They are not so
+bad after all, are they?" says she.
+
+"They are very pretty," smiles Rylton, returning her gaze.
+
+Suddenly for the first time it occurs to him that she has a beauty
+that is all her own.
+
+"Oh no! there is nothing pretty about me," says Tita.
+
+She gives a sudden shrug of her shoulders. She is still lying on the
+rug, her face resting on the palms of her hands. Again she lifts her
+eyes slowly to Rylton; it is an entirely inconsequent glance--a
+purely idle glance--and yet it suddenly occurs to Mrs. Bethune,
+watching her narrowly, that there is coquetry in it; undeveloped,
+certainly, but _there_. She is now a child; but later on?
+
+Maurice is smiling back at the child as if amused. Mrs. Bethune lays
+her hands upon his arm--Lady Rylton has gone away with old Lady
+Eshurst.
+
+"Maurice! there will be just time for a walk before tea," says she
+in a whisper, her beautiful face uplifted very near to his. Her eyes
+are full of promise.
+
+He turns with her.
+
+"Sir Maurice! Sir Maurice!" cries Tita; "remember our match at golf
+to-morrow!" Sir Maurice looks back. "Mr. Gower and I, against you
+and Mrs. Bethune. You _do_ remember?"
+
+"Yes, and we shall win," says Mrs. Bethune, with a cold smile.
+
+"Oh no! don't think it. We shall beat you into a cocked hat!" cries
+Tita gaily.
+
+"Good heavens! how vulgar she is!" says Mrs. Bethune.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+HOW THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER; AND HOW MARIAN LOSES HER TEMPER, AND
+HOW MARGARET OBJECTS TO THE RUIN OF ONE YOUNG LIFE.
+
+
+
+"She is insufferable--intolerable!" says Lady Rylton, almost
+hysterically. She is sitting in the drawing-room with Margaret and
+Mrs. Bethune, near one of the windows that overlook the tennis
+court. The guests of the afternoon have gone; only the house-party
+remains, and still, in the dying daylight, the tennis balls are
+being tossed to and fro. Tita's little form may be seen darting from
+side to side; she is playing again with Sir Maurice.
+
+"She is a very young girl, who has been brought up without a
+mother's care," says Miss Knollys, who has taken a fancy to the poor
+hoyden, and would defend her.
+
+"Her manners this afternoon!--her actions--her fatal admissions!"
+says Lady Rylton, who has not forgiven that word or two about the
+sugar merchant.
+
+"She spoke only naturally. _She_ saw no reason why she should not
+speak of----"
+
+"Don't be absurd, Margaret!" Sharply. "You know, as well as I do,
+that she is detestable."
+
+"I am quite glad you have formed that idea of her," says Miss
+Knollys, "as it leads me to hope you do not now desire to marry her
+to Maurice."
+
+After all, there are, perhaps, moments when Margaret is not as
+perfect as one believes her. She can't, for example, resist this
+thrust.
+
+"Decidedly I don't _desire _to marry her to Maurice," says Lady
+Rylton angrily. "I have told you that often enough, I think; but for
+all that Maurice must marry her. It is his last chance!"
+
+"Tessie," says Margaret sharply, "if you persist in this matter, and
+bring it to the conclusion you have in view, do you know what will
+happen? You will make your only child miserable! I warn you of
+that." Miss Knollys' voice is almost solemn.
+
+"You talk as if Maurice was the only person in the world to be made
+miserable," says Lady Rylton, leaning back in her chair and bursting
+into tears--at all events, it must be supposed it is tears that are
+going on behind the little lace fragment pressed to her eyes. "Am
+not I ten times more miserable? I, who have to give my only son--as"
+(sobbing) "you most admirably describe it, Margaret--to such a girl
+as that! Good heavens! What can his sufferings be to mine?" She
+wipes her eyes daintily, and sits up again. "You hurt me so, dear
+Margaret," she says plaintively, "but I'm _sure_ you do not mean
+it."
+
+"No, no, of course," says Miss Knollys, as civilly as she can. She
+is feeling a little disgusted.
+
+"And as for this affair--objectionable as the girl is, still one
+must give and take a little when one's fortunes are at the ebb. And
+I will save my dearest Maurice at all risks if I can, no matter what
+grief it costs _me_. Who am I"--with a picturesque sigh--"that I
+should interfere with the prospects of my child? And this girl! If
+Maurice can be persuaded to have her----"
+
+"My dear Tessie, what a word!" says Margaret, rising, with a
+distinct frown. "Has he _only_ to ask, then, and have?"
+
+"Beyond doubt," says Lady Rylton insolently, waving her fan to and
+fro, "if he does it in the right way. In all my experience, my dear
+Margaret, I have never known a woman to frown upon a man who was as
+handsome, as well-born, as _chic_ as Maurice! Even though the man
+might be a--well"--smiling and lifting her shoulders--"it's a rude
+word, but--well, a very devil!"
+
+She looks deliberately at Margaret over her fan, who really appears
+in this dull light _nearly_ as young as she is. The look is a cruel
+one, hideously cruel. Even Marian Bethune, whose bowels of
+compassion are extraordinary small, changes colour, and lets her
+red-brown eyes rest on the small woman lounging in the deep chair
+with a rather murderous gaze.
+
+Yet Lady Rylton smiles on, enjoying the changes in Margaret's face.
+It is a terrible smile, coming from so fragile a creature.
+
+Margaret's face has grown white, but she answers coldly and with
+deliberation. All that past horrible time--her lover, his
+unworthiness, his desertion--all her young, _young_ life lies once
+more massacred before her.
+
+"The women who give in to such fascination, such mere outward
+charms, are fools!" says she with a strength that adorns her.
+
+"Oh, come! Come now, dearest Margaret," says her aunt, with the
+gayest of little laughs, "would you call _yourself_ a fool? Why,
+remember, your own dear Harold was----"
+
+"Pray spare me!" says Miss Knollys, in so cold, so haughty, so
+commanding a tone, that even Lady Rylton sinks beneath it. She makes
+an effort to sustain her position and laughs lightly, but for all
+that she lets her last sentence remain a fragment.
+
+"You think Maurice will propose to this Miss Bolton?" says Marian
+Bethune, leaning forward. There is something sarcastic in her smile.
+
+"He must. It is detestable, of course. One would like a girl in his
+own rank, but there are so few of them with money, and when there is
+one, her people want her to marry a Duke or a foreign Prince--so
+tiresome of them!"
+
+"It is all such folly," says Margaret, knitting her brows.
+
+"Utter folly," says Lady Rylton. "That is what makes it so wise! It
+would be folly to marry a satyr--satyrs are horrid--but if the satyr
+had _millions!_ Oh, the wisdom of it!"
+
+"You go too far!" says Margaret. "Money is not everything."
+
+"And Maurice is not a satyr," says Mrs. Bethune, a trifle unwisely.
+She has been watching the players on the ground below. Lady Rylton
+looks at her.
+
+"Of course _you_ object to it," says she.
+
+"I!" says Marian. "Why should I object to it? I talk of marriage
+only in the abstract."
+
+"I am glad of that!" Lady Rylton's eyes are still fixed on hers.
+"This will be a veritable marriage, I assure you; I have set my mind
+on it. It is terrible to contemplate, but one must give way
+sometimes; yet the thought of throwing that girl into the arms of
+darling Maurice----"
+
+She breaks off, evidently overcome, yet behind the cobweb she
+presses to her cheeks she has an eye on Marian.
+
+"I don't think Maurice's arms could hold her," says Mrs. Bethune,
+with a low laugh. It is a strange laugh. Lady Rylton's glance grows
+keener. "Such a mere doll of a thing. A mite!" She laughs again, but
+this time (having caught Lady Rylton's concentrated gaze) in a very
+ordinary manner--the passion, the anger has died out of it.
+
+"Yes, she's a mere mite," says Lady Rylton. "She is positively
+trivial! She is in effect a perfect idiot in some ways. You know I
+have tried to impress her--to show her that she is not altogether
+below our level--as she certainly _is_--but she has refused to see
+my kindness. She--she's very fatiguing," says Lady Rylton, with a
+long-suffering sigh. "But one gets accustomed to grievances. This
+girl, just because she is hateful to me, is the one I must take into
+my bosom. She is going to give her fortune to Maurice!"
+
+"And Maurice?" asks Margaret.
+
+"Is going to take it," returns his mother airily. "And is going to
+give her, what she has never had--_a name!"_
+
+"A cruel compact," says Margaret slowly, but with decision. "I think
+this marriage should not be so much as thought of! That child! and
+Maurice, who cares nothing for her. Marian"--Miss Knollys turns
+suddenly to Marian, who has withdrawn behind the curtains, as if
+determined to have nothing to say further to the discussion--
+"Marian, come here. Say you think Maurice should not marry this
+silly child--this baby."
+
+"Oh! as for me," says Mrs. Bethune, coming out from behind the
+curtains, her face a little pale, "what is my weight in this matter?
+Nothing! nothing! Let Maurice marry as he will."
+
+_"As he will!"_ Lady Rylton repeats her words, and, rising, comes
+towards her. "Why don't you answer?" says she. "We want your answer.
+Give it!"
+
+"I have no answer," says Mrs. Bethune slowly. "Why should he not
+marry Miss Bolton?--and again, why should he? Marriage, as we have
+been told all our lives, is but a lottery--they should have said a
+mockery," with a little bitter smile. "One could have understood
+that."
+
+"Then you advise Maurice to marry this girl?" asks Lady Rylton
+eagerly.
+
+"Oh, no, no! I advise nothing," says Marian, with a little wave of
+her arms.
+
+"But why?" demands Lady Rylton angrily.
+
+She had depended upon Marian to support her against Margaret.
+
+"Simply because I won't," says Mrs. Bethune, her strange eyes
+beginning to blaze.
+
+"Because you daren't?" questions Lady Rylton, with a sneer.
+
+"I don't understand you," says Marian coldly.
+
+"Don't you?" Lady Rylton's soft, little, fair face grows diabolical.
+"Then let me explain." Margaret makes a movement towards her, but
+she waves her back. "Pray let me explain, Margaret. Our dear Marian
+is so intensely dull that she wants a word in season. We all know
+why she objects to a marriage of any sort. She made a fiasco of her
+own first marriage, and now hopes----"
+
+She would have continued her cruel speech but that Mrs. Bethune, who
+has risen, breaks into it. She comes forward in a wild, tempestuous
+fashion, her eyes afire, her nostrils dilated! Her beautiful red
+hair seems alight as she descends upon Lady Rylton.
+
+"And that marriage!" says she, in a suffocating tone. "Who made it?
+_Who?"_ She looks like a fury. There is hatred, an almost murderous
+hatred, in the glance she casts at the little, languid, pretty woman
+before her, who looks back at her with uplifted shoulders, and an
+all-round air of surprise and disapprobation. _"You_ to taunt me!"
+says she, in a low, condensed tone. _"You_, who hurried, who
+_forced_ me into a marriage with a man I detested! You, who gave me
+to understand, when I resisted, that I had no place on this big
+earth except a pauper's place--a place in a workhouse!"
+
+She stands tall, grave, magnificent, in her fury before Lady Rylton,
+who, in spite of the courage born of want of feeling, now shrinks
+from her as if affrighted.
+
+"If you persist in going on like this," says she, pressing her
+smelling-bottle to her nose, "I must ask you to go away--to go at
+once. I hate scenes. You _must_ go!"
+
+"I went away once," says Mrs. Bethune, standing pale and cold before
+her, "at your command--I went to the home of the man you selected
+for me. What devil's life I led with him you may guess at. _You_
+knew him, I did not. I was seventeen then." She pauses; the breath
+she draws seems to rive her body in twain. "I came back----" she
+says presently.
+
+"A widow?"
+
+"A widow--_thank God!"_
+
+A silence follows; something of tragedy seems to have fallen into
+the air--with that young lovely creature standing there, upright,
+passionate, her arms clasped behind her head, as the heroine of it.
+The sunlight from the dying day lights up the red, rich beauty of
+her hair, the deadly pallor of her skin. Through it all the sound of
+the tennis-balls from below, as they hurry to and fro through the
+hair, can be heard. Perhaps it reaches her. She flings herself
+suddenly into a chair, and bursts out laughing.
+
+"Let us come back to common-sense," cries she. "What were we talking
+of? The marriage of Maurice to this little plebeian--this little
+female Croesus. Well, what of the argument--what?"
+
+Her manner is a little excited.
+
+"I, for one, object to the marriage," says Margaret distinctly. "The
+child is too young and too rich! She should be given a chance; she
+should not be coerced and drawn into a mesh, as it were, without her
+knowledge."
+
+"A mesh? Do you call a marriage with my son a mesh?" asks Lady
+Rylton angrily. "He of one of the oldest families in England, and
+she a nobody!"
+
+"There is no such thing as a nobody," says Miss Knollys calmly.
+"This girl has intellect, mind, a _soul!_ She has even money! She
+_must_ be considered."
+
+"She has no birth!" says Lady Rylton. "If you are going in for
+Socialistic principles, Margaret, pray do not expect _me_ to follow
+you. I despise folly of that sort."
+
+"I am not a Socialist," says Margaret slowly, "and yet why cannot
+this child be accepted as one of ourselves? Where is the great
+difference? You object to her marrying your son, yet you _want_ to
+marry her to your son. How do you reconcile it? Surely you are more
+of Socialist than I am. You would put the son of a baronet and the
+daughter of heaven knows who on an equality."
+
+"Never!" says Lady Rylton. "You don't understand. She will always be
+just as she is, and Maurice----"
+
+"And their children?" asks Margaret.
+
+Here Mrs. Bethune springs to her feet.
+
+"Good heavens! Margaret, have you not gone far enough?" says she. If
+her face had been pale before, it is livid now. "Why, this
+marriage--this marriage"--she beats her hand upon a table near
+her--"one would think it was a fact accomplished!"
+
+"I was only saying," says Miss Knollys, looking with a gentle glance
+at Marian, "that if Maurice _were_ to marry this girl----"
+
+"It would be an honour to her," interrupts Lady Rylton hotly.
+
+"It would be a degradation to him," says Margaret coldly. "He does
+not love her."
+
+She might have said more, but that suddenly Marian Bethune stops
+her. The latter, who is leaning against the curtains of the window,
+breaks into a wild little laugh.
+
+"Love--what is love?" cries she. "Oh, foolish Margaret! Do not
+listen to her, Tessie, do not listen."
+
+She folds the soft silken curtains round her slender figure, and,
+hidden therein, still laughs aloud with a wild passion of mirth.
+
+"It is you who are foolish," cries Margaret, with some agitation.
+
+"I?" She lets the curtains go; they fall in a sweep behind her. She
+looks out at Margaret, still laughing. Her face is like ashes. "You
+speak too strongly," says she.
+
+"Do _you_ think I could speak too strongly?" asks Margaret, looking
+intently at her. It is a questioning glance. "You! Do _you_ think
+Maurice ought to ask this poor, ignorant girl to marry him? Do _you_
+advise him to take this step?"
+
+"Why, it appears he must take some step," says Marian. "Why not
+this?"
+
+Margaret goes close to her and speaks in so low a tone that Lady
+Rylton cannot hear her.
+
+"His honour, is that nothing to you?" says she.
+
+"To me? What have I got to do with his honour?" says Mrs. Bethune,
+with a little expressive gesture.
+
+"Oh, Marian!" says Miss Knollys.
+
+She half turns away as if in disgust, but Marian follows her and
+catches her sleeve.
+
+"You mean----" says she.
+
+"Must I explain? With his heart full of you, do you think he should
+marry this girl?"
+
+"Oh, _his_ heart!" says Mrs. Bethune. "Has he a heart? Dear
+Margaret, don't be an enthusiast; be like everybody else. It is so
+much more comfortable."
+
+"You can put it off like this," says Miss Knollys in a low tone. "It
+is very simple; but you should think. I have always thought you--you
+liked Maurice, but you were a--a friend of his. Save him from this.
+Don't let him marry this child."
+
+"I don't think he will marry a child!" says Mrs. Bethune, laughing.
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"I mean nothing at all--nothing, really," says Marian. "But that
+baby! My dear Margaret, how impossible!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+HOW A STORM RAGED; AND HOW, WHEN A MAN AND WOMAN MET FACE TO FACE,
+THE VICTORY--FOR A WONDER--WENT TO THE MAN.
+
+
+
+There has been a second scene between Lady Rylton and Sir
+Maurice--this time a terrible scene. She had sent for him directly
+after dinner, and had almost commanded him to marry Miss Bolton. She
+had been very bitter in her anger, and had said strange things of
+Marian. Sir Maurice had come off triumphant, certainly, if greatly
+injured, and with his heart on fire. He had, at all events, sworn he
+would not marry the little Bolton girl. Those perpetual
+insinuations! What had his mother meant by saying that Marian was
+laying herself out to catch Lord Dunkerton, an old baron in the
+neighbourhood, with some money and a damaged reputation? That could
+not be true--he would not believe it. That old beast! Marian would
+not so much as look at him. And yet--had she not been very civil to
+him at that ball last week?
+
+Coming out from his mother's boudoir, a perfect storm of fury in his
+heart, he finds himself face to face with Marian. Something in his
+face warns her. She would have gone by him with a light word or two,
+but, catching her by the wrist, he draws her into a room on his
+left.
+
+"You have had another quarrel with your mother," says she
+sympathetically, ignoring the anger blazing in his eyes. "About that
+silly girl?"
+
+"No. About you!"
+
+His tone is short--almost violent.
+
+"About me?"
+
+She changes colour.
+
+"Yes, you. She accuses you of encouraging that wretched old man,
+Dunkerton. Do you _hear?_ Speak! Is it true?"
+
+"This is madness!" says Marian, throwing out her hands. "How _could_
+you believe such folly? That old man! Why will you give ear to such
+gossip?"
+
+"Put an end to it, then," says he savagely.
+
+"I? How can I put an end to it?"
+
+"By marrying _me!"_
+
+He stands opposite to her, almost compelling her gaze in return.
+Mrs. Bethune gives it fearlessly.
+
+"Maurice dearest, you are excited now. Your mother--she is _so_
+irritating. I know her. Marriage, as we now stand, would mean quite
+dreadful things. Do be reasonable!"
+
+"You talk of reason," says he passionately. "Does love reason? No! I
+will hear your last word now."
+
+"Are you condemning me, then, to death?" asks she, smiling
+delicately, and laying two large but delicate hands upon his arms.
+
+He shakes her off.
+
+"Answer me. Will you marry me, or will you not?"
+
+"This is too sudden, Maurice!"
+
+A little fire is kindling in her own eyes; she had objected to that
+last repulsion.
+
+"Sudden! After all these months!" He pauses. "Is it to be Dunkerton
+or me?" asks he violently.
+
+"Please do not bring Lord Dunkerton into this discussion," says she
+coldly.
+
+"I certainly shall."
+
+"You mean that I----"
+
+"Have encouraged him. So I hear, at all events, and--there are
+things I remember."
+
+"For the matter of that," says she, throwing up her beautiful head,
+"there are things I remember too! You--you dare to come here and
+accuse _me_ of falsity when I have watched you all day making steady
+court to that wretched little plebeian, playing tennis with her all
+the day long, and far into the evening! No! I may have said half a
+dozen words to Lord Dunkerton, but you--how many half-dozen words
+have you said to Miss Bolton? Come, answer me that, as we seem bent
+on riddles."
+
+"All this is as nothing," says Rylton. "You know, as well as I do,
+that Miss Bolton has not a thought of mine! I want only one thing,
+the assurance that you love me, and I put it at marriage. Will you
+link your fate with mine, low down though it is at present? If you
+will, Marian"--he comes closer to her and lays his hands upon her
+shoulders, and gazes at her with eyes full filled with honest
+love--"I shall work for you to the last day of my life. If you will
+not----"
+
+He pauses--he looks at her--he waits. But no answer comes from her.
+
+"Marian, take courage," says he softly--very softly. "My darling, is
+money everything?"
+
+She suddenly leans back from him, and looks fair in his eyes.
+
+"It is, it is," says she hoarsely. "I _can't_ again go through what
+I suffered before. Wait, _do_ wait--something--something will
+happen----"
+
+"You refuse me?" says he, in a lifeless tone.
+
+"Not that. Don't speak like that. Don't leave me, Maurice."
+
+"It is our last hour," says he deliberately. "Be sure of that. If
+money is so much to you--if money counts so far beyond all that a
+man can give you of his heart and soul--then take it."
+
+"And you," says she, "are you not seeking money, too? This girl,
+this little _fool;_ your mother has led you to think of her. You
+will marry her!"
+
+"I will marry you," says he coldly, "if you will marry me."
+
+"I have told you that it is impossible"--she draws a deep
+breath--"at present."
+
+"You will not trust me, then, to make a fortune for you?"
+
+"A fortune! It takes so _long_ to make; and," smiling, and drawing
+nearer to him, and suddenly flinging her arms around his neck, "are
+we not happy as we are?"
+
+"No." He loosens her arms lightly, and, still holding them, looks at
+her. How fair she is, how desirable! "Marian," says he hoarsely,
+"think! It is indeed my last word. Will you trust yourself to me as
+things are, or will you reject me? Marian, say you will marry me as
+I now am--poor, ruined."
+
+He holds her, gazing at her despairingly. She would have spoken,
+perhaps, but no words come to her; no words to soften her grim
+determination. She _will_ not marry him poor--and yet she loves him.
+
+Rylton, with a stifled oath, pushes her from him.
+
+"This is the end," says he.
+
+He goes to the door.
+
+"Maurice!" says she faintly.
+
+He turns.
+
+"Well, will you marry me to-morrow?" asks he mockingly.
+
+"No. But----"
+
+"There is no time for 'buts,'" says he.
+
+He opens the door and closes it sharply behind him.
+
+Mrs. Bethune flings herself back into a chair, and presses her
+handkerchief to her face.
+
+"Oh, it is nothing, nothing," says she presently. She gets up, and,
+standing before a glass, arranges her hair and presses her eyebrows
+into shape. "He gets impatient, that is all. He will never be able
+to live without me. As for that absurd child, Maurice would not look
+at _her_. No, I am sure of him, quite, quite sure; to-morrow he will
+come back to me, repentant."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+HOW MAURICE PLACES HIS LIFE IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN, AND HOW SHE
+TELLS HIM MANY THINGS, AND DESIRES MANY THINGS OF HIM.
+
+
+
+Maurice had said it was his last word. He goes straight from Marian
+Bethune to one of the reception-rooms, called the lesser ballroom,
+where some dancing is going on. His face is a little white, but
+beyond that he betrays no emotion whatever. He feels even surprised
+at himself. Has he lost all feeling? Passing Randal Gower he
+whispers a gay word or two to him. He feels in brilliant spirits.
+
+Tita Bolton is dancing, but when her dance comes to an end he goes
+to her and asks her for the next. Yes; he can have it. She dances
+like a little fairy, and when the waltz is at an end he goes with
+her, half mechanically, towards the conservatory at the end of the
+room.
+
+His is calm now, quite calm; the chatter of the child has soothed
+him. It had been a pleasure to dance with her, to laugh when she
+laughed, to listen to her nonsense. As he walks with her towards the
+flowers, he tells himself he is not in the least unhappy, though
+always quite close to him, at his side, someone seems to be
+whispering:
+
+"It is all over! it is all over!"
+
+Well, so much the better. She has fooled him too long.
+
+The conservatory at the end of the lesser ballroom leads on to the
+balcony outside, and at the end of that is another and larger
+conservatory, connected with the drawing-room. Towards this he would
+have led her, but Tita, in the middle of the balcony, stops short.
+
+"But I want to dance," says she.
+
+That far-off house, full of flowers, seems very much removed from
+the music.
+
+"You have been playing tennis all day," says Rylton. "You must be
+tired. It is bad for you to fatigue yourself so much. You have had
+enough dancing for awhile. Come and sit with me. I, too, am tired."
+
+"Well, for awhile," says she reluctantly.
+
+It is with evident regret that she takes every step that leads her
+away from the dancing-room.
+
+The larger conservatory is but dimly lit with lamps covered with
+pale pink shades. The soft musical tinkling of a fountain, hidden
+somewhere amongst the flowering shrubs, adds a delicious sense of
+coolness to the air. The delicate perfume of heliotrope mingles with
+the breath of the roses, yellow and red and amber, that, standing in
+their pots, nod their heads drowsily. The begonias, too, seem half
+dead with sleep. The drawing-room beyond is deserted.
+
+"Now, is not this worth a moment's contemplation?" says Rylton,
+pressing her gently into a deep lounging chair that seems to swallow
+up her little figure. "It has its own charm, hasn't it?"
+
+He has flung himself into another chair beside her, and is beginning
+to wonder if he might have a cigarette. He might almost have
+believed himself content, but for that hateful monotonous voice at
+his ear.
+
+"Oh, it _is_ pretty," says Tita, glancing round her. "It is lovely.
+It reminds me of Oakdean."
+
+"Oakdean?"
+
+"My old home," says she softly--"where I lived with my father."
+
+"Ah, tell me something of your life," says Rylton kindly.
+
+No idea of making himself charming to her is in his thoughts. He
+has, indeed, but one idea, and that is to encourage her to talk, so
+that he himself may enjoy the bliss of silence.
+
+"There is nothing," says she quickly. "It has been a stupid life. I
+was very happy at Oakdean, when," hesitating, "papa was alive; but
+now I have to live at Rickfort, with Uncle George, and," simply,
+"I'm not happy."
+
+"What's the matter with Rickfort?"
+
+"Nothing. It's Uncle George that there is something the matter with.
+Rickfort is my house, too, but I hate it; it is so gloomy. I'm
+sure," with a shrug of her shoulders, "Uncle George might have it,
+and welcome, if only he wouldn't ask _me_ to live there with him."
+
+"Uncle George seems to make a poor show," says Rylton.
+
+"He's horrid!" says Miss Bolton, without reservation. "He's a
+_beast!_ He hates me, and I hate him."
+
+"Oh, no!" says Rylton, roused a little.
+
+The child's face is so earnest. He feels a little amused, and
+somewhat surprised. She seems the last person in the world capable
+of hatred.
+
+"Yes, I do," says she, nodding her delightful little head, "and he
+knows it. People say a lot about family resemblances, but it seems
+wicked to think Uncle George is papa's brother. For my part,"
+recklessly, "I don't believe it."
+
+"Perhaps he's a changeling," says Sir Maurice.
+
+"Oh, don't be silly," says Miss Bolton. "Now, listen to this." She
+leans forward, her elbows on her knees, her eyes glistening with
+wrath. "I had a terrier, a _lovely_ one, and she had six puppies,
+and, would you believe it! he drowned every one of them--said they
+were ill-bred, or something. And they weren't, they _couldn't_ have
+been; they were perfectly beautiful, and my darling Scrub fretted
+herself nearly to death after them. I begged almost on my knees that
+he would leave her _one_, and he wouldn't." Her eyes are now full of
+tears. "He is a beast!" says she. This last word seems almost comic,
+coming from her pretty childish lips.
+
+"Well, but you see," says Rylton, "some men pride themselves on the
+pedigree of their dogs, and perhaps your uncle----"
+
+"Oh, if you are going to defend him!" says she, rising with a stiff
+little air.
+
+"I'm not--I'm not, indeed," says Rylton. "Nothing could excuse his
+refusing you that one puppy. But in other ways he is not unkind to
+you?"
+
+"Yes, he is; he won't let me go anywhere."
+
+"He has let you come here."
+
+"Just because your mother is _Lady_ Rylton!" says the girl, with
+infinite scorn. She looks straight at him. "My uncle is ashamed
+because we are nobodies--because his father earned his money by
+trade. He hates everyone because of that. My father," proudly, "was
+above it all."
+
+"I think I should like to have known your father," says Rylton,
+admiring the pride in her gray eyes.
+
+"It would have done you good," returns she thoughtfully. She pauses,
+as if still thinking, and then, "As for me, I have not been good at
+all since I lost him."
+
+"One can see that," says Rylton. "Crime sits rampant in your eyes."
+
+At this she laughs too; but presently she stops short, and turns to
+him.
+
+"It is all very well for you to laugh!" says she ruefully. "You have
+not to go home next week to live again with Uncle George!"
+
+"I begin to hate Uncle George!" says Rylton. "You see how you are
+demoralizing me! But, surely, if you cannot live in peace with him,
+there must be others--other relations--who would be glad to
+chaperone you!"
+
+"No," says the girl, shaking her head sadly. "For one thing, I have
+_no_ relations--at least, none who could look after me; and, for
+another, by my father's will, I must stay with Uncle George until my
+marriage."
+
+"Until your marriage!" Sir Maurice laughs. "Forgive me! I should not
+have laughed," says he, "especially as your emancipation seems a
+long way off."
+
+Really, looking at her in the subdued lights of those pink lamps,
+she seems a mere baby.
+
+"I don't see why it _should_ be so far off," says Tita, evidently
+affronted. "Lots of girls get married at seventeen; I've heard of
+people who were married at sixteen! But _they_ must have been fools.
+No? I don't want to be married, though, if I did, I should be able
+to get rid of Uncle George. But what I should like to do would be to
+run away!"
+
+"Where?" asks Rylton, rather abominably, it must be confessed.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," confusedly. "I haven't thought it out."
+
+"Well, _don't,"_ says he kindly.
+
+"That is what everyone would say," impatiently. "In the meantime, I
+_cannot go_ on living with my uncle. No; I can't." She leans back,
+and, flinging her arms behind her neck, looks with a little laughing
+pout at Rylton. "Some day I shall do something dreadful," says she.
+
+She is charming, posing so. Rylton looks at her. How pretty she is!
+How guileless! How far removed from worldly considerations! His
+affair with Marian is at an end. Never to be renewed! That is
+settled. He had given her a last word, and she had spurned it.
+
+After all, why should he _not _marry this charming child? The
+marriage would please his mother, and restore the old name to
+something of its ancient grandeur. And as for himself--why, it
+matters nothing to him.
+
+"It is all over. It is all over."
+
+Again that teasing voice in his ear.
+
+Well, if it _is_ all over, so much to the good. But as for this girl
+sitting near him, if he must take her to be his wife, it shall be at
+least in good faith. She shall know all. Probably she will refuse
+him. For one thing, because he is ten years older than she is--a
+century in the eyes of a child of seventeen; and, for another,
+because she may not like him at all. For all he knows, she may hate
+him as she hates her uncle George, in certain ways.
+
+However it is, he will tell her that he has no love for her. It
+shall be all fair and above-board between them. He can give her a
+title. She can give him money, without which the title would be
+useless.
+
+On the instant he makes up his mind to risk the proposal. In all
+probability she will say "No" to it. But if not--if she accepts
+him--he swears to himself he will be true to her.
+
+"The most dreadful thing you could do," says he, "would be to marry
+a man who did not love you."
+
+"Eh?" says she.
+
+She seems surprised.
+
+"To marry a man, then, with whom you weren't in love!"
+
+"Oh, _that_, that's nothing," says she grandly. "I'd do a great deal
+more than _that_ to get away from my uncle. But"--sorrowfully--
+"nobody's asked me."
+
+She says it so innocently, so sweetly, that Rylton's heart grows
+cold within him. To ask her! To tempt this child----
+
+"But," says he, looking away from her religiously, "would you marry
+a man who was not in love with _you?"_
+
+"Not in love with me?"
+
+"No. Not actually in love, but who admired--liked you?"
+
+"But a man who wasn't in love with me wouldn't want to marry me,"
+says Tita. "At least, that's what the novels say."
+
+"He might," says Rylton deliberately. He leans forward. "Will you
+marry _me?"_
+
+He almost laughs aloud as he makes his extraordinary proposal. If it
+fails, as it certainly _must_, he will throw up the remnant of his
+life here and go abroad. And, at all events, he can so far satisfy
+his mother as to assure her that he had placed his all at this
+little heiress's feet.
+
+"You! You!" says she.
+
+She stares at him.
+
+"Even me! You said a moment ago that no man would ask you to marry
+him for any reason less than love; but I--I am not in love with you,
+and yet I ask you to marry me."
+
+He pauses here, shocked at his own words, his brutal audacity.
+
+"But why?" asks the girl slowly.
+
+She is looking at him, deep inquiry and wonder in her great gray
+eyes.
+
+"Because I am poor and you are rich," says he honestly. "Your money
+could redeem this old place, and I could give you a title--a small
+thing, no doubt."
+
+"You could take me away from my uncle," says the girl thoughtfully.
+There is silence for awhile, and then--"I should be able to do as I
+liked," says she, as if communing with herself.
+
+"That certainly," says Rylton, who feels as if all things should be
+allowed her at this juncture, considering how little it is in his
+power to allow.
+
+"And you?" She looks up at him. _"You_ could do as you liked, too!"
+
+"Thank you!" says Rylton.
+
+He smiles in spite of himself, but the girl continues very grave.
+
+"You say you have nothing," says she, "but this house?"
+
+"It is useless arguing about it," returns Rylton; "this house will
+go shortly with all the rest. For myself, I don't care much really,
+but my mother--she would feel it. That's why I say you can help us,
+if you will."
+
+"I should like to help _you!"_ says Tita, still very slowly.
+
+She lays a stress upon the word "you."
+
+"Well, will you trust yourself to me?"
+
+"Trust myself!"
+
+"Will you marry me? Consider how it is. I lay it all before you. I
+am not in love with you, and I have not a penny in the world.
+Literally, I have nothing."
+
+"You have a mother," says Tita. "I," pathetically, "have nothing."
+It is plain to him that she had set great store by her dead father.
+"I have nothing, really. But you say this house must go?"
+
+"Not if you will help me to keep it."
+
+"I should not like to live here," says Tita, with some haste. And
+then in a low tone, "Your mother would live here?"
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+"Well, and I--I have been very unhappy with Uncle George," says she.
+Her air is so naïve that Rylton bursts out laughing. After all, the
+last thing he would desire either would be to live here with his
+mother.
+
+"You would not have to make this place your home," says he. It had
+never been a home to him since his father's death. "You shall
+command me in this matter; I shall live at Oakdean if that is your
+desire." Indeed, it seems to him it would be a great relief to get
+away from the Hall, from his mother, from----
+
+"To live at Oakdean!" The girl's face grows transfigured. She stares
+at him as if hardly seeing him, however; her thoughts have carried
+her back to past delights in which he has had no part. "To live
+there again!" She sighs quickly, excitedly. "You haven't seen it,
+you don't _know,"_ says she. "But it is the most beautiful place on
+earth." She puts out her hand and lays it on his. "If I marry you,
+will you promise that I shall live at Oakdean?"
+
+"If you will do me the honour to marry me, you shall live just where
+you like," returns he. Indeed, to him it is now a matter of
+indifference where life may be dragged out to its weary end. But
+Tita fails to see the apathy in his manner.
+
+"Then, it is settled," cries she joyfully. She clasps her hands.
+"Oh, how _good_ of you!" says she. "What a blessing I came here!
+Fancy getting rid of Uncle George and getting back to Oakdean all in
+one stroke!" Suddenly she looks round at him; there is almost terror
+in her gaze. "You are sure you _mean_ it?" says she.
+
+"I mean it. But, Tita,"--he takes one of her hands and holds it
+between his own, and regards her with some anxiety--"have you
+thought it all out? I have told you the truth, you know. I have told
+you that I am not in love with you."
+
+"In love with me! I'm sure I hope not," says Tita with a disgusted
+air. "Don't put yourself out about that. I should hate you if you
+were in love with me. Fancy a person following me about always, and
+saying silly things to me, and perhaps wanting to kiss me! You,"
+anxiously looking at him with searching eyes, "you wouldn't want to
+kiss me, would you?"
+
+She looks so pretty as she puts this startling question, that Rylton
+loses himself a little.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Then you had _better_ know, and at _once,"_ says Miss Bolton, with
+decision.
+
+The whole affair seems to be trembling in the balance. A sense of
+amusement has most unfortunately seized on Rylton, and is shaking
+him to his very heart's core. To marry a girl who even objected to a
+kiss! It sounds like a French play. He subdues his untimely mirth by
+an effort, and says gravely, "How can I promise you that I shall
+never want to kiss you? I may grow very fond of you in time, and
+you--but, of course, that is far more improbable--may grow fond of
+me."
+
+"Even so," begins she hotly. She pauses, however, as if some thought
+had struck her. "Well, let it stay so," says she. "If ever I do grow
+to like you as much as you fancy, why, then you may kiss
+me--sometimes."
+
+"That's a bargain," says he.
+
+Again he suppresses a desire to laugh. It seems to him that she is
+intensely interesting in some way.
+
+"In the meantime," says he, with quite a polite air, "may I not kiss
+you now?"
+
+"No!" says she. It is the lightest monosyllable, but fraught with
+much energy. She tilts the shoulder nearest to him, and peeps at him
+over it, with a half-merry little air.
+
+She sets Rylton's mind at work. Is she only a silly charming child,
+or an embryo flirt of the first water? Whatever she is, at all
+events, she is very new, very fresh--an innovation! He continues to
+look at her.
+
+"Really no?" questions he.
+
+She nods her head.
+
+"And yet you have said 'Yes' to everything else?"
+
+She nods her head again. She nods it even twice.
+
+"Yes, I shall marry you," says she.
+
+"I may tell my mother?"
+
+Miss Bolton sits up. A little troubled expression grows within her
+eyes.
+
+"Oh! must you?" cried she. "She _will_ be mad. She won't let you
+marry me--I know she won't. She--hates me."
+
+"My dear child, why?" Rylton's tone is shocked. The very truth in
+her declaration makes it the more shocking. And how does she know?
+His mother has been sweetness itself to her _before_ the curtain.
+
+"Never mind, I know," says Tita. "I feel things. They come to me. I
+don't blame her. I'm sure I'm often horrid. I know that, when I look
+at other people. When I look at----"
+
+She pauses.
+
+"Look at whom?"
+
+"At your cousin."
+
+"My cousin!"
+
+"Yes! You love her, don't you?"
+
+"Love her!" He has turned suddenly as pale as death. "What do you
+mean?" asks he in a low voice.
+
+"I love her, any way," says Tita. "I think Miss Knollys is the
+nicest person in all the world."
+
+"Oh, Margaret?" says he. He says it involuntarily. The relief is so
+great that it compels him to give himself away.
+
+"Why, who else?" says Tita. "Who did _you_ think I meant?"
+
+"Who _could_ I think?" says he, recovering. "Even now I am
+surprised. Margaret, though very superior in most ways, is not
+always beloved."
+
+"But you love her?"
+
+"Oh yes, _I_ do!"
+
+"I am glad of that," says Tita. "Because I love her more than anyone
+I know. And I have been thinking"--she looks at him quickly--"I have
+been thinking that"--nervously--"that when I marry you, Miss Knollys
+will be my cousin, too, in a sort of way, and that perhaps she will
+let me call her by her name. Do you," anxiously, "think she will?"
+
+"I know she will." His answer is terse. He has barely yet recovered
+from the shock she had innocently given him.
+
+"And your mother?" asks she, going back to the first question. "Do
+you think she will like you to marry me? Oh, do persuade her!"
+
+"Make no mistake about my mother, Tita; she will receive you with
+open arms." He feels as if he were lying when he says this, yet is
+it not the truth? "She will be glad to receive you as a daughter."
+
+"Will she? She doesn't look like it," says Tita, "not sometimes
+when I--_look back at her!"_
+
+She rises, and makes a step towards the door of the conservatory
+that will lead her to the balcony, and so back to the dancing-room.
+
+"Tita? Bear with my mother," says he gently, and in a low voice.
+
+The girl turns to him, her whole young, generous heart in her voice.
+"Oh, I shall! I shall indeed!"
+
+They traverse the long balcony in silence. The moon is flooding it
+with brilliant light. Here and there are groups in twos or
+threes--the twos are most popular. Just as they come to the entrance
+to the dancing-room, an alcove now deserted, Tita stops short and
+looks at him.
+
+"You have promised to be kind to me!" says she, her voice trembling.
+For the first time the solemnity of this marriage arrangement of
+hers seems to have dawned upon her.
+
+"I have," says Rylton earnestly.
+
+"I am often very troublesome," says the poor child. "Uncle George
+says so. But you----" She hesitates, looking at him always. Her gaze
+is intense. He feels as if she is watching him, taking his mental
+temperature, as it were.
+
+"Be kind to me in turn, Tita," says he. "Don't mistrust me. Try to
+_know_ that I like you."
+
+"I wish," says she, a little forlornly, "that you could be fond of
+me. I'm--you don't know it--nobody knows it--but I'm often very
+lonely. I've been lonely all the time since pappy died."
+
+"You shall never be lonely again," says Rylton. "I'm your friend
+from this hour--your friend for ever." He is touched to his very
+heart by her words and her small face. He stoops over her, and in
+spite of all that has been said against kissing, presses his lips to
+her soft cheek!
+
+"Ah! You are kind. I _do_ like you," says she, gazing at him with
+earnest eyes. "Yes, I know I shall be happy with you." She is
+evidently comparing him most favourably with Uncle George. "And you
+will be fond of me, won't you? You will be good to me?"
+
+"I will, so help me God!" says Rylton very solemnly.
+
+To her it seems an oath of allegiance--kindly, tender, reassuring.
+To him it is a solemn abjuration of all his devotion to--the other.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+HOW MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER, AND HOW LADY RYLTON PLANTS A SHAFT
+OR TWO. AND HOW MARGARET SAYS A WORD IN SEASON, AND HOW IN RETURN
+COLONEL NEILSON SAYS A WORD TO HER.
+
+
+
+Maurice goes straight to his mother's room, not from a sense of
+duty, but a desire to clinch the matter finally. Lady Rylton would
+be the last person to permit backsliding where her own interests
+were concerned, and perhaps---- He does not exactly say it to
+himself in so many words, but he feels a certain dread of the moment
+when he shall be alone--a prey to thought. What if he should regret
+the move he had taken, to the extent of wanting it undone? His step
+grows quicker as he approaches his mother's room. His interview with
+her is of the slightest--a bare declaration of the fact. She would
+have fallen upon his neck in the exuberance of her triumph and her
+satisfaction, but he coldly repulses her.
+
+"My dear mother, why such enthusiasm over my engagement to a girl of
+whom you distinctly disapprove?"
+
+"Disapprove! Of Tita! Dearest Maurice, what an idea!"
+
+"We won't go into it," says Maurice, with a gesture of
+ill-suppressed disgust. "I know your opinion of her. I beg to say,
+however, I do not share it. Badly as I shall come out of this
+transaction, I should like you to remember that I both admire and
+like Miss Bolton."
+
+"I know, dearest boy, I know," says Lady Rylton, in the tone one
+would use to an acute sufferer. "It is very noble of you, Maurice.
+It is a sacrifice. I felt sometimes I had no right to demand----"
+
+"The sacrifice is hers," says he shortly, gloomily.
+
+His eyes are bent upon the ground.
+
+"Hers! That little upst---- that poor unsophisticated child! My dear
+Maurice, why run away with things? Of course she was charmed,
+enchanted, _flattered_, in that you admired her so much as to ask
+her to be your wife."
+
+"She was not," says Maurice flatly.
+
+"Exactly what I should have expected from such a----" Lady Rylton
+checks herself in her fury. "From such an innocent creature,"
+substitutes she. "But for all that, I shall consider how great is
+the sacrifice you have made, Maurice--how you have given up the
+happiness of your life to preserve the old name."
+
+"I am beginning to get tired of the old name," says Maurice slowly.
+"Its nobility seems to me to be on the decline."
+
+"Oh, not now," says Lady Rylton, who does not understand him, who
+could not, if she tried, fathom the depths of self-contempt that he
+endures, when he thinks of this evening's work, of his permitting
+this child to marry him, and give him her wealth--for
+nothing--nothing! What _can_ he give her in return? An old name. She
+had not seemed to care for that--to know the importance of it. "Now
+it will rise again, and at all events, Maurice, you have saved the
+old home!"
+
+"True!" says he. "For you."
+
+"For _me?_ Oh, dearest boy, what _can_ you mean?"
+
+"Yes, for you only. She refuses to live here with you."
+
+The very disquietude of his soul has driven him into this mad
+avowal. Looking at her with dull eyes and lowering brows, he tells
+himself--in this, one of the saddest hours of his life--that he
+hates the mother who bore him. Her delight in his engagement is
+odious to him; it seems to fan his rage against her. What has she
+ever done for him, what sympathy has she ever shown? She has
+embittered the life of the woman he loves; she has insulted the
+woman he is to marry. What consideration does she deserve at his
+hands?
+
+"She refuses to live here with _me?"_ says Lady Rylton. "And why,
+may I ask?"
+
+Her small, pale face flushes angrily.
+
+"I don't know, really; you should be the one to know."
+
+His tone is so cold, so uncompromising, that she decides on coming
+to terms for the present. Afterwards, when that girl has married
+him, she will remember to some purpose, so far as _she_ is
+concerned. There is a little tale that she can tell her.
+
+"Dearest Maurice, how could I? I always fancied I treated her with
+the utmost kindness. But why should we worry about it? No doubt it
+was a mere girlish fancy, a distaste," playfully, "to the terrible
+mamma-in-law of fiction. Such monsters do not exist now. She will
+learn that by degrees. You will bring her to stay with me for awhile
+on your return from your honeymoon?"
+
+"If you desire it."
+
+"Of course I shall desire it; then she and I will become great
+friends. You are going? My love to your little _fiancée_, and say I
+am so charmed, so delighted! And tell her I should like her to come
+to me for a quiet little talk in the morning about eleven; I shall
+have no one with me then but Marian."
+
+"She shall not come to you, then," says Rylton. A dark red mounts to
+his brow. What a diabolical thought--to receive those two together!
+"Do you _hear?"_ says he imperiously.
+
+"Good heavens, yes!" says his mother, pretending prettily to cower
+before him. "What a tone! What a look! What have I done, then?"
+
+"What devilish cruelty is in your heart I don't know," says he, his
+passion carrying him beyond all bounds; "but understand at once, I
+will not have Tita tortured."
+
+Lady Rylton leans back in her chair and laughs.
+
+"You would have made a good tragic actor," she says. "If this little
+plebeian throws you over after all, you should think of it. You
+remind me of your father when he was in his most amusing moods.
+There, go; kiss Tita for me." Rylton turns to the door, his very
+soul on fire with rage. Just as he goes out, she calls to him, with
+a little soft musical ripple of laughter. "By-the-bye, take care you
+do not kiss Marian instead," says she.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  * *
+
+
+
+He meets Margaret on his way downstairs. He had walked up and down
+the passages above, in the dim light, with a view to bringing
+himself back into a state of control, with so much success that,
+when he comes face to face with Miss Knollys, he seems to her as
+self-possessed as usual. He had seen her talking to Tita in the hall
+below, in a somewhat earnest manner, and had taken it for granted
+that Tita had told her of their engagement.
+
+"Well," says he, stopping her.
+
+"Well?" returns she, smiling.
+
+"You have heard?"
+
+"Of what? Anything new?" curiously. The very best women are curious.
+
+"Of my engagement; surely she has told you?"
+
+"She? Who? _Marian!"_
+
+"No--_no!"_
+
+Then the truth comes to her.
+
+"Tita?" she says faintly.
+
+He nods his head; words fail him.
+
+"She told me nothing," says Margaret, recovering herself.
+
+"Yet I saw you talking together just now."
+
+"You did indeed."
+
+"And she said nothing?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Then what _were_ you talking about?"
+
+"I was advising her to marry no man who did not love her."
+
+"What an extraordinary piece of advice to give to a girl who, as far
+as you knew, was not going to be married at all! What led up to it?"
+
+"Not Tita, certainly. It was I who led up to it."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Do you think I have been blind and deaf, Maurice, during the past
+fortnight?" Miss Knollys almost compels his gaze. "If you are going
+to marry this young girl, _this child,_ I hope, I"--almost
+passionately--_"hope_ it will be for her good and yours."
+
+"Margaret! What a tone! You mean something!"
+
+"I do." Margaret's strong face lights up with honest anxiety. "I
+mean this!" She takes a step nearer him. "How is it between you and
+Marian?"
+
+"Why, how has it been?" asks he, with affected lightness; but a
+change passes over his face.
+
+"Oh, Maurice, take care!" says his cousin, laying her hand upon his
+arm.
+
+"Well, if you must have it," says he, frowning, "all that is over."
+
+He breaks away from her, frowning still.
+
+It is quite plain to her that she has offended him. But even as he
+leaves her he looks back; a sort of grim smile illumines his face.
+
+"I note that in your 'hoping' you have put Miss Bolton before me;
+that is as it should be. She is a sworn admirer of yours. Did you
+know it?"
+
+"No. But she appeals to me--I don't know why--but I feel that I
+could love her," says Margaret, in short sentences as if thinking,
+and as if a little surprised at herself. Suddenly she breaks into a
+more immediate feeling. "Oh, Maurice, love her too! Try, _try_ to
+love her; she is so young. Her very _soul_ is in your keeping. Be
+good to her; she is a mere baby. If you neglect her, forget her----"
+
+Maurice casts a queer look at her.
+
+"'Is thy servant a dog?'" quotes he.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+Margaret moves slowly away. She had, when Maurice met her, been bent
+on going upstairs to her books and her thoughts; but now she turns
+backward. She feels as if she wants something. Perhaps she finds
+it--unconsciously, however--when she stops before a tall,
+soldierly-looking man, who, seeing her, comes to meet her with
+evident pleasure.
+
+"You look disturbed!" says Colonel Neilson.
+
+He is, as I have said, a tall man, with a kindly face, and deep eyes
+of a dark colour. There is nothing very special about him; he is
+not, strictly speaking, handsome, yet he was, last season, one of
+the most popular men in town.
+
+"Yes, and no," says Margaret. "My cousin has confided a sort of
+secret to me."
+
+"A secret! I may not hear it, then?"
+
+"Well, I don't know. It is, as I have hinted, a _sort_ of secret,
+not very much to be kept."
+
+"I may hear it, then?"
+
+"I suppose so. At all events," with a laugh, soft and silk, "I
+should like you to hear it, because I want your opinion. You will
+give it?"
+
+"You know I will give you everything I have," says he.
+
+"Oh no! you must not talk like that," says she. "Put all that on one
+side, and let me have you for my friend. I want one now--not for
+myself, but for another; for two others, in fact. You know how fond
+I am of Maurice, and lately I have contracted quite a romantic, for
+_me"_--she pauses and laughs--"well, quite a romantic affection, for
+a little girl staying here with my aunt. You know who I mean--Tita
+Bolton."
+
+"A charming child?"
+
+"I am so glad you like her! But, as you say, she is a mere child;
+and Maurice has proposed to her, and she has accepted him, and I am
+curious about her future."
+
+"Hers only?"
+
+"Oh no! His, too!"
+
+"It will be a risk, certainly," says Colonel Neilson. "I thought--I
+imagined--I had heard that Rylton was engaged to his cousin, Mrs.
+Bethune--a very beautiful woman."
+
+"How can you think so!" says Margaret. "Well, yes, no doubt she _is_
+beautiful, but I should not like Maurice to marry her."
+
+"You would prefer his marrying the 'charming child'?"
+
+"I don't know what I prefer," says Miss Knollys. She casts a
+reproachful glance at him that certainly is not deserved. Has he not
+served her late and early for the past six years? "I thought you
+would help me!"
+
+"You know I shall do that, however things may turn."
+
+"Well, help me here. What _ought_ Maurice to do? I am so dreadfully
+unhappy about this projected marriage of his."
+
+"It seems to me you are unhappy about all things except those that
+concern yourself. Your own future seems a blank to you; is it not
+so?"
+
+Miss Knollys makes a little movement.
+
+"Why should it be always a blank?" says he. "Margaret," in a low
+tone, "let me fill it!"
+
+Margaret rises impatiently.
+
+"After all, you can't help me," says she, turning abruptly away.
+
+"Margaret, hear me!"
+
+"No, no, no! What is the use?"
+
+She goes slowly down the hall.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+HOW THE LAST DAY COMES, AND HOW SOME STRANGE WORDS ARE SAID BEFORE
+THE MARRIAGE IS ACCOMPLISHED; AND HOW MARION BETHUNE SCORES A POINT.
+
+
+
+The dawn of the wedding-day has broken. Everything has been hurried
+over as much as possible; with no unseemly haste--just in the most
+ordinary, kindly way--however. But Lady Rylton's hand was at the
+helm, and she guided her barque to a safe anchor with all speed. She
+had kept Tita with her--under her eye, as it were--until the final
+accomplishment should have taken place.
+
+The wedding, she declared, should be from her house, from The Place,
+seeing that the poor darling child was motherless! She made herself
+all things to Tita in those days, although great anger stung her
+within. She had been bitterly incensed by Maurice's avowal that Tita
+had declined to live with her at The Place, but she had been
+mightily pleased, for all that, in the thought that therefore The
+Place would be left to her without a division of authority.
+
+Sir Maurice has gone to Rickfort to interview "Uncle George" of
+unpleasant fame. He had found him a rather strange-looking man, but
+not so impossible as Tita had led him to imagine. He made no
+objection of any sort to the marriage, and, indeed, through his cold
+exterior Maurice could see that the merchant blood in him was
+flattered at his niece's alliance with some of the oldest blood in
+England.
+
+He was quite reasonable, too, about his niece's fortune. So much was
+to go to redeeming the more immediate debts on the property; for the
+rest, Sir Maurice declared he would have nothing to do with it. The
+money should be settled on his wife entirely. It was hers; he had no
+claim to it. He would have something off his own property, a small
+thing, but sufficient for his requirements. He gave his word to quit
+the turf finally. He had no desire to amuse himself in that sort of
+way again--or, indeed, in other ways. He wished to settle down, etc.
+It occurred to old Bolton, who was a shrewd man, that Sir Maurice
+looked like one whose interest in life and its joys was at an end.
+Still, he was a baronet, and of very ancient lineage, and it was a
+triumph for the Boltons. He refused to acknowledge to _himself_ that
+he was sacrificing his niece. It was not a sacrifice; it was an
+honour!
+
+For one thing the old man stipulated, or rather bargained. He had
+managed his niece's affairs so far with great success; some of her
+money was in land, in Oakdean and Rickfort, for example; the rest he
+had invested securely, as he hoped and believed. If he might still
+be acknowledged as her guardian?
+
+Sir Maurice, of course, gave in. Thoroughly ashamed and humiliated
+by the whole affair--he, the man, without a penny; she, the woman,
+possessed of all things in that line--it gave him genuine relief to
+tell her uncle that he would be actually thankful if he would still
+continue to be the head of her affairs, and manage her money
+matters, as he had managed them hitherto--and always with such happy
+results.
+
+Mr. Bolton had bowed to him over his spectacles; his curious gray
+eyes caught a little addition of light, as it were. He was honoured
+by Sir Maurice's confidence, but, if he might suggest it, he thought
+that whilst Sir Maurice's affairs were righting themselves, he ought
+to allow himself a certain income out of his wife's money.
+
+But Rylton would not hear of it. He had, as he had already told Mr.
+Bolton, a small yearly income that he might with honesty call his
+own. It was specially small on account of his mother's jointure
+having to be paid out of the estate also. Of course he could not
+curtail that, nor would he desire to do so. And, seeing how deeply
+dipped the estates were, he could, of course, only take as much as
+he could reasonably desire. With his future wife's help, however, he
+felt the old property could be brought back in time to its former
+splendid position--to a position that he would be proud to see her
+the mistress of, etc.
+
+There is always a good deal of humbug talked on these occasions.
+Maurice, perhaps, talked very considerably less than most people;
+and, indeed, when he said he would gladly see her mistress of all he
+ought to have, he spoke something very near the truth. He was
+grateful to her beyond all words, and he had sworn to himself to be
+loyal to her.
+
+Lady Rylton was distinctly annoyed when she heard of the
+arrangements come to. She would have liked Maurice to have had
+entire control of his wife's fortune. And, oddly enough, Tita was
+annoyed too.
+
+"Oh, I _wish_ you had broken away entirely from Uncle George," she
+had said to Maurice, when he had come down on one of his flying
+visits to The Place between his engagement and his marriage.
+
+"But why? He seemed to me quite a nice old gentleman."
+
+She could not explain why, however, but only clung to her belief
+that they would be better without Uncle George. She hated him. That
+seemed to be the sum total of her objection.
+
+Maurice had left The Place the morning after his engagement. He had
+had time to have an interview with his little _fiancée_, who seemed
+surprised that he wanted it in private, and who, to his great
+relief, insisted on making very cool adieux to him in the public
+hall, where everyone was passing to and fro, and where Mr. Gower was
+making a nuisance of himself by playing ball against the library
+door. Naturally it was impossible to have an affecting parting
+there.
+
+Marian had not come down to breakfast. And Sir Maurice was conscious
+of a passionate sense of relief. She had heard. He knew--he felt
+that! His mother would not spare her; and even if she had not cared
+as _he_ had cared, still, unless she was the greatest fiend on
+earth, she must have had some small love for him--how _terribly_
+small he knows! He assures himself of that all day long in the
+living torture he is enduring, as if by it he can reconcile himself
+to his marriage with this child, whose money is so hateful, and
+whose presence is such a bore.
+
+There are a few things, however, always to be thankful for. Tita, in
+the frankest fashion in all their interviews, has told him that she
+doesn't care a fig about him, that she was marrying him _only_ to
+escape from Uncle George!
+
+All their interviews have been but few. Sir Maurice had run down
+from here, and there, and everywhere, just for a night at a time,
+arriving barely in time for dinner, and going away before breakfast.
+Once, and once only, he had seen Mrs. Bethune. Those other times she
+had been confined to her room with neuralgia (what should we all do
+without neuralgia?), or with letters to write, or something,
+_any_thing else.
+
+That one time she came out of the library at the very moment he had
+arrived. They met in the hall, and it was quite impossible to avoid
+seeing him. She came forward with a charming air.
+
+"Is it you? How long since we have met!" said she. Her tone was
+evenness itself; she was smiling brightly. If she was pale, he could
+not see it in the darkening twilight. "How troublesome these
+elections are! I see you have been staying with the Montgomerys; I
+do hope he will get in. But Conservatives are nowhere nowadays.
+Truth lies buried in a well. That's a good old saying." She nodded
+to him and went up a step or two of the stairs, then looked back.
+"Don't stay away from The Place on my account," said she, with
+rather an amused smile. "I like to have you here. And see how badly
+you are behaving to the beloved one!"
+
+She smiled again, with even more amusement than before, and
+continued her graceful way up the stairs. He had turned away sore at
+heart. She had not even thought it worth her while to make an appeal
+to him. If she had! He told himself that even then, if she had said
+but one word, he would have thrown up everything, even his _honour_,
+and gone with her to the ends of the earth. But she had not said
+that word--she had not cared--_sufficiently_.
+
+
+
+* * * *
+
+
+
+And now it is indeed all over! They have come back from the
+church--Tita just as she is every day, without a cloud on her brow,
+and laughing with everybody, and telling everybody, without the
+least disguisement, that she is so _glad_ she is married, because
+now Uncle George can never claim her again. She seems to have no
+thought but this. She treats her newly-made husband in a merry,
+perfectly unembarrassed, rather _boyish_ style, and is, in effect,
+quite delighted with her new move.
+
+Sir Maurice has gone through it all without a flaw. At the breakfast
+he had made quite a finished little speech (he could never have told
+you afterwards what it was about), and when the bride was upstairs
+changing her wedding garments he had gone about amongst his guests
+with an air that left nothing to be desired. He looks quite an ideal
+bridegroom. A mad longing for solitude drags him presently, however,
+into a small anteroom, opening off a larger room beyond. The
+carriage that is to convey him to the station is at the door, and he
+almost swears at the delay that arises from Tita's non-appearance.
+
+Yet here--here is rest. Here there is no one to breathe detestable
+congratulations into his ear--_no_ one.
+
+A tall, slight figure rises from a couch that is half hidden by a
+Chinese screen. She comes forward a step or two. Her face is pale.
+It is Marian Bethune.
+
+"You!" says she in a low, strange voice. "Have _you _come here, too,
+to _think?"_ She speaks with difficulty. Then all at once she makes
+a stray movement with her hands, and brings herself to her senses by
+a passionate effort. "You are like me, you want quiet," says she,
+with a very ordinary little laugh; "so you came here. Well, shall I
+leave you?"
+
+She is looking very beautiful. Her pallor, the violet shades beneath
+her eyes, all tend to make her lovely.
+
+"It is you who have left me."
+
+"I? Oh no! Oh, think!" says she, laughing still.
+
+Rylton draws a long breath.
+
+"After all, it could never have come to anything," says he, in a
+dull sort of way.
+
+"Never, never," smiling.
+
+"I don't believe you care," says he bitterly.
+
+She looks at him. It is a curious look.
+
+"Why should I? Do _you_ care?"
+
+He turns away.
+
+"Don't let us part bad friends," says she, going to him, and twining
+one of her hands round his arm. "What have I done to you, or you to
+me? How have we been enemies? It is fate, it is poverty that has
+been our common enemy, Maurice, remember what we _have_ been to each
+other."
+
+"It is what I dare not remember," says he hoarsely.
+
+His face is resolutely turned from hers.
+
+"Well, well, forget, then, _if you can_. As for me, remembrance will
+be my sole joy."
+
+"It is madness, Marian, to talk to me like this. What is to be
+gained by it?"
+
+"Why, nothing, nothing, and so let us forget; let us begin again as
+true friends only."
+
+"There is no hope of that," says he.
+
+His voice is a mere whisper.
+
+"Oh yes, there is--there," eagerly, _"must_ be. What! Would you
+throw me over altogether, Maurice? Oh, that I _could_ not bear! Why
+should we not be as brother and sister to each other? Yes, yes,"
+vehemently; "tell me it shall be so. You will ask me to your new
+house, Maurice, won't you?"
+
+She is looking up into his face, her hand still pressing his arm.
+
+"My wife's house."
+
+"Your wife's house is yours, is it not? You owe yourself something
+from this marriage. You will ask me there now and then?"
+
+"She will ask her own guests, I suppose."
+
+"She will ask whom _you_ choose. Pah! what is she but a child in
+your hands?"
+
+"Tita is not the cipher you describe her," says Rylton coldly.
+
+"No, no; I spoke wrongly--I am always wrong, it seems to me," says
+she, with such sweet contrition that she disarms him again. "I
+cannot live if I cannot see you sometimes, and, besides, you _know_
+what my life is here, and how few are the houses I can go to,
+and"--she slips her arms suddenly round his neck--"you _will_ ask me
+sometimes, Maurice?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You promise that?"
+
+"I promise that, as far as it lies in my power, I will always
+befriend you."
+
+"Ah, that is not enough," says she, laughing and sobbing in the same
+breath. "I am losing you for ever. Give me something to dwell upon,
+to hope for. Swear you will make me your guest sometimes."
+
+"I swear it," says he huskily.
+
+He removes her arms from his neck, and holds her from him. His face
+is gray.
+
+"It is for the sake of our old _friendship_ that I plead," says she.
+
+The tears are running down her cheeks.
+
+"Our friendship," repeats he, with a groan.
+
+He makes a movement as if to fling her from him, then suddenly
+catches her to his heart, and presses his lips passionately to hers.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+"Maurice! Maurice!" calls somebody.
+
+Marian sinks upon a couch near her, and buries her face in her
+hands. Sir Maurice goes into the hall to meet his bride.
+
+The partings are very brief. Tita, who is in the gayest spirits,
+says good-bye to everybody with a light heart. Has not her freedom
+been accomplished? She receives Lady Rylton's effusive embrace
+calmly. There are some, indeed, who say that the little bride did
+not return her kiss. Just at the very last, with her foot almost on
+the carriage step, Tita looks back, and seeing Margaret at a little
+distance, runs to her, and flings herself into her embrace.
+
+"You are mine now, my own cousin!" whispers she joyfully.
+
+"God bless you, Tita," says Margaret in a whisper, too, but very
+earnestly, "and preserve to you your happy heart!"
+
+"Oh, I shall always be happy," says Tita; "and I shall hurry back to
+see _you,"_ giving her another hug.
+
+Then somebody puts her into the carriage, and, still smiling and
+waving her hands, she is driven away.
+
+"Really, Margaret, you should be flattered," says Lady Rylton, with
+a sneer. "She seems to think more of you than of her husband."
+
+"I hope her husband will think of her," returns Margaret coldly. "As
+I told you before, I consider this marriage ill done."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+HOW TITA COMES BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON, AND HOW HER HUSBAND'S MOTHER
+TELLS HER OF CERTAIN THINGS THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT UNTOLD.
+
+
+
+"And the weather--the weather was the most marvellous thing!" says
+Tita, with enthusiasm. "Perpetual sunshine! Here, in September, it
+often pelts rain all day long!"
+
+_ "Pelts!_ My dear Tita, _what_ a word!" says Lady Rylton.
+
+She sinks back in her chair as if overcome, and presses her perfumed
+handkerchief to her face.
+
+"What's the matter with it?" asks Tita, a little smartly, perhaps.
+"It's a right-down good word, in my opinion. I've heard lots of
+people use it."
+
+"No doubt _you_ have," says her mother-in-law.
+
+"Well, so have you, I dare say!" says Tita.
+
+"I expect we all have," says Margaret Knollys, laughing. "Still, you
+know, Tita, it's not a pretty word."
+
+"Very good; I shan't say it again," says Tita, the mutinous little
+face of a moment ago now lovely with love.
+
+She has come back from her honeymoon quite as fond of Margaret as
+when she started.
+
+It is now the middle of September; outside on the lawn the shadows
+are wandering merrily from tree to tree. The sun is high, but little
+clouds running across it now and again speak of sharp rains to come.
+
+    "The air so soft, the pines whispering so low,
+    The dragon-flies, like fairy spears of steel,
+    Darting or poised."
+
+All these speak of the glad heat that still remains, though summer
+itself is but a dream that is gone.
+
+Tita's honeymoon is at an end. It had seemed to her delightful. She
+had taken but a child's view of it. Maurice had been so kind, so
+good, so different from that nasty old uncle. He had been so good,
+indeed, that when he asked her to come first to see his mother (Lady
+Rylton had made quite a point of this in her letters to him; the
+county might think it so odd if the young wife did not appear
+anxious to fly into her arms on her return), she had said "Yes"
+quite willingly, and with a grateful little glance. He had done so
+much for her, she must do something for him. But she hated going
+back to The Place, for all that. She wanted to go straight to her
+own old home, her beautiful Oakdean, without a single stop.
+
+She has been at The Place now for a week. Margaret Knollys and
+Randal Gower are the only two guests, Mrs. Bethune being on a visit
+to some friends in Scotland. The shooting here is excellent, and Sir
+Maurice has enjoyed himself immensely. Sir Maurice's wife has,
+perhaps, not enjoyed herself quite so much. But nothing, so far, has
+occurred to render her in the very least unhappy. If the clouds be
+black, she has not seen them. Her young soul has uplifted itself,
+and is soaring gaily amongst the stars. In her ignorance she tells
+herself she is quite, quite happy; it is only when we love that we
+doubt of happiness, and thus sometimes (because of our modesty,
+perhaps) we gain it. Tita has never known what love means.
+
+There has been a little fret, a little jar to-day, between her and
+Lady Rylton. The latter's memory is good, and she has never
+forgotten what Maurice--in a moment's folly--had said of Tita's
+determination not to live with her at The Place. It is Lady Rylton's
+_rôle_ to return to all, in extra good measure, such injuries as she
+may judge herself to have received.
+
+Tita naturally, in this small warfare, is at a disadvantage. She has
+forgotten her words, but even if she remembered them, would not for
+a moment suspect Maurice of having repeated them. And, indeed,
+Maurice, as we all know, had done it in a heated moment with best
+intent towards his small betrothed; besides, Tita at this time--so
+heartwhole and so _débonnaire--_gives no thinking to anything save
+the getting out into the fresh air in these uncertain days, and the
+breaking in of a young horse that Maurice has made her a present of.
+Danger walks behind her, but she never turns her head; what has she
+to fear?
+
+    "Youth, that knows no dread
+    Of any horrors lurking far ahead,
+    Across the sunny flowered fields of life."
+
+carries her safely right into the enemy's camp. Cruel youth!
+
+"Won't you come out with me and have a stroll in the gardens before
+tea?" asks Margaret, rising. It seems to her that the social air is
+growing a little too sultry. "Come, Tita; it will do you good."
+
+"Oh, I should love it!" says Tita, starting to her feet.
+
+"Dear Margaret, you forget that, though Tita has been here for a
+week, this is the very first quiet moment I have had with her! Do
+not tempt her from me!"
+
+"Certainly not, Tessie, if you wish to have her with you," says
+Margaret, reseating herself.
+
+Now, more than ever, she feels there is danger in the air.
+
+"Don't let me keep _you,"_ says Lady Rylton, with deliberation. "Go,
+dear Margaret, and get some of the sweet evening air--it may be of
+use to your complexion; it is the tiniest bit yellow of late. And
+when one is twenty-five--it _is_ twenty-five?"
+
+She knows Margaret's truthful nature.
+
+"Thirty," says Margaret, who knows her, too, to the very ground.
+
+"Ah, impossible!" says Lady Rylton sweetly. "Twenty-five,
+Margaret--not a day more! But, still, your complexion---- There, go
+away and refresh it; and come back when I have had my little chat
+with my dearest Tita."
+
+Margaret casts a swift glance at the girl sitting there, apparently
+quite unconscious of the coming storm, and with her hands twined
+behind her head. She has her legs crossed--another sin--and is
+waving one little foot up and down in a rather too careless fashion.
+
+Tita looks back at her.
+
+"Don't be long," says she inaudibly.
+
+Margaret gives her a nod, and goes out through the window.
+
+"My dearest child," says Lady Rylton, nestling cosily into her
+chair, and smiling delicately at Tita over the top of her fan, "you
+may have noticed that I gave dear Margaret her _congé_ with intent?"
+
+"I saw that you wanted to get rid of her," says Tita.
+
+"I fear, my dear, your training has been somewhat defective," says
+Lady Rylton, biting her lips. "We never--we in society, I
+mean--never 'get rid' of people. There are better ways of doing
+things, that----"
+
+"It must cause you a lot of trouble," says Tita. "It looks to me
+like walking half a dozen times round your bath on a frosty morning,
+knowing all along you will have to get into it."
+
+"Sh!" says Lady Rylton. "My dear, you should not mention your _bath_
+before people."
+
+"Why not? When one loves a thing, one speaks of it. Don't _you_ love
+your bath?" asks Tita.
+
+Lady Rylton sits glaring at her, as if too horrified to go on. Tita
+continues:
+
+"If you don't, you ought, you know," says she.
+
+"You must be out of your mind to talk to me like this," says Lady
+Rylton at last. Something in the girl's air tells her that there is
+some little touch of devilment in it, some anger, some hatred. "But,
+naturally, I make allowances for you. Your birth, your surroundings,
+your bringing up, all preclude the idea that you should know how to
+manage yourself in the world into which you have been thrown by your
+marriage with my son."
+
+"As for my birth," says Tita slowly, "I did not choose it; and you
+should be the last to throw it in my teeth. If you disapproved of it
+_before_ my marriage with your son, why did you not say so?"
+
+"There were many reasons," says Lady Rylton slowly, deliberately.
+"For one, as you know, your money was a necessity to Maurice; and
+for another----" She breaks off, and scans the girl's face with an
+air of question. "Dare I go on?" asks she.
+
+"Why should you not dare?" says Tita.
+
+A quick light has come into her eyes.
+
+"Ah, that is it! I have something to say to you that I think,
+perhaps, should be said, yet I fear the saying of it."
+
+"For you, or for me?" asks Tita.
+
+She has her small brown hands clasped tightly together in her lap
+now. There is something nervous in the tension of them. Where,
+_where_ is Margaret? For all that, she looks back at her
+mother-in-law with a clear and fearless glance.
+
+"For you," says Lady Rylton--"for you only! But before I begin--I am
+a very nervous person, you know, and scenes," again pressing her
+handkerchief to her face, "upset me so--tell me, _do_ tell me, if
+you have a good temper!"
+
+"I don't know," says Tita. "Why?"
+
+"Well, a reasonable temper! I know Maurice would try
+anything--_less_ than that."
+
+"Has it to do with Maurice? Yes? I am _very_ reasonable," says Tita,
+laughing. She shows all her pretty teeth. "Now for the other reason
+for deigning to accept me as your son's wife!"
+
+She laughs again. She seems to turn Lady Rylton into a sort of mild
+ridicule.
+
+"I don't think I should laugh about it if I were _you,"_ returns
+Lady Rylton calmly, and with the subdued air that tells her
+intimates when she is in one of her vilest moods. "I feel very sorry
+for you, my poor child; and I would have warned you of this thing
+long ago, but I dreaded the anger of Maurice."
+
+"Why, what _is_ it?" cries Tita vehemently. "Has Maurice murdered
+somebody, or defrauded somebody, or run away with somebody?"
+
+"Oh no! He did not run _away_ with her," says lady Rylton slowly.
+
+"You mean--you mean----"
+
+The girl is now leaning forward, her small face rather white.
+
+"I mean that he has been in love with his cousin for the past two
+years."
+
+"His cousin!" Tita's thoughts run to Margaret. "Margaret?"
+
+"Nonsense!" says Lady Rylton; the idea strikes her as ludicrous. The
+surprise, the strange awakening to the young bride, who, if not in
+love with her husband, has at all events expected loyalty from him,
+has affected her not at all; but this suggestion of Margaret as a
+possible lover of Maurice's convulses her with amusement. "Margaret!
+_No!"_
+
+"Who, then?" asks Tita.
+
+"Marian--Marian Bethune."
+
+"Mrs. Bethune!"
+
+"Did you never guess? I fancied perhaps you had heard nothing, so I
+felt it my duty to let you into a _little_ of the secret--to _warn_
+you. Marian might want to stay with you, for example--and
+Maurice----"
+
+"Mrs. Bethune may stay with me with pleasure," says Tita. "Why not?"
+
+"Why _not?"_ Lady Rylton pauses as if choking. She had thought to
+lower this girl into the very dust, and revenge herself on Maurice
+at the same time by her shameful revelation. "You do not care,
+then?" says she, bitterly disappointed.
+
+Tita does not answer her. Suddenly her young thoughts have gone
+backwards, and all at once she remembers many things. The poison has
+entered into her. In a moment, as it were, she is back in that dim
+conservatory where Maurice (he has never been "he" or "him" to her,
+as happier girls, who love more and are more beloved, would have
+styled him)--where Maurice had asked her to marry him.
+
+Now, in some strange fashion, her memory grows alive and compels her
+to remember how he looked and spoke that night--that night of his
+proposal to her, when she had asked him if he loved his cousin.
+
+There had been a queer, indescribable change in his face--a sudden
+pallor, a start! She had thought nothing of it then, but now it
+comes back to her. She _had_ meant Margaret--Margaret whom she
+loves; but he--who had _he_ meant?
+
+Really it doesn't matter so much after all, this story of Lady
+Rylton's. Maurice can go his way and she hers--that was arranged!
+But, for all that, it _does_ seem rather mean that he should have
+married her, telling her nothing of this.
+
+"Care! why should I care?" says she suddenly, Lady Rylton's last
+words clinging to her brain, in spite of all its swift wanderings
+during the last sixty seconds.
+
+"Such an admirable indifference would almost lead me to believe that
+you had been born of good parentage," says Lady Rylton, cold with
+disappointed revenge.
+
+"I was born of excellent parentage----" Tita is beginning, when the
+sound of footsteps slowly mounting the stairs of the veranda outside
+comes to them.
+
+A second later Mrs. Gower shows himself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HOW A YOUNG AND LOVELY NATURE TAKES A SHOCK MOST CRUELLY
+ADMINISTERED. AND HOW A DOWAGER TAKES A NEW NAME AS A DIRECT INSULT.
+AND HOW TITA DECLINES TO PROMISE ANYTHING.
+
+
+
+He stands at the open window looking in. All at once Tita knows and
+_feels_ that Margaret sent him to rescue her from captivity.
+
+"Lady Rylton," calls he, "won't you come out? The evening is a
+perfect dream--a boon and a blessing to men, like those pens, you
+know."
+
+The elder Lady Rylton answers him. She leans forward, a charming
+smile on her wonderfully youthful features.
+
+"No. No, thanks." She shakes her pretty, fair head at Gower in a
+delightfully coquettish fashion. Dear boy! How sweet is it of him to
+come and fetch her for a little stroll among the hollyhocks. "I
+can't go out now. Not _to-night_, Randal!"
+
+"Oh! er--so sorry! But----" He looks at Tita. It is impossible not
+to understand that the Lady Rylton he had intended to take for a
+little stroll in the calm, delightful evening, had been the younger
+Lady Rylton. "Well, if your--er--mother--won't come, won't _you?"_
+asks he, now addressing Tita distinctly.
+
+"I am not going out either," says she, smiling gently at him. To go
+now will be to betray fear, and she--no, she will not give in, any
+way, she will never show the white feather. She will finish this
+hour with Lady Rylton, whatever it may cost her.
+
+"Really?" asks Gower. He looks as if he would have persuaded her to
+come with him, but something in her manner convinces him of the
+folly of persistence.
+
+"Yes, really," returns she, after which he goes down the steps
+again. They can hear him going, slowly this time, as if reluctantly,
+and step by step. There doesn't seem to be a run left in him.
+
+"How absurd it is, this confusion of titles!" says Lady Rylton, as
+the last unsatisfactory step is lost to them in the distance. "Lady
+Rylton here and Lady Rylton there. Absurd, _I_ call it." She makes a
+pretence at laughter, but it is a sorry one--her laugh is only
+angry.
+
+"I suppose it can't be helped," says Tita indifferently. Her eyes
+are still downcast, her young mouth a little scornful.
+
+"But if you are to be Lady Rylton as well as I, how are we to
+distinguish? What am _I_ to be?"
+
+"The dowager, I suppose," says Tita, with a little flash of malice.
+She has been rubbed the wrong way a trifle too much for _one_
+afternoon.
+
+_"The dowager!"_ Lady Rylton springs to her feet. "I--do you think
+that _I_ shall follow _you_ out of a room?"
+
+"Follow me! I'd hate you to follow me anywhere!" says Tita, who does
+not certainly follow her as to her meaning.
+
+"That is meant to be a smart speech, I presume," says Lady Rylton,
+sinking back into her seat once more. "But do not for a moment
+imagine that I dread you. You know very little of Society if you
+think you will be tolerated _there."_
+
+"I know nothing of Society," returns Tita, now very pale, "and
+perhaps you will understand me when I say that I never want to know
+anything. If Society means people who tell hateful, unkind stories
+of a husband to his wife, I think I am very well out of it."
+
+"That is a little censure upon poor me, I suppose," says Lady Rylton
+with a difficult smile. She looks at Tita. Evidently she expects
+Tita to sink into the ground beneath that austere regard, but Tita
+comes up smiling.
+
+"Well, yes. After all, I suppose so," says she slowly, thoughtfully.
+"You shouldn't have told me that story about Maurice and----" She
+stops.
+
+"I shall not permit you to dictate to me what I should or should not
+do," interrupts Lady Rylton coldly. "You forget yourself! You forget
+what is due to the head of the house."
+
+"I do not, indeed; Maurice will tell you so!"
+
+"Maurice! What has he to do with it?"
+
+"Why, he _is_ the head," slowly.
+
+"True, you are right so far," says Lady Rylton bitterly. "But I was
+not alluding to the _actual_ head; I was alluding to the--the
+_mistress_ of this house." She pauses, and looks with open hatred at
+the little girl before her. Tita could have answered her, have told
+her that her authority was at an end for ever, but by a violent
+effort she restrains herself. Tita's naturally warm temper is now at
+boiling-point. Still, she puts a restraint upon herself.
+
+"You will understand for the future, I hope," says Lady Rylton, who
+has lost all control over _her_ temper; "you will, for the future,
+at all events, I trust, bear yourself with respect towards the
+mistress of this house."
+
+Her manner is so insolent, so unbearable, that Tita's short-lived
+calm gives way.
+
+"Maurice says I am the mistress here," says she distinctly, clearly.
+
+"You! _you----"_ Lady Rylton advances towards her with a movement
+that is almost threatening.
+
+"Don't be uneasy about it," says Tita, with a scornful little laugh,
+and a gesture that destroys the meaning of Lady Rylton's. "I don't
+want to be the mistress here. I dislike the place. I shall be
+delighted if you will live here--_instead of me."_
+
+"You are too good!" says Lady Rylton, in a choking tone. She looks
+as if she could kill this girl, whom she has driven to so fierce an
+anger.
+
+"I think it dismal," goes on Tita. "I like light and gay places."
+There is a little clutch at her heart, though why, she hardly knows.
+What she _does_ know is that she hates this pretty, fair, patrician
+woman before her--this woman with a well-bred face, and the
+vulgarest of all vulgar natures. This woman who has betrayed her
+son's secret. Even to so young a girl, and one who is not in love
+with her husband, the idea of the husband being in love with
+somebody else is distinctly distasteful.
+
+"Besides, remember," says Tita, "Mrs. Bethune lives here. After all
+you have told me of her, and--Maurice--you," breaking into a gay
+little laugh, "could hardly expect me to make this place my home."
+
+"You certainly seem to take it very lightly," says Lady Rylton.
+"Maurice must be congratulated on having secured so _compliant_ a
+wife."
+
+"Why should I care?" asks Tita, turning a bright face to her. "We
+made a bargain before our marriage--Maurice and I. He was to do as
+he liked."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"I was to follow suit."
+
+_ "Outrageous!"_ says Lady Rylton. "I shall speak to Maurice about
+it. I shall warn you. I shall tell him how I disapprove of you, and
+he----"
+
+"He will do nothing," interrupts Tita. She stands up, and looks at
+the older woman as if defying her. Her small face is all alight, her
+eyes are burning.
+
+"I dare say not, after all," says Lady Rylton, with a cruel smile.
+"He knew what he was about when he made that arrangement. It leaves
+him delightfully free to renew his love-affair with Marian Bethune."
+
+"If he desires such freedom it is his." Tita gathers up her fan, and
+the long suède gloves lying on the chair near her, and walks towards
+the door.
+
+"Stay, Tita!" cries Lady Rylton hurriedly. "You will say nothing of
+this to Maurice. It was in strict confidence I spoke, and for your
+good and his. You will say nothing to him?"
+
+"I! what should I say?" She looks back at Lady Rylton, superb
+disdain in her glance.
+
+"You might mention, for example, that it was I who told you."
+
+"Well, why shouldn't I?" asked Tita. "Are you ashamed of what you
+have said?"
+
+"I have always told you that I spoke only through a sense of duty,
+to protect you and him in your married life. You will give me your
+word that you will not betray me."
+
+"I shall give you my word about nothing," coldly. "I shall tell
+Maurice, or I shall not tell him, just as it suits me."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+HOW TITA COMES TO OAKDEAN, AND IS GLAD. AND HOW MAURICE CALLS TO
+HER, AND SHE PERFORMS AN ACROBATIC FEAT. AND HOW A DISCUSSION
+ARISES.
+
+
+
+What a day it is! Golden light everywhere; and the sounds of singing
+birds, and the perfume of the late mignonette and stocks. Who shall
+say summer is gone? Tita, flitting gaily through the gardens and
+pleasure-grounds of her old dear home, her beloved Oakdean, tells
+herself that it is summer _here _at all events, whatever it may be
+in other stupid homes.
+
+Oakdean to-day is at its best, and that is saying a great deal. The
+grand old lawn, studded here and there with giant beeches, seems
+sleeping solemnly in the warm light, and to their left the lake
+lies, sleeping too, rocking upon its breast the lily leaves, whose
+flowers are now all gone. Over there the hills are purple with
+flowering heather, and beyond them, yet not so far away but that the
+soft murmuring of it can be heard, dwells the sea, spreading itself
+out, grand, immense, until it seems to touch the pale blue heavens.
+
+Tita, stopping with her hands full of lowers, stands upright, and as
+a little breeze comes to her, draws in a long breath, as if catching
+the salt from the great ocean that it brings her. Oh, what a
+day--what a day!
+
+Her lovely old home! Here she is in it once more--parted for ever
+from the detested uncle, mistress of this one place that holds for
+her the only happy memories of her youth. Here she and her father
+had lived--she a young, _young _child, and he an old one--a most
+happy couple; and here, too, she had grown to girlhood. And now here
+she is again, free to roam, to order, to direct, with no single
+hitch anywhere to mar her happiness.
+
+The lovely new horse that Maurice has got for her leaves nothing to
+be desired; she has had a gallop on him this morning. And all her
+dear dogs have been sent to Oakdean, so that her hands are full of
+favourites. As for Maurice himself, he is delightful. He doesn't
+even _know_ how to scold. And it will always to be like
+this--always. As for that story of Lady Rylton's about Marian
+Bethune--why, Marian is quite an old thing! And besides--well,
+besides, it doesn't matter. Maurice is here now, and he can't see
+her, and even if he did--well, even if he did, what harm? Neither
+she nor Maurice even _pretends _to be in love with the other, and if
+he should be in love--as the idiots call it--with Mrs. Bethune, why,
+he _can_ be! _She_ won't prevent it, only she hopes poor Maurice
+won't make himself unhappy over that dreadful red-headed creature.
+But there is certainly one thing; he might have told her.
+
+But what does anything matter? Here she is in her old home, with all
+her dear delights around her! She glances backwards and forwards, a
+happy smile upon her lips. From one of the Scotch firs over there,
+the graceful blossoms of the hop-plant droop prettily. And beyond
+them on the hillside, far, far away, she can see mushrooms gleaming
+in the fields, for all the world like little sheep dotted here and
+there. She laughs to herself as she notes the resemblance. And all
+is hers--all. And she is in her own home, and happy.
+
+What a blessing she hadn't said "No" when Maurice asked her. If she
+had, she would have been living at Rickfort now with Uncle George.
+
+"Tita!" cries Maurice.
+
+He has thrown up the window of his smoking-room, and is calling to
+her.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+She turns to him, her arms full of flowers, her vivacious little
+face, just like another sort of flower, peeping over them.
+
+"Can you come in for a moment?"
+
+"Why can't you come out? _Do_, it is lovely here!"
+
+"I can if you like, but it will mean hauling out pencils and paper,
+and----"
+
+"Oh well, I'll come."
+
+She runs to him across the green, sweet grass, and, standing beneath
+the window, holds out her hands to him.
+
+"You can't come in this way," says he.
+
+"Can't I? I wish I had a penny for every time I _did_ get in this
+way," says she. "Here, give me your hands."
+
+He stoops to her, and catches her small brown hands in a close grip.
+The new Lady Rylton plants a very shapely little foot against an
+excrescence in the wall, and in a second has her knee on the
+window-sill.
+
+"After all, my mother was right," says Rylton, laughing. "You are a
+hoyden."
+
+He takes the slight girlish figure in his arms, and swings her into
+the room. She stands for a second looking at him with a rather
+thoughtful air. Then--
+
+"You mother may call me names if she likes," says she. "But _you_
+mustn't!"
+
+"No?" laughing again. She amuses him with her little air of
+authority. "Very good. I shan't! I suppose I may call you wife, any
+way."
+
+"Oh, that!" She stops. "Did you bring me in to ask me that
+question?"
+
+At this they laugh together.
+
+"No. I confess so much."
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"Well, we ought to decide at once who we are going to ask for the
+rest of the shooting. The preserves are splendid, and it seems quite
+a sin to let them go to waste. Of course I know a lot of men I could
+ask, but there should be a few women, too, for you."
+
+"Why for me? I like men a great deal better," says Tita audaciously.
+
+"Well, you shouldn't! And, besides, you have some friends of your
+won to be asked."
+
+"Your friends will do very well."
+
+"Nonsense!" with a touch of impatience. "It is you and _your_
+friends who are first to be considered; afterwards we can think of
+mine."
+
+"I have no friends," says Tita carelessly.
+
+"You have your uncle, at all events; he might like----"
+
+"Oh, don't be an ass," says Lady Rylton.
+
+She delivers this excellent advice with a promptitude and vigour
+that does her honour. Rylton stares at her for a moment, and then
+gives way to amusement.
+
+"I shan't be if I can help it," says he; "but there are often so
+many difficulties in the way." He hesitates as if uncertain, and
+then goes on. "By the way, Tita, you shouldn't give yourself the
+habit of saying things like that."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Well, telling a fellow not to be an ass, you know. It doesn't
+matter to me, of course, but I heard you say something like that to
+old Lady Warbeck yesterday, and she seemed quite startled."
+
+"Did she? Do her good!" says Tita, making a charming little face at
+him. "Nothing like electricity nowadays. It'll quite set her up
+again. Add _years_ to her life."
+
+"Still, she wouldn't like it, perhaps."
+
+"Having years added to her life?"
+
+"No; your slang."
+
+"She likes _me_, any way," says Tita nonchalantly, "so it doesn't
+matter about the slang. The last word she mumbled at me through her
+old false teeth was that she hoped I'd come over and see her every
+Tuesday that I had at my command (I'm not going to have _many_),
+because I reminded her of some granddaughter who was now in heaven,
+or at the Antipodes--it's all the same."
+
+She pauses to catch a fly--dexterously, and with amazing swiftness,
+in the palm of her hand--that has been buzzing aimlessly against the
+window-pane. Having looked at it between her fingers, she flings it
+into the warm air outside.
+
+"So you see," continues she triumphantly, "it's a good thing to
+startle people. They fall in love with you at once."
+
+Here, as if some gay little thought has occurred to her, she lowers
+her head and looks at her dainty finger-nails, then up at Rylton
+from under half-closed lids.
+
+"What a good thing I didn't try to startle _you!"_ says she. _"You_
+might have fallen in love with me, too."
+
+She waits for a second as it were, just time enough to let her see
+the nervous movement of his brows, and then--she laughs.
+
+"I've escaped that bore," says she, nodding her head. She throws
+herself into a big chair. "And now, as the parsons say, 'to
+continue'; you were advising me to ask----"
+
+"Your uncle."
+
+All the brightness has died out of Rylton's voice; he looks dull,
+uninterested. That small remark of hers--what memories it has
+awakened! And yet--_would_ he go back?
+
+"Chut! What a suggestion!" says Tita, shrugging her shoulders.
+"Don't you know that my one thought is to enjoy myself?"
+
+"A great one," says he, smiling strangely.
+
+She cares for nothing, he tells himself: _nothing!_ He has married a
+mere butterfly; yet how pretty the butterfly is, lying back there in
+that huge armchair, her picturesque little figure flung carelessly
+into artistic curves, her soft, velvety head rubbing itself
+restlessly amongst the amber cushions. The cushions had been in one
+of the drawing-rooms, but she had declared he was frightfully
+uncomfortable in his horrid old den, and has insisted on making him
+a handsome present of them. She seems to him the very incarnation of
+exquisite idleness, the idleness that knows no thought.
+
+"Very good," says he at last. "If you refuse to make up a list of
+_your_ friends, help me to make up a list of mine. You know you said
+you would like to fill the house."
+
+"Ye--es," says she, as if meditating.
+
+"Of course, if you don't want any people here----"
+
+"But I do. I do really. I _hate_ being alone!" cries she, springing
+into sudden life and leaning forward with her hands clasped on her
+knees.
+
+"How few rings you have!" says he suddenly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+HOW TITA TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS, AND OF HOW THEY MOVED HER. AND
+HOW MAURICE SETS HIS SOUL ON ASKING A GUEST TO OAKDEAN; AND HOW HE
+GAINS HIS DESIRE.
+
+
+
+"Not one, except this," touching her engagement ring. "That you have
+given me."
+
+"You don't care for them, then?"
+
+"Yes I do. I love them, but there was nobody to give them to me.
+I was very young, you see, when poor daddy died."
+
+She stops; her mouth takes a mournful curve; the large gray eyes
+look with a sort of intensity through the windows to
+something--_something_ beyond--but something that Rylton cannot see.
+After all, _is_ she so trivial? She cares, at all events, for the
+memory of that dead father. Rylton regards her with interest.
+
+_ "He_ would have given me rings," she says.
+
+It is so childish, so absurd, that Rylton wonders why he doesn't
+want to laugh. But the little sad face, with the gray eyes filled
+with tears, checks any mirth he might have felt. A sudden longing to
+give her another ring, when next he goes to town, fills his heart.
+
+"Well! what about our guests?"
+
+Her tone startles him. He looks up. All the tears, the grief are
+gone; she is the gay, laughing Tita that he _thinks_ he knows.
+
+"Well, what?" His tone is a little cold. She _is_ superficial,
+certainly. "If you decline to ask your friends----"
+
+"I don't decline. It is only that I _have_ no friends," declares
+she.
+
+There is something too deliberate in her manner to be quite natural,
+and Rylton looks at her. She returns his glance with something of
+mockery in hers.
+
+"It isn't nice to be married to a mere nobody, is it?" says she,
+showing her pretty teeth in a rather malicious little laugh.
+
+"I suppose not," says Rylton steadily. "I haven't tried it."
+
+A gleam--a tiny gleam of pleasure comes into her eyes, bus she
+wilfully repulses it.
+
+"Oh, you--if anybody. However, you knew _before_ you married me,
+that is one comfort."
+
+"Why do you speak to me like that, Tita?" A frown has settled on
+Rylton's forehead. It is all such abominably bad form. "You know
+how--how----"
+
+"Ill-bred it is," supplies she quietly, gaily.
+
+"It is intolerable," vehemently, turning away and walking towards
+the door.
+
+"Ah, come back! Don't go--don't go!" cries she eagerly. She jumps
+out of her big chair and runs after him. She slips her hand through
+his arm, and swinging her little _svelte_ body round, smiles up into
+his face mischievously. "What's the matter with you?" asks she.
+
+"It is in such bad taste," says Rylton, mollified, however, in a
+measure in spite of himself. "You should consider how it hurts me.
+You should remember you are my wife."
+
+"I do. That is why I think I can say to you what I can't say to
+anybody else," says Tita quietly. "However, never mind; sit down
+again and let us settle the question about our guests. Here's a
+sheet of paper," pushing it into his hands. "And here's a pencil--an
+awfully bad one, any way, but if you keep sticking it into your
+mouth it'll write. _I'm _tired of licking that pencil."
+
+She is evidently hopeless! Rylton, after that first crushing
+thought, gives way, and, leaning back in his chair, roars with
+laughter.
+
+"And am I to lick it now!" asks he.
+
+"No, certainly not,". She is now evidently in high dudgeon. She puts
+the pencil back in her pocket, and stands staring at him with her
+angry little head somewhat lowered. "After all, you are right; I'm
+horrid!" says she.
+
+_"I'm_ right! By what authority do you say that! Come now, Tita!"
+
+"By my own."
+
+"The very worst in the world, then. Give me back that pencil."
+
+"Not likely," says Tita, tilting her chin. "Here's one belonging to
+yourself," taking one off the writing-table near. "This can't offend
+you, I hope. After all, I'm a poor sort," says Tita, with a
+disconsolate sigh that is struggling hard with a smile to gain the
+mastery. "It's awfully hard to offend me. I've no dignity--that's
+what your mother says. And after all, too," brightening up, and
+smiling now with delightful gaiety, "I don't want to have any. One
+hates to be hated!"
+
+"What an involved speech! Well, if you won't give me your pencil,
+let us get on with this. Now, to begin, surely you _have_ someone
+you would like to ask here, in spite of all you have said."
+
+"Well--perhaps." She pauses. "I want to see Margaret," says she,
+hurriedly, tremulously, as if tears might be in her eyes.
+
+He cannot be sure of that, however, as her lids are lowered. But her
+tone--is there a note of unhappiness in it? The very thought gives
+him a shock; and of late has she not been a little uncertain in her
+moods?
+
+_"I_ was going to name her," says Rylton.
+
+"Then you see we have one thought in common," says Tita.
+
+She has knelt down beside him to look at his list, and suddenly he
+lays his palm under her chin, and so lifts her face that he can see
+it.
+
+"What is it, Tita?" says he. "Is anything troubling you? Last night
+you were so silent; to-day you talk. It is bad to be unequal."
+
+His tone is grave.
+
+"The night before last I had a bad dream," says Tita solemnly,
+turning her head a little to one side, and giving him a slight
+glance that lasts for the tiniest fraction of a second.
+
+It occurs to Rylton that there is a little touch of wickedness in
+it. At all events, he grows interested.
+
+"A bad dream?"
+
+"Yes, the worst!" She nods her small head reproachfully at him. "I
+dreamt you were married to a princess!"
+
+"Well, so I am," says Rylton, smiling.
+
+His smile is a failure, however; something in her air has
+disconcerted him.
+
+"Oh no! No, she was not like me; she was a tall princess, and she
+was beautiful, and her hair was like a glory round her head. She was
+a very dream in herself; whereas I---- Naturally , that puts me out
+of sorts!" She shrugs her shoulders pathetically. "But last
+night"--she stops, clasps her hands, and sits back on her heels. "Oh
+no! I shan't tell you what I dreamt last night," says she. She
+shakes her head at him. "No, no! indeed, not if you asked me _for
+ever!"_
+
+"Oh, but you must!" says he, laughing.
+
+He catches her hands and draws her up gently into a kneeling
+position once more--a position that brings her slender body resting
+against his knees.
+
+"Must I?" She pauses as if in amused thought, and then, leaning
+confidentially across his knees, says, "Well, then, I dreamt that
+you were madly in love with _me!_ And, oh, the joy of it!"
+
+She breaks off, and gives way to irrepressible laughter. Covering
+her face with her hands, she peeps at him through her fingers as a
+child might who is bent on mischief.
+
+"Is all that true?" asks Maurice, colouring.
+
+"What, the first dream or the second?"
+
+"I presume one is as true as the other," somewhat stiffly.
+
+"You are a prophet," says Tita, with a little grimace. "Well now, go
+on, do. We have arranged for Margaret." She pauses, and then says
+very softly, _"Darling_ Margaret! Do you know, I believe she is the
+only friend I have in the world?"
+
+Her words cut him to the heart.
+
+"And I, Tita, do I not count?" asks he.
+
+"You! No!" She gives him a little shake, taking his arms, as she
+kneels beside him. "You represent Society, don't you? And Society
+forbids all that. No man's wife is his friend nowadays."
+
+"True," says Rylton bitterly. "Most men's wives are their enemies
+nowadays."
+
+"Oh, I shan't be yours!" says Tita. "And you mustn't be mine either,
+remember! Well, go on--we have put down Margaret," peeping at the
+paper in his hand, "and no one else. Now, someone to meet her.
+Colonel Neilson?"
+
+"Yes, of course; and Captain Marryatt?"
+
+"And Mrs. Chichester to meet _him!"_
+
+"My dear Tita, Mrs. Chichester has a husband somewhere!"
+
+"So she told me," says Tita. "But, then, he is so _very_ far off,
+and in your Society distance counts."
+
+Rylton regards her with some surprise. Is she satirical?--this silly
+_child!_
+
+"You will have to correct your ideas about Society," says he coldly.
+"By all means ask Mrs. Chichester here, too; I, for one, prefer not
+to believe in scandals."
+
+"One must believe in something," says Tita. "I suppose," pencil
+poised in hand, "you would like to ask Mr. Gower?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And his aunt?"
+
+"Certainly _not."_
+
+"Oh, but _I_ should," says Tita; "she amuses me. Do let us ask old
+Miss Gower!"
+
+"I begin to think you are a wicked child," says Rylton, laughing,
+whereon Miss Gower's name is scrawled down on the list. "There are
+the men from the barracks in Merriton; they can always be asked
+over," goes on Maurice. "And now, who else?"
+
+"The Marchmonts!"
+
+"Of course." He pauses. "And then--there is Mrs. Bethune!"
+
+"Your cousin! Yes!"
+
+"Shall we ask her?"
+
+"Why should we _not_ ask her?" She lifts one small, delicate, brown
+hand, and, laying it on his cheek, turns his face to hers. "Don't
+look out of the window; look at _me_. Why should we not ask her?"
+
+"My dear girl, there is no answer to such a question as that."
+
+"No!" She scribbles Mrs. Bethune's name on her list, and then, "You
+particularly _wish_ her to be asked?"
+
+"Not particularly. Certainly not at all if you object to it."
+
+"Object! Why should I object? She is amusing--she will keep us all
+alive; she will help you to entertain your people."
+
+"I should hope you, Tita, would help me to do that."
+
+"Oh, I have not the air--the manner! I shall feel like a guest
+myself," says Tita. She has sprung to her feet, and is now blowing a
+little feather she had found upon her frock up into the air. It
+eludes her, however; she follows it round the small table, but all
+in vain--it sinks to the ground. "What a _beast_ of a feather!" says
+she.
+
+"I don't like you to say that," says Rylton. "A _guest _in your own
+house!"
+
+"You don't like me to say anything," says Tita petulantly. "I _told_
+you I was horrid. Well, I'll be mistress in my own house, if that
+will please you. But," prophetically, "it won't. Do you know,
+Maurice," looking straight at him with a defiant little mien, "I'm
+more glad that I can tell you that I don't care a ha'penny about
+you, because if I did you would break my heart."
+
+"You have a high opinion of me!" says Maurice. "That I acknowledge.
+But, regarding me as you do, I wonder you ever had the courage to
+marry me!"
+
+"Well, even _you_ are better than Uncle George," says she. "Now, go
+on; is there anyone else? The Heriots! Who are they? I heard you
+speak of them."
+
+"Ordinary people; but he shoots. He is a first-class shot."
+
+"Heriot! It reminds me----" Tita grows silent a moment, and now a
+little flood of colour warms her face. "I have someone I want to
+ask, after all," cries she. "A cousin--Tom Hescott."
+
+"A cousin?"
+
+"Yes. And he has a sister--Minnie Hescott. I should like to ask them
+both." She looks at him. "They are quite presentable," says she
+whimsically.
+
+"Your cousins should be, naturally," says he.
+
+Yet his heart sinks. What sort of people are these Hescotts?
+
+"I have not seen them for years," says Tita--"never since I lived
+with my father. Tom used to be with us always then, but he went
+abroad."
+
+"To Australia?"
+
+"Oh no--to Rome! To Rome first, at all events; he was going to India
+after that."
+
+"For----"
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all. Just to see the world!"
+
+"He must have had a good deal of money!"
+
+"More than was good for him, I often heard. But I _did_ like Tom;
+and I heard he was in town last week, and Minnie with him, and I
+should like very much indeed to ask them here."
+
+"Well, scribble down their names."
+
+"I dare say they won't come," says Tita, writing.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, because they know such lots of people. However, I'll try them,
+any way." She flings down her pencil. "There, that's done; and now I
+shall go and have a ride before luncheon."
+
+"You have been riding all the morning!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you never get tired?"
+
+"Never! Come and see if I do."
+
+"Well, I'll come," says Rylton.
+
+_"Really!"_ cries Tita; her eyes grow very bright. "You mean it?"
+
+"Certainly I do. It is my place, you know, to see that you don't
+overdo it."
+
+"Oh, how delightful!" says she, clasping her hands. "I hate riding
+alone. We'll go right over the downs, and back of Scart Hill, and so
+home. Come on--come on," running out of the room; "don't be a minute
+dressing."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+HOW A DULL MORNING GIVES BIRTH TO A STRANGE AFTERNOON. AND HOW
+RYLTON'S EYES ARE WIDENED BY A FRIEND.
+
+
+
+"Good old day!" says Mrs. Chichester disgustedly. She is sitting
+near the window in the small drawing-room at Oakdean, watching the
+raindrops race each other down the panes.
+
+"What's the matter with it?" asks Mr. Gower, who is standing beside
+her, much to the annoyance of Captain Marryatt, who is anxious to
+engage her for some waltzes at the dance old Lady Warbeck is giving
+in the near future.
+
+"What _isn't_ the matter with it?" asks Mrs. Chichester, turning her
+thin shoulders, that always have some queer sort of fascination in
+them, on Gower. She gives him a glance out of her blue-green eyes.
+She is enjoying herself immensely, in spite of the day, being quite
+alive to the fact that Captain Marryatt is growing desperate, and
+that old Miss Gower, whom Tita has insisted on asking to her house
+party, is thinking dark things of her from the ottoman over there.
+
+"What's it good for, any way?"
+
+"For the ducks," says Mr. Gower, who is always there. An answer to
+any question under the sun comes as naturally to him as sighing to
+the sad.
+
+"Oh, well, I'm not a duck," says she prettily; whereupon Mr. Gower
+whispers something to her that makes her laugh, and drives Captain
+Marryatt to frenzy.
+
+He comes forward.
+
+"Lady Rylton is talking of getting up something to pass the time;"
+says he, regarding Mrs. Chichester with a frowning brow--a
+contortion that fills that frivolous young woman's breast with pure
+joy.
+
+"May the heavens be her bed!" says Mr. Gower, who has spent some
+years in Ireland, and has succeeded in studying the lower orders
+with immense advantage to himself, but not very much to others. He
+has, at all events, carried off from them a good deal of the
+pleasant small-talk, whereas they had only carried off from him a
+wild wonder as to what he was and where born, and whether he ought
+or ought not to be inside a lunatic asylum. They had carried off
+also, I am bound to add, a considerable amount of shillings. "Lady
+Rylton!" to Tita, who has just come up, "is this a reality or a mere
+snare? Did you say you thought you could put us successfully through
+this afternoon without reducing us to the necessity of coming to
+bloodshed?" Here he looks, first at Captain Marryatt, who
+providentially does not see the glance, and then at Mrs. Chichester,
+who laughs.
+
+"I'm not sure. I haven't quite thought it out," says Tita. "What
+would _you_ suggest, Margaret?" to Miss Knollys. "Or you, Tom?" to a
+tall young man who has followed in her quick little progress across
+the room.
+
+He is her cousin, Tom Hescott. He is so very much taller than she
+is, that she has to look up at him--the top of her head coming
+barely to a level with his shoulder. She smiles as she asks her
+question, and the cousin smiles back at her. It suddenly occurs to
+Sir Maurice, who has strolled into the room (and in answer to a
+glance from Mrs. Bethune is going to where she stands), that Tom
+Hescott is extraordinarily handsome.
+
+And not handsome in any common way, either. If his father had been a
+duke, he could not have shown more breeding in look and gesture and
+voice. The fact that "Uncle Joe," the sugar merchant, _was_ his
+actual father, does not do away with his charm; and his sister,
+Minnie Hescott, is almost as handsome as he is! All at once Rylton
+seems to remember what his wife had said to him a few weeks ago,
+when they were discussing the question of their guests. She had told
+him he need not be afraid of her relations; they were presentable
+enough, or something like that. Looking at Tom Hescott at this
+moment, Sir Maurice tells himself, with a grim smile, that he is,
+perhaps, a little _too_ presentable--a sort of man that women always
+smile upon. His grim smile fades into a distinct frown as he watches
+Tita smiling now on the too presentable cousin.
+
+"What is it?" asks Mrs. Bethune, making room for him in the recess
+of the window that is so cosily cushioned. "The cousin?"
+
+"What cousin?" demands Sir Maurice, making a bad fight, however; his
+glance is still concentrated on the upper part of the room.
+
+"Why, _her_ cousin," says Mrs. Bethune, laughing. She is looking
+younger than ever and radiant. She is looking, indeed, beautiful.
+There is not a woman in the room to compare with her; and few in all
+England outside it.
+
+The past week has opened out to her a little path that she feels she
+may tread with light feet. The cousin, the handsome, the admirable
+cousin! What a chance he affords for--vengeance! vengeance on that
+little fool over there, who has _dared_ to step in and rob
+her--Marian Bethune--of her prey!
+
+"Haven't you noticed?" says she, laughing lightly, and bending so
+close to Rylton as almost to touch his ear with her lips. "No? Oh,
+silly boy!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asks Rylton a little warmly.
+
+"And after so many days! Why, we _all_ have guessed it long ago."
+
+"I'm not good at conundrums," coldly.
+
+"But this is such an easy one. Why, the handsome cousin is in love
+with the charming little wife, that is all."
+
+"You say everyone has been talking about it," says Rylton. His
+manner is so strange, so unpleasant, that Marian takes warning.
+
+"Ah! That was an exaggeration. One _does_ talk much folly, you know.
+No--no! It was I only who said it--at least"--hesitating--"I think
+so." She pauses to let her hesitation sink in, and to be as fatal as
+it can be. "But you know I have always your interests at heart, and
+so I see things that, perhaps, others do not see."
+
+"One may see more than----"
+
+"True--true; and of course I am wrong. No doubt I imagined it all.
+But, even if it should be so," laughing and patting his arm softly,
+"who need wonder? Your wife is so pretty--those little things often
+_are_ pretty--and he is her cousin--they grew up together, in a
+sense."
+
+"No, I think not."
+
+"At all events, they were much together when she was growing from
+child to girl. And old associations--they----" She stops as if some
+dart has struck her. Rylton looks at her.
+
+"Are you ill?" says he sharply. "You look pale."
+
+"Nothing, nothing." She recovers herself and smiles at him, but her
+face is still white. "A thought, a mere thought--it cannot be only
+Tita and her cousin who have old associations, who
+have--_memories."_
+
+Her eyes are full of tears. She leans toward him. This time her lips
+_do_ touch him--softly her lips touch his cheek. The curtains hide
+them.
+
+"Have _you_ no memories?" says she.
+
+"Marian! This is madness," says Rylton, turning suddenly to her. In
+a sense, though without a gesture, he repulses her. She looks back
+at him; rage is in her heart at first, but, seeing him as he is,
+rage gives place to triumph. He is actually livid. She has moved
+him, then. She still has power over him. Oh for time, time only! And
+he will be hers again, soul and body, and that small supplanter
+shall be lowered to the very dust!
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+"Oh, how delightful! The very thing," says Mrs. Chichester, clapping
+her hands.
+
+The conversation at the other end of the room is growing merrier;
+Tita, in the midst of a small group, has evidently been suggesting
+something in a most animated fashion.
+
+"We should have to put all the things back," says Minnie Hescott,
+glancing round her at the small chairs and tables that abound.
+
+"Not at all--not at all," says Tita gaily; "we could go into the
+smaller dancing-room and have it there."
+
+"Oh, of course! Splendid idea!" says Minnie.
+
+She is a tall, handsome young creature, standing fully five feet
+five in her dainty little black silk stockings. Her eyes are dark
+and almond-shaped like her brother's, and there is a little droop at
+the far corners of the lids that adds singularly to their beauty; it
+gives them softness. Perhaps this softness had not been altogether
+meant, for Mother Nature had certainly not added gentleness to the
+many gifts she had given Miss Hescott at her birth. Not that the
+girl is of a nature to be detested; it is only that she is strong,
+intolerant, and self-satisfied. She grates a little. Her yea is
+always yea, and her nay, nay. She would always prefer the oppressed
+to the oppressor, unless, perhaps, the oppressor might chance to be
+useful to herself. She likes useful people. Yet, with all this, she
+is of a merry nature, and very popular with most of her
+acquaintances. Friends, in the strictest sense, she has none. She
+doesn't permit herself such luxuries.
+
+She had been at once attracted by Tita. Naturally Tita _would_ be
+useful to her, so she has adopted her on the spot. Baronets' wives
+are few and far between upon her visiting list, and to have an
+actual cousin for one of them sounds promising. Tita will probably
+be the means of getting her into the Society for which she longs;
+therefore Tita is to be cultivated. She had told Tom that he must be
+_very_ specially delightful to Tita; Tom, so far, has seemed to find
+no difficulty in obeying her. To him, indeed, Tita is once more the
+little merry, tiny girl whom he had taught to ride and drive in
+those old, good, past, sweet days, when he used to spend all his
+vacations with his uncle.
+
+"Will you come and help us?" says Tita, turning to Gower.
+
+That young man spreads his arms abroad as if in protestation.
+
+"What a question from you to me!" says he reproachfully.
+
+    "'Call, and I follow; I follow, _though_ I die!'"
+
+"You're too silly for anything," returns she most ungratefully,
+turning her back upon him.
+
+"'Twas ever thus,'" says Mr. Gower, who seems to be in a poetical
+mood. "Yet what have I done?"
+
+"Oh, nothing--nothing!" cries Tita petulantly. "It is only the day!
+Surely it would depress anyone!"
+
+Her eyes wandered down the room, and are now fixed upon the curtains
+that hide the window where Mrs. Bethune and her husband are
+conversing.
+
+"Anyone but _me!"_ says Mr. Gower, with an exalted air. "I was up
+early this morning to----"
+
+"Up early! I like that! When _were_ you up?" asks Mrs. Chichester,
+between whom and Randal there is always a living feud. "Why, you
+can't get up even on Sundays, I hear, to be in time for service!"
+
+"What it is to be clever!" says Mr. Gower, looking at her with
+enthusiastic admiration. "One hears _so much"_--pause--"that isn't
+true!"
+
+"That's a mere put off," says she. "When were you up this morning?
+Come now--honour bright!"
+
+"At shriek of day," says Gower with dignity. "Were _you_ ever up at
+that time?"
+
+"Never!" says Mrs. Chichester, laughing.
+
+She has evidently that best of all things--a sense of humour; she
+gives in.
+
+"Well, I was. I wish I hadn't been," says Mr. Gower. "When I opened
+my window the rain beat upon me so hard that I felt it was a sort of
+second edition kind of thing when I took my bath later on."
+
+"I'm so sorry the weather is turning out so horrid," says Tita.
+
+"I don't see why you should ever be sorry about anything," says Tom
+Hescott, in his slow, musical voice.
+
+"Don't you?" She turns to him in a little quick way--a way that
+brings her back to that hateful window down below there. "You are
+right," she laughs gaily. It seems as if she had really cast that
+window and its occupants behind her for ever. "Well, I _won't_ be.
+By-the-by, I told you all that we are to go to a dance at Lady
+Warbeck's on Thursday week? Thursday!--yes. Thursday week."
+
+"I remember! How delightful!" cries Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Lady Warbeck! I know her," says Gower; "she has a son!"
+
+"Yes--a son."
+
+"Oh, _do_ go on! Lady Rylton, do tell us about him," says Mrs.
+Chichester, who is ever in search of fresh fields and pastures new.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+HOW TITA SUGGESTS A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF, AND WHAT COMES OF IT.
+
+
+
+"Well, I hardly can," says Tita, struggling with her memory. "He
+seems a big man, with--_airs_, you know, and--and----"
+
+"Trousers!" puts in Mr. Gower. "I assure you," looking confidently
+around him, "the checks on his trousers are so loud, that one can
+hear him _rattle_ as he walks."
+
+"Oh! is that the Mr. Warbeck?" says Minnie. "I know; I met him in
+town last July."
+
+"You met a hero of romance, then," says Gower. "That is, a thing out
+of the common."
+
+"I know him too," says Mrs. Chichester, who has been thinking. "A
+big man, a sort of giant?"
+
+"A horrid man!" says Tita.
+
+Mrs. Chichester looks at her as if amused.
+
+"Why horrid?" asks she.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," says Tita, shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't
+like him, anyway."
+
+"I'm sure I'm not surprised," says Tom Hescott.
+
+He takes a step closer to Tita, as if to protect her. It seems
+hideous to him that she should have to discuss--that she should even
+have known him.
+
+"Well, neither am I," says Mrs. Chichester. "He _is _horrid, and as
+ugly as the----" She had the grace to stop here, and change her
+sentence. "As ugly can be."
+
+It is a lame conclusion, but she is consoled for it by the fact that
+some of her audience understand what the natural end of that
+sentence would have been.
+
+"And what manners!" says she. "After all," with a pretty little
+shake of her head, "what can you expect of a man with hair as red as
+a carrot?"
+
+"Decency, at all events," says Tom Hescott coldly.
+
+"Oh! That--last of all," says Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Lady Warbeck is a very charming old lady," says Margaret Knollys,
+breaking into the conversation with a view to changing it.
+
+"Yes," says Mrs. Chichester. She laughs mischievously. "And such a
+delightful contrast to her son! She is so good."
+
+"She's funny, isn't she?" says Tita, throwing back her lovely little
+head, and laughing as if at some late remembrance.
+
+"No; good--_good!"_ insists Mrs. Chichester. "Captain Marryatt, were
+you with me when she called that day in town? No? Oh! _well,"_ with
+a little glance meant for him alone--a glance that restores him at
+once to good humour, and his position as her slave once more--"you
+ought to have been."
+
+"What did she say, then?" asks Minnie Hescott.
+
+"Nothing to signify, really. But as a contrast to her son, she is
+perhaps, as Lady Rylton has just said, 'funny.' It was about a
+book--a book we are all reading nowadays; and she said she couldn't
+recommend it to me, as it _bordered_ on impropriety! I was so
+enchanted."
+
+"I know the book you mean," says Mrs. Bethune, who has just
+sauntered up to them in her slow, graceful fashion.
+
+"Well, of course," says Mrs. Chichester. "Such nonsense condemning
+it! As if anybody worried about impropriety nowadays. Why, it has
+gone out of fashion. It is an exploded essence. Nobody gives it a
+thought."
+
+"That is _fatally true,"_ says old Miss Gower in a sepulchral tone.
+She has been sitting in a corner near them, knitting sedulously
+until now. But now she uplifts her voice. She uplifts her eyes, too,
+and fixes them on Mrs. Chichester the frivolous. "Do your own words
+never make you shiver?" asks she austerely.
+
+"Never," gaily; "I often wish they would in warm weather."
+
+Miss Gower uprears herself.
+
+"Be careful, woman! be careful!" says she gloomily. "There is a
+warmer climate in store for some of us than has been ever known on
+earth!"
+
+She turns aside abruptly, and strides from the room.
+
+Randal Gower gives way to mirth, and so do most of the others. Mrs.
+Chichester, it is true, laughs a little, but Tita can see that the
+laughter is somewhat forced.
+
+She goes quickly up to her and slips her hand into hers.
+
+"Don't mind her," says she. "As if a little word here and there
+would count, when one has a good heart, and I know you have one. We
+shall all go to heaven, I think, don't you? Don't mind what she
+hinted about--about that other place, you know."
+
+"Eh?" says Mrs. Chichester, staring at her as if astonished.
+
+"I _saw_ you didn't like it," says Tita.
+
+"Well, I didn't," says Mrs. Chichester, pouting.
+
+"No, of course, one wouldn't."
+
+"One wouldn't what?"
+
+"Like to be told that one would have to go to--_you_ know."
+
+"Oh, I see," says Mrs. Chichester, with some disgust. "Is that what
+you mean? Oh, I shouldn't care a fig about that!"
+
+"About what, then?" asks Tita anxiously.
+
+"Well, I didn't like to be called _a woman!"_ says Mrs. Chichester,
+frowning.
+
+"Oh!" says Tita.
+
+"Lady Rylton, where are you? You said you were going to get up blind
+man's buff," cries someone at this moment.
+
+"Yes, yes, indeed. Maurice, will you come and help us?" says Tita,
+seeing her husband, and going to him gladly, as a means of getting
+out of her ridiculous interview with Mrs. Chichester, which has
+begun to border on burlesque.
+
+"Certainly," says Sir Maurice; he speaks rapidly, eagerly, as if
+desirous of showing himself devoted to any project of hers.
+
+"Well, then, come on--come on," cries she, gaily beckoning to her
+guests right and left, and carrying them off, a merry train, to the
+ball-room.
+
+"Now, who'll be blinded first?" asks Mr. Gower, who has evidently
+constituted himself Master of the Ceremonies.
+
+"You!" cries Miss Hescott.
+
+"Not at all. There is only one fair way of arranging that," says
+Tita. "I'll show you. Now," turning to her husband, "make them all
+catch hands, Maurice--all in a ring, don't you know--and I'll show
+you."
+
+They all catch hands; there is a slight tussle between Captain
+Marryatt and Mr. Gower (who is nothing if not a born nuisance
+wherever he goes), as to which of them is to take Mrs. Chichester's
+right hand. This, providentially, is arranged by Mr. Gower's giving
+in, and consenting on a grimace from her to take her _left_ hand.
+Not that he wants it. Tom Hescott has shown himself desirous of
+taking Tita's small fingers into his possession for the time being,
+at all events--a fact pointed out to Rylton by Mrs. Bethune with a
+low, amused little laugh; but Tita had told him to go away, as she
+couldn't give her hand to _anybody_ for a moment, as she was going
+to have the conduct of the affair.
+
+"Now, are you all ready?" asks she, and seeing them standing in a
+circle, hands entwined, she runs suddenly to Maurice, disengages his
+hand from Mrs. Bethune's with a little airy grace, gives her right
+hand to the latter, and the left to Maurice, and, having so joined
+the broken ring again, leans forward.
+
+"Now," cries she gaily, her lovely little face lit up with
+excitement, "who ever the _last_ word comes to, he or she will have
+to hunt us! See?"
+
+She takes her right hand from Mrs. Bethune's, that she may point her
+little forefinger at each one in succession, and begins her
+incantation with Mr. Gower, who is directly opposite to her, nodding
+her head at each mystic word; and, indeed, so far as the beginning
+of it goes, this strange chant of hers mystifies everybody--everybody
+except Tom Hescott, who has played this game with her before, in the not
+so very distant past--Tom Hescott, who is now gazing at her with a most
+profound regard, all his soul in his eyes, oblivious of the fact that
+two pairs of eyes, at all events, are regarding _him _very curiously.
+
+    "Hena, Dena, Dina, Dus."
+
+"Good heavens!" interrupts Mr. Gower, with extravagant admiration.
+"What command of language! I"--to miss Hescott--"didn't know she was
+a linguist, did you?"
+
+    "Calto, Wheela, Kila, Kus."
+
+"Oh, I say!" murmurs Mr. Gower faintly. "It can't be right, can it,
+to say 'cuss words' at us like that? Oh, really, Rylton, _would _you
+mind if I retired?"
+
+    "Hot pan, Mustard, Jan,
+    Tiddledum, taddledum, twenty-one,
+    You raise up the latch, and walk straight out."
+
+The last word falls on Tom Hescott. "Out" comes to him.
+
+"There, Tom! You must be blindfolded," says Tita delightfully.
+"Who's got a _big_ handkerchief?"
+
+"I wouldn't stand that, Hescott, if I were you," says Colonel
+Neilson, laughing.
+
+"What is it?" asks Tom, who is a little abstracted.
+
+"Nothing much," says Mrs. Chichester mischievously. "Except that
+Lady Rylton says your head is so big that she has sent to the
+housekeeper for a young sheet to tie it up in."
+
+Hescott smiles. He can well afford his smile, his head being
+wonderfully handsome, not too small, but slender and beautifully
+formed.
+
+"Give me yours," says Tita, thrusting her hand into her husband's
+pocket and pulling out his handkerchief.
+
+The little familiar action sends a sharp pang through Mrs. Bethune's
+heart.
+
+"Now, Tom, come and be decorated," cries Tita. Hescott advances to
+her, and stops as if waiting. "Ah!" cries she, "do you imagine I
+could ever get up there!"
+
+She raises both her arms to their fullest height, which hardly
+brings her pretty hands even to a level with his forehead. She
+stands so for a moment, laughing at him through the gracefully
+uplifted arms. It is a coquettish gesture, though certainly
+innocent, and nobody, perhaps, would have thought anything of it but
+for the quick, bright light that springs into Hescott's eyes. So she
+might stand if she were about to fling her arms around his neck.
+
+"Down on your knees," cries Tita, giving herself the airs of a
+little queen.
+
+Hescott drops silently on to them. He has never once removed his
+gaze from hers. Such a strange gaze! One or two of the men present
+grow amused, all the women interested. Margaret Knollys makes an
+involuntary step forward, and then checks herself.
+
+"There!" says Tita, who has now bound the handkerchief over
+Hescott's eager eyes. "Now are you sure you can't see? Not a blink?"
+She turns up his chin, and examines him carefully. "I'm _certain_
+you can see out of this one," says she, and pulls the handkerchief a
+little farther over the offending eye. "Now, get up. 'How many
+horses in your father's stable?'"
+
+This is an embarrassing question, or ought to be, as Mr. Hescott's
+father is dead; but he seems quite up to it. Indeed, it now occurs
+to Sir Maurice that this cannot be the first time he has played
+blind man's buff with his cousin.
+
+"'Three white and three gray.'"
+
+"An excellent stud!" says Mr. Gower.
+
+But Tita is not thinking of frivolities. Like Elia's old lady, the
+"rigour of game" is all she cares for. She gives Tom Hescott one or
+two little turns.
+
+"'Then turn about, and turn about,'" says she, suiting the action
+to the word, "'And you don't catch _me_ till May-day.'"
+
+With this, she gives him a delicate little shove, and, picking up
+the train of her gown, springs lightly backwards to the wall behind
+her.
+
+And now the fun grows fast and furious. Hescott, who, I regret to
+say, must have disarranged that handkerchief once for all, is making
+great running with the lady guests. As Mr. Gower remarks, it is
+perfectly wonderful how well he and Marryatt and the other men can
+elude him. There is no difficulty at all about it! Whereas Mrs.
+Chichester is in danger of her life any moment, and Mrs. Bethune has
+had several narrow escapes. Tita, who is singularly nimble (fairies
+usually are), has been able to dart to and fro with comparative
+ease; but Margaret Knollys, who, to everybody's immense surprise, is
+enjoying herself down to the ground, was very nearly caught once.
+
+"That was a near shave," says Colonel Neilson, who happens to be
+near her when she runs, flushed and laughing, to the doorway. And
+then--"How you are enjoying yourself!"
+
+"Yes. Isn't it foolish of me," says she; but she laughs still.
+
+"It is the essence of wisdom," says Neilson.
+
+Here a little giggle from Mrs. Chichester tells of _her_ having been
+nearly caught. And now, now there is a skirmish down there, and
+presently they can see Hescott drawing Tita reluctantly forward.
+
+Tita is making frantic signs to Mr. Gower.
+
+"It's not a fair capture unless you can guess the name of your
+captive," says Gower, in answer to that frantic if silent appeal.
+
+Hescott raises his right hand, pretends to feel blindly in the air
+for a moment, then his hand falls on Tita's sunny little head. It
+wanders on her short curls--it is a very slow wandering.
+
+Mrs. Bethune looks up at Rylton, who is standing beside her.
+
+"Do you still doubt?" asks she, in a low whisper.
+
+"Doubt! I am a past master at it," says he bitterly. "I should be!
+_You_ taught me!"
+
+"I! Oh, Maurice!"
+
+"Yes--you! Yesterday, as it seems to me, I believed in everyone.
+To-day I doubt every soul I meet."
+
+At this point Hescott's "doubts," at all events, seem to be set at
+rest. His hand has ceased to wander over the pretty head, and in a
+low tone he says:
+
+"Titania!"
+
+This word is meant for Tita alone. A second later he calls aloud:
+
+"Lady Rylton!"
+
+But Maurice and Mrs. Bethune, who had been standing just behind him,
+had heard that whispered first word.
+
+"Oh, you rare right," says Tita petulantly. "But you would never
+have known me but for my hair. And I _hate_ being blindfolded, too.
+Maurice, will you take it for me?" holding out to him the
+handkerchief.
+
+"No!" says Rylton quietly, but decisively--so decisively that Mrs.
+Chichester suddenly hides her face behind her fan.
+
+"What a No!" says she to Captain Marryatt. "Did you hear it? What's
+the matter with him?"
+
+"He's jealous, perhaps," says Captain Marryatt.
+
+Mrs. Chichester gives way to wild, if suppressed, mirth.
+
+"Heavens! Fancy being jealous of one's own wife!" says she. "Now, if
+it had been anyone else's----"
+
+"Yes, there would be reason in that!" says Captain Marryatt, so
+gloomily that her mirth breaks forth afresh.
+
+He is always a joy to her, this absurd young man, who, in spite of
+barbs and shafts, follows at her chariot wheels with a determination
+worthy of a better cause.
+
+Gower, who also had heard that quiet "No," had come instantly
+forward, and entreated Tita to blindfold him. And once more the fun
+is at its height. Hescott, as compared with Randal Gower, is not
+even _in_ it in this game. The latter simulates the swallow, and
+even outdoes that wily bird in his swift dartings to and fro. Great
+is his surprise, and greater still his courage--this last is
+acknowledged by _all_--when, on a final swoop round the room with
+arms extended, he suddenly closes them round the bony form of Miss
+Gower, who had returned five minutes ago, and who, silent and
+solitary, is standing in a distant corner breathing anathemas upon
+the game.
+
+Everyone stops dead short--everyone looks at the ceiling; surely it
+_must_ fall! There had been a general, if unvoiced, opinion up to
+this that Mr. Gower could _see_; but now he is at once exonerated,
+and may leave the dock at any moment without a stain upon his
+character.
+
+"Come away! come away!" whisper two or three behind his back.
+
+Mrs. Chichester pulls frantically at his coat-tails; but Mr. Gower
+holds on. He passes his hand over Miss Gower's gray head.
+
+"It is--it is--it _must_ be!" cries he, in a positive tone.
+"It"--here his hand flies swiftly down her warlike nose--"it is
+Colonel Neilson!" declares he, with a shout of triumph.
+
+"Unhand me, sir!" cries Miss Gower.
+
+She had not spoken up to this--but to compare her to a man! She
+moves majestically forward. Gower unhands her, and, lifting one side
+of his would-be blind, regards her fixedly.
+
+"It was the nose!" He looks round reproachfully at Neilson. "Just
+see what you've let me in for!" says he.
+
+"Don't talk to me, sir!" cries his aunt indignantly. "Make no
+excuses--none need be made! When one plays demoralizing games in
+daylight, one should be prepared for anything;" and with this she
+once more leaves the room.
+
+"Ah, we should have played demoralizing games at _midnight,"_ says
+Mr. Gower, who doesn't look half as much ashamed of himself as he
+ought, "then we should have been all right."
+
+Here somebody who is standing at one of the windows says suddenly:
+
+"It is clearing!"
+
+"Is it?" cries Tita. "Then I suppose we ought to go out! But what a
+pity we couldn't have another game first!"
+
+She looks very sorry.
+
+"You certainly seemed to enjoy it," says Sir Maurice with a cold
+smile, as he passes her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+HOW TITA GETS A SCOLDING, AND HOW SHE REBELS AND ACCUSES SIR MAURICE
+OF BREACH OF CONTRACT.
+
+
+
+"Can I come in?"
+
+Rylton's voice is a little curt as he knocks at his wife's door. It
+is not the door opening into the corridor outside, but the inner
+door that leads from her room to his, and to the dressing-room
+beyond.
+
+"Yes, of course," cries Tita pleasantly.
+
+She is just on the point of dismissing her maid for the night--the
+maid who has so little to do; no long hair to brush, only the soft
+little curly locks that cover her mistress's head. She has taken off
+Tita's evening gown, and, now that the little locks have been
+carefully seen to, has taken off her dressing-gown also. It occurs
+to Tita that she might as well take _herself_ off as well, and as
+soon as possible.
+
+This thought makes her laugh.
+
+"You can go now, Sarah," says she to the maid, who loves her; "and
+don't bring me my tea before eight to-morrow, because I'm as sleepy
+as sleepy can be."
+
+She nods kindly to the dismissed maid, and, going to the door where
+Rylton is presumably standing, lets him in.
+
+"How early you are!" says she, thinking of the glories of the
+smoking-room below.
+
+"How late you are!" returns he. "I half fancied you would have been
+asleep by this time!"
+
+"Oh, well, I soon shall be!" says she. "I was just going to say my
+prayers as you came in; after that it won't take me a minute to get
+out of my clothes, and," with a little laugh, "into my bed."
+
+Her clothes, as she stands at present, are so becoming that it seems
+quite a pity that she should ever get out of them. Her neck and
+arms--soft and fair and round as a little child's--are shining in
+the lamplight, and beneath them the exquisite lace petticoat she
+wears gives her the air of one who is just going to a fancy ball. It
+is short enough to show the perfect little feet and the slender
+ankles beneath it.
+
+"How inhospitable of you to desert your friends so soon!" says she.
+"Why, you never come up till two, do you?--at least, so you tell
+me."
+
+"You will catch cold if you stay like that," says he.
+
+It is a somewhat irrelevant remark; but, for the first time in all
+his knowledge of her, the tender charm that is her own becomes clear
+to him. It seems to him that she is a new being--one he has never
+seen before; and, with this fresh knowledge, his anger towards her
+grows stronger.
+
+"I!--in this weather! Why, it is hardly chilly even yet, in spite of
+the rain; and, besides, I have this fire!" She catches his hand, and
+draws him towards the hearthrug. "I am sure you have something to
+say to me," says she. "Come and sit by the fire, and tell me all
+about it."
+
+"It is nothing, really," says Rylton, resisting her pretty efforts
+to push him into a luxurious lounging chair. "It is only a question
+about your cousin."
+
+He leans his elbow on the chimney-piece, and looks down at her--a
+dainty fairy lying now in the bosom of some soft pink cushions, with
+her legs crossed and her toes towards the fire. She has clasped her
+arms behind her head.
+
+"About Minnie?"
+
+"No."
+
+His heart hardens again. Is this duplicity on her part? How small,
+how innocent, how girlish, how--reluctantly this--beautiful she
+looks! and yet----
+
+"About Tom, then?"
+
+"About Mr. Hescott"--coldly--"yes."
+
+"What! you don't like him?" questions Tita, abandoning her lounging
+attitude, and leaning towards him.
+
+"So far as he is concerned," with increasing coldness, "I am quite
+indifferent to him; it is of you I think."
+
+"Of me! And why of me? Why should you think of me?"
+
+"I hardly know," somewhat bitterly; "except that it is perhaps
+better that _I_ should criticise your conduct than--other people."
+
+"I don't know what you mean!" says Tita slowly.
+
+Her charming face loses suddenly all its vivacity; she looks a
+little sad, a little forlorn.
+
+"There is very little to know," says Rylton hurriedly, touched by
+her expression.
+
+"But you said--you spoke of my _conduct!"_
+
+"Well, and is there nothing to be said of that? This cousin----" He
+stops, and then goes on abruptly: "Why does he call you Titania?"
+
+"Oh, it is an old name for me!" She looks at him, and, leaning back
+again in her chair, bursts out laughing. She has flung her arms over
+her head again, and now looks at him from under one of them with a
+mischievous smile. "Is _that_ the whole?" says she. "He used to call
+me that years ago. He used to say I was like a fairy queen."
+
+"Used he?"
+
+Rylton's face is untranslatable.
+
+"Yes. I was the smallest child alive, I do believe." She springs to
+her feet, and goes up to Rylton in a swaying, graceful little
+fashion. "I'm not so very big even _now_, am I?" says she.
+
+Rylton turns his eyes from hers with open determination; he steels
+his heart against her.
+
+"About this cousin," he says icily. "He is the one who used to say
+you had hands like iron, and a heart like velvet?"
+
+"Yes. _Fancy_ you remembering that!" says Tita, a sudden, quick
+gleam of pleasure dyeing her pretty cheeks quite red.
+
+"I always remember," returns Rylton distantly.
+
+His tone is a repulse. The lovely colour fades from her face.
+
+"I'm tired," says she suddenly, petulantly. She moves to the other
+end of the room, and, opening a wardrobe, pretends to make some
+rearrangements with its contents. "If you have nothing more to
+say"--with perhaps more honesty than politeness--"I wish you would
+go away."
+
+"I _have_ something more to say." The very nervousness he is feeling
+makes his tone unnecessarily harsh. "I object to your extreme
+intimacy with your cousin."
+
+Tita drops the dress she has just taken from the wardrobe, and comes
+back once more into the full light of the lamp. Her barer and
+slender arms are now hanging straight before her, her fingers
+interlaced; she looks up at him.
+
+"With _Tom?"_
+
+"With Mr. Hescott."
+
+"I have known Tom all my life," defiantly.
+
+"I don't care about that. One may know people all one's life, and
+yet have very unpleasant things said about one."
+
+_ "Can_ one----" She stops suddenly, facing him, her eyes fixed on
+his; her lips part, her slight little frame quivers as if with
+eagerness. It grows quite plain that there is something she desires
+passionately to say to him--something terrible-- but all at once she
+controls herself; she makes a little gesture with her right hand, as
+if throwing something from her, and goes on quickly, excitedly:
+"What do you mean? Who has been talking about me?"
+
+"I didn't say anyone had been talking about you."
+
+"Yes, you did! You hinted it, at all events. Go on. Tell me who it
+was."
+
+"Even if I knew I should not tell you," says Rylton, who is now
+white with anger.
+
+He had understood her hesitation of a moment since. He had known
+exactly what she wanted to say to him, and unfortunately the
+pricking of is conscience had only served to add fuel to the fire of
+his discontent towards her.
+
+"Well, _I'll_ tell _you,"_ says Tita, coming a step closer to him,
+her eyes blazing. "It was Mrs. Bethune. I know that she is no friend
+of mine. And I may as well say at once that I detest her. _You_ may
+like her, but I don't, and I never shall. She's a _beast!"_
+
+"Tita!"
+
+Her husband stares at her aghast. The small form seems transfigured.
+Has she grown?
+
+"Yes--a _beast!_ I don't care what you think. I'm not afraid of
+you--remember that! I was not even afraid of Uncle George. I shall
+never be afraid of anyone in all this wide, wide world!"
+
+Suddenly her passion breaks down. Her arms fall to her sides, and
+she leans back against the end of her bed like a broken lily.
+
+"Tita--if you would let me explain," says Rylton, who is overcome by
+her forlorn attitude, "I----"
+
+"No." He would have laid his hands gently upon her pretty bare
+shoulders, but she repulses him. "I want no explanation; there
+_isn't_ one."
+
+Then, to his surprise and misery, she covers her face with both her
+hands and bursts into tears.
+
+"You are unkind," sobs she wildly. "And you are not _true_. You
+don't tell the truth. You said--you _said,"_ passionately, "that you
+would be good to me. That you would let me do as I liked--that I
+should be happy! That was why I married you! That I might be happy!
+And now--now----"
+
+"But to do as you liked! Tita, be reasonable."
+
+"Oh, _reasonable!_ Uncle George used to talk to me like that. _He_
+was a reasonable person, I suppose; and so are you. And he--hated
+me!" She grows silent as one might when some dreadful thought
+assails one. "Perhaps," says the poor child, in a quick, frightened
+sort of way, "you hate me too. Perhaps everyone hates me. There are
+people whom everyone hates, aren't there?"
+
+"Are there?" asks Rylton drearily.
+
+At this moment, at all events, he feels himself to be hateful. What
+a pitiful little face he is looking at!
+
+"Yes, my uncle detested me," says Tita slowly, as if remembering
+things. "He said I ought not to have had all that money. That if I
+had not been born, he would have had it. But one can't help being
+born. One isn't asked about it! If"--she pauses, and the tears well
+up into her eyes again--"if _I_ had been asked, I should have said
+no, _no_, NO!"
+
+"Don't talk like that," says Rylton.
+
+There is a sensation of chokiness about his throat. How young she
+is--how small--and to be _already_ sorry that ever she was born!
+What a slender little hand! Just now it is lying crushed against her
+breast. And those clear eyes. Oh, if only he could have felt
+differently towards her--if he could have loved her! All this passes
+through his mind in an instant. He is even thinking of making her
+some kindly speech that shall heal the present breach between them,
+when she makes a sudden answer to his last remark.
+
+"If you weren't here, I shouldn't have to talk at all," says she.
+
+"True," he returns, feeling a little discomfited. "Well, good-night,
+Tita."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+She refuses to see his proffered hand.
+
+"Of course," says Rylton, who now feels _he_ is in the wrong, "I am
+very sorry that I--that I----"
+
+"Yes, so am I," with a saucy little tilting of her chin.
+
+"Sorry," continues Rylton, with dignity, "that I felt it my duty
+to--to----"
+
+"Make a fool of yourself? _So am I!"_ says Lady Rylton.
+
+After this astounding speech there is silence for a moment or two.
+Then Rylton, in spite of himself, laughs. And after a faint struggle
+with _her_self, Tita joins in his mirth. Emboldened by this
+departure, and really anxious to make it up with her, Rylton bids
+her good-night again, and this time would have added a kiss to his
+adieu. But Tita pushed him away.
+
+"Kiss you? Not likely!" says she scornfully; "I shall never want to
+kiss you again in all my life!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+HOW RYLTON'S HEART CONDEMNS HIM. AND HOW, AS HE WALKS, A SERPENT
+STINGS HIM. AND HOW HE IS RECOVERED OF HIS WOUND. AND HOW THE LITTLE
+RIFT IS MENDED--BUT WITH TOO FINE THREAD.
+
+
+
+Rylton had gone to his own room in a strange frame of mind. He
+called it aggrieved, but, _au fond_, there were some grains of
+remorse at the bottom of it. He had married her, and in spite of all
+things was bound to protect her. That sad little touch of hers,
+"Perhaps everyone hates me," had gone to his heart.
+
+There were other things that had gone home too. Little things, but
+bitter to the senses of one highly cultured; and of course the
+Ryltons had been accustomed to the best of things always. Tita's
+phrases grated a good deal. That "make a fool of yourself" had sunk
+deep, and there were so many other extraordinary expressions. The
+women of his own world very often used them in fun, but Tita used
+them in earnest: that made all the difference.
+
+And yet--he was sorry that he had vexed her. It kept him sleepless
+an hour almost, dwelling upon this, and even in the morning, when he
+awoke, it was the first thought that assailed him.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+It is in truth a lovely morning. Sweet as June, and fresh as "Fresh
+May."
+
+Rylton, whilst dressing, tells himself he wishes to goodness he had
+been clever enough to make it up with his wife before going to bed
+last night. Nothing so horrid as little coldnesses, little
+bickerings before one's guests--and Tita is so untutored that
+probably she will make it rather unbearable for him during
+breakfast.
+
+He has underrated Tita, however. She is almost the first down, and
+gets through the morning salutations to her guests in the gayest
+style, and takes possession of the teapot and the huge old urn quite
+calmly. She has delivered up the coffee to Margaret, to whom she
+always look as a sure ally. So calm, so pretty in her demeanour,
+that Rylton, taking heart of grace, throws to her a word or two--to
+his utter chagrin!
+
+Not that the words are not responded to; not one of them, indeed,
+but is answered, yet Tita's eyes had not gone with her words. They
+had been downcast; busied, presumably, with the tea-cup now, or a
+smile to her neighbour on her left, or a chiding to the fox-terrier
+at her knee. She gives Rylton the impression, at all events, that
+she will be civil to him in the future, but that she regrets the
+fact that she has to be.
+
+When the hateful meal is over he rises, telling himself that he must
+make it up with her, and as soon as possible. That child! to have a
+living feud with _her_. It is out of the question! And, besides,
+before one's guests! How bad it will look. A disagreement is not
+allowed between a host and hostess--when one is staying in their
+house, at all events. It is quite simple to get all the quarrelling
+over beforehand, to so arrange as to look like winged angels when
+one's house-party is here to see.
+
+He refuses to have anything to do with a swift glance from Mrs.
+Bethune as he leaves the breakfast-room. He gets quickly past her,
+disturbed at heart, and going through the hall, turns abruptly
+towards the stables.
+
+The day is lovely. A sort of Indian summer reigns. And presently
+most of those staying in the house turn their steps towards the
+pleasure grounds. The tennis courts have been kept marked, in spite
+of the fact that the regular tennis season is at an end, and Mr.
+Gower, who is an indefatigable player, has called on Miss Hescott to
+get up a double with him.
+
+The idea has evidently caught on, for now everyone seems to be
+swarming tennis-wards, rackets in hand, and tennis shoes on feet.
+
+Rylton, turning back from the stables an hour later, and with a mind
+still much upset, finds all the courts occupied, and everyone very
+much alive. Standing on the top of the stone steps that lead down to
+one of the courts, he glances sharply round him. No! Tita is not
+here. Tita, who is a perfect devotee where tennis is concerned.
+Where is she, then? A second time his glance sweeps the tennis
+courts, and now his brow grows dark; Hescott is not here, either.
+
+He draws in his breath a little sharply, and without descending the
+steps, goes round the courts nearest him to where an opening in the
+wood will lead him beyond fear of conversation.
+
+As he reaches this opening, a voice behind him cries gaily, "Whither
+away, Sir Maurice?"
+
+He turns and manages to smile pleasantly at Minnie Hescott, who,
+with Mrs. Bethune, is close behind him. A fancy that Marian has
+brought Miss Hescott here to say something occurs to him, and he
+curses himself for the thought. Is he growing suspicious of
+_everyone?_
+
+"I was going down to one of the lower farms," says he in a light
+tone. He had not been going there, but the evasion seems impossible
+to avoid.
+
+"You won't find anything _there,"_ says Mrs. Bethune, smiling at
+him. She is dressed entirely in black, and from under the huge black
+hat that shades her face her eyes gleam up at him in a sort of
+mockery--sad, yet beseeching. She is looking beautiful! Her pale
+face, so refined; the masses of her rich, red hair shining
+gorgeously in the clear sunlight.
+
+"No? I shall find old Wicks and his wife, at all events."
+
+"Oh, that? Yes."
+
+"Why, what did you think I was looking for?"
+
+"I really hardly know;" she smiles, and then says quietly, "Why,
+amusement, of course."
+
+At this moment Minnie Hescott, who detests being left out of
+anything, determines on boring a way into the _tête-à-tête_ before
+her.
+
+"Where is Tita?" asks she. "We wanted her for tennis, she is such a
+good player; but no one could find her."
+
+"Not even your brother?" asks Mrs. Bethune.
+
+"Not even Tom; she disappeared somewhere after breakfast."
+
+"Why, so did he!" and Mrs. Bethune lifts her brows in a very amused
+fashion.
+
+"Oh no, he didn't," says Minnie Hescott, casting a sudden shrewd
+glance at her. "He was in the library writing letters till an hour
+ago. I know that, because I was with him."
+
+"What an excellent sister you are!" says Mrs. Bethune, with a slight
+laugh.
+
+"Why?" asks Miss Hescott slowly. "Because I was with him?" Her tone
+is a little dangerous.
+
+"Naturally," says Mrs. Bethune, saving herself promptly. "To be
+always with one's brother shows devotion indeed; but you forget your
+_rôle_, don't you? Where has he been for the past hour? You haven't
+told us that! Surely you have not forsaken him now, when it may be
+the hour of his extremity." Her tone is jesting, but all through it
+Rylton can read between the lines.
+
+"He is with Colonel Neilson, at the kennels," replies Miss Hescott
+promptly.
+
+"Ah, I told you you were a good sister," says Mrs. Bethune.
+
+"Because I said Tom was with Colonel Neilson? Do you think he
+_isn't_ with him?" asks Minnie, looking at her fixedly.
+
+"My _dear_ girl! What a _bêtise!_ No! Because you take such care to
+know what he is doing. And so he is now with Colonel Neilson?"
+
+"Yes," shortly.
+
+"I'm afraid I must go," says Sir Maurice; "if I don't catch those
+Wickses at this hour I shall never catch them at all." He nods to
+Minnie. For a second his eyes meet Marian's. There is something in
+them that so satisfies her, that on way back with Minnie she makes
+herself thoroughly agreeable to that astute damsel. What _was_ there
+in his eye?--rage, hatred, revenge!
+
+In truth, Rylton's mind is full of evil thoughts as he strides
+onward into the recesses of the wood. The falling autumn leaves
+crackle beneath his swift tread, and through the trees the sky shows
+signs of storm. But what storm in all Nature can be compared with
+the rage that stirs the heart of man?
+
+Marian Bethune's coverts hints, added to his own suspicions, have
+set his heart on fire! And that girl's attempts at evasion, her
+hiding of her brother's faults--all that, too, had been laid bare to
+him by Marian!
+
+Just now it seems to him as true as life itself that Tita and Tom
+Hescott have gone for a walk together; somewhere--anywhere beyond
+the ken of those of her own household. To think that he should have
+sacrificed his whole life--that he should have married this child,
+who is less to him that thistledown, to be cast aside by her, and to
+let her bring down his good name with ignominy to the dust.
+
+He is striding onwards, lost in miserable thought, when suddenly
+footsteps, coming quickly towards him, rouse him. Someone is
+laughing. The laughter strikes to his very soul. When people laugh
+seldom, one always knows their laugh. Before Tom Hescott turns the
+corner Rylton knows it is his. But his companion!
+
+"Why, there you are, Rylton!" says Colonel Neilson at the top of his
+voice. "By Jove! well met! We've been disputing about a point in the
+tenant right down here, and you can set us straight!"
+
+Rylton can hardly account to himself for the terrible revulsion of
+feeling he endures at this moment. Is it joy? _Can_ it be joy? What
+is she to him or he to her? Yet positively it is a most thankful joy
+he feels as he sees these two men approaching him together. After
+all, Minnie Hescott had been right. It is perhaps worthy of notice
+that he does not say to himself that Marian Bethune had been wrong!
+
+He sets Colonel Neilson straight on a point or two, and then goes on
+again, striking now, however, into a pathway that leads him very far
+from the farm he had proposed to visit. It opens out into a pleasant
+little green sward dotted with trees, through which the sun glints
+delicately. One of these trees is a gnarled old oak.
+
+As Rylton steps into this open glade the oak attracts him. He looks
+at it--first carelessly, and then with sharp interest. What strange
+fruit is that hanging on it? A foot!--an exquisite little slipper!
+
+He stands still, and looks higher; and there he sees Tita embedded
+amongst the leaves, half reclining on a giant bough and reading. The
+book is on her knees, her eyes upon her book.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+HOW TITA TAKES HIGH GROUND, AND HOW SHE BRINGS HER HUSBAND, OF ALL
+PEOPLE, TO HER FEET.
+
+
+
+She looks like a little elf. All at once the pretty beauty of her
+breaks upon Rylton. The reaction from such extreme doubt of her to a
+clear certainty has made his appreciation of her kinder--has,
+perhaps, opened his eyes to the perfections she possesses. However
+this may be, there is, beyond question, a great deal of remorse in
+his soul as he walks towards the tree in which she sits enshrined.
+
+How will she receive him? Not a word, save those much-begrudged ones
+at breakfast, has passed between them since last night; and this
+hurrying away from the others, does it not mean a dislike to meet
+_him?_
+
+"You have mounted very high in the world!" says he, stopping beneath
+the tree and addressing her.
+
+He has come towards her very softly on the grass--so softly that she
+has not heard his coming. And now, as he speaks, she starts
+violently, and looks down at him as if surprised out of all measure.
+In a second, however, she recovers herself.
+
+"True!" says she; "I have married you!"
+
+It is to be still war, then! Rylton bites his lips, but controls
+himself. It is plain he is not forgiven. But, after all, she has had
+something to forgive, and more--_far_ more than she even knows. That
+last suspicion of her was base.
+
+"That is an unkind little speech!" says he gently. "It reminds me
+that it was you who set _me_ up in the world."
+
+This shaft tells.
+
+Tita colours warmly; her generous soul shrinks from such an
+accusation.
+
+"I didn't mean that," says she; "you know very well I didn't. I
+wish," petulantly, "you would go away; I want to read."
+
+"Well, I'm going," says Rylton. As a means of carrying out this
+promise, he props himself up with a branch of the tree on which she
+is sitting--a branch on a level with her dainty little silk-clad
+feet. He has leant both his arms on it, and now involuntarily his
+eyes rest upon her shoes. "What beautiful feet you have!" says he
+slowly.
+
+It is a perfectly Machiavellian speech. Tita's feet are beyond
+argument, and there is not a woman in _this_ world, any way, who has
+beautiful feet, who doesn't want everyone to tell her all about
+them.
+
+"No, no; they're nothing," says she, making a pretence of tucking up
+the much-maligned feet in question under her frock, which basely
+fails to help her.
+
+But even as she says this she smiles--reluctantly, no doubt; but,
+still, she _does_ smile--and casts a glance at Rylton from under her
+long lashes. It is a delightful look--half pleased, half defiant,
+wholly sweet.
+
+"Forgive me, Tita!" says her husband quickly.
+
+"I don't want you to talk to me like that," says she, with a frown.
+
+"But I must say that. Well, will you?"
+
+"I don't know." She stops, and again casts that pretty glance at
+him. "At all events, you will have to promise me one thing."
+
+"Anything."
+
+"No; I'm in earnest."
+
+"So am I."
+
+He ventures now to take one of the charming feet so close to him
+into one of his hands, and strokes the instep softly with the other.
+
+"Oh no! you are never in earnest with me," says the girl. "But what
+I want you to say is, that you won't do it again."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Scold me."
+
+"Never--never!" says Rylton.
+
+"That's a promise, mind."
+
+"I shall mind it."
+
+"Very well--I forgive you."
+
+"Let me bring you back to Mother Earth, then," says Rylton.
+
+"No, thank you; I can take myself down."
+
+"That's being unkind to yourself. Take down your friends if you
+like, but spare yourself."
+
+"I should like to take _you_ down," says she maliciously.
+
+"Am _I_ your friend, then?"
+
+"No--no, indeed!"
+
+"Well----"
+
+He pauses and looks at her. All at once it seems to him that perhaps
+he _is_ her friend--a friend--a mere friend! But could a man who
+loved another woman be an honest friend to his wife?
+
+"Are you?" asks Tita.
+
+"Yes. Didn't I want to take you down just now?"
+
+At this she gives in and laughs a little. He laughs too.
+
+"You are too clever for me," says she.
+
+"And you--what are you? Too good for me, perhaps."
+
+"I don't think you ought to say things you don't mean," says Tita.
+"But as you have made that promise--why, you _may_ take me down
+now."
+
+She leans towards him, holding out her arms. He takes her into his,
+and brings her slowly, carefully to the grass beside him. Even when
+safely landed here he still holds her.
+
+"We _are_ friends?" asks he.
+
+His tone is a question.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," impatiently. "Are they playing tennis? Do you
+think they want me?"
+
+It is impossible for him to misunderstand her meaning. A longing to
+get back to the others to play, and win at her favourite game of
+tennis, has been in part the cause of her ready forgiveness.
+
+"Certainly they want you," says he, surprised at himself for the
+touch of chagrin he feels. "But," still holding her, "you have quite
+made it up with me, haven't you?"
+
+"Quite--quite."
+
+"But what a way to make it up!" says Rylton reproachfully.
+
+He is smiling all through, however.
+
+"What's the matter with it?" asks Tita.
+
+"Don't you know? Must I tell you? Last night, Tita, you told me you
+would never want to kiss me again."
+
+"Well, kissing's a bore," says Tita, with a little grimace. "I never
+want to kiss anyone really, except----"
+
+She hesitates.
+
+"Except?" asks Rylton, his grasp tighter on her arms.
+
+"Except Margaret."
+
+Rylton bursts out laughing; for the moment he believes her,
+afterwards--
+
+"What a baby you are!" says he; "and what a cruel baby! Tita, I
+shan't believe you have forgiven me unless you----"
+
+"I think it is _you_ who are the baby," says she, with a shrug.
+"What on earth _do_ you want to kiss me for? Well, there," holding
+up to him the coolest, freshest cheek in the world, "you can kiss me
+if you like."
+
+"Is that all?" says Rylton, somewhat piqued.
+
+"Yes--all," with decision. "I can't bear people to kiss me on my
+mouth."
+
+"Perhaps you would prefer that people would not kiss you at all?"
+
+"Well, yes, I should," says she. "But," quickly, "of course, you are
+not quite like other people. You may kiss my cheek if you like."
+
+"Thank you," says Rylton. "I appreciate the difference."
+
+He kisses her cheek discreetly, but would have liked to shake her as
+he does so.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+HOW EVERYONE GOES TO LADY WARBECK'S DANCE, AND HELPS TO MAKE IT A
+SUCCESS; AND HOW MANY CURIOUS THINGS ARE SAID AND DONE THERE.
+
+
+
+Everyone has come now, and old Lady Warbeck, resplendent in pearls
+and brocade, has dropped into a chair that some charitable person
+has placed behind her.
+
+It is indeed close upon midnight, and dancing it at its height.
+Flowers are everywhere, and a band from town has been secured. This
+latter is quite a flight on the part of Lady Warbeck, who, as a
+rule, trusts the music to the local geniuses. Altogether everyone
+acknowledges it is very well done. Very well done _indeed_, and a
+good deal more than one would expect from the Warbecks!
+
+Old Sir Thomas is marching round, paying senile compliments to all
+the prettiest girls; his son Gillam, with a diamond stud that you
+could see a mile off, is beaming on Mrs. Bethune, who is openly
+encouraging him. Indeed, "The Everlasting," as he is called by his
+friends (it is always one's friends who give one a bad name), is
+careering round and about Mrs. Bethune with a vigour hardly to be
+expected of him. He is looking even younger than usual. Though fully
+forty-five, he still looks only thirty--the reason of his nickname!
+Everyone is a little surprised at Mrs. Bethune's civility to him,
+she having been studiously cold to all men save her cousin Sir
+Maurice during the past year; but Mrs. Bethune herself is quite
+aware of what she is doing. Of late--it seems difficult of
+belief--but of late she has fancied Maurice has avoided her. He was
+always a little highflown with regard to morals, dear Maurice, but
+she will reform him! A touch, just a _touch_ of jealousy will put an
+end to the moral question!
+
+She has thrown aside the dark colours she usually affects, and is
+to-night all in white. So is Tita. So is Mrs. Chichester, for the
+matter of that. The latter is all smiles, and is now surrounded by a
+little court of admirers at the top of the room, Captain Marryatt,
+fatuous as ever, by her side, and the others encircling her.
+
+"Quite refreshing to see so many men all together," says she in a
+loud voice, addressing everybody at once. She likes an audience. "As
+a rule, when one gets into the country, one sticks a glass in one's
+eye, and ask, 'Where's the MAN?'"
+
+"I never heard anything so unkind in my life," says Mr. Gower, with
+a deep reproach. "I'm sure ever since _you_ have been in the country
+you have had a regiment round you, waiting on your lightest word."
+
+"Oh! you git!" says Mrs. Chichester, who is as vulgar as she is
+well-born. Her glance roams down the room. "Just look at Mrs.
+Bethune and 'The Everlasting,'" says she. _"Aren't_ they going it?
+And for once the fair Bethune is well-gowned."
+
+"Yet I hear she is very hard up at present," says a woman near her.
+"What eyes she has!"
+
+"I was told she made her own gowns," says another, laughing.
+
+"Pouf!" says Mrs. Chichester. "That's going a trifle too far. One
+may make the garment that covers one--I'm sure I don't know, but
+I've heard it--but no one ever made a _gown_ except a regular
+clothes woman--a modiste."
+
+"And, for the matter of that, hers is beautiful. Do you see how the
+catch at the side of the dress is? It shows the bit of satin lining
+admirably."
+
+"Well, but how did she get such a charming gown if she is as you
+say--well, 'hard up'?"
+
+"Ah! To go into a thing like that! How _rude!"_ says Mrs.
+Chichester, going off into a little convulsion of laughter behind
+her fan.
+
+"Talking of clothes," says Captain Marryatt at the moment, "did you
+ever see anything like Gillam's get up?"
+
+"Gillam? Is that Mrs. Bethune's partner?"
+
+"Yes. Just look at his trousers, his diamonds! How _can_ Mrs.
+Bethune stand it all?"
+
+"Perhaps she admires it--the diamonds at all events."
+
+"'My love in his attire doth show his wit!'" quotes Marryatt, who
+likes to pose as a man of letters.
+
+"'When the age is in the wit is out,'" quotes Gower in his turn,
+who can never resist the longing to take the wind out of somebody's
+sails; "and, after all, The Everlasting is not a youth! No doubt his
+intellect is on the wane."
+
+"He's a cad, poor fellow!" says one the cavalry men from the
+barracks at Merriton.
+
+"Nonsense!" says the girl with him, a tall, heavy creature. "Why,
+his father is a baronet."
+
+The cavalry man regards her with pity. How _little_ she knows!
+
+"A cad is not always the son of a sweep," says he, giving his
+information gently; "sometimes--he is the son of a prince."
+
+"Ah! now you are being very funny," says the girl, who thinks he is
+trying to be clever.
+
+"Yes, really, isn't he?" says Mrs. Chichester, who knows them both;
+she is a sort of person who always knows everybody. Give her three
+days in any neighbourhood whatsoever, and she'll post you up in all
+the affairs of the residents there as well as if she had dwelt
+amongst them since the beginning of time. _You,_ who have lived with
+them for a hundred years, will be nowhere; she'll always be able to
+tell you something about them you never heard before.
+
+"Isn't he?" says she; she is now regarding the heavy girl with
+suppressed, but keen, amusement. "And to be funny in this serious
+age is unpardonable. Don't do it again, Captain Warrender, as you
+value your life."
+
+"I shan't!" says he. "A second attempt might be fatal!"
+
+"How well Mr. Hescott dances!" goes on Mrs. Chichester, who admires
+Tom Hescott.
+
+"True. The very worst of us, you see, have _one_ good point," says
+Gower.
+
+"I don't consider Mr. Hescott the worst of you, by a long way,"
+returns she.
+
+"Oh no, neither do I," says a pretty little woman next to her, a
+bride of a few weeks, who, with her husband, has just come up.
+
+"I have you on my side then, Lady Selton?" says Mrs. Chichester.
+
+Lady Selton nods her reply. She is panting, and fanning herself
+audibly. Without the slightest ear for music, she has been plunging
+round the room with her husband, who is still so far infatuated as
+to half believe she can dance. She is an extremely pretty woman, so
+one can condone his idiocy.
+
+At this moment Hescott appears. He goes straight to the bride. He
+has been sent, indeed, by Lady Warbeck.
+
+"Will you give me the pleasure of this dance, Lady Selton?" asks he.
+
+"It? What is it?" nervously.
+
+"A waltz."
+
+He is smiling at her. She has a charming figure. Of course she can
+dance. Tom Hescott would not have asked the loveliest woman in the
+land to waltz with him, if he knew her to be a bad dancer.
+
+"I can't waltz at all," says the bride. But her husband comes to the
+rescue.
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" says he, smilingly. "Hescott dances so well that he
+will teach you. Go, go with him." He gives her a playful little push
+towards Hescott, who is looking very blank. "You'll get into it in
+no time."
+
+"Get into it."
+
+The disgust that is writ so large on Hescott's face, as he leads her
+away, makes Mrs. Chichester shake with laughter.
+
+"He'll find it a slight difference after Lady Rylton's waltzing,"
+says she to Marryatt.
+
+"He'll find a difference in every way. Lady Selton is devoted to her
+husband----"
+
+"And Lady Rylton----"
+
+_"Well!"_ He hesitates.
+
+"How vague! But I know, I know! By-the-bye," with a swift change of
+tone that quite deceives him, "which do you admire most?"
+
+"Oh, Lady Rylton, of course. Lady Selton is pretty--in a
+way--but----"
+
+"Then you prefer the woman who is _not_ devoted to her husband?"
+
+"I don't see how that argument comes in," says he quickly. "Some
+husbands are--are----"
+
+"Quite true. They are indeed," interrupts Mrs. Chichester, who seems
+to be enjoying herself. "But what an aspersion on poor Sir Maurice."
+
+"I wasn't thinking of him," says Marryatt hurriedly.
+
+"Of whom then?"
+
+She fixes her eyes full on his--eyes merry with mischief.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," says he confusedly.
+
+"Of _my_ husband?"
+
+"Mrs. Chichester, I don't think----"
+
+"That's right," says she, rising and slipping her arm into his.
+"Never think; it's about the most foolish thing anyone can do. _I
+_never think. I only wait; waiting is full of promise."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+HOW RYLTON ASKS HIS WIFE TO TREAD A MEASURE WITH HIM, AND HOW THE
+FATES WEAVE A LITTLE MESH FOR TITA'S PRETTY FEET.
+
+
+
+"Will you give me this dance, Tita?" asks Sir Maurice, going up to
+his wife.
+
+Tita is standing in a recess near the window. The window is wide
+open, and filled at each corner with giant ferns in pots.
+
+"Ye--es," says Tita, with hesitation.
+
+"Of course, if you are engaged----"
+
+"That's it, I'm not quite sure."
+
+Rylton laughs unpleasantly.
+
+"Oh, if you want to give it to somebody else----"
+
+"I don't," returns Tita calmly. "You dance better than anyone here,
+except Tom."
+
+"Perhaps, then, you wish to reserve it for Tom? I see you have
+already danced a good deal with Tom."
+
+"It is such a pleasure to dance with him," says she
+enthusiastically.
+
+"One can see how you regard it."
+
+"What do you mean?" looking at him. "Have I danced too much with him?
+If you imagine----"
+
+"I shouldn't presume to imagine. But this dance, why can't I have
+it?"
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth, I've lost my card. I can't think what
+I have done with it."
+
+"Dropped it, perhaps."
+
+"No; I _fancy"_--frowning as if trying to remember--"that I gave it
+to somebody to keep for me."
+
+"Tom, perhaps," dryly.
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Well, your partner for this dance, whoever he is, doesn't seem to
+be in a hurry to claim you," says Rylton, making his rude speech
+very suavely. "You may as well give it to me."
+
+At this moment Hescott, looking rather out of breath, comes up to
+them, pushing the curtain near him aside.
+
+"What a place to hide yourself!" says he to Tita. "I have been
+hunting for you everywhere." Here he catches sight of Rylton. "Oh,
+you, Rylton! Tita is in good company, at all events."
+
+"She is always in good company, of course," returns Rylton, smiling.
+
+"Why, is it _you,_ then, who is my partner?" says Tita, quickly
+looking at Tom. "Maurice wants me to dance this with him. I told him
+I should be delighted to, but----"
+
+"Did you tell me that?" interrupts Sir Maurice, always smiling.
+
+"Well, if I didn't say it, I meant it," with a shrug. "But, you see,
+I had lost my card, so I wasn't sure whether I was engaged to
+somebody else or not."
+
+"Why----" begins Hescott.
+
+He stops dead short. Suddenly it occurs to him that perhaps she
+doesn't wish her husband to _know!_ He curses himself for this
+thought afterwards. She--_she_ to descend to duplicity of any sort!
+
+"It is you who have my card!" cries Tita suddenly, as if just
+remembering, and with a merry laugh. "Of course! How could I have
+forgotten!"
+
+"How, indeed!" says her husband pleasantly; his mouth is looking a
+little hard, however.
+
+"Give it to me," says Tita.
+
+Hescott gives her the car in silence. If she is ignorant, he, at all
+events, is quite aware that there is thunder in the atmosphere.
+
+Tita runs her eye down the card.
+
+"Yes, this dance is yours," says she, looking up at Tom.
+
+"If you would prefer to dance it with Sir Maurice----" begins he.
+
+He is looking at her. His heart feels on fire. _Will_ she elect to
+dance with this husband, who, as report goes, so openly prefers
+another?
+
+"No, no, no!" cries Tita gaily; "I have promised you. Maurice can
+ask me for another later on."
+
+"Certainly," says Sir Maurice courteously.
+
+He nods and smiles at them as they leave the recess, but once past
+his view, his expression changes; his brow grows black as night.
+What does it all mean? Is she as innocent as heaven itself, or as
+false as hell? All things point the latter way.
+
+First she had said---- What was it she had said? That she didn't
+know whether she were engaged to this dance or not. A clear putting
+off--a plan to gain time. She had lost her card; she couldn't
+imagine how and where. Then comes the inevitable cousin _with_ the
+card. And his hesitation--that was fatal. He surely was clever
+enough to have avoided that. _She_ had known what to do, however;
+she had taken the bull by the horns. She had given "Tom," as she
+calls him, a safe lead.
+
+And yet--and yet! Her face comes back to him. Could he accuse that
+face of falsehood? And another thing: If she and that cousin of hers
+were in collusion, would they have so openly defied him, as it were?
+
+No; it is out of the question. So far as she goes, at all events,
+there is nothing to complain of. That she is indifferent to him--her
+husband--is, of course, beyond question. He himself had arranged all
+that beforehand--before his marriage. Both he and she were to have
+a loose rein, and there was to be no call for affection on either
+side.
+
+His mind runs back to those early days when he had asked Tita to
+marry him. He had been altogether satisfied with the arrangements
+then made--arrangements that left him as free as air, and his wife
+too. He had thought with boredom of this marriage, and had grasped
+at any alleviation of the martyrdom. And now it is just as he had
+ordained it. And yet----
+
+Tita has disappeared. Once or twice he had caught a glimpse of her
+floating round the room with her cousin, but for the past five
+minutes she has not been _en évidence_ at all. Sir Maurice, moving
+out of the recess, is touched by a hand from behind. He turns.
+
+Marian Bethune, beautiful, more animated than usual, and with her
+eyes sparkling, smiles up at him.
+
+"How dull you look!" cries she gaily. "Come out here on the balcony
+and enjoy the moonlight for awhile."
+
+She had been standing out there in the shadow, and had heard and
+seen what had occurred between Tita and her husband, and later on
+with Tom Hescott. Rylton follows her. The soft chill of the air
+outside attracts him. It seems to check all at once the bitter anger
+that is raging in his heart. It surprises himself that he should be
+so angry. After all, what is Tita to him? A mere name. And yet----
+
+Outside here the night looks exquisite. Star after star one sees
+decking the heavens with beauty.
+
+    "Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade,
+    Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid."
+
+Such a night is this, delicate, tender, its charms heightened by a
+soft low wind that sweeps over the gardens and sends a sigh or two
+to the balconies above.
+
+"Well!" says Mrs. Bethune.
+
+She had led him to the far end of the balcony, where no seats are,
+and where, therefore, one may be sure of seclusion--for the moment,
+at all events. She looks up at him. Some pale pink lamps from behind
+throw a slight radiance on her--not too deep a radiance. They are
+too far behind for that, but yet enough to soften her, to idealize
+her, and to render even more delicate the exquisite flesh tints of
+her face.
+
+She has waited for her answer some time, but is well satisfied that
+no answer has been forthcoming. Rylton's eyes are resting upon hers,
+as if surprised at this new fairness of hers. His glance is full of
+admiration, yet there is something of sadness--of anger in it, too,
+that annoys her, in spite of her exultation. For whom is the
+anger--for that little fool he has married? It seems to her an
+absurd thing that he should cast a thought, even an angry one, upon
+his wife when she--Marian--is here.
+
+She has been leaning upon the rails of the balcony, and now draws
+closer to him.
+
+"Why waste a thought on her?" says she in a low tone that is almost
+a whisper.
+
+"On her! Who?" asks he quickly, and with an evident start.
+
+"Oh!" with a shrug. "If you don't wish to go into it."
+
+"But into what?"
+
+He frowns. He is feeling very irritable still, in spite of his
+admiration of her beauty.
+
+She makes a little gesture of contempt.
+
+"If you will not acknowledge me as even your friend."
+
+"You!" says he sharply. "You! _Are_ you my friend?"
+
+There is a pause. She looks away from him. And then----
+
+"Oh, _more_ than that!" cries she in a low but passionate tone.
+_"Far_ more!"
+
+She lays her hand upon her throat, and looks up to heaven. The
+moonlight, striking upon her as she so stands, makes her fairness
+even greater.
+
+"Marian! You mean----"
+
+The past rushes in upon him. He has turned to her.
+
+"No! no! It is nothing," says she, with a little laugh that is full
+of pain. She makes a movement that almost repulses him. "But I am
+your friend, if nothing else; and the world--the world is beginning
+to talk about you, Maurice!"
+
+"About me!"
+
+He has drawn back with a sharp pang. She sees that this new idea
+that touches him, or that little fool (as she has designated Tita in
+her mind), has destroyed his interest in her for the moment.
+
+"Yes! Be warned in time."
+
+"Who is daring to talk about me?"
+
+"Not about you directly; but about Lady Rylton."
+
+Some strange feeling compels him to put a fresh question for her,
+though he knows what the answer will be.
+
+"My mother?"
+
+"This is unworthy of you," says Marian slowly. "No; I meant Tita!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+HOW MARIAN FIGHTS FOR MASTERY; AND HOW THE BATTLE GOES; AND HOW
+CHANCE BEFRIENDS THE ENEMY.
+
+
+
+"Tita! You wrong her!" says he. "Why speak of her? You should not;
+you always disliked her."
+
+"True." She is silent for a moment, looking down into the silent
+garden. Then she lifts her head, and gazes straight at him. "You
+know why I disliked her. You must! You--you only. Some instinct from
+the very first warned me against her. I knew. I _knew_ she would rob
+me of all that life had left me. I knew"--with a quick, long
+sob--"she would take _you_ from me!"
+
+Rylton, who has been leaning on the railings beside her, raises
+himself, and stands staring at her, a terrible anguish in his eyes.
+
+"Marian--think," says he hoarsely.
+
+"Oh, _why_ did you marry her?" cries she, smiting her hands together
+as if half distracted. "There was always so much time--time!"
+
+"There was none."
+
+"There is always time!" She is silent for a moment, and then, with
+an increase of passion in her tone, repeats her question: "Why did
+you marry her?"
+
+_"You_--to ask me that!" exclaims he fiercely.
+
+"It was not like you," says she, interrupting him in a measure, as
+though unable to keep back the words, the accusations, that are
+rushing to her lips. "I have known you so long--so long. Ah! I
+thought I knew you. I believed you faithful. I believed you many
+things. But, at all events"--with a sad and desolate reproach--"I
+never believed you fond of money."
+
+"Marian!" She has laid her hand upon his arm, and now he flings it
+from him. "That _you_ should accuse _me!_ Money! What was money to
+me in comparison with your love? But you--you----"
+
+He does not go on: it is so hard to condemn her. He is looking at
+her in the tender light with eyes that seek to read her heart, and
+he is very pale. She can see that, in spite of the warm, pink glow
+of the lamps behind them.
+
+"Well--and I?" questions she, with deep agitation.
+
+How handsome he is! how lovable! Oh for the good sweet past she has
+so madly flung aside!
+
+"You refused me," says he slowly, "you, on whom my soul was set."
+
+"For your own good," in a stifled voice.
+
+"Don't repeat that wretched formula," exclaims he vehemently. "It
+means nothing. It was not for my good. It was for my damnation, I
+think. You see how things are going."
+
+He stops abruptly here, as if thinking of something, and she knows
+and resents the knowledge that his mind has gone back to
+Tita--resents it, though his thought has been condemnatory of his
+wife. Why can't he forget her altogether?
+
+"Yes I meant it for your good," says she, in a whisper.
+
+Her heart is beating wildly.
+
+"You refused me," persists he, in a dull tone. "That is all I
+remember. You refused me--how many times?"
+
+She turns away from him.
+
+"Once too often, at all events," replies she, in a low, wretched
+voice.
+
+She makes a movement as if to go back to the lighted rooms beyond,
+but he catches her and compels her to stay with him.
+
+"What do you mean?" demands he sternly. "To say _that_ to me--and
+now--now, when it is too late."
+
+"Too late, indeed!" echoes she.
+
+Her voice sounds like the voice of one dying. She covers her face
+with her hands. He knows that she is crying. Very gently he takes
+down one of the hands and holds it between both his own, and presses
+it to his lips. How dear she has always been to him! He realizes in
+this moment how dear she still _is._
+
+"Marian, have pity on me," says he hoarsely. "I have suffered a
+great deal. And your tears----"
+
+"My tears! They will avail me nothing," says she bitterly. "When
+_you_ have forsaken me, what is left?"
+
+_ "Have_ I forsaken you?" He pauses, as if to control the agitation
+that is threatening to overcome him. "When all I cared for was lost
+to me," he goes on presently, his eyes upon the ground, "when you
+had told me that marriage between us was impossible, then one thing
+remained, and one only--ambition. The old place had been ours for
+two centuries--it had its claim on me. If love was not to be my
+portion, I felt I might as well do all I could for the old name--the
+old place."
+
+"And your wife? Was that honourable towards _her?"_ She smiles, but
+her smile is a sneer. "After all, she would not care," says she.
+"She carried her point! She has compelled you to raise her from the
+mud to the sky!"
+
+Rylton draws back suddenly. All at once recollection comes to him.
+His wife! Yes, Tita _is_ his wife, and honour binds him to her. He
+drops Mrs. Bethune's hand.
+
+"I have been quite honourable," says he coldly. "I arranged matters
+with her. She knows--she is content to know--that----"
+
+"What?" Mrs. Bethune has felt the change in his manner ever since
+she mentioned Tita's name. "That you once loved me!"
+
+"No," frowning, "I have not told her that."
+
+"Ah!" cries she, with a sort of passionate relief, "I thank you for
+that, even though your love for me may now be dead. I thank you for
+that; and as for your wife, what is she to you?"
+
+"She is my _wife!"_ returns he gloomily. "I shall remember
+that--always!"
+
+"Ah! she will _make_ you remember it," cries Marian, with a queer
+laugh. "I warn you of _that!"_
+
+"You warn me!"
+
+"Yes--yes." She throws out her arms in the moonlight, and laughs
+again, with a great but cruel delight. "You will see. You don't care
+for her, she doesn't care for you, and you will see----"
+
+"Marian, take care! I can hear nothing said against my wife, even by
+you."
+
+"You prefer to hear it, then, from others?" says Mrs. Bethune,
+leaning back against the railings that overlook the gardens beneath,
+with a strange smile upon her lips.
+
+"I prefer to believe that there is nothing to hear"--haughtily.
+
+"You can prefer what you like," says she, with a sudden burst of
+rage; "but hear you shall!"
+
+She takes a step nearer him.
+
+"I shall not," says Rylton firmly, if gently. "She is my wife. I
+have made her that! I shall remember it."
+
+"And she," says Marian furiously, "what does _she_ remember? You may
+forget all old ties, if you will; but she--does _she_ forget?"
+
+"Forget what?"
+
+Mrs. Bethune laughs softly, sweetly, wildly.
+
+"Are you blind? Are you _mad?_ Can you see _nothing?"_ cries she,
+her soft, musical voice now a little harsh and strained. "That
+cousin--have you seen nothing there?"
+
+"You are alluding to Hescott?"
+
+"Yes--to him, and--Tita!"
+
+"Tita?" His brow darkens. "What are you going to say of her?"
+
+"What you"--deliberately--"do not dare to say, although you know
+it--that she is absolutely depraved!"
+
+_"Depraved!"_
+
+"There--stand back!" She laughs, a strange laugh. She has shaken
+herself free from him. "Fancy your taking it like that!" says she.
+She is laughing still, but panting; the pressure of his hands on her
+arms is still fresh. "And have you not seen for yourself, then? Is
+it not open to all the world to see? Is no one talking but _me?_
+Why, her flirtation with her cousin is common talk."
+
+"Depraved, you said!" He has recovered out of that first wild
+passion of his, and is now gazing at her with a certain degree of
+composure. "Depraved! I will not have that word used. She is
+young--thoughtless--foolish, if you will, but not depraved!"
+
+"You can delude yourself just as long as you like," returns she,
+shrugging her shoulders, "but, all the same, I warn you. I----"
+
+She stops suddenly; voices and steps, coming nearer, check her
+words. She draws a little away from Rylton, and, lifting her fan,
+waves it indolently to and fro. The voice belongs to Minnie Hescott,
+who, with her partner, has come out to the balcony, and now moves
+down the steps to the lighted gardens below. Mrs. Bethune would have
+been glad at the thought that Miss Hescott had not seen her; but
+there had been one moment when she knew the girl's eyes had
+penetrated through the dusk where she stood, and had known her.
+
+Not that it mattered much. The Hescott girl was of little
+consequence at any time. Yet sharp, too! Perhaps, after all, she
+_is_ of consequence. She has gone, however--and it is a mere
+question whether she had seen her with Sir Maurice or not. Of
+course, the girl would be on her brother's side, and if the brother
+is really in love with that little silly fool--and if a divorce was
+to be thought of--the girl might make herself troublesome.
+
+Mrs. Bethune, leaning over the railings lost in such thoughts,
+suddenly sees something. She raises herself, and peers more keenly
+into the soft light below. Yes--yes, _surely!_
+
+But Minnie Hescott, who has gone down the steps into the garden, has
+seen something too--that fair, fierce face leaning over the balcony!
+The eyes are following Tita and her brother, Tom Hescott.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+HOW RYLTON MAKES A MOST DISHONOURABLE BET, AND HOW HE REPENTS OF IT;
+AND HOW, THOUGH HE WOULD HAVE WITHDRAWN FROM IT, HE FINDS HE CANNOT.
+
+
+
+"You have said," says Rylton, when the steps have ceased, "that you
+would warn me about my wife. Of what?"
+
+She shrugs her shoulders.
+
+"Ah, you are so violent--you take things so very unpleasantly--that
+one is quite afraid to speak."
+
+"You mean something"--sternly. "I apologize to you if I was rough a
+moment since. I--it was so sudden--I forgot myself, I think."
+
+"To be able to forget is a most excellent thing--at _times,"_ says
+she, with a curious smile, her eyes hidden. "If I were you I should
+cultivate it."
+
+"It?"
+
+"The power to forget--_at times!"_
+
+"Speak," says he. "It is not a moment for sneers. Of what would you
+warn me?"
+
+"I have told you before, but you took it badly."
+
+"Words--words," says he, frowning.
+
+"Would you have deeds?" She breaks into a low laugh. "Oh, how
+foolish you are! Why don't you let things go?"
+
+"What did you mean?" persists he icily.
+
+"What a tragic tone!" Her manner is all changed; she is laughing
+now. "Well, what _did_ I mean? That your wife---- Stay!" with a
+little comic uplifting of her beautiful shoulders and an exaggerated
+show of fear, "do not assault me again. That your wife has shown the
+bad taste to prefer her cousin--her old lover--to you!"
+
+"As I said, words, mere words," returns he, with a forced smile.
+"Because she speaks to him, dances with him, is civil to him, as she
+is civil to all guests----"
+
+"Is she _just as_ civil to all her guests?"
+
+"I think so. It is my part to do her justice," says he coldly, "and,
+I confess, I think her a perfect hostess, if----"
+
+"If?"
+
+"If wanting in a few social matters. As to her cousin, Mr.
+Hescott--being one of her few relations, she is naturally attentive
+to him."
+
+_"Very!"_
+
+"And she is----"
+
+"Always with him!" Mrs. Bethune laughs again--always that low,
+sweet, cruel laughter. _"Could_ attention farther go?"
+
+"Always? Surely that is an exaggeration."
+
+Rylton speaks with comparative calmness. It is plain that his one
+outbreak of passion has horrified himself, and he is determined not
+to give way to another whatever provocation may lie in his path.
+
+"Is it?" tauntingly. "Come"--gaily--"I will make a bet with you--a
+fair one, certainly. Of course, I know as little of your wife's
+movements at present as you do. I could not possibly know more, as I
+have been here with you all this time."
+
+"Well--your bet?" darkly.
+
+"That she is now with her old--with Mr. Hescott."
+
+"I take it," says he coldly.
+
+Something in his air that is full of anger, of suppressed fury,
+gives her pause for thought. Her heart sinks. Is she to win or lose
+in this great game, the game of her life? Why should he look like
+that, when only the honour of that little upstart is in question?
+
+"Come, then," says she.
+
+She moves impulsively towards the stairs that lead to the garden--an
+impulsive step that costs her dear.
+
+"But why this way?" asks Rylton. "Why not here?" pointing towards
+the ballroom. "Or _here?"_ contemptuously pointing to a window
+further on that leads to a conservatory.
+
+For a moment Mrs. Bethune loses herself--only for a moment, however.
+That first foolish movement that betrayed her knowledge of where
+Tita really is has to be overcome.
+
+"The dance is over," says she, "and the gardens are exquisitely lit.
+Lady Warbeck has great taste. After all, Maurice," slipping her hand
+into his arm, "our bet is a purely imaginary one. We know nothing.
+And perhaps I have been a little severe; but as it _is_ a bet, I am
+willing to lose it to you. Let us take one turn down this walk that
+leads to the dahlias, and after that----"
+
+"After that----"
+
+"Why, _you_ win, perhaps."
+
+"As you will," says he listlessly.
+
+His heart is still on fire. Not a word passes his lips as they go
+down the path. His eyes feel strained, hurt; they are
+staring--staring always towards the end of this path, where a seat
+is, so hedged round with creepers that one can scarcely see it. Will
+she be there? He turns abruptly to his companion.
+
+"I am sick of this," says he; "I shall go no farther."
+
+"But your bet?"
+
+"It is a damnable bet!" exclaims he fiercely. "I ought to be ashamed
+of myself for having made it. You win it, of course, in a sense, as
+I decline to go on with it; but, still, I believe that _I_ win it in
+fact."
+
+"You are afraid," says she, with a daring that astonishes even
+herself.
+
+"I am afraid of forgetting that once I was a gentleman," says he
+curtly.
+
+"You are afraid of what is in that arbour," returns she mercilessly.
+
+Rylton hesitates. To draw back is to betray disbelief in his wife;
+to go on is to join in a conspiracy against her. He had started on
+that conspiracy in a moment of intense passion, but now his very
+soul revolts from it. And yet if he draws back it will show. . . .
+It will give this woman beside him the victory over the woman he has
+married. And then a sudden thought comes to him. Why not go on? Why
+not put it to be proof? Why not win his wager? Tita is thoughtless;
+but it would be madness in anyone to think her vile. It was madness
+in _him_ a moment since to dream of her being alone in that small,
+isolated arbour with Hescott. Much as he may revolt--as he does
+revolt--from this abominable wager he has entered into, surely it is
+better to go on with it and bring it to a satisfactory end for Tita
+than to "cry off," and subject her to scoffs and jeers from her
+adversary.
+
+"Let us go on," says he quietly. "I shall win my bet. But that is
+nothing! What really matters is, that I should have entered into
+such a wager with you or anyone. That is a debt I shall never be
+able to repay--Lady Rylton."
+
+His tone is bitterly self-condemnatory, but Marian has scarcely
+caught that. The "Lady Rylton" has struck upon her ears, and hurt
+her to her heart's core! Oh, that she could destroy--blot out that
+small usurper!
+
+"You have regained your courage? Come, then," says she, in a low
+tone that is full of a strange mirth.
+
+He follows her along the grassy path--a path noiseless--until
+presently, having skirted a few low bushes, he finds himself, with
+Marian beside him, at the southern side of the arbour.
+
+Marian, laying her hand silently upon his arm, points through the
+evergreens that veil the seat within; a mocking, triumphant smile is
+on her lips.
+
+There is no need for any indication on her part, however--Rylton can
+see for himself. On the low, rustic seat within the arbour is
+Tita--with Hescott beside her. The two young heads are close
+together. Tita is whispering to Hescott--something very secret,
+undoubtedly. Her small face is upturned to his, and very earnest.
+_His_ face.
+
+Rylton never forgets his face!
+
+Tita is speaking--she is smiling--she leans toward her companion;
+her voice is full of a delicious confidence.
+
+"Well, remember it is a secret--a secret between us."
+
+Rylton draws back as if stabbed. He would have given his soul to
+hear the end of this terrible beginning--this beginning that, at all
+events, sounds so terrible to _him;_ but the fact that he _is_
+longing to hear, that he has been listening, makes him cold from
+head to heel.
+
+He moves away silently. Mrs. Bethune, catching his arm, says
+quickly:
+
+"You heard--a secret--a secret between those two--_you heard!"_
+
+There is something delirious in her tone--something that speaks of
+revenge perfected, that through all his agitation is understood by
+him. He flings her hand aside, and goes swiftly onwards alone into
+the dense darkness of the trees beyond, damning himself as he goes.
+A very rage of hatred, of horror of his own conduct, is the first
+misery that assails him, and after that----
+
+After that he sees only Tita sitting there with Hescott beside
+her--he whispering to her, and she to him.
+
+He stops in his rapid walk, and pulls himself together: he must have
+time--time to think, to control himself, to work it all out.
+
+Things seem to come back to him with a strange clearness. He
+remembers how Tita had once said to him that she never cared to kiss
+anyone except--Margaret. Her hesitation returns to him now; was
+Margaret the name she would have said had not fear, mixed with
+prudence, prompted her words? He remembers, too, that she had once
+refused to let _him_ kiss her lips--him, her husband! Why? He
+trembles with rage as he asks himself this question. Was it to keep
+them sacred for someone else--for that "old lover" of hers, for
+example?
+
+Who had called him that? Marian, was it not? Old lover!
+
+He had laughed at the name then. That child to have a lover! Why, he
+had believed she did not know the meaning of the word "love." What a
+baby she had always seemed to him--a careless, troublesome baby. And
+now!
+
+Great heavens! Who is to be trusted? Is anyone to be trusted? He had
+put his faith in Tita; he had thought her wild, perhaps a little
+unmanageable, but--yes, he had thought her lovable; there had been
+moments when----
+
+And now it had all come to this, that she had deceived him--is
+wilfully deceiving him.
+
+He does not even in this, his angry hour, accuse her of more than a
+well-developed flirtation with her cousin; but that is the beginning
+of an end that he will put a stop to at once, and for ever. He will
+show her who is her master. If she cannot respect herself, he will,
+at all events, take care that she respects his name; she shall not
+disgrace _that_.
+
+He has hardly known where his feet have taken him, but now he finds
+himself on a lighted path, with two or three couples coming towards
+him; evidently they have just left the dancing-room. He has
+therefore described a circle, and come back to the place from which
+he started. One of the men passing him looks into his face.
+
+That quick, curious glance brings Rylton to himself. He cannot stay
+here any longer. He must go back into the house. It will be madness
+to absent himself. And, after all, is not the whole thing madness?
+What is this girl to him? A mere name; nothing more.
+
+He mounts the steps leading to the conservatory, and, meeting Minnie
+Hescott, asks her to dance.
+
+"This is only a supper dance," says she. "I'm engaged for all the
+rest. But, if you like, I'll take one turn with you. After that you
+must get me something to eat; I never felt so hungry in all my
+life."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+HOW TITA TOLD A SECRET TO TOM HESCOTT IN THE MOONLIGHT; AND HOW HE
+SOUGHT TO DISCOVER MANY THINGS, AND HOW HE WAS MOST INNOCENTLY
+BAFFLED.
+
+
+
+"Of course, I shall understand that it is a secret," says Tom
+Hescott.
+
+Both he and Tita are quite unaware of the fact that Rylton and Mrs.
+Bethune had just been standing behind them. Tita, who had been
+dancing with Hescott, had led the way to this spot when they came
+out into the garden.
+
+"Still," says Tita, hesitating, "perhaps I ought not to speak. A
+secret _is_ a secret, you know."
+
+"Yes; everyone knows that," says Hescott.
+
+"Knows what?" sharply.
+
+"About a secret."
+
+"If you're going to be nasty, you shan't know it at all," says Tita.
+"I understand you very well. You think no woman can keep a secret."
+
+"Ah! but a man can. Tell me yours."
+
+"Nonsense! A woman is _twice_ as good at keeping a secret as a man
+is. And I can tell you this"--with a little emphatic shake of her
+charming head--"that I should not tell _you_ anything of this
+secret, only that you are always calling her names."
+
+"Her? Who?"
+
+"Oh, you know very well."
+
+"Who do I know very well? Not a soul here except you; and, after
+all, I don't think I know _you_ very well."
+
+"Well, if you don't you ought."
+
+"Ought what? Know the mysterious 'her' or you?"
+
+_"Me!"_
+
+Hescott looks at her keenly in the dim light. _Is_ she a born
+coquette, or is she only a sweet child--the sweetest child that
+earth ever gave forth? Somehow it would have hurt him to find her a
+coquette.
+
+"Ah! I _don't_ know you."
+
+"Tom!" There is a little reproach in her tone. Suddenly she puts out
+her little slim hand and slips it into his. "As if we weren't
+brought up together," says she, "just like a brother and sister. You
+remember the old days, don't you, Tom? when we used to go fishing
+together, and the cricket----"
+
+"Is it wise to remember?" says Hescott in a low tone.
+
+His heart is beating; his fingers now close on hers.
+
+"I don't know--yes. Yes, I think I like to," says Tita. "Darling
+pappy! Sometimes it all comes back to me. How happy I was then!"
+
+"And now, Tita, _now!_--are you happy now?" asks he.
+
+His tone is almost violent. The pressure of his hand on hers grows
+hurtful. Involuntarily she gives a little cry.
+
+"Nonsense! Of course I am happy!" says she petulantly, pulling her
+hand out of his. "How rough you are, Tom!"
+
+"Did I hurt you?" exclaims he passionately. "Tita, forgive me. To
+hurt you----"
+
+"There, don't be a fool!" says Tita, laughing. "My fingers are not
+broken, if that's what you mean. But you certainly _are _rough: and,
+after all"--mischievously--"I don't think I shall tell you that
+secret now."
+
+"You must. I shan't sleep if I don't know it. You said I knew the
+heroine of it."
+
+"Yes, you do indeed," laughing.
+
+"And that I was always calling her names?"
+
+"True; and I can't bear that, because"--gently--"I love her." She
+pauses, and goes on again very earnestly: "I love her with all my
+heart."
+
+"I envy her," says Hescott. "I'm glad this mysterious stranger is a
+she."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, no matter; go on. Tell me more. What evil names have I called
+her?"
+
+"The worst of all. You have called her an old maid--there!"
+
+"Good heavens! what an atrocity! Surely--surely you malign me."
+
+"No, I don't; I heard you. And it was to me, too, you said it."
+
+"What! I called you an old maid!"
+
+"Pouf! No!" laughing gaily. "That's out of your power."
+
+"It is indeed," says Hescott slowly.
+
+He is looking at her, the little, pretty, sweet, lovely thing! If
+she were a maid to-day, some chance--some small chance--might have
+been his.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you about it," says she. She looks round her
+cautiously, in the funniest little way, as if expecting enemies in
+the bushes near her. Then she hesitates. "After all, I won't," says
+she, with the most delightful inconsistency. "It wouldn't be a
+secret if I did."
+
+"Oh, go on," says Hescott, seeing she is dying to speak. "A secret
+told to me is as lost as though you had dropped it down a well."
+
+"You must remember first, then, that I should never have told you,
+only that you seemed to think she _couldn't_ get married.
+It"--hesitating--"it's about Margaret!"
+
+"Miss Knollys!" Hescott stares. "What has she been up to?"
+
+"She has been refusing Colonel Neilson for _years!"_ solemnly. "Only
+this very night she has refused him again; and all because of a
+silly old attachment to a man she knew when she was quite a girl."
+
+"That must have been some time ago," says Hescott irreverently and
+unwisely.
+
+"A very _few_ years ago," severely. She rises. She is evidently
+disgusted with him. "Come back to the house," says she. "I am
+engaged for the next."
+
+"A word," says Tom, rising and following her. He lays a detaining
+hand upon her soft, little, bare arm. "You blame her--Miss
+Knollys--for being faithful to an old attachment?"
+
+"Y-es," says Tita slowly, as if thinking, and then again, "Yes!"
+with decision. "When the old attachment if of no use any longer, and
+when there is someone else."
+
+"But if there was an old attachment, and"--Hescott's face is a
+little pale in the moonlight--"and practically--no one else--how
+then?"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I mean, if"--he comes closer to her--"Tita, if _you _had known a
+man who loved you before you were married, and if when you did
+marry--"
+
+"But she didn't marry him at all," interrupts Tita. "He died--or
+something--I forget what."
+
+"Yes; but think."
+
+"There is nothing to think about. He died--so _stupid_ of him; and
+now she is making one of the nicest men I know miserable, all
+because she has made up her mind to be wretched for ever! So stupid
+of _her!"_
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you that there is such a thing as love?"
+asks Hescott, looking at her with a sudden frown.
+
+"Oh, I've heard of it," with a little shrug of her pretty shoulders;
+"but I don't believe in it. It's a myth! a fable!"
+
+"And yet"--with an anger that he can hardly hide, seeing her
+standing there so young, so fair, so debonnair before him--so
+insensible to the passion for her that is stirring within his
+heart--"and yet your friend, Miss Knollys, is giving up her life,
+you say, to the consecration of this myth."
+
+Tita nods.
+
+"Yes; isn't she silly! I _told_ you she was very foolish."
+
+"You assure me honestly that you don't believe in love?"
+
+"Not a bit," says Tita. "It's all nonsense! Now come in--I want to
+dance. And remember--remember, Tom, you have promised not to breathe
+a word about what I have told you."
+
+"I promise," says Hescott in a slow sort of way; he is thinking.
+
+When they reach the dancing-room they find it, comparatively
+speaking, empty, save for a few enthusiastic couples who are still
+careering round it.
+
+"Supper must be on," says Hescott. "Come and have something."
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+As they enter the supper-room several people look at them. To
+Rylton, who is standing near Mrs. Bethune, these glances seem full
+of impertinent inquiry. In reality they mean nothing, except
+admiration of his wife. To-night Lady Rylton has been pronounced by
+most of those present the prettiest woman in the room. Hescott
+pilots his charming companion to a low lounge in a corner of the
+room, a place at any of the tables being impossible to get. But
+Rylton decides that he has taken her to that secluded spot to make
+more conspicuous his flirtation with her; and she--she seems only
+too ready to help him in his plan.
+
+The fact that he is frowning heavily is conveyed to him by a voice
+at his elbow.
+
+_ "Don't_ look so intense--so like a thirteenth-century
+conspirator!" says Mrs. Bethune. Her eyes are full of laughter and
+mischief--there is something of triumph in them too. "What does it
+matter, after all?"
+
+"True." He gives her a brilliant smile in return for her rather
+mocking one. "Nothing matters--except the present moment. Let us
+consider it. Are you engaged for this dance?"
+
+"Yes; but I can manage to forget my partner."
+
+"That means?"
+
+"You know very well what it means--what it always meant--in the old
+days."
+
+Her lips part over her beautiful teeth; now there is no mockery in
+her smile, only love, and a most exquisite delight.
+
+"Ah, Marian!" says he, in a low tone.
+
+He leads her from the room. Her hand tightens on his arm; he feels
+the pressure, and now in the ball-room his arm goes round her.
+She--the woman he had loved for so long--is in his arms; he forgets
+everything. He has sworn to himself in the last minute or two that
+he _will_ forget. Why, indeed, should he remember?
+
+For the rest of the evening he gives himself up to Marian--devoting
+himself to her; telling himself he is knowing the old sweet
+happiness again, but always with a strange unaccountable sting at
+his heart.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+HOW TITA LOOKS AT HERSELF IN THE GLASS AND WONDERS; AND HOW SHE DOES
+HER HAIR IN QUITE A NEW STYLE, AND GOES TO ASK SIR MAURICE WHAT HE
+THINKS OF IT; AND HOW HE ANSWERS HER.
+
+
+
+"You can go to bed, Sarah; I shan't want you. And any other night
+when I am out so late you must not stop up for me. Do you hear?"
+
+"Oh! But, my lady----"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes; I know," interrupting her gaily. "But I won't have
+it. Do you think I can't take off my own frocks? You will lose your
+beauty sleep, and I shall be responsible for it. There, go; I'm all
+right now."
+
+Tita waves her gaily out of the room. She is indeed in the merriest
+mood, having enjoyed her evening immensely, and danced to the very
+last minute. She had been thoroughly sorry when Sir Maurice had told
+her that she ought to say "Good-night" to her hostess and come home.
+She had not noticed the coldness of his manner at all, being so
+disappointed at his suggestion; but she had said "Good-night" at
+once to old Lady Warbeck, who would have liked her to stay on,
+having taken a great fancy to her; and as she had come back in a
+brougham with Margaret and Colonel Neilson and Minnie Hescott, she
+had not seen her husband since.
+
+Having at last dismissed her maid, who had insisted on waiting to
+take off her evening dress, Tita sits down before the glass to look
+at herself (all women like looking at themselves), and to think over
+her evening.
+
+How well the men danced, especially Tom!--though, after all, not so
+well as Maurice. What a pity she could not have had that _one_ dance
+with him he had asked her for.
+
+She leans forward, and pulling some hairpins out of her short, curly
+hair, pushes it into another shape, a little lower down on the neck,
+to see if that would suit her better. No, it wouldn't.
+
+After all, Maurice _might_ have asked her again. He danced a great
+deal with Mrs. Bethune towards the end of the evening, and how
+charming he looked when dancing!
+
+She rests her arms--soft, naked arms, round and white as a
+child's--upon the dressing-table and wonders. Wonders if that old
+story--the story her mother-in-law had told her of Maurice and Mrs.
+Bethune--was really true. Maurice did not look like that--like a man
+who would be dishonest. Oh no! It is not true--that horrid story!
+
+Her eyes light up again; she goes back again to her hair, the
+arrangement of which, on account of its length, is difficult. She
+piles it now far up on her head, and sticks little diamond pins into
+it. She almost laughs aloud. She looks like a Japanese young woman.
+And it's very pretty, too--she _does_ look nice in this way. What a
+pity nobody can see her! And with this little new white
+dressing-gown, too! Such a little dream of a thing!
+
+Where's Maurice? Surely he must have come up by this time. Some of
+the men had gone into the smoking-room on their return; but it is so
+late--with the dawn breaking; perhaps Maurice _has_ come up.
+
+She crosses a little passage and goes to the door leading into his
+room, and knocks lightly; no answer. She knocks again, more
+impatiently this time, and as still only silence follows her
+attempt, she opens the door and steps on tiptoe into the room.
+
+It is lit by two or more lamps, and at the end of it, close to a
+hanging curtain, stands Maurice in his trousers and shirt, having
+evidently just flung off his evening coat.
+
+"Oh, here you are!" cries she with open delight. "I was afraid you
+hadn't come up yet, and I wanted to show myself to you. Look at my
+hair!" She pulls out the skirts of her dainty loose gown and dances
+merrily up to him. "Don't I look lovely?" cries she, laughing.
+
+Rylton has turned; he is looking at her; his eyes seem to devour
+her--more with anger than delight, however. And yet the beauty of
+her, in spite of him, enters into his heart. How sweet she is,
+standing there with her loose gown in her pretty uplifted hands, and
+the lace flounces of her petticoat showing in front! She had not
+fastened this new delight in robes across her neck, and now the
+whiteness of her throat and neck vies with the purity of the gown
+itself.
+
+    "He looked on her and found her fair,
+    For all he had been told."
+
+Yet a very rage of anger against her still grows within his heart.
+
+"What brought you here?" asks he sharply, brutally.
+
+She drops her pretty gown. She looks at him as if astonished.
+
+"Why--because"--she is moving backwards towards the door, her large
+eyes fixed on him--"because I wanted you to look at me--to see how
+nice I am."
+
+"Others have looked too," says he. "There, go. Do you think I am a
+fool?"
+
+At that Tita's old spirit returns to her. She stands still and gives
+him a quick glance.
+
+"Well, I never thought so till now," says she. She nods at him.
+"Good-night."
+
+"No, stop!" says Rylton. "I will have this out with you. You pretend
+to misunderstand me; but I shall make it clear. Do you think I have
+not seen your conduct of this evening?"
+
+"Mine?"
+
+"Yes, with your cousin--with Hescott." He draws nearer to her. His
+eyes are on fire, his face white. "Do you think I saw nothing?"
+
+"I don't know what you saw," says she slowly.
+
+All her lovely mirth has died away, as if killed by a cruel death.
+
+"Don't you?" tauntingly. "Then I will tell you. I saw you"--he
+pauses as if to watch the changes of her face, to see when fear
+arises, but none does--"in the arbour"--he pauses again, but again
+no fear arises--"with your cousin."
+
+He grows silent, studying her with eager eyes, as if expecting
+something; but nothing comes of all his scrutiny, except surprise.
+Surprise, indeed, marks all her charming features.
+
+"Well?" says she, as he stops, as if expecting more.
+
+She waits, indeed, as one at a loss.
+
+"Well?" He repeats the word with a wild mockery. Could there be
+under heaven another woman so dead to all honesty? Does she dare to
+think she can deceive him to the end? In what a lovely form the evil
+can dwell! "Well!" He brings down his hand with a little crash upon
+the table near her. "I was there--near that arbour. I heard--I heard
+all."
+
+"Well, I'm sorry," says Tita slowly, colouring faintly.
+
+"Sorry! Is that all? Do you know what it means--what I can do?"
+
+"I don't see that you can do anything," says she, thinking of her
+revelation to Hescott about Margaret. "It is Colonel Neilson who
+might do something."
+
+"Neilson?"
+
+"Yes, Colonel Neilson."
+
+"Are you mad?" says Sir Maurice, in a low tone, "to think you can
+thus deceive me over and over again?"
+
+He draws back from her. Disgust is in his heart. Does she dream that
+she can pass off Neilson as her lover, instead of Hescott? He draws
+a sharp breath. How she must love Hescott, to seek thus to shield
+him, when ruin is waiting for herself!
+
+"I am not mad," says Tita, throwing up her head. "And as to
+deceiving you--Of course I can see that you are very angry with me
+for betraying Margaret's secret to Tom; but, then, Tom is a great
+friend, and when he said something about Margaret's being an old
+maid, I couldn't bear it any longer. You _know_ how I love
+Margaret!--and I told him all about Colonel Neilson's love for her,
+and that she _needn't_ be an old maid unless she liked. But as to
+deceiving you----"
+
+Rylton, standing staring at her, feels that it is the truth--the
+truth only--to which he is listening. Not for a moment does he
+disbelieve her. Who could, gazing on that small, earnest face? And
+yet his silence breathes of disbelief to her. She steps backwards,
+and raises her little hand--a little hand very tightly clenched.
+
+"What! Do you not believe me?" asks she, her eyes blazing.
+
+"I believe you? Yes," returns her quickly. "But there is this----"
+
+"There is this, too," interrupting him passionately. "You accuse me
+of deception most wrongfully, and I--I accuse you of the worst thing
+of all, of listening behind my back--of listening deliberately to
+what was never meant for you to hear."
+
+"I did not listen," says Rylton, who is now very white. "It so
+chanced that I stood near the arbour; but I heard only one word, and
+it was about some secret. I came away then. I did not stay."
+
+Tita turns to him with a vehemence that arrests him.
+
+"Who brought you to the arbour?" asks she.
+
+"Brought me?"
+
+"Yes. Who brought you?"
+
+"What do you mean?" asks Rylton, calmly enough, but with a change of
+colour.
+
+"Ah! you will not betray her, but I know. It was Mrs. Bethune.
+Now"--she goes nearer to him, her pretty, childish face transformed
+by grief and anger--"now, confess, it _was!"_ She draws back again.
+"No," says she, sighing disconsolately. "No, of course you would not
+tell. But I," looking back at him reproachfully, _"I_--told
+_you--_things."
+
+"Many things," returns he coldly--unreasonably angry with her
+because of her allusion to Mrs. Bethune; "and hardly to your credit.
+Why should you tell Mr. Hescott your secrets? Why is he to be your
+confidant?"
+
+"I have known Tom all my life."
+
+"Nevertheless, I object to him as a special friend for you. I don't
+think married women should have special friends of the other sex. I
+object to your confiding in him secrets that you never told to me.
+You said nothing to me of Margaret's love affairs, although she is
+my cousin."
+
+"You forget, Maurice. I spoke to you several times, but you never
+seemed to care. And I should not have told Tom, only he called her
+an old maid, and that _hurt_ me, and I wanted to show him how it
+was. I love Margaret, and I--I am fond of Tom, and----"
+
+The hesitation, though unmeant, is fatal. Rylton turns upon her
+furiously.
+
+"It is of no consequence to me whom you love or whom you--_care_
+for," says he, imitating her hesitation, with a sneer. "What _is_ of
+consequence to me, is your conduct as my wife, and that I object to
+altogether!"
+
+There is a long pause, and then--
+
+_"My_ conduct?" says she slowly. She lifts her hands and runs them
+softly though her loose hair, and looks at him all the time; so
+standing, few could vie with her in beauty. She pauses. "And yours?"
+asks she.
+
+"Mine?"
+
+"Yes, yours! I don't know what you mean about my conduct. But you,
+you have been dancing all the night with that horrid Mrs. Bethune.
+Yes!"--letting her hands fall, and coming towards him with a face
+like a little angry angel--"you may say what you like, but you
+_have_ been dancing all night with her. And she _is_ horrid."
+
+This is carrying the war into the enemy's camp with a vengeance.
+There is something in her tone that startles Rylton. Has she heard
+of that old attachment? His heart grows sick within him. Has it come
+to this, then? Is there to be concealment--deception on _his_ part?
+Before his marriage he had thought nothing of his love for Marian in
+so far as it could touch his wife, but now--now, if she knows! But
+how can she know? And besides----
+
+Here his wrath grows warm again. Even if she does know, how does
+that affect her own behaviour? Her sin is of her own making. _His_
+sin---- Was it ever a sin? Was it not a true, a loyal love? And when
+hope of its fulfilment was denied him, when he placed a barrier
+between it and him, had he not been true to that barrier? Only
+to-night--to-night when, maddened by the folly of this girl before
+him--he had let his heart stir again--had given way to the love that
+had swayed him for two long years and more.
+
+"You forget yourself," says he coldly.
+
+"Oh no, I don't," says Tita, to whom this answer sounds rather
+overbearing. "Why should I?" She glances at him mischievously from
+under her long lashes. "I should be the most unselfish person alive
+if I did that." She hesitates for a moment, and then, "Do you ever
+forget yourself?" asks she saucily.
+
+She laughs--her little saucy air suits her. She is delighted with
+herself for having called Mrs. Bethune "horrid," and given him such
+a delicious tit-for-tat. She looks full of fun and mischief. There
+is no longer an atom of rancour about her. Rylton, in spite of
+himself, acknowledges her charm; but what does she mean by this
+sudden sweetness--this sudden sauciness? Is she holding out the
+olive-branch to him? If so, he will accept it. After all, he may
+have wronged her in many ways; and at all events, her faults--her
+very worst fault--must fall short of crime.
+
+"Sometimes," replies he. He smiles. "I forgot myself just now,
+perhaps. But you must admit I had provocation. You----"
+
+"Oh, don't begin it all over again," cries she, with delightful
+_verve_. "Why should you scold me, or I scold you? Scolding is very
+nasty, like medicine." She makes a little face. "And, you know,
+before we married we arranged everything."
+
+"Before?"
+
+"Yes, before, of course. Well--good-night!"
+
+"No; don't go. Tell me what it was we arranged before our marriage?"
+
+Rylton has drawn a chair for her towards the fire that is lighting
+in his grate, and now sinks into another.
+
+"It's awfully late, isn't it?" says Tita, with a yawn, "but I'll
+stay a minute or two. Why, what we arranged was, that we should be
+friends, you and I--eh?"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well--that's all. Poke up the fire, and let me see a blaze. Fancy
+your having a fire so early!"
+
+"Haven't you one?"
+
+"Yes. But then I'm a woman. However, when I see one I want it poked.
+I want it blazing."
+
+At this Sir Maurice pokes the fire, until it flames well up the
+chimney.
+
+"Ah! I like that," says Tita. She slips from her chair to the
+hearthrug--a beautiful white soft Persian one--and sits upon it, as
+it were, one snowflake on another. "How nice it is!" says she,
+staring at the sparks roaring up the chimney; "such a companion!"
+She leans back and rests her head against Rylton's knees. "Now, go
+on," she says comfortably.
+
+"Go on?"
+
+"Yes. We were saying something about friends. That _we_ should be
+friends all our lives. So we shall be. Eh?"
+
+"I don't know." Rylton bends over her, and, suddenly laying his hand
+under her chin, lifts her face so that he can see it. "You mean that
+I shall be your friend, and you mine."
+
+"Yes. Yes, of course."
+
+"You have other friends, however. And I don't like that."
+
+"What! Is one to have only one friend?" She wriggles her face out of
+his hands, and moving her body as she reclines upon the white rug,
+so turns herself that she comes face to face with him. "Only one!"
+says she, smiling. She flings her arms across his knees, and looks
+up at him.
+
+"Is not one enough?" He is looking at her very earnestly. How lovely
+she is! What a strange charm lies in her deep eyes! And her smile--
+
+    "The smile that rests to play
+    Upon her lip, foretells
+    That musical array
+    Tricks her sweet syllables."
+
+"Oh, it would be a poor world with only one friend," says she,
+shaking he head.
+
+"You want two?" His brow is darkening again.
+
+"More than that. I want you, and Margaret, and----"
+
+"Hescott?"
+
+It is not so much that she has hesitated as he has not given her
+time to speak.
+
+"Well, yes--Tom," says she. "He _is_ my friend!"
+
+"The best of all?" She is not looking at him now, so does not see
+the expression in his eyes. He is listening breathlessly for her
+answer, but she knows nothing. She is gazing idly, happily into the
+fire.
+
+"At present," says she slowly. Then once again she leans across his
+knees, and looks up at him. "You know Tom is very fond of me--he
+loves me, I think."
+
+Here Rylton lays his hands upon her wrists, grasping them hard.
+
+"He loves you. He has told you so?"
+
+"No. Why should he?" He lets her hands go. "I know it. He has loved
+me so many years; and perhaps--in many years"--she comes closer to
+him, and putting up one soft little hand, lays it on his cheek, and
+tries to turn his face to hers--_"you_ will love me too!"
+
+Sir Maurice springs to his feet, and, catching her hands, lifts her
+forcibly to hers.
+
+"There, go," says he, as if choking. "Is that how you speak to
+_him?"_
+
+"To him?"
+
+She stands back from him--not trembling, but with a terrible wonder
+in her eyes.
+
+"To Hescott---- There--go."
+
+"You think----" says she.
+
+"I think you what you are, a finished coquette." He almost pushes
+her from him.
+
+Tita puts up her hands as if to warn him off.
+
+"I am sorry I ever came here," says she at last. "I am sorry I ever
+married you. I shall never forgive this--never!"
+
+"And I," says Rylton. "Have _I_ nothing to forgive?"
+
+"Nothing, nothing," passionately. "I came here to-night because I
+was lonely, and wanted to talk to somebody. I came here to show you
+my pretty new frock; and how have you received me? You have been
+_hateful _to me. And yet you wonder that I didn't think you my best
+friend! You are not a friend at all. You can't bear me! If I had
+gone to Tom, instead of you--to show _him_ my frock--do you think he
+would have treated me like this? No, he----"
+
+"Be silent!" says Sir Maurice. "How _dare_ you talk to me like
+this!" A dark flush has risen to his brow, his nostrils are dilated.
+Is she mad--to say such things to him? "Go!" says he, pointing
+imperiously to the door.
+
+"You have said that twice!" returns she in a low tone. A moment her
+eyes rest on his, in another moment she is gone.
+
+All that is left him is the memory of a little lovely creature, clad
+in a white gown, who had come to him with merry, happy eyes, and a
+smile upon her lips--a smile that he had killed!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+HOW SIR MAURICE FEELS UNEASY; AND HOW TITA, FOR ONCE, SHOWS HERSELF
+IMPLACABLE, AND REFUSES TO ACCEPT THE OVERTURES OF PEACE. AND HOW A
+LITTLE GOSSIP WARMS THE AIR.
+
+
+
+It is the next day, and luncheon is well over, a somewhat
+badly-attended meal. But now all have managed to scramble
+downstairs, and the terrace is full of people who are saying
+"Good-morning" to each other at four o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+"I never felt so tired in my life," says Mrs. Chichester, subsiding
+into a lounge chair, and trying to look as if her tea-gown isn't
+quite new. She has selected this evening in especial to spring it
+upon her women friends. As a rule people look dowdy after being up
+all night. Mrs. Chichester is determined _she_ won't. She appears as
+fresh as the proverbial lark, in an exquisite arrangement of white
+silk and lace, and a heavenly temper. Her eyes are a little greener
+than usual.
+
+"You don't look it," says Sir Maurice, who is standing near. He is
+wondering if Tita will come down. Tita has not put in an appearance
+all day. There had been no necessity to send an apology about her
+absence from breakfast, as almost every one of the women had taken
+that meal in her own room, but she _had_ sent a word or two of
+regret about her inability to appear at luncheon, and, somehow, it
+has got into Sir Maurice's mind that perhaps she has made up her
+mind to stay in her own rooms all day. The thought makes him uneasy;
+but at this moment an end is put to it.
+
+There is a little stir on his left, and, looking up, he sees Tita
+coming towards him down the terrace, stopping at every step to say a
+word to somebody. Now she stops as she comes to Margaret, and,
+laying her hands upon her shoulders, kisses her. She is dressed in
+the simplest little white frock in the world--a frock that makes her
+look even younger than usual. Her pretty short air is curling all
+over her head, and her dark gray eyes are _very_ dark to-day. Do
+shadows lie in them, or has she been crying? It is Rylton who,
+watching her, asks himself this question, and as he asks it a
+strange pang shoots through his heart. Good heavens! why had he
+married her? To make her unhappy? He must have been possessed of the
+devil when he did that deed.
+
+"How pretty you look, Tita!" Margaret whispers to her--Margaret, who
+has the gift of knowing how to soothe and please. She, too, has her
+misgivings about those lovely eyes; but all girls like to be told
+they are pretty, and Tita at once brightens.
+
+"Am I? You are a goose, Madge!" But she presses Margaret's hands
+fondly for all that as she leaves her.
+
+"Lady Rylton, come and sit here," cries Mrs. Chichester. "I have a
+lovely chair here for you. It's as soft as----" She cannot find a
+simile.
+
+"As what?" asks Gower, who delights in annoying Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"As you!" returns she, with a contemptuous glance that fills him
+with joy.
+
+"Come," says Mrs. Chichester, calling again to Tita, and patting the
+chair in question. "You look tired. This is a perfect lounge."
+
+"She looks as if she had been crying," says old Miss Gower, frowning
+at Tita over her glasses.
+
+Again that strange pang contracts Rylton's heart. _Has_ she been
+crying--and because of him?
+
+"Looks! What are looks?" cries Mrs. Chichester gaily. "Looks always
+belie one."
+
+"Certainly Lady Rylton's must belie _her,"_ says Mrs. Bethune, with
+a slow smile. "What cause has she for tears?"
+
+"Not one!" declares Mrs. Chichester with decision. "It would be 'a
+sinner above all the Galileans' who would make Lady Rylton cry."
+
+Her queer green eyes smile at Tita, who smiles back at her in her
+little sweet way, and then all at once bursts out laughing. It is a
+charming laugh, apparently full of mirth. There are only two present
+who do not quite believe in it, Margaret and Tom Hescott--but these
+two love her.
+
+As for Rylton, some instinct causes him at this moment to look at
+Hescott. Tita's cousin is staring at her, his brows met, his lips
+somewhat compressed. He has forgotten that people may be staring at
+him in return, maybe measuring his thoughts on this or that. He has
+forgotten everything, indeed, except Tita's pale, laughing face and
+dancing, tear-stained eyes.
+
+"Do you see a ghost?" whispers Mrs. Bethune to him, who has been
+watching him with cruel amusement.
+
+"I don't know," he answers, hardly hearing her. Is not Tita to-day a
+ghost of her sweet self? And those words, "A sinner above all the
+Galileans!" _Is_ there such a sinner?--and if so, surely it is----
+
+Hescott lifts his eyes to meet those of Rylton. For a moment the two
+men regard each other steadily, and in that moment know that each
+hates the other with an undying intensity. Mrs. Bethune, who alone
+sees the working of the little tragedy, leans back in her chair, and
+lets her lids fall over her eyes. So still she lies that one might
+think her sleeping, but she is only battling with a fierce joy that
+threatens every moment to break its bonds, and declare her secret to
+the world!
+
+During all this, conversation has been going on. Last night's
+sayings and doings are on the _tapis,_ and everyone is giving his
+and her experiences. Just now the rather disreputable wife of a
+decidedly disreputable neighbour is lying on the social dissecting
+board.
+
+"She gives herself away a good deal, I must say," says Mrs.
+Chichester, who loves to hear her own voice, and who certainly
+cannot be called ungenerous on her own account. "The way she dances!
+And her frock! Good heavens!"
+
+"I hear she makes all her own clothes," says Margaret, who perhaps
+hopes that this may be one small point in her favour.
+
+Minnie Hescott makes a little _moue_.
+
+"She may possibly make the things that cover her----"
+
+"That _what?"_ questions Mr. Gower, resting innocent eyes on hers,
+but Miss Hescott very properly refuses to hear him.
+
+"It must be a matter for regret to all well-minded people," says
+Miss Gower, shaking her head until all her ringlets are set flying,
+"that when making that hideous dress, she did not add a yard or two,
+to----" She pauses.
+
+"The what?" asks Mrs. Chichester, leaning forward.
+
+"The _bodice!"_ replies Miss Gower severely.
+
+"Oh, auntie!" says her nephew, falling back in his chair and
+covering his face with his hands. "You shouldn't! You really
+shouldn't! It's--it's not delicate!"
+
+"What do you mean, Randal?" demands his aunt, with a snort that
+would have done credit to a war-horse. "To whom are you addressing
+your remarks? Are you calling _me_ indelicate?"
+
+"Oh no--not for worlds!" says Mrs. Chichester, who is choking with
+laughter, and who only emerges from behind her fan to say this, and
+go back again. "Who could? But we feared--we thought you were going
+to say her _skirt."_
+
+"It is my opinion that you fear nothing," says Miss Gower, with a
+withering glance at the fan. "And let me tell you that there are
+_other_ people,"--with awful emphasis--"besides Mrs. Tyneway who
+would do well to put a tucker round their----"
+
+"Ankles!" puts in Mrs. Chichester sweetly.
+
+"No; their----"
+
+"What was her dress made of?" breaks in Margaret hurriedly, who is
+afraid of their going too far with the irascible old lady.
+
+"Goodness knows! She was all black and blue, at all events!"
+
+"No! You don't say so?" exclaims Mr. Gower, with a tragic gesture.
+"So her husband has been at it again!"
+
+At this they all roar, as people will, at _anything,_ when they have
+nothing else to do. Even Tita, who, though smiling always, is
+looking rather depressed, gives way to a merry little laugh. Hearing
+her, Margaret blesses Randal for his silly old joke.
+
+"Oh, Randal! you are too stupid for anything," says Tita, showing
+all her pretty teeth.
+
+"You have for once lighted on a solemn truth," puts in Randal's aunt
+grimly. "Let us hope you are getting sense."
+
+"Or a wise tooth," says Colonel Neilson, with a friendly smile at
+Tita. "Lady Rylton is very _nearly_ old enough to be thinking of
+that now."
+
+"As for that wretched Mrs. Tyneway," says Miss Gower, taking no
+notice of him, "if her husband did so far take the law into his own
+hands as to make her black and blue, I, for one, should not blame
+him."
+
+"That's funny!" says Mrs. Chichester, giving her a saucy little
+smile.
+
+"What is funny, may I ask?"
+
+"To hear you defend a man. I thought you despised them in a body."
+
+"I have my own views about them," says Miss Gower, with a sniff.
+"But I admit they have rights of their own."
+
+"Fancy allowing a man to have rights nowadays!" cries Mrs.
+Chichester, uplifting her long arms as if in amazement. "Good
+heavens! What a wife you would have made! Rights?" She looks up
+suddenly at Captain Marryatt, who is, as usual, hanging over the
+back of her chair. "Do you think a man has any rights?"
+
+"If you don't, I don't," returns that warrior, with much abasement
+and perhaps more sense than one would have expected from him.
+
+"Good boy," says she, patting his hand with her fan.
+
+"I suppose husbands have some rights, at all events?" says Sir
+Maurice.
+
+He says it quite lightly--quite debonnairly, yet he hardly knows why
+he says it. He had been looking at Tita, and suddenly she had looked
+back at him. There was something in the cold expression of her face,
+something defiant, that had driven him to make this foolish speech.
+
+"Husbands? Pouf! They least of all," says Mrs. Chichester, who loves
+to shock her audience, and now finds Miss Gower ready to her hand.
+
+"Where is your husband now, Mrs. Chichester?" asks Colonel Neilson,
+quite without _malice prepense_.
+
+Margaret gives him a warning glance, just a little too late. Though
+indeed, after all, what is there to warn about Mrs. Chichester? She
+is only one of a thousand flighty young women one meets every day,
+and though Captain Marryatt's infatuation for her is beyond dispute,
+still, her infatuation for him has yet to be proved. Margaret had
+objected to her, in her own mind, as a companion for Tita--Tita, who
+seems too young to judge for herself in the matter of friendships.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure," returns Mrs. Chichester, lifting her
+shoulders. "Miss Gower will tell you; she knows everything. Miss
+Gower," raising her voice slightly, and compelling that terrible old
+woman to look at her, "will you tell Colonel Neilson where my
+husband is now?"
+
+_Poor_ Colonel Neilson! who is beginning to wish that the earth
+would open and swallow him up.
+
+"It argues ill for you that you should be obliged to ask such a
+question," says Miss Gower, with a lowering eye.
+
+"Does it? How dreadful!" says Mrs. Chichester. She looks immensely
+amused. "Do you know I heard the other day that he was married
+again! It can't be true--can it?"
+
+She appeals once again to Colonel Neilson, as if enjoying his
+discomfiture, and being willing to add to it through pure mischief.
+However, she is disappointed this time. Colonel Neilson does not
+know what to do with her appeal to him, and remains discreetly
+silent. He can see she is not in earnest.
+
+"At all events, _if_ true," says Mrs. Chichester, looking now at
+Miss Gower, and speaking in a confidential tone, "I am sure John
+will let me know about it."
+
+"John" is Major Chichester.
+
+Marryatt is leaning now so far over her that he is whispering in her
+ear.
+
+"Is this--_is_ this true?" questions he, in low but vehement tones.
+
+"It--it may be. Who can tell?" returns she, with beautiful
+hesitation.
+
+She subsides once again behind the invaluable fan. To him she seems
+to be trembling. To Margaret, who is watching her angrily, she seems
+to be laughing.
+
+"You have evidently great faith in your husband," says Miss Gower,
+with what she fondly believes to be the most artful sarcasm.
+
+"Oh, I have--I have!" says Mrs. Chichester, clasping her hands in an
+enthusiastic fashion.
+
+"And he in you, doubtless?"
+
+"Oh, _such_ faith!" with a considerable increase in the enthusiasm.
+
+Miss Gower looks at her over her spectacles. It is an awful look.
+
+"I shall pray for you to-night!" says she, in a piously vindictive
+tone.
+
+"Oh, thanks! Thanks! How _kind_ of you!" says Mrs. Chichester, with
+extreme pathos.
+
+There is an explosion on her left. Mrs. Chichester looks mournfully
+in that direction to see the cause of it. There is only Mr. Gower to
+be seen! He, as usual, is misconducting himself to quite a
+remarkable degree. He is now, in fact, laughing so hard but so
+silently that the tears are running down his cheeks. To laugh out
+loud with his aunt listening, might mean the loss of seven hundred a
+year to him.
+
+"What's the matter with you? Aren't you well?" asks Mrs. Chichester,
+in a loud voice, calculated to draw attention to him.
+
+She feels that here is an opportunity given her to pay off old
+scores.
+
+"Oh, don't," gasps Gower, frantically struggling still with his
+laughter. "If she hears you, she'll be down on me like a shot. As
+you are strong, be merciful!"
+
+"Very well; remember you are in my debt," says she, who _au fond_ is
+not ill-natured. At this moment Tita passes down the balcony to
+where her husband is standing on the top of the steps that lead to
+the gardens beneath.
+
+As she draws closer to him, he fixes his eyes upon her as if to
+compel a glance from her in return; but Tita, who is accompanied by
+Minnie Hescott, does not so much as once let her gaze wander in his
+direction. She comes nearer--ever nearer, laughing and talking
+gaily, and passes him, still without recognition of any sort. As her
+skirt sweeps against him, he speaks.
+
+"Are you going out, Tita?"
+
+It is the first word that has passed between them since last
+night--since she left his room. A sudden angry determination to
+_make_ her speak to him, induces him now to get before her, and bar
+her passage to the steps.
+
+"Yes," returns she coldly, graciously, briefly.
+
+She leans back a little, as if to catch up the tail of her white
+gown--in reality, to avoid looking at him.
+
+"Just here there is shelter," says Rylton, speaking hurriedly, as if
+to gain time, and keep her from gliding past him. "But outside----
+And you have a very thin frock on. Shall I get you a shawl?"
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+Her manner is still perfectly gracious, but still she refuses to
+look at him. The gathering up of her frock is evidently causing her
+a great deal of trouble.
+
+"Shall I take you out some cushions, then?"
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+She has conquered the frock now, but still she does not look at him.
+In fact, she turns to Minnie, and, as though forgetful of his
+presence, murmurs some little thing or other to her.
+
+"If you are going to the gardens," says Rylton, with Heaven knows
+what intention--perhaps a desire to show her how little he cares for
+her childish anger, perhaps to bring matters to their worst--to know
+what she means--"may I come with you?"
+
+Tita gives him a glance--the fleetest; a smile--the briefest.
+
+_"No,_ thank you," says she, a faint emphasis upon the "No" being
+the only change in her even tone.
+
+As she speaks she goes down the steps, Minnie Hescott following her.
+
+
+
+END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTION
+
+OF
+
+BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+
+
+VOL. 2957.
+
+
+
+THE HOYDEN. BY MRS. HUNGERFORD.
+
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+
+
+
+VOL. II.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE HOYDEN
+
+
+
+A NOVEL
+
+
+
+BY MRS. HUNGERFORD
+
+
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"MOLLY BAWN," "PHYLLIS," "A CONQUERING HEROINE,"
+
+ETC. ETC.
+
+
+
+_COPYRIGHT EDITION._
+
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+
+
+
+VOL. II.
+
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1894.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+OF VOLUME II.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+How Minnie Hescott gives Tita a Hint; and learns that Hints may be
+thrown away; and how Margaret's Soul is grieved
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+How Tita commits a great Folly, though little is the Sin that lies
+therein. And how Margaret tries to make Peace, and what comes of it
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+How Mr. Gower grows darkly mysterious; and how Tita hears of the
+Arrival of another Guest
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+How Tita's Soul at last is stirred; and how her Happiness is
+threatened and herself set at naught; and how Minnie Hescott speaks
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+How Miss Gower goes for a pleasant Row upon the Lake with her
+Nephew; and how she admires the Sky and Water; and how presently
+Fear falls on her; and how Death threatens her; and how by a mere
+Scratch of a Pen she regains Shore and Life
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+How all the House Party at Oakdean grow frivolous in the Absence of
+the Lord and Master; and how Mrs. Bethune encourages a Game of
+Hide-and-seek; and how, after many Escapes, Tita is caught at last
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+How Tita is "caught," but by one whom she did not expect; and how
+she played with Fire for a little Bit; and how finally she ran away
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+How Tita, having been repulsed, grows angry; and how a very pretty
+Battle is fought out; and how Tita gains a Present; and how Sir
+Maurice loses his Temper
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+How Mrs. Bethune is brought before the Bar; and how she gives her
+Evidence against Tita; and how Maurice's Mother desires an Interview
+with Maurice's Wife
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+How "that Girl" was "seen" by the Dowager Lady Rylton; and how Tita
+held her small Head very high, and fought a good Fight with the
+Enemy
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+How Tita goes for a Walk with two sad Companions--Anger and Despair;
+and how she meets Sir Maurice; and how she introduces him to Anger
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+How Tita, running from the Enemy, suddenly finds herself Face to
+Face with another Foe; and how she fights a second Battle, and comes
+off victorious
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+How a little Sparring is done amongst the Guests at Oakdean; and how
+Tom Hescott tells a Story
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+How Tita flings herself upon Margaret's Breast; and how Margaret
+comforts her; and how Tita promises to be good; and how she has a
+Meeting "by Lamplight alone"
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+How Jealousy runs Riot in Oakdean; and how Margaret tries to throw
+Oil upon the Waters; and how a great Crash comes, with many Words
+and one Surprise
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+How Maurice tells his Mother of the great Fiasco; and how she
+receives the News
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+How Matters come to a Climax; and how Tita tells Maurice many Things
+that sting him sharply; and how he lays Hands upon her; and how the
+last Adieux are said
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+How Margaret steps into the Breach, and learns that all Peacemakers
+are not blessed
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+How Margaret and Tita tread many Paths; and how Fortune, having
+turned her Back on Tita, shows a smiling Front to Maurice
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+How Margaret starts as a special Pleader, and is much worsted in her
+Argument; and how a simple Knock at the Hall Door scatters one Being
+who delights in War
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+How Margaret makes a fearful Discovery; how she rushes to the
+Rescue, but is far from well received; and how Tita gives herself
+away, not once, but twice
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+How Maurice smokes a Cigar, and muses on many Things; how he laments
+his Solitude; and how an unexpected Visitor comes to him
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+How Rylton's evil Genius comes to him and speaks sweet Treacheries
+within his Ear; and how he renounces her and all her Deeds
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+How Tita pleads her Cause with Margaret; and how Margaret rebukes
+her; and how Steps are heard, and Tita seeks Seclusion behind a
+Japanese Screen; and what comes of it
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+How Tita wages War with Margaret and Maurice; and how Margaret
+suffers ignominious Treatment on both Hands; and how Maurice at the
+last gains one small Victory
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+How some old Friends reappear again; and how some News is told; and
+how Maurice makes another Effort to win his Cause
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+How Maurice gains another Point; and how Tita consents to think
+about it; and how Margaret tells a Lie
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+How Tita receives a Basket of Flowers and an Entreaty; and how she
+ceases to fight against her destiny
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+How a Journey is begun as the Day dies down; and how that Journey
+ends; and how a great Secret is discovered--the Secret of Tita's
+Heart
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE HOYDEN.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+HOW MINNIE HESCOTT GIVES TITA A HINT; AND LEARNS THAT HINTS MAY BE
+THROWN AWAY; AND HOW MARGARET'S SOUL IS GRIEVED.
+
+
+
+Minnie Hescott, during the time it takes her to go down the terrace
+steps behind Tita, comes to a resolution. _She will give Tita a
+hint!_ It will be a gift of no mean order, and whether it be well
+received or not, will always be a gift to be remembered, perhaps
+with gratitude.
+
+And Minnie, who is strictly practical if nothing else, sees a fair
+hope of return in her present plan. She likes Tita in her way--likes
+her perhaps better than she likes most people, and Tita may be
+useful to her as Sir Maurice Rylton's _wife_. But Tita, dismantled
+of her honours, would be no help at all, and therefore to keep Tita
+enthroned is now a very special object with her astute cousin.
+
+In and between all this is Minnie's detestation of Mrs. Bethune, who
+has occasionally been rude to her in the small ways that make up the
+sum of life.
+
+Minnie, who is not sensitive, takes the bull by the horns.
+
+"Mrs. Bethune," says she, as they go by a bed of hollyhocks now
+hastening to their death, "is a friend of yours?"
+
+It is a question.
+
+"Mrs. Bethune!" says Tita, stopping and looking at her as if
+wondering.
+
+What does she mean?
+
+"Yes," says Minnie pleasantly. "A friend. An old friend!"
+
+"Not an _old_ friend," says Tita quietly. "She is a cousin of
+Maurice's."
+
+"Yes. But not a friend of yours?"
+
+"No," coldly.
+
+"I'm glad of that," says Minnie, with hilarity. "I _hate_ old
+friends, don't you? They always cost one such a lot. They tell one
+such horrid news about one's self. They do such nasty things. Give
+me a stranger for choice. And as for Mrs. Bethune, now you have told
+me she is not a friend of yours, I suppose I may speak freely. Do
+you know, Tita, I'd keep my eye on her if I were you. You have given
+me a free hand, so I can tell you what is in my mind. That
+woman--she means----"
+
+"What?" asks Tita, turning upon her with some haughtiness.
+
+_ "Business!"_ says Minnie Hescott, with an emphatic nod. "Mischief
+all through. She's up to mischief of some sort. I tell you what,"
+says Minnie, with her old young look, "you've _got_ to keep your eye
+on her."
+
+"I could never keep my eye on anyone," says Tita, with a sudden,
+irrepressible little laugh. "And why should I keep my eye on Mrs.
+Bethune? To tell you a solemn truth, Minnie, I can't bear to look at
+her. She's beautiful, so they say, but to me she is hideous.
+Therefore, why should I keep my eye on her? It," with a whimsical
+little glance, "would hurt me so."
+
+"Nevertheless, you _should!"_ says Minnie solemnly. "She's a viper!"
+
+"Vipers are ugly."
+
+"And dangerous."
+
+"Then why look at them?"
+
+"To avoid them--lest they sting you," says Minnie, feeling quite
+pleased with herself for this flight of fancy.
+
+"You think," says Tita, stopping and looking at her, "that Mrs.
+Bethune will sting me?"
+
+"I think nothing," says Minnie Hescott, throwing out her hands in an
+airy fashion; "only, get rid of her--get rid of her, Tita, as soon
+as ever you can!"
+
+"To get rid of a guest! _No,"_ says Tita. "She may stay here, and I
+shall make her welcome for ever----" She pauses and looks full at
+her cousin. There is great courage and great pride in her look. "For
+ever!" repeats she.
+
+"There is always a fool somewhere!" says Minnie Hescott, with a
+sigh. "Well," abandoning the discussion for the present, "let us go
+for our walk round the garden."
+
+As they pass beneath the balcony, Margaret, who is leaning over it,
+with Colonel Neilson beside her, makes a little irrepressible
+movement.
+
+"What is it now?" asks he, who knows every mood of hers.
+
+"Nothing. I was only thinking about Tita."
+
+"A charming subject."
+
+"Oh! _too_ charming," says Margaret, with a sigh. "That child
+troubles me."
+
+"But why? She seems to be getting on all right, in spite of your
+evil prognostications before her marriage. She and Rylton seem on
+very good terms."
+
+"Not to-day, at all events," shaking her head.
+
+"No? I confess I did think there was a little rift somewhere."
+
+"Oh yes! There is something," says Margaret somewhat impatiently.
+"Did you see the poor child's eyes, and her whole air? Her pretty
+little attempts at unconcern?"
+
+"I thought Rylton looked rather put out, too."
+
+"I didn't look at him. I have no patience with him. It is a mad
+marriage for any man to make." She pauses. "I am afraid there was
+some disagreeableness last night." She hesitates again. Though quite
+determined never to marry Colonel Neilson or any other man, she
+permits herself the luxury of retaining Neilson as a confidential
+friend. "I wish her cousin, Mr. Hescott, was not quite so attentive
+to her. She is very young, of course, but I don't think she ought to
+have danced so much with him last night."
+
+"And what of Rylton?" asks the Colonel, pulling the glass out of his
+eye and sticking it in again in an angry fashion. "Who did _he_
+dance with?"
+
+"Yes. I saw," sadly.
+
+"Well, why should he complain, then?" says Neilson, who can see the
+right and the wrong so _much_ better because it is not his own case.
+"To tell you the truth, Margaret, I think Mrs. Bethune should not be
+here."
+
+"I think that, too. But it appears it was Tita who invited her."
+
+"My dear girl, who else? But there is such a thing as coercion."
+
+"It was the prettiest, the most cordial letter. I read it."
+
+"Then you think she knows nothing of that old affair?"
+
+"Old?" She looks quickly at Neilson. "Do you think it is old--worn
+out, I mean?"
+
+"No, I don't," says Neilson promptly. "And in my opinion, the sooner
+Mrs. Bethune terminates her visit the better for everyone."
+
+"What an unhappy marriage!" says Margaret, with a sigh. "All
+marriages are unhappy, I think."
+
+"Not a bit of it. Most of the married people we know would not
+separate even were the power given them to do so."
+
+"That is merely because they have grown necessary to each other."
+
+"Well, what is love?" says Neilson, who is always defending his
+great cause against Margaret's attacks. "Was there ever a lover yet,
+who did not think the woman he loved necessary to him?"
+
+"It is not the higher form of love," says Margaret, who still dreams
+of an ideal, born of her first attachment--an ideal that never in
+this practical world could have been realized, and if it _could,_
+would have been condemned at once as tiresome to the last degree.
+
+"It is high enough for most people," says Neilson. "Don't grow
+pessimistic, Margaret. There is a great deal of light and joy and
+laughter in the world, and I know _no_ one so framed to enjoy it as
+yourself, if only you would give yourself full sway. You condemn
+marriage, yet how can you speak of it with authority--you who have
+not tried it?"
+
+"Oh, do, _do_ stop," says Margaret, lifting her hand. "You are
+getting on that--that wretched old tack again."
+
+"So I am. I know it. I shall be on that tack to the end of my life.
+And I think it so unfair of you to condemn anybody without even a
+hearing."
+
+"Why, I must," says she, laughing in spite of herself.
+
+"No, you needn't. Marry me, and then give judgment!"
+
+"I shall never marry," says Margaret, with cold decision; then, as
+if ashamed of her tone, she looks up at him. It is rather a shy
+look, and makes her even more admirable in the eyes of the man
+watching her. _"Why_ will you persist?" asks she.
+
+"I must. I must."
+
+"It sounds like a doom," says she lightly, though tears are
+gathering in her eyes. "Don't waste your life. _Don't!"_
+
+"I am not wasting it. I am spending it on you," says the Colonel,
+who is really a delightful lover.
+
+"Ah! but that is so dreadful--for me!"
+
+"Do I worry you, then?"
+
+"No! no! A thousand times no!" cries she eagerly. "It is only that I
+must always reproach myself?"
+
+"Why always? Give in, Margaret, and let me change my place from
+lover to husband."
+
+"It is often a fatal change."
+
+"You mistrust me?"
+
+"You! No, indeed! You least of all. I believe in you from my very
+soul! Don't think that, Harry. But," impatiently, "why go over it
+again and again?"
+
+Colonel Neilson turns a solemn face to hers.
+
+"Margaret!" says he. "Are you bent on dying an old maid?"
+
+Miss Knollys flushes; she turns aside.
+
+"What an odious word!" says she.
+
+She walks deliberately into the drawing-room behind her. Neilson
+still stands leaning over the balcony--a slow and distinctly
+satisfied smile crosses his features.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HOW TITA COMMITS A GREAT FOLLY, THOUGH LITTLE IS THE SIN THAT LIES
+THEREIN. AND HOW MARGARET TRIES TO MAKE PEACE, AND WHAT COMES OF IT.
+
+
+
+Breakfast is nearly over--an uncomfortable breakfast, with only a
+host to guide it--the hostess had put in no appearance. This would
+be nothing if the plea of headache had been urged, but headache had
+been out of it altogether. In fact, Lady Rylton had gone out riding
+at eight o'clock with her cousin, Mr. Hescott, and has not yet come
+back, though the clock points at ten-thirty.
+
+Sir Maurice had made very light of it. He had asked Mrs. Bethune to
+pour out the tea, and had said that Tita would be back presently.
+But everyone can see that he is upset and angry, and Margaret,
+noting it all, feels her heart grow cold within her.
+
+As a fact, Rylton is feeling something more than anger. Something
+akin to fear. Where is she--the girl he had married, meaning to be
+true to her if nothing else? He had questioned her maid very
+casually, very unconcernedly, and she had told him that her mistress
+had gone out riding this morning about eight o'clock with Mr.
+Hescott. His questions had been so clever, so altogether without
+anxiety, that the maid had believed in him, and saw nothing in his
+words to dwell upon later.
+
+Yet Rylton's heart had seemed to cease beating as she answered him.
+She had gone riding with Hescott. With Hescott! Will she ever come
+back?
+
+Tita's face, when she had left him that last night, is before him
+now. Tita's determination not to accept the olive branch he offered
+her yesterday is before him too. What if she----
+
+And, in truth, Tita _had_ been angry. Her spirit had been roused.
+His open declaration that he believed her capable of carrying on a
+flirtation with her cousin had hurt her more than she cared to
+confess even to herself. It was so silly--so unjust! She--_she!_
+
+And he! What of him? Everything that his mother had told her of his
+affection for Marian grew, all at once, fresh in her mind. How did
+he then _dare _to speak to _her_ of inconstancy? He--who had been
+false to her from the very beginning. When he had spoken to her
+to-day, as she passed him on her way to the garden, she had felt as
+though she could hardly bring herself to answer him--and always
+revenge was in her mind. Revenge--to show him how little she cared
+for his censures.
+
+When, therefore, Hescott during the evening asked her to go for a
+ride with him before breakfast next morning, she had said yes
+quickly--so quickly, that Hescott foolishly believed she meant more
+than a readiness to ride in the early morning. Did she wish to be
+_with_ him? A mad hope made his heart warm.
+
+As for Tita--she thought only of that small revenge. She would go
+for a ride with Tom, without telling Maurice one word about it. She
+could easily be back in time for breakfast, and no one, therefore,
+would be annoyed, except Maurice! It seemed _delightful_ to annoy
+Maurice!
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+The little revenge hardly seems so delightful now, however, as she
+springs from her horse, and running into the hall, followed by
+Hescott, sees by the clock there that it is just half-past ten.
+
+"Oh! you should have _told_ me," cries she, most unjustly turning
+upon Tom.
+
+"Good heavens! How could I? I didn't know myself. I told you I had
+left my watch on my dressing-table."
+
+"Well, we are in for it now, any way," says she, with a little
+nervous laugh.
+
+She walks straight to the breakfast-room, and, throwing open the
+door, goes in.
+
+"I'm so sorry!" says she at once.
+
+She gives a little general, beaming smile all round. Only Margaret
+can see the nervousness of it. She had taken off her hat in the
+hall, and her pretty, short air is lying loosely on her forehead.
+There is a tiny dab of mud on her cheek, close to the eye. It is
+distinctly becoming, and looks more like a Queen Anne patch than
+anything else.
+
+All the men rise as she enters, except Rylton, who is reading a
+letter of such deep importance, evidently, that he seems hardly to
+note his wife's entrance. Tita beckons to them all to resume their
+seats.
+
+"I'm dreadfully sorry--dreadfully," says she, in a quick little way.
+"I had no idea it was so late. So _good_ of you," turning to Mrs.
+Bethune, who is sitting at the head of the table, "to take my place!
+You see," looking once again round her, "when I started I did not
+mean to go so far."
+
+"Ah! that is what so often happens," says Mrs. Bethune, with a queer
+little glance from under her lids.
+
+There is something so insolent both in her meaning and her voice,
+that Margaret's face flushes, and she makes a slight movement as if
+to rise; but Colonel Neilson, who is next her, by a slight gesture
+restrains her. She looks at Maurice, however, as if wondering why he
+does not interfere--does not _say_ something; but Maurice seems more
+than ever buried in his letter. Indeed, beyond one brief glance at
+his wife, he has taken no notice of her.
+
+Margaret's eyes go back to Tita. Everyone is offering her a seat
+here or there, and she is shaking her head in refusal. Evidently
+Mrs. Bethune's remark has gone by her, like the wind unheard; it had
+not been understood.
+
+"Come and sit here, and have a hot cup of coffee," says Captain
+Marryatt.
+
+"No, thank you. I couldn't really. See how muddy I am," glancing
+down at her skirt. "It must have rained a great deal last night. Tom
+and I ran a race, and this is the result. I must go upstairs and
+change my things."
+
+"Certainly, a change would be desirable in many ways," says old Miss
+Gower, in her most conscious tone, on which her nephew, who is
+helping himself to cold pie on the sideboard, turns and looks at her
+as if he would like to rend her.
+
+"Yes, run away, Tita; I'll be up with you in a moment," says
+Margaret gently, fondly. "I am afraid you must feel very damp."
+
+"I feel very uncomfortable, any way," says Tita, though without
+_arrière pensée_. Mrs. Chichester, dropping her handkerchief, gets
+her laugh over before she picks it up again. Tita moves towards the
+door, and then looks back. "Maurice," says she, with a courage born
+of defiance, "will you send me up some breakfast to my room?"
+
+Sir Maurice turns at once to the butler.
+
+"See that breakfast is sent up to Lady Rylton," says he calmly.
+
+A faint colour rises to Tita's forehead. She goes straight to the
+door. Randal Gower, who is still at the sideboard, hurries to open
+it for her.
+
+"There's a regular ta-ra-ra waiting for _you,"_ says he, "in the
+near bimeby."
+
+Tita gives him an indignant glance as she goes by, which that youth
+accepts with a beaming smile.
+
+Tita has hardly been in her room twenty minutes, has hardly, indeed,
+had time to change her clothes, when Margaret knocks at the door.
+
+"May I come in?" asks she.
+
+"Oh! come in. Come in!" cries Tita, who has just dismissed her maid.
+She runs to Margaret and kisses her on both cheeks. "Good-morning,"
+says she. And then saucily, "You have come to read me a lecture?"
+
+"No. No, indeed," replies Margaret earnestly. She _had _perhaps, but
+the sight of the child's small, pretty, entreating face has done
+away with everything condemnatory that was in her mind. Still, there
+is such a thing as a word in season. "But, Tita dearest," says she,
+"is it wise, the way you are going on?"
+
+"Ah! I knew I should not escape," says Tita whimsically.
+
+"I am not going to scold you, really," says Margaret, smiling; "but
+consider, dear child! To begin with----"
+
+"Oh, this is _worse_ than I thought," interrupts Tita, covering her
+face with her hands, and blinking at her through her fingers. "Is it
+going to be firstly, secondly, thirdly? Come to the thirdly at
+once."
+
+"Do you know what you want?" says Margaret, who feels fonder of her
+every moment. "A good _slap!_ I shall deliver it some day. But,
+seriously now, Tita, you ought to have considered your guests, at
+all events. If you had stayed in your room it would have been
+nothing--but----"
+
+"But because I stayed in the open air it was _something!" _Tita
+bursts out laughing. "Oh, isn't it funny?" says she. "It would have
+been all right if I had had a bad headache. _Either_ way they
+wouldn't have seen me at breakfast, and what it amounts to is, that
+they are very angry because I hadn't a bad headache."
+
+"No one is angry at all."
+
+"No one?"
+
+"Except Maurice, and surely he has some right on his side. You know
+your conduct was a little--just a little--er----"
+
+"Rude," says Tita, helping her out. "Well, I know that, and I am
+sorry to my heart's core, Margaret, if I was rude--_to you!"_
+
+The climax is very sweet. Margaret tells herself that Tita is too
+much for her. The girl by this time has her arms round her neck.
+
+"Don't mind me," says Margaret, holding the little form closely to
+her. "Think of yourself, my dearest. As if _I_ should misunderstand
+you! But you should study conventionality a little; you should----"
+
+She breaks off; it almost seems to her that she is preaching
+deception to this baby.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you," says Tita, leaning back a little from her, and
+pointing each word by a tap on her shoulder, "I'm not so bad as I
+_seem!_ I really _meant_ to be in, in time for breakfast--but
+Tom----"
+
+"Tom," impatiently, "is a bad adviser!"
+
+"It wasn't his fault, any way. The fact is, I took it into my head
+to run a race with him. He is always lauding that old horse of his,
+you know----"
+
+"I don't know. All I do know is, that Mr. Hescott must have had a
+watch about him."
+
+"Well," triumphantly, "he hadn't. So you don't know anything after
+all, you darling old Madge! He had forgotten it. He had left it at
+home! That was just what put us out! Not that I _care_. Well, I was
+going to tell you about our race. We started for Clumber's Hill--to
+get there and back again, and all went well until my mare ran away
+with me!"
+
+"Ran away----"
+
+"Don't look like that. I _love_ a horse to run away with me; and
+there were no sandpits or precipices of any sort; it was a real
+_good _run away. Oh!" throwing out her arms, "how I enjoyed it!" She
+pauses. "But I don't think Tom did. He was like an egg when he came
+up with me. _So_ white!"
+
+"Never mind Mr. Hescott, go on."
+
+"Well, that's all. By the time I had the mare well in hand again, we
+were a good many miles farther from here than we meant to be, and,
+of course, I was late." She puts Margaret away from her a little,
+and looks at her. "After all," says she, "why should Maurice be so
+angry about it? Everyone makes mistakes now and then. I suppose,"
+lightly, "even the immaculate Maurice can make his?"
+
+"No doubt," says Margaret, in a low tone.
+
+Is he not making a mistake now--a dreadful one?
+
+"And, for the matter of that, so can _you,"_ says Tita audaciously,
+but so lovingly that no one could be angry with her.
+
+"Don't waste time over me," says Margaret, growing very red, but
+laughing. "Come back to your naughty little self. Now what are you
+going to do about this, Tita?"
+
+"Do?"
+
+"Yes. Couldn't you go down and say something pretty to Maurice?"
+
+"Go down--to Maurice? Go and beg his pardon. Is _that_ what you
+mean? No, thank you!"
+
+"But, my dear, he is your husband?"
+
+"Is that all?" Tita tilts her chin airily. "One would think I was
+his daughter, the way you speak, or his slave! No. I shan't
+apologize to him, Margaret, is that is what you mean. I'm _hanged_
+if I do!"
+
+"Tita--my dear!" Margaret looks shocked. "I don't think you ought to
+use such expressions. You make me very unhappy when you do."
+
+"Do I?" Tita gives her a little sidelong glance, meant to be
+contrite, but too full of mischief to be anything but incorrigible.
+"Then _I'm hanged_ if I say it again," says she.
+
+"Tita, you will come to grief yet," says Margaret, laughing in spite
+of herself. "Now to return to our argument. I tell you, you owe
+Maurice something for this escapade of yours, innocent as it is.
+Fancy in what an awkward position you placed him with your guests! A
+man doesn't like to feel awkward; and he is, naturally, a little
+annoyed with you about it. And----"
+
+"Nonsense!" says Tita; "the guests have nothing to do with it! As if
+I didn't know! Maurice is just in a bad temper because I have been
+riding with Tom. He hates poor old Tom. If I had gone riding with
+Randal or any of the others, and hadn't been in till _luncheon_, he
+would have said nothing--he would have treated it as a joke, I dare
+say."
+
+"Well--but, Tita, is there nothing in his objection to Mr. Hescott?
+You must admit, dearest, that your cousin is a little--well,
+attentive to you."
+
+"Why, of course he is attentive to me. He is quite like a brother to
+me."
+
+"Brothers, as a rule, are not so very attentive to their sisters.
+The fact is, Tita," says Margaret desperately, "that I
+think--er--that Maurice thinks--that Mr. Hescott is----"
+
+"In love with me? I know that," says Tita, without the faintest
+embarrassment. _"Isn't_ it absurd? Fancy Tom being in love with
+_me!_"
+
+Margaret tells herself that she could fancy it very easily, but
+refrains from saying so.
+
+"How do you know he isn't?" asks she slowly.
+
+"Why, if he was, I suppose he would tell me so," says Tita, after
+which Miss Knollys feels that further argument would be useless.
+
+Suddenly Tita turns to her.
+
+"You think me entirely in the wrong," says she, "and Maurice
+altogether in the right. But there are things about Maurice I do not
+understand. Is he true or is he false? I never seem to know. I don't
+ask much of him--not half as much as he asks of me--and still----"
+
+"What do you mean, Tita?" asks Margaret, a nervous feeling
+contracting her throat.
+
+Has she heard, then?--does she know?
+
+"I mean that he is unfair to me," says Tita, standing back from
+Margaret, her eyes lighting. "For one thing, why did he ask Mrs.
+Bethune to pour out tea this morning in my absence? Was there,"
+petulantly, "no one else to ask?"
+
+"She is his cousin."
+
+"So are you."
+
+"My dear, I am not married."
+
+"More shame on you," says Tita, with the ghost of a smile. "Well,
+there was Miss Gower!"
+
+"She is not married, either."
+
+"And no shame to anyone." Here Tita, in spite of her wrath, cannot
+help laughing. "But really, Margaret, the blame should not be
+entirely on my side. If I have to accuse Maurice----"
+
+"Accuse him! Of what?"
+
+Tita looks full at her.
+
+"You are a good friend," says she; "but his mother told me."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HOW MR. GOWER GROWS DARKLY MYSTERIOUS; AND HOW TITA HEARS OF THE
+ARRIVAL OF ANOTHER GUEST.
+
+
+
+Tita, going down the stairs after her interview with Margaret, meets
+Randal in the hall below.
+
+"You look rather down on your luck!" says he.
+
+"My looks belie me, then," says she stoutly. "But you--what is the
+matter with you?"
+
+"Ruin!" says Mr. Gower tragically. "My looks do _not_ belie me."
+
+"Good gracious, Randal!"
+
+"Ruin stares me in the face," says he, "look where I will."
+
+"Very rude of it," says Tita, with an irrepressible laugh. "One
+should never stare people out of countenance. You should speak to
+Ruin."
+
+"Oh, it's all very fine making a joke of it!" says Mr. Gower, who
+is, however, laughing too.
+
+"Where are you going now?" asks Tita, as he moves away from her
+towards the hall door.
+
+"'Anywhere--anywhere out of the world,'" quotes he, with a dismal
+shake of the head.
+
+"Is it so serious as all that?" cries Tita. "Look here, Randal, wait
+a moment, can't you? I have a last request to make. If you _are_
+bent on dying, do it; but do it nicely--be picturesque: something
+original, and no blood. Promise me there will be no blood!"
+
+"'So young, and so untender!'" says Gower, gazing at her with deep
+reproach.
+
+He seems full of quotations.
+
+"But where are you going, really?"
+
+"Out."
+
+He pauses.
+
+"Not out of your mind, I hope?"
+
+"Don't be too sure."
+
+"Well, wait, and I'll go with you," says she, glancing at the stand
+in the hall where her garden hat is generally to be found.
+
+"Not to-day," says Gower; "you mustn't come with me to-day. I'm going
+out on business."
+
+"Business!"
+
+Mr. Gower and business seem so very far apart.
+
+"Gruesome business," repeats he, dropping his voice to a whisper.
+"I'm going with my aunt--'my dear, unmarried aunt.' It's my last
+chance. I shall do or die to-day, or else"--an afterthought striking
+him--_"she_ will."
+
+"Where are you going with her?"
+
+"I am taking her," says Mr. Gower, looking darkly round him, "for a
+row on the lake. She says she dotes on lakes. I don't think she will
+dote on your lake when she returns, if"--with a murderous eye--"she
+ever does."
+
+"Are you going to drown her?" asks Tita, catching him by the arm.
+
+She is laughing still.
+
+"I hope not--I _hope_ not," says Gower gloomily. "Circumstances
+_may_ be favourable. We must pray for the best."
+
+He tears himself away from her with a profound sigh, and she is
+still standing, laughing in the hall, when the library door opens,
+and Rylton comes into the hall.
+
+Her laughter dies quickly. Rylton, after a swift, careless glance at
+her, goes towards the letter-rack and places a letter in it, then
+goes back to the library. As he reaches the door, however, he hears
+little running feet behind him.
+
+"Don't go--don't go," says Tita. She has laid one hand upon his arm,
+and is looking up at him. "You are angry with me, and----"
+
+"Angry? No!"
+
+"You are--you know you are! And you want to scold me, and----"
+
+"You are quite mistaken," says Rylton, shaking off her hand gently,
+but with decision. "I have no desire whatever to scold you. Why
+should I?"
+
+He goes past her into the library, but she follows him--a lovely
+little penitent--with lowered eyes.
+
+"Do scold me!" says she. "I was wrong; and I did it on purpose,
+too."
+
+"On purpose?"
+
+"Yes," hanging her pretty head; "I did it to annoy you! You were
+so--so nasty about Tom the other night--do you remember? So I wanted
+to make you _really mad_ this time--just for revenge, you know; but,
+honestly, I didn't mean to be late for breakfast."
+
+"Didn't you?" drearily.
+
+"No, I didn't; you _must_ believe that." She goes nearer to him, and
+slips her hand through his arm. "Maurice!" whispers she. He makes
+her no answer. She moves even closer to him, and, leaning her little
+head against his shoulder, looks up at him. _"Do_ scold me!" says
+she again. The tender, childish voice touches him; it goes home to
+his heart--the heart that is so full of another. He looks down at
+her, and, stooping, lays his lips on hers. It can hardly be called a
+kiss; yet it satisfies _her_, to whom, as yet, kissing means so
+little. "Now I am forgiven," cries she triumphantly. "Is _that _your
+scolding?"
+
+"I told you I couldn't scold you," says he.
+
+As he says this he sighs heavily.
+
+"What a sigh!" She pushes him from her with both hands. "After all,
+I believe you hate me!"
+
+"No, I don't," says Rylton.
+
+He smiles. After all, why not be friends with her? Had he explained
+that indifference was the word she should have used for hate, would
+she be any the wiser?
+
+"No--really?" She has flung herself into a chair, and is looking at
+him with her hands clasped behind her head. "Well," thoughtfully, "I
+don't hate you, either. That's a blessing, isn't it?"
+
+"A great one."
+
+He feels a little piqued, however, at the nonchalance of her manner.
+Why should it occur to her that she might hate him? She has,
+unknowingly certainly, but unquestionably, blocked his way to the
+fulfilment of his desires, but he---- He changes colour; is he
+standing in _her_ way, then?
+
+"What was the letter you were reading this morning when I came in?"
+
+"A letter?"
+
+He brings himself back to the present with an effort.
+
+"Yes. It was so interesting," says she, making him a little
+malicious grimace, "that you could not spare a moment from the
+reading of it to acknowledge my presence."
+
+"It was from my mother."
+
+"No wonder it was so engrossing," says Tita naughtily. "Well----"
+
+"It isn't well; it is ill," returns he, laughing. "She says she is
+coming to stay with us for a week or so on her way to Lady Sarah's."
+
+"Why is she coming?"
+
+"For our sins, I suppose. I really don't know any other reason." He
+casts an anxious glance at her. "I am afraid that you won't care
+about it."
+
+"Well, I shan't," says Tita frankly; "but if she wants to come,
+there is nothing more to be said. What _I_ am afraid of is that
+Marian won't like it."
+
+"Marian?"
+
+"Yes, Marian. It struck me that she was not very fond of your
+mother. Was I right?"
+
+"I could not possibly answer for Marian."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Yet I thought," with a swift glance, "that you were the one person
+in the world who could have told me all about her."
+
+"You were wrong, then. I have known Marian, and--liked her; but I
+think no human being can answer for another's likes and dislikes."
+
+"Perhaps so." She looks down thoughtfully. "When is your mother
+coming?"
+
+"To-morrow. I shall run up to town and meet her, and bring her on."
+
+"You will be back to-morrow night?"
+
+"Well, she seems to think so; but I expect she will be tired, and
+stay in town until next morning. In the meantime," smiling at her,
+"I leave the house and the guests and everything in your charge."
+
+"How delightful!" cries Tita, clapping her hands.
+
+Rylton turns away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+HOW TITA'S SOUL AT LAST IS STIRRED; AND HOW HER HAPPINESS IS
+THREATENED AND HERSELF SET AT NAUGHT; AND HOW MINNIE HESCOTT SPEAKS.
+
+
+
+"Such a day to go out on the lake!" says Mrs. Bethune, with a
+contemptuous curve of her lip. "Really, that old woman must be as
+mad as she is disagreeable."
+
+"Well, she could hardly be _more_ so," says Mrs. Chichester.
+
+They are all in the oriel chamber, the windows of which look upon
+the lake, and now they can see Randall and Miss Gower rowing
+apparently in the utmost peace across it.
+
+"She has a perfect passion for boating," says Margaret.
+
+"So I should say. I dare say it seems to her pretty and idyllic."
+
+"Her passions ought to be at a low ebb by this time," says Mrs.
+Bethune with a sneer. She has suffered many things at the old maid's
+hands.
+
+"Well, let us pray Randal will bring her home in safety," says Tita,
+laughing.
+
+"My _dear_ Lady Rylton!"
+
+"Heavens--what a prayer!" exclaims Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Let us say it backwards," says captain Marryatt, which is
+considered such a wonderful departure for him, such a stroke of wit
+on his part, that everyone laughs in the most encouraging fashion.
+
+"You'll be a reigning wit yet, if you don't look out," says Mrs.
+Chichester.
+
+"As you are a reigning toast," responds he, quite fired by the late
+ovation.
+
+"Oh, goodness!" says Mrs. Chichester, shrugging up her thin
+shoulders and casting a queer glance round her from under her brows;
+"let us take him away quickly, before he cuts himself with his own
+smartness."
+
+"Yes. Come down to the library, it's warmer there," says Tita. She
+leads the way to the door, and when at it looks back over her
+shoulder at her husband. "Are you coming, Maurice?"
+
+"In a moment or two. I have a few letters to write first."
+
+"And you?" says Tita, looking at Mrs. Bethune.
+
+"I, too, have some letters to write," returns Marian.
+
+Her tone is quite ordinary, but to the young girl gazing at her
+there seems something defiant in her eyes and her smile. What is it
+in the smile--a sort of hateful amusement.
+
+Tita leaves the room. She goes out and down the spiral stairs quite
+collectedly, to all appearance, yet she is not aware for a moment
+that Margaret's hand is on her arm. For the first time--the first
+time in all her young and most innocent life--a sin has touched her
+soul. She has learned to hate--she as yet does not know why--but she
+knows she hates Marian Bethune.
+
+As the door closes behind her and her guests, Rylton turns on
+Marian.
+
+"Why did you say that? Why didn't you go?" says he.
+
+His face is white as death. He cannot account to himself for the
+agitation that is consuming him.
+
+"Why should I not say what is the truth?" returns she, her beautiful
+daring eyes full on his. "Why should I go? Does Lady Rylton demand
+that all her guests should be at her beck and call, morning, noon,
+and night?"
+
+"She demands nothing," says Rylton.
+
+The terrible truth of what he is saying goes home to him. What has
+she ever demanded, that poor child, who has given him her fortune,
+her life? Her little, sweet, half-pathetic face as she looked back
+at him from the doorway is before him. Her face is often before him
+now.
+
+"She must be a fool, then," says Marian insolently. She takes a step
+nearer to him. "Don't let us talk of her. What is she to us?" cries
+she, in a low fierce tone that speaks of words held back for many
+days, words that have been scorching her, and must find sound at
+last. "Maurice! Maurice! how long is this to go on!" She takes a
+step nearer to him, and then, as if it is impossible to her to hold
+back any longer, she flings herself suddenly into his arms.
+"Maurice, speak to me. My love! My life!" Her words are low,
+dispirited, broken by little sobs.
+
+Rylton presses her to him. It is an involuntary movement, the action
+of one who would succour another when in trouble. His face has lost
+all colour. He is indeed as white as death. He holds her. His arms
+are round her--round this woman he has loved so long; it is--it must
+be a supreme moment--and yet--
+
+He lays his hands upon her arms, and putting her gently back from
+him gazes into her drenched eyes. Those eyes so dear, so lustrous.
+How often has he looked into them, when,
+
+    "Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again!"
+
+"Marian," says he. His tone is tenderness itself, yet there is now a
+sudden strength in it that astonishes him. _She_ had had all the
+strength in those old days. She had dominated him, subduing him by
+her beauty, her charm. The charm is there still--he knows that as he
+gazes into her deep eyes, but is it quite as potent? A year ago
+would she have been standing before him, looking at him as she is
+looking now with this ineffable passion in her gaze whilst _he_
+stood too? No. He would have been at her feet, her slave, her lover,
+to do with as she would. "Marian, is this wise?"
+
+"Ah! one moment!" entreats she sadly. "It is so seldom I can see you
+alone, and this blessed chance--will you refuse it? You saw how I
+dared everything. How I even risked her suspicion. It was because I
+felt I _should_ see--_should_ speak with you again."
+
+"You should consider yourself," says he in a dull tone.
+
+He hardly understands himself. Where is the old, wild longing to be
+with her, when others are away, to hold her in his arms? To kiss her
+lips--dear willing lips?
+
+"What do I care about myself?" returns she vehemently. Her passion
+has so carried her with it, that she has failed to see the new
+wonder in his air, the chill, the lack of warmth, the secret
+questioning. "Ah, Maurice, forgive me! It is so like you to think of
+me before yourself. And I know one _must_ think. But will it be
+always so? Is there no chance, no hope--of freedom for you and me?
+You are rich now, and if--if----"
+
+"Don't," says he, in a choked tone.
+
+He almost pushes her from him, but she clings to him.
+
+"I know--I know," says she. "It is a dishonourable thought, but
+thoughts will come. And you----" She catches him by both arms, and
+swaying her little body a little, compels his gaze to meet hers.
+"They come to you, too," cries she in a low tone, soft as velvet,
+but quick with fervour. "You, too, long for freedom. Do I not know
+you, Maurice? Do I not believe in you? You are mine--mine! Oh how I
+honour you, for your honour to _her!_ I think you are the one good
+man I ever met. If I loved you before your marriage, I love you a
+thousand times better since. You are mine, and I am yours. And we
+must wait--wait--but not for long. That girl----"
+
+He releases himself from her by a quick, almost infuriated gesture.
+At the very instant of his doing so the sound of footsteps coming
+along the corridor without can be heard. Mrs. Bethune steps quickly
+to a side-door, and passes noiselessly into a passage that leads her
+to a back staircase. As she runs along it softly, noiselessly, a
+great swell of delight lifts her bosom.
+
+He loves her. He loves her still. He had not repulsed her when she
+had flung herself into his embrace, and this last moment when he had
+flung her out of it, _that_ spoke more than all. He had heard those
+coming footsteps. He had thought of her--her reputation. That was
+dear to him. She gains her own room by a circuitous round,
+breathless, unseen, secure in her belief of her power over him. The
+insatiable vanity of the woman had prevented her from reading
+between the lines.
+
+Rylton, detesting himself for the necessity for deception, has just
+seated himself at a writing-table, when Minnie Hescott enters the
+room. That astute young woman refrains from a glance round the room.
+
+"Still writing?" says she.
+
+She had told herself when she escaped from the others that she would
+do a good turn to Tita. She decided upon not caring what Rylton
+would think of her. Men were more easily appeased than women. She
+would square him later on, even if her plain speaking offended him
+now; and, at all events, Tita would be on her side--would
+acknowledge she had meant kindly towards her, and even if all failed
+still something would be gained. She would have "been even" with
+Mrs. Bethune.
+
+Miss Hescott's vocabulary is filled with choice sayings, expressive
+if scarcely elegant. Beyond her dislike to Mrs. Bethune,
+personally--she might have conquered that--Minnie is clever--there
+is always the fact that Mrs. Bethune is poor, and poor people, as
+Minnie has learned through a hard philosophy, are never of any use
+at all. Mrs. Bethune, therefore, could never advance her one inch on
+the road to social success; whereas Tita, though she is a mere
+nobody in herself, and not of half as good birth as Mrs. Bethune,
+can be of the utmost use as a propeller.
+
+Tita, by happy circumstances, is the wife of a real live Baronet,
+and Tita is her cousin. Tita has money, and is very likely to go to
+town every year in the season, and what more likely than that Tita
+should take her (Minnie) under her wing next season, present her and
+marry her? Delightful prospect. Her step is quite buoyant as she
+approaches Rylton and says:
+
+"Still writing?"
+
+"Yes," returns Rylton leisurely, to whom Minnie is not dear.
+
+"I'm sorry. I wanted to say something to you," says Minnie, who has
+decided on adopting the unadorned style of conversation, that
+belongs as a rule to the young--the unsophisticated.
+
+"If I can be of the slightest use to you," says Rylton, wheeling
+round on his chair, "I shall be delighted." He had knocked off the
+blotting paper as he turned, and now stoops to pick it up, a moment
+that Minnie takes to see that he has no letter half begun before
+him, and no letter finished either, as the rack on the side of the
+wall testifies. Minnie would have done well as a female detective!
+
+"Oh no--no. On the contrary, I wanted to be of use to you."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes. You mustn't be angry with me," says Minnie, still with the air
+of the _ingénue_ full about her; "but I felt ever since the night
+before last that I _should_ speak to you."
+
+"The night before last!"
+
+Rylton's astonishment is so immense that he can do nothing but
+repeat her words. And now it must be told that Minnie, who had seen
+that vindictive look on Mrs. Bethune's face as she went down the
+terrace steps on the night of Lady Warbeck's dance, and had augured
+ill from it for Tita and her brother, had cross-examined Tom very
+cleverly, and had elicited from him the fact that he had heard
+footsteps behind the arbour where he and somebody--he refused to
+give the name--had sat that night, and that he--Tom--had glanced
+round, and had seen and known, but that he had said nothing of it to
+his companion. A mutual hatred for Mrs. Bethune, born in the breast
+of Tom as well as in his sister, had alone compelled Tom to declare
+even this much. Minnie had probed and probed about his companion, as
+to who she was, but Tom would not speak. Yet he might as well have
+spoken. Minnie knew!
+
+"Yes, that night at Lady Warbeck's. I know you will think me horrid
+to say what I am going to say, and really there is nothing--only--I
+am so fond of Tita."
+
+"It is not horrid of you to say that," says Rylton, smiling.
+
+"No. I know that. But that isn't all. I--am afraid Tita has an enemy
+in this house."
+
+"Impossible," says Rylton.
+
+He rises, smiling always, but as if to put a termination to the
+interview.
+
+"No, but listen," says Minnie, who, now she has entered upon her
+plan, would be difficult to beat. "Do you remember when you and Mrs.
+Bethune were standing on the balcony at Warbeck Towers--that night?"
+
+Rylton starts, but in a second collects himself.
+
+"Yes," returns he calmly.
+
+He feels it would be madness to deny it.
+
+"Very well," says Minnie, "I was there too, and I went down the
+steps--to the garden. Your wife went down before me."
+
+Rylton grows suddenly interested. He had seen Minnie go down those
+steps--but the other!
+
+"Then?" asks he; his tone is breathless.
+
+"Oh, yes--just then," says Minnie, "and that is what I wanted to
+talk to you about. You and Mrs. Bethune were on the balcony above,
+and Tita passed just beneath, and I saw Mrs. Bethune lean over for a
+_second_ as it were--it seemed to me a most evil second, and she saw
+Tita--and her eyes!" Minnie pauses. "Her eyes were awful! I felt
+frightened for Tita."
+
+"You mean to tell me that Mrs. Bethune _saw_ Tita that night passing
+beneath the balcony?"
+
+The memory of his bet with Marian, that strange bet, so strangely
+begun, comes back to him--and other things too! He loses himself a
+little. Once again he is back on that balcony; the lights are low,
+the stars are over his head. Marian is whispering to him, and all at
+once she grows silent. He remembers it; she takes a step forward. He
+remembers that too--a step as though she would have checked
+something, and then thought better of it.
+
+Is this girl speaking the truth? _Had_ Marian seen and then made her
+bet, and then deliberately drawn him step by step to that accursed
+arbour? And all so quietly--so secretly--without a thought of pity,
+of remorse!
+
+No, it is not true! This girl is false---- And yet--that quick step
+Marian had taken; it had somehow, in some queer way, planted itself
+upon his memory.
+
+Had she seen Tita go by with Hescott? She had called it a fair bet!
+Was it fair? Was there any truth anywhere? If she had seen them--if
+she had deliberately led him to spy upon them----
+
+A very rage of anger swells up within his heart, and with it a first
+doubt--a first suspicion of the honour of her on whom he had set his
+soul! Perhaps the ground was ready for the sowing.
+
+"Saw her? Yes, indeed," says Minnie, still with the air of childish
+candour. "It was _because_ I saw her that I was so frightened about
+Tita. Do you know, Sir Maurice,"--most ingenuously this--"I don't
+think Mrs. Bethune likes Tita."
+
+"Why should you suppose such a thing?" says Rylton. His face is dark
+and lowering. "Tita seems to me to be a person impossible to
+dislike."
+
+"Ah, that is what I think," says Minnie. "And it made me the more
+surprised that Mrs. Bethune should look at her so unkindly. Well,"
+smiling very naturally and pleasantly, "I suppose there is nothing
+in it. It was only my love for Tita that made me come and tell you
+what was troubling me."
+
+"Why not tell Tita?"
+
+"Ah, Tita is a little angel," says Minnie Hescott. "I might as well
+speak to the winds as to her. I tried to tell her, you know,
+and----"
+
+"And----"
+
+He looked up eagerly.
+
+"And she wouldn't listen. I tell you she is an angel," says Minnie,
+laughing. She stops. "I suppose it is all nonsense--all my own
+folly; but I am so fond of Tita, that I felt terrified when I saw
+Mrs. Bethune look so unkindly at her on the balcony."
+
+"You are sure you were not dreaming?" says Rylton, making an effort,
+and growing careless once again in his manner.
+
+Minnie Hescott smiles too.
+
+"I never dream," says she.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+HOW MISS GOWER GOES FOR A PLEASANT ROW UPON THE LAKE WITH HER
+NEPHEW; AND HOW SHE ADMIRES THE SKY AND THE WATER; AND HOW PRESENTLY
+FEAR FALLS ON HER; AND HOW DEATH THREATENS HER; AND HOW BY A MERE
+SCRATCH OF A PEN SHE REGAINS SHORE AND LIFE.
+
+
+
+"How delicious the water looks to-day!" says Miss Gower, gazing at
+the still lake beneath her with a sentimental eye. The eye is under
+one of the biggest sun-hats in Christendom. "And the sky," continues
+Miss Gower, now casting the eye aloft, "is admirably arranged too.
+What a day for a row, and so late in the season, too!"
+
+"'Late, late, so late!'" quotes her nephew, in a gloomy tone.
+
+"Nonsense!" sharply; "it is not so very late, after all. And even if
+it were there would be no necessity for being so lugubrious over it.
+And permit me to add, Randal, that when you take a lady out for a
+row, it is in the very worst possible taste to be in low spirits."
+
+"I can't help it," says Mr. Gower, with a groan.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" demands his aunt.
+
+"Ah, no matter--no matter!"
+
+"In debt, as usual, I suppose?" grimly.
+
+"Deeply!" with increasing gloom.
+
+"And you expect me to help you, I suppose?"
+
+"No. I expect nothing. I hope only for one thing," says Mr. Gower,
+fixing a haggard gaze upon her face.
+
+"If it's a cheque from me," says his aunt sternly, "you will hope a
+long time."
+
+"I don't think so," sadly.
+
+"What do you mean, sir? Do you think I am a weathercock, to change
+with every wind? You have had your last cheque from me, Randal. Be
+sure of that. I shall no longer pander to your wicked ways, your
+terrible extravagances."
+
+"I didn't mean that. I wished only to convey to you the thought that
+soon there would be no room for hope left to me."
+
+"Well, there isn't _now!" _says Miss Gower cheerfully, "if you are
+alluding to me. Row on, Randal; there isn't anything like as good a
+view from this spot as there is from the lower end!"
+
+"I like the middle of the lake," says Mr. Gower, in a sepulchral
+tone. As he speaks he draws in both oars, and leaning his arms upon
+them, looks straight across into her face. It is now neck or
+nothing, he tells himself, and decides at once it shall be neck.
+"Aunt," says he, in a low, soft, sad tone--a tone that reduces
+itself into a freezing whisper, _"Are you prepared to die?"_
+
+"What!" says Miss Gower. She drops the ropes she has been holding
+and glares at him. "Collect yourself, boy!"
+
+"I entreat you not to waste time over trivialities! I entreat you to
+answer me, and quickly."
+
+Mr. Gower's voice is now apparently coming from his boots.
+
+"Good gracious, Randal, what do you mean?" cries the spinster,
+turning very yellow. "Prepared to _die!_ Why ask me such a
+question?"
+
+"Because, dear aunt, your time has come!"
+
+"Randal!" says Miss Gower, trying to rise, "pull me ashore. Do you
+hear me, sir? Pull me ashore at once. Cease your levity."
+
+"Sit down," says her nephew sadly. "Pray sit down. It comes easier
+sitting than any other way, I have been told."
+
+"What comes?" Miss Gower casts a wild glance round her. They are far
+from the shore, and, indeed, even if they had been nearer to it, no
+help could reach her, as there is not a soul to be seen, and from
+where they now are not a glimpse of the house is to be had. "Randal,
+would you murder me?" cries she.
+
+"Oh, dear aunt, what a question!" says Mr. Gower with deep reproach.
+"No, far from that. Learn that I, too, am resolved to die!"
+
+"Oh, heavens!" cries Miss Gower, clinging to the sides of the boat.
+"What brought me out to-day? And to think insanity should break out,
+in our family here, for the first time! Unhappy youth, bethink
+yourself! Would you have my death upon your soul?"
+
+Here all at once it occurs to her that she has read somewhere of the
+power of the human eye. _She_ has an eye, and it is human; she will
+use it! She leans forward and half closes her lids (presumably to
+concentrate the rays within), and casts upon Gower a glance that she
+herself would have designated "fell." The effect is, perhaps, a
+little destroyed by the fact that her big hat has fallen over her
+left ear, and that she has put on a diabolic grin--meant to be
+impressive--that gives all the gold with which the dentist has
+supplied her, to public view. Quite a little fortune in itself! She
+speaks.
+
+"How _dare_ you!" says she, in a voice meant to be thunder, but
+which trembles like a jelly. "Take me back at once to the house!
+What _madness_ is this!"
+
+She is frightened when she utters the word "madness." But the
+present madman does not seem to care about it.
+
+"Not madness, aunt," says he, still with unutterable sadness in look
+and tone, "but sober, terrible _truth!_ Life has ceased to have
+charms for me. I have therefore resolved to put an end to it!"
+
+"But what of me, Randal!" cries the spinster in an agonized tone.
+
+"I cannot bear to die alone, dear aunt. To leave you to mourn my
+memory! Such misery I am resolved to spare you. We--_die together!"_
+
+"Randal--Randal, I say, you are out of your mind."
+
+She has forgotten the power of the eye--everything.
+
+"You are right, dear aunt, I _am_ out of my mind," says Mr. Gower,
+with the utmost gentleness. "I am out of my mind with misery! I
+have, therefore, bored a hole in the bottom of this boat, through
+which I"--sweetly--"am glad to see the water is swiftly coming."
+
+He points gently to where he has removed the plug, and where the
+water is certainly coming into the boat.
+
+"It is rising, I think," says he softly and very pleasantly.
+
+Miss Gower gives a wild scream.
+
+"Help! help!" yells she. She waves her hands and arms towards the
+shore, but there is no one there to succour her. "Oh, Randal, the
+water is coming in--it's wetting my boots. It's getting on to my
+petticoats! Oh, my goodness! What shall I do?"
+
+Here she picks up most of her garments; nay, all of them, indeed,
+and steps on to a loose bit of wood lying in the boat.
+
+"Don't look! don't look!" screams she. There is a flicker of
+something scarlet--a second flicker of something that might be
+described as white tuckers of white embroidery.
+
+"Look!" says Mr. Gower reproachfully. "What do you take me for? I'd
+die first. Ah!"--turning modestly aside--"how I have always been
+maligned!" He sighs. "I'm going to die now," says he. "Go on, aunt,"
+in a melancholy tone. "There is little time to lose. Perfect your
+arrangements. The water is rising. I admire you. I do, indeed. There
+is a certain dignity in dying nicely, and without a sound."
+
+"I _won't_ die!" cries Miss Gower wildly. "I _won't_ be dignified.
+Ho! there! Help! help!"
+
+She is appealing to the shores on either side, but no help is
+forthcoming. She turns at last a pale glance on Randal.
+
+"Randal!" cries she, "you say _you_ are tired of life. But--I--I'm
+not!"
+
+"This is folly," says Mr. Gower. "It is born of an hour, filled with
+a sudden fear. In a few moments you will be yourself again, and will
+know that you are glad of a chance of escaping from this hateful
+world that you have been for so many years reviling. Just think!
+Only yesterday I heard you abusing it, and now in a very few moments
+you will sink through the quiet waters to a rest this world has
+never known."
+
+"You are wrong. It is _not_ folly," says Miss Gower wildly. "I don't
+want to die. You do, you say. Die, then! But why sacrifice me? Oh,
+goodness gracious, Randal, the boat is sinking! I _feel_ it. I know
+it is going down."
+
+"So do I," says Gower, with an unearthly smile. "Pray, aunt, pray!"
+
+"I shan't!" cries Miss Gower. "Oh, you wretched boy! Oh, Randal,
+what's the matter with the boat?"
+
+"It's settling," says Mr. Gower tragically. "There is time for a
+last prayer, dear aunt."
+
+Miss Gower gives a wild shriek.
+
+"Forgive me, my beloved aunt," says Mr. Gower, with deep feeling. He
+is standing up now, and is doing something in the bottom of the
+boat. "Honour alone has driven me to this deed."
+
+"Honour! Randal! Then it isn't madness. Oh, my dear boy, what is it?
+Oh," shrieking again to the irresponsive shore, "will no one save
+us?"
+
+"You can!" says Mr. Gower. "At least you _could_. I fear now it is
+too late. I gave you a hint about that before, but you scorned my
+quotation. Therefore, thy death be on thy own head!"
+
+"Oh, it can't be too late yet. You can swim, my dear good Randal. My
+_dearest_ boy! I can help, you say. But how, Randal, is it--_can_ it
+be that the debt you spoke of a while ago has driven you to this?"
+
+"Ay, even to this!" says Mr. Gower in a frenzied tone.
+
+"How much is it, dearest? Not _very_ much, eh? Your poor old aunt,
+you know, is far from rich." As a fact, she hardly knows what to do
+with her money. "Oh, speak, my dear boy, speak!"
+
+"It is only seven hundred pounds," says Mr. Gower in a voice full of
+depression. "But rather than ask you to pay it, aunt I would----" He
+bends downwards.
+
+"Oh, _don't!"_ screams Miss Gower. "For Heaven's sake don't make any
+more holes!"
+
+"Why not?" says Randal. "We all can die but once!"
+
+"But we can live for a long time yet."
+
+"I _can't,"_ says he. "Honour calls me. Naught is left me but to
+die."
+
+Here he stands up and begins to beat frantically upon the bottom of
+the boat, as if to make a fresh hole.
+
+"Oh, darling boy, don't! Seven hundred pounds, is it? If that can
+save us, you shall have it, Randal, you shall indeed!"
+
+"Is that the truth?" says Gower. He seats himself suddenly upon the
+seat opposite to her, and with a countenance not one whit the less
+draped in gloom, pulls from his pocket a cheque-book, a pen, and a
+tiny little ink case.
+
+"I hardly know if there is yet time," says he, "but if you will sign
+this, I shall do my best to get back to a life that is apparently
+dear to you, though not"--mournfully--"to me."
+
+Miss Gower takes the pen, plunges it into the ink, and writes her
+name. It is not until to-morrow that she remembers that the cheque
+was drawn out in every way, except for her signature.
+
+"Ah, we may yet reach the shore alive!" says Mr. Gower, in a
+depressing tone, putting in the plug.
+
+When they reach it, he gives his arm to his aunt, and, in the
+tenderest fashion, helps her along the short pathway that leads to
+the house.
+
+In the hall quite a large number of people are assembled, and
+everyone runs toward them.
+
+"Why, we thought you were lost," says Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Yes, so we were very nearly," says Mr. Gower, shaking his head and
+advancing into the hall with the languid airs of one who has just
+undergone a strange experience.
+
+"But how--how?" They all crowd round him now.
+
+"Poor aunt and I were nearly drowned," says Mr. Gower pathetically.
+He takes a step forward, and the water drips from his trousers. He
+looks back at Miss Gower. "Weren't we?" says he.
+
+"But you are dripping!" cries Tita, "whilst Miss Gower seems quite
+dry. Dear Miss Gower," turning anxiously to that spinster, "I hope
+you are not wet."
+
+"Ah! she was so nice, so _nice,"_ says Randal sweetly, "that she
+wouldn't let me do much for her. But if you will just look under her
+petticoats I am afraid you will----"
+
+"Randal!" cries Miss Gower indignantly.
+
+After this the spinster is hurried upstairs by many willing hands
+and is put to bed. Tita, on her way down from seeing her made
+comfortable, meets Randal redressed and dry and comfortable in the
+library.
+
+"What does all this mean?" says she. "When you spoke this morning of
+taking Miss Gower out on the lake I--I did not suspect you of
+anything--but now----"
+
+"Well, now, you shall hear the truth," says Gower. Whereupon he
+gives her a graphic account of the scene on the lake.
+
+"I knew she'd take _that_ fence," says he. "And I was right; there
+wasn't even a jib."
+
+"I wonder you aren't ashamed of yourself," says Tita indignantly.
+
+"Don't wonder any more. I _am_ ashamed of myself. I'm so ashamed
+that I'm going at once to pay my debts."
+
+"Oh, I like that!"
+
+"Well, I am. I shall give my landlady five pounds out of her
+account."
+
+"And the account?"
+
+"I really think it must be about seventy or eighty by this time,"
+says Mr. Gower thoughtfully. "However, it doesn't matter about that.
+She'll be awfully pleased to get the five pounds. One likes five
+pounds, you know, when one has lost all hope of ever getting it."
+
+"Oh, go away!" says Tita. "You are a _horrid_ boy!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+HOW ALL THE HOUSE PARTY AT OAKDEAN GROW FRIVOLOUS IN THE ABSENCE OF
+THE LORD AND MASTER; AND HOW MRS. BETHUNE ENCOURAGES A GAME OF
+HIDE-AND-SEEK; AND HOW, AFTER MANY ESCAPES, TITA IS CAUGHT AT LAST.
+
+
+
+"She has gone to bed," says Tita, reappearing in the drawing-room
+just as the clock strikes nine on the following evening.
+
+"Thank goodness!" says Mrs. Chichester, _sotto voce_, at which
+Captain Marryatt laughs.
+
+"She is not very ill, I hope?" says Margaret.
+
+"Oh no! A mere headache."
+
+"Bile!" suggests Mr. Gower prettily.
+
+Tita looks angrily at him.
+
+"What a hideous word that is!" says Mrs. Bethune, with a sneer. "It
+ought to be expunged from every decent dictionary. Fortunately,"
+with a rather insolent glance at Randal, who is so openly a friend
+of Tita's, "very few people use it--in civilized society."
+
+"And I'm one of them," says the young man, with deep
+self-gratulation. "I like to be in a minority--so choice, you know;
+so distinguished! But what, really," turning to Tita, "is the matter
+with poor, dear old auntie?"
+
+"A chill, I should think," returns Tita severely. Has he forgotten
+all about yesterday's escapade? "She seemed to me very wet when she
+got home last evening."
+
+"She was soaking," says Mr. Gower. "She didn't show it much, because
+when the water was rising in that wretched old boat--really, you
+know, Maurice ought to put respectable boats on his lake--she pulled
+up her----"
+
+"Randal!"
+
+"Well, she did!" says Randal, unabashed. "Don't glare at _me!_ I
+didn't pull up anything! I'd nothing to pull up, but she----" Here
+Mr. Gower gives way to wild mirth. "Oh, if you'd _seen_ her!" says
+he--"such spindleshanks!"
+
+At this Marryatt gets behind him, draws a silken chair-back over his
+face, thus mercifully putting an end to his spoken recollections.
+
+"If I were you, Tita, I should order Randal off to bed," says
+Margaret, who, I regret to say, is laughing. "He has been up quite
+long enough for a child of his years."
+
+"Well--but, really, what is the matter with Miss Gower?" asks
+somebody.
+
+"Temper," puts in Mrs. Bethune, with a shrug.
+
+She is leaning back in an easy-chair, feeling and looking distinctly
+vexed. Maurice is away. This morning he had started for town to meet
+his mother, and bring her back with him for a short stay at Oakdean.
+He had gone away directly after breakfast, telling them all he would
+be home by the evening if possible; but he feared the journey would
+be too long for his mother, and that probably she would spend the
+night in town. In the meantime, if anything in the shape of a murder
+or an elopement should occur, they might telegraph to Claridge's. He
+had then turned and smiled at Tita.
+
+"I leave them all in your care," he had said.
+
+Was there meaning in his smile--was it a little entreaty to her to
+be "good" during his absence?
+
+"Well, she's in bed, any way," says Tita; "and the question is, what
+shall we do now?"
+
+"Dance!" says someone.
+
+But they have been dancing every evening, and there seems nothing
+very special about that.
+
+"I tell you what," says Tita; "let us have hide-and-seek!"
+
+"Oh, how lovely!" cries Mrs. Chichester, springing to her feet.
+"What a heavenly suggestion!"
+
+"Yes; two to hunt, and all the rest to hide in couples," says Tom
+Hescott.
+
+It has occurred to him that he would like to hunt with Tita, or else
+to hide with her; and it might be managed. Margaret, who happens to
+be looking at him, makes a slight movement forward.
+
+"Perhaps we should disturb Miss Gower!" says she anxiously.
+
+"Oh no!" says Mrs. Bethune quickly. "Her room is in the north wing.
+If we confine our game to this part of the house, she can never hear
+us."
+
+"Still, it seems such a silly thing to do!" says Margaret nervously.
+
+She distrusts Marian where Tita is concerned. Why should she
+advocate the game--she who is the embodiment of languor itself, to
+whom any sort of running about would mean discomfort?
+
+"Dear Margaret," says Mrs. Bethune, in a low voice, but a distinct
+one--one quite loud enough for Colonel Neilson to hear, who is
+standing near Miss Knollys--"don't give way to it; don't let it
+conquer you--_too_ soon!"
+
+"It?--what?" asks Margaret unconsciously.
+
+"Middle age!" sweetly, and softly always, but with a rapid glance at
+Neilson. She leans back and smiles, enjoying the quiet blush that,
+in spite of her, rises to Margaret's cheek. "I feel it coming," says
+she. "Even _I_ feel it. But why encourage it? Why not let these
+children have their game, without a check from us who are _so_ much
+older?"
+
+"That is not the question," says Margaret coldly, who has now
+recovered herself. "My thought was that perhaps Maurice might not
+approve of this most harmless, if perhaps----"
+
+"Frivolous performance. Of course, if you are going to manage
+Maurice and Maurice's wife," with a strange laugh, "there is no more
+to be said. But I wish you joy of the last task. And as for
+Maurice," with a curl of her lips, _"he_ is not a prig."
+
+"Well, neither am I, I hope," says Margaret, with perfect temper.
+
+She turns away, Colonel Neilson, who is furious with Mrs. Bethune,
+following her. As for the latter, she looks after Margaret until she
+is out of sight, and for once, perhaps, is sorry for her rudeness.
+She likes Margaret, but she is out of heart to-night and irritable.
+The absence of Rylton, the coming of her aunt, all tend to disturb
+her. And Rylton had gone without a word, a look even!--he who always
+dwelt upon her words, had studied her looks; he had not given her
+one farewell sign. She had waited to see if he would give one to
+Tita; but he had not--at least, nothing in particular--nor had Tita
+run out to the hall to see him off. She had blown him a little kiss
+from behind the urn, which he had accepted calmly, and that was all!
+
+"Come on," says Randal excitedly; "Miss Hescott and I will hunt the
+lot of you! But look here, you must all keep to the parts of the
+house agreed on. I am not going to have my beloved aunt descending
+upon me in a nightcap and a wrapper!"
+
+"Well, you must give us three minutes," says Tita, "and you mustn't
+stir until you hear someone cry, 'Coo-ee!' You understand now,
+Minnie."
+
+"I know! I'll keep him in hand," says Miss Hescott.
+
+"And he mustn't peep," says Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"Good gracious! what a mean thought!" says Mr. Gower, who is already
+laying plans in his own mind as to how he is to discomfit the
+hiders, and win laurels for himself as a searcher.
+
+"Well, off we go!" cries Mrs. Chichester, flying out of the room,
+Captain Marryatt after her.
+
+Hide-and-seek as a game leaves little to be desired. Even Margaret,
+who had said so much against it, enters into the spirit of it
+presently, and knows the throes of anguish when the hunter draws
+nigh her hiding-place, and the glow of joy when she has safely
+eluded him and flown to the den, without a clutch upon so much as
+the end of her garments. Indeed, all have given themselves up to the
+hour and its excitement, except only Marian Bethune, who, whilst
+entering into the game with apparently all the zest of the others,
+is ever listening--listening---- He had said he _might_ come home
+to-night. And it is now close on eleven! In ten minutes, if at all,
+he will be here. If only she could so manage as to----
+
+They are all now standing once more, laughing, talking, in the small
+drawing-room, preparatory to another start.
+
+"Who'll hunt now?" asks Colonel Neilson, who has been far and away
+the best pursuer up to this.
+
+"Why not Tita and Mr. Hescott?" says Marian suddenly, vivaciously.
+She seems to have lost all her indolence. "They have not been
+hunting once to-night."
+
+"Yes; that is true," says Captain Marryatt.
+
+"I hate hunting and I like hiding," says Tita. "Colonel Neilson, you
+and Margaret can be our pursuers this time. Come, Tom! come, all of
+you!"
+
+Mrs. Bethune for a moment frowns, and then a quick light comes back
+to her eyes. Even _better_ so--if Maurice should arrive. She had
+planned that they--those two, Tita and her cousin--should be
+together on his arrival, should he come; and now, now they will be
+_hiding_ together in all probability! Oh for Maurice to come
+now--now!
+
+She has evaded her own partner in the game, and, slipping away
+unobserved, is standing in one of the windows of the deserted
+library--a window that opens on the avenue--listening for the sound
+of horses' hoofs. In five minutes Maurice will be here, if he comes
+at all to-night, and as yet they have scarcely started on their game
+of hide-and-seek. She had heard Tita whisper to Mr. Hescott
+something about the picture-gallery--she had caught the word--a
+delightful place in semi-darkness, and with huge screens here and
+there. Oh, if only Tita could be found hiding behind one with Mr.
+Hescott!
+
+She presses her hot cheek against the pane of the open window, and
+as she does so she starts. She leans out into the night, and
+yes--yes, beyond doubt, here is the carriage!
+
+It is rounding the bushes at the corner, and is already in sight.
+She springs lightly into the hall--now deserted, as all the house
+party have gone up the stairs to the happy hunting grounds above.
+All, that is, except Margaret and Colonel Neilson, who are waiting
+for the "Coo-ee."
+
+Mrs. Bethune had forgotten them, and running lightly through the
+hall, she opens the door, and steps into the moonlight just as Sir
+Maurice comes up the steps.
+
+"You!" says he, surprised.
+
+"Yes. I heard you coming." There is a sort of wild delight in her
+voice. She would have liked to have flung herself into his arms, but
+the men outside are busy with his portmanteau and other things; and
+then--his mother----
+
+"Your mother?" asks she, peering into the darkness.
+
+"She has not come. I had a telegram from her at Claridge's. She
+can't come till next week, so I came back." He pauses, and then,
+abruptly, "Where is Tita?"
+
+"Tita?" Mrs. Bethune shrugs her shoulders, and a little low laugh
+escapes her. "She is playing hide-and-seek," says she, "with--her
+cousin."
+
+"What are you saying?" exclaims Rylton, her manner far more than her
+words striking cold to his heart. "Do you mean to insinuate----"
+
+"Why, nothing. I insinuate nothing; we have all been playing----"
+
+"All?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You and----"
+
+"And everyone else."
+
+"Was there nothing better, then, for you all to do?"
+
+"Many things," coldly. "But your wife started the game. She had
+doubtless her reasons----"
+
+"Is that another insinuation? But at all events you cannot condemn
+the game, as you joined in it."
+
+"I could not avoid joining in it. Was _I_ to be the one to censure
+my hostess?"
+
+"Certainly not," sternly. "No one is censuring her. And besides, as
+you all----" Then, as though the words are torn from him, "Where is
+she now?"
+
+"In the picture-gallery, behind one of your favourite screens, with
+Mr. Hescott."
+
+"A graphic description," says he. He almost thrusts her aside, and
+steps quickly into the hall. Mrs. Bethune, leaning against the wall
+behind her, breaks into silent, terrible laughter.
+
+At the foot of the stairs Margaret comes quickly to him. His face
+frightens her.
+
+"Where are you going, Maurice?"
+
+"Upstairs," returns he quite calmly.
+
+"You are going to be angry with Tita," says Margaret suddenly. "I
+know it! And nothing is true. _Nothing!_ What has Marian been saying
+to you? She"--with the very strangest little burst of passion, from
+Margaret, the quiet Margaret!--"she has been telling you lies!"
+
+"My dear Margaret!"
+
+"Oh, Maurice, do be led by me!--by _anyone_ but her!" says Miss
+Knollys, holding him, as he would have gone on. "Why can't you see?
+Are you blind?"
+
+"I really think I must be," returns he with a peculiar smile. "It is
+only just now I am beginning to open my eyes. My dear, good
+Margaret!" He lifts her hand from his sleeve and pats it softly.
+"You are too good for this world. It is you who are blind, really.
+It will take longer to open your eyes than even mine." He runs
+lightly past her up the stairs.
+
+Margaret gives a little cry of despair. Colonel Neilson, catching
+her hand, draws her into a room on the left. The expected "Coo-ee"
+has been called twice already, but neither Margaret nor Neilson have
+heard it.
+
+"Marian has done this," says Margaret, in great distress. He has her
+hand still in his, and now, half unconsciously, she tightens her
+fingers over his.
+
+"That woman is a perfect devil!" says the Colonel savagely. "She is
+playing Old Harry with the _régime_ here."
+
+"I can't think what she means to be the end of it," says Margaret.
+"She can't marry him herself, and----"
+
+"She might, you know, if--if--she could manage to prove certain
+things."
+
+"Oh _no!_ I won't believe she is as bad as that," says Margaret with
+horror. "She has her good points. She has, really, though you will
+never believe me."
+
+"Never!" says the Colonel stoutly. "The way she behaved to you this
+evening----"
+
+"To me?" Margaret flushes quickly. The flush makes her charming. She
+knows quite well to what he is alluding, and she likes him for being
+indignant with Marian because of it--and yet, if only he _hadn't_
+alluded to it! It isn't nice to be called middle-aged--though when
+one is only thirty, one ought to be able to laugh at it--but when
+one is thirty and unmarried, somehow one never laughs at it.
+
+"To you. Do you think I should have cared much if she had been
+beastly to anyone else? I tell you, Margaret, I could hardly
+restrain myself! I had only one great desire at the moment--that she
+had been a man."
+
+"Ah! But if she had been a man, she wouldn't have said it," says
+Margaret. There is a little moisture in her eyes.
+
+"No, by Jove! of course not. I'll do my own sex that credit."
+
+"And after all," says Margaret, "why be so angry with her? There was
+nothing but truth in what she said."
+
+There is something almost pathetic in the way she says this; she
+does not know it, perhaps, but she is plainly longing for a denial
+to her own statement.
+
+"I really think you ought to be above this sort of thing," says the
+Colonel, with such indignation that she is at once comforted; all
+the effusive words of flattery he could have used could not have
+been half so satisfactory as this rather rude speech.
+
+"Well, never mind me," says she; "let us think of my dear little
+girl. My poor Tita! I fear--I fear----" She falters, and breaks
+down. "I am powerless. I can do nothing to help her; you saw how I
+failed with him just now. Oh, what shall I do?"
+
+She covers her face with her hands, and tears fall through her
+fingers.
+
+Neilson, as if distracted by this sad sight, lays his arm gently
+round her shoulder, and draws her to him.
+
+"Margaret, my darling girl, don't cry about it, whatever you do,"
+entreats he frantically. "Margaret, don't break my heart!"
+
+Miss Knollys' tears cease as suddenly as though an electric battery
+has been directed at her.
+
+"Nonsense! Don't be foolish! And at _my_ age too!" says she
+indignantly.
+
+She pushes him from her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+HOW TITA IS "CAUGHT," BUT BY ONE WHOM SHE DID NOT EXPECT; AND HOW
+SHE PLAYED WITH FIRE FOR A LITTLE BIT; AND HOW FINALLY SHE RAN AWAY.
+
+
+
+Rylton, striding upstairs, makes straight for the picture-gallery.
+It strikes him as he passes along the corridor that leads to it that
+a most unearthly silence reigns elsewhere, and yet a sort of silence
+that with difficulty holds back the sound behind it. A strange
+feeling that every dark corner contains some hidden thing that could
+at a second's notice spring out upon him oppresses him, and, indeed,
+such a feeling is not altogether without justification. Many eyes
+look out at him at these corners as he goes by, and once the deadly
+silence is broken by a titter, evidently forcibly suppressed! Rylton
+takes no notice, however. His wrath is still so warm that he thinks
+of nothing but the picture-gallery, and that screen at the end of
+it--where _she,_ his wife, is----
+
+Now, there is a screen just inside the entrance to this gallery, and
+behind it are Minnie Hescott and Mr. Gower. Randal's eyes are sharp,
+but Minnie's even sharper. They both note, not only Maurice's abrupt
+entrance, but the expression on his face.
+
+"Do something--quickly," says Minnie, giving Randal a little
+energetic push that all but overturns the screen.
+
+"Anything! To half my kingdom; but what?" demands Mr. Gower, in a
+whisper very low, as befits the occasion.
+
+"Tita is down there with Tom," says Miss Hescott, pointing to the
+far end of the long, dimly-lit gallery. "Do you want to see _murder_
+done?"
+
+"Not much," says Gower. "But--how am I to prevent it?"
+
+"Don't you know what you must do?" says she energetically. "Those
+idiots downstairs have forsaken us. Run up the room as quick as you
+can--past Sir Maurice--and pretend you are the one who is hunting.
+_I'll_ go for Tom. If we make a regular bustle, Sir Maurice won't
+think so much about our little game as he does now. Did you see his
+face?"
+
+"I saw fireworks," says Mr. Gower. Then, "I'm off," says he.
+
+He slips out from behind the screen, and galloping up the room comes
+to the screen very nearly as soon as Rylton. Not soon enough,
+however. Rylton has turned the corner of it, and found Tita with Tom
+Hescott crouching behind it, whispering together, and evidently
+enjoying themselves immensely.
+
+As she sees him, Tita gives a little cry. She had plainly taken him
+for one of the hunters, and had hoped he would pass by.
+
+"Oh, you!" cries she. "You! Go away. Go _at once!_ They'll find us
+if----"
+
+She waves him frantically from her. He is too angry to see that
+there is not a vestige of embarrassment in her air.
+
+Here Gower comes up panting.
+
+"Caught!" cries he, making a pounce of Tita.
+
+"Not a bit of it!" says she, springing away from him to the other
+side of the screen. "And _you,_ Randal, you are not hunting. Where's
+Colonel Neilson? Where's Margaret?"
+
+"They changed," says Mr. Gower mendaciously. "Miss Hescott and I are
+upon the track; we are the bloodhounds--we," making another grab at
+her soft gown, "have _got_ you!"
+
+"No, you haven't," says Tita, whereupon there ensues a very animated
+chase round and round the screen, Tita at last finding shelter--of
+_all_ places--behind her husband--behind Maurice, whose face it is
+quite as well she cannot see.
+
+He makes a movement as if to go, but she catches him, and unless he
+were to use violence he could hardly get away.
+
+"There now!" says she, addressing Rylton indignantly. "See how
+you've given us away. You've told him where we were. Don't stir. You
+mustn't. If you do he'll catch me."
+
+She laughs defiantly at Gower as she says this. Gower could have
+laughed too. There could, indeed, be hardly anything stranger than
+the scene as it stands--comedy and tragedy combined. The husband
+cold, impassive, stern, and over his shoulder the charming face of
+his little wife peeping--all mirth and fun and gaiety.
+
+"You _must_ stay," says she, giving Sir Maurice a little shake.
+"Why, you've betrayed our hiding-place. You've shown him where we
+were. It isn't fair, Randal--it isn't indeed----"
+
+"You are caught, any way," says Gower, who would willingly bring the
+scene to a close.
+
+_He_ can see Maurice's face, she cannot. As for Tom Hescott, his
+sister has chased him out of the gallery long before this, with a
+promptitude that does her credit.
+
+"Caught! Not I," says Tita. "Caught, indeed!"
+
+"Certainly you're caught," says Gower, making frantic little dabs at
+her; but she dances away from him, letting her husband go, and
+rushing once more behind the unfriendly screen that has done her so
+bad a turn.
+
+"Certainly I'm _not,"_ retorts she, nodding her saucy head at him.
+Slowly and artfully, as she speaks, she moves towards the farther
+end of the screen, always keeping an eye on her adversary over the
+top of it until she comes to the far end, when, darting like a
+little swallow round the corner, she flies down the long, dark
+gallery. Once only she turns. _"Now_ am I caught?" cries she,
+laughing defiance at Gower.
+
+"Call _that_ fair, if you like!" says he, in high disgust.
+
+But she is gone.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+The house is quiet again. Gower and Marryatt are still lingering in
+the smoking-room, but for the rest, they have bidden each other
+"Good-night" and gone to their rooms.
+
+Tita is sitting before her glass having her hair brushed, when a
+somewhat loud knock comes to her door. The maid opens it, and Sir
+Maurice walks in.
+
+"You can go," says he to Sarah, who courtesies and withdraws.
+
+"Oh! it is you," says Tita, springing up.
+
+Her hair has just been brushed for the night, and round her forehead
+some cloudy ringlets are lying. She had thrown on her
+dressing-gown--a charming creation of white cashmere, almost covered
+with lace--without a thought of fastening it, and her young and
+lovely neck shows through the opening of the laces whiter than its
+surroundings. Her petticoat--all white lace, too, and caught here
+and there with tiny knots of pale pink ribbons--is naturally shorter
+than her gown would be, and shows the dainty little feet beneath
+them.
+
+    "When youth and beauty meet together,
+    There's worke for breath."
+
+And surely here are youth and beauty met together! Rylton, seeing
+the sweet combination, draws a long breath.
+
+She advances towards him in the friendliest way, as if delighted.
+
+"I haven't had a word with you," says she. "Hardly one. You just
+told me your mother had not come, and"--she stops, and breaks into a
+gay little laugh--"you must forgive me, but what I said to myself
+was, _'Thank goodness!' "_ She covers her eyes with widened fingers,
+and peeps at him through them. "What I said to you out loud was,
+'Oh, I _am_ sorry!' Do you remember? Now, am I not a hypocrite?"
+
+At this she takes down her hands from her eyes, and holds them out
+to him in the prettiest way.
+
+He pushes them savagely from him.
+
+"You are!" says he hoarsely; "and one of the very worst of your
+kind!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+HOW TITA, HAVING BEEN REPULSED, GROWS ANGRY; AND HOW A VERY PRETTY
+BATTLE IS FOUGHT OUT; AND HOW TITA GAINS A PRESENT; AND HOW SIR
+MAURICE LOSES HIS TEMPER.
+
+
+
+Her hands drop to her sides. She grows suddenly a little pale. Her
+eyes widen.
+
+"What is it? What have I done _now?"_ asks she.
+
+The "now" has something pathetic in it.
+
+"Done! done!" He is trying to keep down the fury that is possessing
+him. He had come to speak to her with a fixed determination in his
+heart not to lose his temper, not to let her have that advantage
+over him. He would be calm, judicial, but now---- What is the matter
+with him now? Seeing her there, so lovely and so sweet, so full of
+all graciousness--a very flower of beauty--a little thing--
+
+    "Light as the foam that flecks the seas,
+    Fitful as summer's sunset breeze"--
+
+somehow a very _rage_ of anger conquers him, and he feels as if he
+would like to take her and _compel_ her to his will. "You have done
+one thing, at all events," says he. "You have forfeited my trust in
+you for ever."
+
+"_I_ have?"
+
+"Yes, you! When I left home this morning, what was the last word I
+said to you? I must have been a fool indeed when I said it. I told
+you I left our house and our guests in your charge."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well?" He checks himself forcibly. Even now, when passion is
+gathering, he holds himself back. "When I came back what did I see?"
+
+"Our house--_not_ in flames, I hope; and our guests--enjoying
+themselves!" Tita has lifted her head. She allows herself a little
+smile. Then she turns upon him. "Ah, I told you!" says she. "You
+want always to find fault with me."
+
+"I want nothing but that my wife should show _some_ sort of
+dignity."
+
+"I see! You should have asked Mrs. Bethune to see after your
+house--your guests!" says Tita.
+
+She says it very lightly. Her small face has a faint smile upon it.
+She moves to a large lounging chair, and flings herself into it with
+charming _abandon_, crosses her lovely naked arms behind her head,
+and looks up at him with naughty defiance.
+
+"Perhaps you hardly know, Tita, what you are saying," says Rylton
+slowly.
+
+"Yes, I do. I do indeed. What I do _not_ know is, what fault you
+have to find with me."
+
+"Then learn it at once." His tone is stern. "I object to your
+playing hide-and-seek with your cousin."
+
+"With my cousin! One would think," says Tita, getting up from her
+chair and staring at him as if astonished, "that Tom and I had been
+playing it by _ourselves!"_
+
+"It seemed to me very much like that," says Rylton, his eyes white
+and cold.
+
+"I know what you mean," says Tita. "And," with open contempt, "I'm
+sorry for you--you think Tom is in love with me! And you therefore
+refuse to let me have a single word with him at any time. And why?
+What does it matter to you, when _you_ don't care? When _you_ are
+not in love with me!" Rylton makes a slight movement. "It's a
+regular dog in the manger business; _you_ don't like me, and
+therefore nobody else must like me. That's what it comes to! And,"
+with a little blaze of wrath, "it is all so absurd, too! If I can't
+speak to my own cousin, I can't speak to anyone."
+
+"I don't object to your speaking to your cousin," says Rylton; "you
+can speak to him as much as ever you like. What I object to is your
+making yourself particular with him--your spending whole _hours_
+with him."
+
+"Hours! We weren't five seconds behind that screen."
+
+"I am not thinking of the screen now; I am thinking of yesterday
+morning, when you went out riding with him."
+
+"What! you have not forgotten that yet?" exclaims she, with high
+scorn. "Why, I thought you had forgiven, and put all that behind
+you."
+
+"I have not forgotten it. I might have considered it wiser to say
+nothing more about it, had not your conduct of this evening----"
+
+"Nonsense!" She interrupts him with a saucy little shrug of her
+shoulders. "And as for _hours_--it wasn't hours, any way."
+
+"You went out with him at eight o'clock----"
+
+"Who told you that?"
+
+"Your maid."
+
+"You asked Sarah?"
+
+"Certainly I did. I had to do something before I asked my guests to
+sit down to breakfast without their hostess!"
+
+"Well, I don't care who you asked," says Tita mutinously.
+
+"You went out at eight, and you came home late for breakfast at
+half-past ten."
+
+"I explained all that to you," says Tita, flinging out her hands.
+"Tom and I went for a race, and of course I didn't think it would
+take so long, and----"
+
+"I don't suppose," coldly, "you thought at all."
+
+"Certainly I never thought I was going to get a scolding on my
+return!"
+
+"A scolding! I shouldn't dream of scolding so advanced a person as
+you," says Rylton--who is scolding with all his might.
+
+"I wonder what you think you are doing now?" says Tita. She pauses
+and looks at him critically. He returns her gaze. His cold eyes so
+full of condemnation, his compressed lips that speak of anger hardly
+kept back, all make a picture that impresses itself upon her mind.
+Not, alas! in any salutary way. "Well," says she at last, with much
+deliberation and open, childish vindictiveness, "if you only knew
+how _ugly_ you are when you look like that, you would never do it
+again!" She nods her head. _"There!"_ says she.
+
+It is so unexpected, so utterly undignified, that it takes all the
+dignity out of Rylton on the spot. It suddenly occurs to him that it
+is no good to be angry with her. What is she? A mere naughty
+child--or----
+
+"You do not know who you are like!" continues she.
+
+Rylton shakes his head; he is afraid to speak--a sudden wild desire
+to laugh is oppressing him.
+
+"You are the image of Uncle George," says she, with such wicked
+spite that a smile parts his lips.
+
+"Oh! you can laugh if you like," says she, "but you _are,_ for all
+that. You're _worse_ than him," her anger growing because of that
+smile. "I never----"
+
+"Never what?"
+
+"I never met such a _cross cat_ in my life!" says Lady Rylton,
+turning her back on him.
+
+"It's well to be unique in one's own line," says he grimly.
+
+A short laugh breaks from him. How absurd she is! A regular little
+spitfire; yet what a pretty one. His heart is full of sadness, yet
+he cannot keep back that laugh. He hardly knows how he has so much
+mirth left in him, but the laugh sounds through the room and drives
+Tita to frenzy.
+
+"Oh, you can laugh!" cries she, turning upon him. "You can laugh
+when--when----" She makes a frantic little gesture that flings open
+the loose gown she wears, and shows once again her charming neck;
+words seem to fail her. "Oh! I should like to _shake_ you," says she
+at last.
+
+"Would you?" said Rylton. His laughter has come to an end. "And you.
+What do you think I should like to do with you?"
+
+He looks at her.
+
+"Oh! I know. It is not difficult to answer," with a contemptuous
+glance from under the long, soft lashes, beneath which his glance
+sinks into insignificance. "You would like to _give me away!"_
+
+There is a pause.
+
+It is on Rylton's tongue to say she has given _herself_ away very
+considerably of late, but he abstains from saying so--with
+difficulty, however!
+
+"No, I should not," says Rylton gravely.
+
+_"No?_ Is that the truth?" She bites her lips. "After all," with
+angry tearfulness, "I dare say it is. I believe you would rather
+keep me here for ever--just to be able to worry the life out of me
+day by day."
+
+"You have a high opinion of me!"
+
+Rylton is white now with rage.
+
+"You are wrong there; I have the worst opinion of you; I think you a
+tyrant--a perfect _Nero!"_
+
+Suddenly she lifts her pretty hands and covers her face with them.
+She bursts into tears.
+
+"And you _promised_ you would never be unkind to me!" sobs she.
+
+"Unkind! Good heavens!" says Rylton, distractedly. _Who_ is unkind?
+Is it he or she? Who is in fault?
+
+"At all events you pretended to be fond of me."
+
+"I never pretend anything," says Rylton, whose soul seems torn in
+twain.
+
+"You did," cries Tita wildly. "You _did."_ She brushes her tears
+aside, and looks up at him--her small, delicate face flushed--her
+eyes on fire! "You promised you would be kind to me."
+
+"I promised nothing," in a dull sort of way. He feels crushed,
+unable to move. "It was you who arranged everything; I was to go my
+way, and you yours."
+
+"It was liberal, at all events."
+
+"And useless!" There is a prophetic note in his voice. "As you would
+have gone your way, whether or no."
+
+"And you, yours!"
+
+"I don't know about that. But your way--where does that lead? Now,
+look here, Tita,"--he takes a step towards her--"you are bent on
+following that way. But mark my words, bad will come of it."
+
+"Nothing bad will come of _my_ way!" says Tita distinctly.
+
+Her eyes are fixed on his. For a full minute they regard each other
+silently. How much does she know? Rylton's very soul seems harassed
+with this question. That old story! A shock runs through him as he
+says those last words to himself. _Is_ it old? That story? _Marian!_
+What is she to him now?
+
+"As for Tom," says Tita suddenly, "I tell you distinctly I shall not
+give him up."
+
+"Give him up!" The phrase grates upon his ear. "What do you mean?"
+demands he, his anger all aflame again.
+
+"That I shall not insult him, or be cold to him, to please you or
+anybody."
+
+"Is that your decision? Then I think it will be wise of your cousin
+to shorten his visit."
+
+"Do you mean by that that you are going to be uncivil to him?"
+
+"Yes!" shortly, and with decision.
+
+"You will be cold to him? To Tom? To my own cousin? Maurice,
+Maurice! Think what you are doing!"
+
+She has come close up to him. Her charming face is uplifted to his.
+
+"Think what _you_ are doing," returns he hoarsely. He catches her
+hands. "If you will swear to me that he is nothing to
+you--nothing----"
+
+"He is my cousin," says Tita, who hardly understands.
+
+"Oh!" He almost flings her from him. "There--let it be as you will,"
+says he bitterly. "It is you cousin--your house."
+
+Tita grows very pale.
+
+"That is ungenerous," says she.
+
+"I have all the faults, naturally." He goes towards the door, and
+then suddenly comes back and flings something upon the table before
+her. "You once told me you were fond of rings," says he.
+
+The case has flown open, because of his passionate throwing of it,
+and an exquisite diamond and pearl ring lies displayed. Tita springs
+to her feet.
+
+"Oh, wait! _Don't_ go! Oh, _do_ stop!" cries she, in great distress.
+_"Fancy_ your thinking of me when you were in town! And what a
+lovely, _lovely_ ring! Oh! Maurice--I'm sorry. I am indeed!"
+
+She holds out her hands to him. Rylton, still standing on the
+threshold of the door, looks back at her.
+
+Is it an apology? An admission that she has been wrong in her
+dealings with her cousin? An open declaration that this night's
+undignified proceedings are really being repented of?
+
+He comes slowly back to her.
+
+"If you are sorry----" begins he.
+
+"Oh, I am indeed. And you must let me kiss you for this darling
+ring. I know you _hate_ me to kiss you--but," she flings her arms
+round him, "I really _must_ do it now."
+
+Instinctively his arms close round her. With a thoroughly astonished
+air, however, she wriggles herself free, and draws back from him.
+
+"You have done your part beautifully," says she, with a little soft
+grimace. "You bore up wonderfully. I'll let you off next time as a
+consideration."
+
+"I don't want to be let off," says Rylton.
+
+"There, that will do," lifting her hand. "And I _am_ sorry--remember
+that."
+
+"If you are," says he, "you will promise me--not to----"
+
+He has grown quite serious again. He hardly knows how to put it into
+words, and therefore hesitates; but if only she will cease from her
+encouragement of her cousin----
+
+"Oh no--never. I shall never do it again," says she earnestly. "It
+was so--so--dreadful of me----"
+
+"If you see it now, I wonder you didn't see it then," says Rylton, a
+little stiffly; this sudden conversion brings all the past back to
+him.
+
+"Well, but I didn't see it then--I always talk too fast."
+
+She hangs her pretty head.
+
+"I don't remember what you _said,"_ says Rylton, a little at fault.
+"But--if you are honestly determined, Tita, to be--er--a little more
+circumspect in that direction in future----"
+
+"I am--I am indeed!" cries Tita. "I'm sure I can't think how I ever
+said it to you! It was so rude--so horrid----"
+
+"Said? _What?"_ demands Rylton, with quick suspicion.
+
+"Well, you know I did call you a _cross cat!"_ says his wife, with a
+little slide glance at him, and a tremulous smile, and withal such
+lovely penitence, that if he had not been led astray by another
+thought, he would have granted her absolution for all her sins, here
+and hereafter, on the spot.
+
+As it is, his wrath grows once more hot within him; so she is _not
+_sorry after all.
+
+"Pshaw!" says he.
+
+"Oh, and I called you ugly, too!" cries Tita. "Oh, how _could_ I?
+But you will forgive me, won't you?" She runs after him, and lays
+her hand upon his arm. "You do forgive me, don't you?"
+
+_ "No!"_ says he violently.
+
+He almost flings her from him.
+
+"Hypocrite!" he says to himself, as he fastens the door of his own
+room.
+
+A baby's face, and the heart of a liar! She had played with him; she
+had fooled him; she had, at all events, refused to say she regretted
+her conduct with her cousin.
+
+He goes down to the garden, feeling it impossible to sleep just now,
+and, coming back two hours later, finds the ring he had given her
+lying on his dressing-table. There is no note with it--not even a
+single line.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+HOW MRS. BETHUNE IS BROUGHT BEFORE THE BAR; AND HOW SHE GIVES HER
+EVIDENCE AGAINST TITA; AND HOW MAURICE'S MOTHER DESIRES AN INTERVIEW
+WITH MAURICE'S WIFE.
+
+
+
+"And now for the news," says the elder Lady Rylton, next morning,
+leaning back in her chair; she objects to the word "Dowager."
+
+Contrary to all expectations, she had arrived to-day at half-past
+eight, and is now, at one o'clock, sitting in her room with Mrs.
+Bethune before her. She had seen Tita, of course; but only for a
+moment or so, as she had been in a hurry to get to her bedroom and
+her maid, and have the ravages that travel had laid upon her
+old-young face obliterated. She had, indeed, been furious (secretly)
+with Tita for having come out of her room to bid her welcome--such
+bad taste, obtruding one's self upon a person in the early hours of
+the morning, when one has only just left a train. But what _can_ one
+expect from a plebeian!
+
+"News?" says Marian, lifting her brows.
+
+"Well," testily, "I suppose there is some! How is the _ménage_ going
+on? How is it being managed, eh? You have a tongue, my dear--speak!
+I suppose you can tell me something!"
+
+"Something! Yes."
+
+"What does that mean?"
+
+"A great deal," says Mrs. Bethune.
+
+"Then you can tell me a great deal. Begin--begin!" says Lady Rylton,
+waving her hand in her airiest style. "I guessed as much! I always
+hated that girl! Well--and so---- _Do_ go on!"
+
+"I hardly know what you expect me to say," says Mrs. Bethune coldly,
+and with a hatred very badly suppressed.
+
+"You know perfectly well," says her aunt. "I wish to know how
+Maurice and his wife are getting on."
+
+"How can I answer that?" says Marian, turning upon her like one
+brought to bay.
+
+It is _too_ bitter to her, this cross-examination; it savours of a
+servitude that she must either endure or--starve!
+
+"It is quite simple," says Lady Rylton. She looks at Marian with a
+certain delight in her eyes--the delight that tyrants know. She has
+this creature at her heels, and she will drag her to her death. "I
+am waiting," says she. "My good girl, why _don't_ you answer? What
+of Maurice and his wife?"
+
+"They are not on good terms, I think," says Mrs. Bethune sullenly.
+
+"No? And whose fault is that?" Lady Rylton catches the tip of
+Marian's gown, and draws her to her. When she has made her turn, so
+that she can study and gloat over the rapid changes of her face, she
+says, "Yours?" in a light, questioning way.
+
+She smiles as she asks her question--a hateful smile. There is
+something in it almost devilish--a compelling of the woman before
+her to remember days that _should_ be dead, and a secret that should
+have been hers alone.
+
+"Not mine, certainly," says Marian, clearing her throat as though it
+is a little dry, but otherwise defying the scrutiny of the other.
+
+"And yet you say they are not on good terms!" Lady Rylton pauses as
+if thinking, and then goes on. "No wonder, too," says she, with a
+shrug. "Two people with two such tempers!"
+
+"Has Tita a temper?" asks Marian indifferently.
+
+Lady Rylton regards her curiously.
+
+"Have you not found that out yet?" asks she.
+
+"No," coldly.
+
+"It argues badly for you," says her aunt, with a small, malicious
+smile. "She has shown you none of it, then?"
+
+"None," distinctly.
+
+"My dear Marian, I am afraid Maurice is proving false," says Lady
+Rylton, leaning back in her chair, and giving way to soft, delicate
+mirth--the mirth that suits her Dresden china sort of beauty.
+"Evidently our dear Tita is not _afraid_ of you."
+
+"You take a wrong reading of it, perhaps," says Mrs. Bethune, who is
+now, in spite of all her efforts to be emotionless, a little pale.
+"She is simply so indifferent to Maurice, that she does not care
+whom he likes or dislikes--with whom he spends--or wastes his time.
+Or with whom he----"
+
+"Flirts?" puts in Lady Rylton, lifting her brows; there is most
+insolent meaning in her tone.
+
+For the first time Mrs. Bethune loses herself; she turns upon her
+aunt, her eyes flashing.
+
+"Maurice does not flirt with me," says she.
+
+It seems horrible--_horrible,_ that thought. Maurice--his love--it
+surely is hers! And to talk of it as a mere flirtation! Oh _no!_ Her
+very soul seems to sink within her.
+
+"My good child, who was speaking of you?" says Lady Rylton, with a
+burst of amusement. "You should control yourself, my dear Marian. To
+give yourself away like that is to suffer defeat at any moment. One
+would think you were a girl in your first season, instead of being a
+mature married woman. Well, and if not with you, with whom does
+Maurice flirt?"
+
+"With no one." Marian has so far commanded herself as to be able now
+to speak collectedly. "If you will keep to the word 'flirtation,'
+you must think of Tita, though perhaps 'flirtation' is too mild a
+word to----"
+
+"Tita!"
+
+Tita's mother-in-law grows immediately interested.
+
+"Yes, Tita. What I was going to say when you interrupted me was,
+that she refuses to take _me_ into consideration--or anyone else for
+the matter of that--because----"
+
+She stops--she feels choking; she honestly believes that Tita likes
+Tom Hescott far more than she likes her husband. But that the girl
+is guilty, even in _thought_ guilty, she does _not_ believe; and now
+she speaks--and to this woman of all others---- And yet if she
+_does_ speak, ruin will probably come out of it--to Tita. She
+hesitates; she is lost!
+
+"Oh, go on!" says Lady Rylton, who can be a little vulgar at
+times--where the soul is coarse, the manner will be coarse too.
+
+"There is a cousin!" says Marian slowly.
+
+"A cousin? You grow interesting!" says Lady Rylton. There is a
+silence for a moment, and then: "Do you mean to tell me that this
+girl," with a scornful intonation, "has a--Really" with a shrug,
+"considering her birth, one may be excused for calling it--a
+_follower?"_
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And so _l'ingénue_ has awakened at last!"
+
+"If you mean Tita," icily, "I think she is in love with her cousin;
+and, beyond all doubt, her cousin is in love with her."
+
+"Birds of a feather!" says Lady Rylton. It has been plain to Marian
+for the past five minutes that her aunt has been keeping back her
+temper with some difficulty. Now it flames forth. "The _insolence!"_
+cries she, between her teeth. "That little half-bred creature!
+Fancy--just _fancy--_her daring to be unfaithful to _my_ son! To
+marry a Rylton, and then bring a low intrigue into his family!" She
+turns furiously on Marian. "Where is she?"
+
+"Tita?"
+
+"Yes. I must see her this moment--this _moment;_ do you hear?" The
+tyrannical nature of her breaks out now in a furious outburst. She
+would have liked to get Tita in her grasp and crush her. She rises.
+"I wish to speak to her."
+
+"I should advise you to do no such foolish thing," says Mrs.
+Bethune, rising too.
+
+_"You_ advise!--you! Who are you?" says Lady Rylton insolently.
+"When did I ask for your advice, or take it? Send that girl
+here--directly."
+
+"Surely you forget that 'that girl' is at this moment your hostess!"
+says Marian Bethune, who has some sense of decency left. "This is
+her house; I could not deliver such a message to her."
+
+"Then take another! Say----"
+
+"Nor any other. She dislikes me, as I dislike her. If you wish to
+see her, send a message through her maid, or," a happy thought
+coming to her, "through Margaret; she cares for Tita as a cat might
+care for her kitten!"
+
+"Poor Margaret," says Lady Rylton, with a sneer. "I fear she will
+always have to care for other cats' kittens!"
+
+"Do you? I don't," says Marian, who, though she detests most people,
+has always a strange tenderness for Margaret.
+
+"What do you mean?" asks Lady Rylton sharply.
+
+"I think she will marry Colonel Neilson."
+
+"Don't make yourself more absurd than you need be!" says her aunt
+contemptuously. "An old maid like that! What could Colonel Neilson
+see in her? I don't believe a word of that ridiculous story. Why,
+she is nearly as bad--_worse,_ indeed," with a short laugh, "than a
+widow----like you!"
+
+"I think she will marry him, for all that," says Mrs. Bethune
+calmly, with supreme self-control. She takes no notice of her
+insult.
+
+"You can think as you like," says her aunt. "There, go away; I must
+arrange about seeing that girl."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+HOW "THAT GIRL" WAS "SEEN" BY THE DOWAGER LADY RYLTON; AND HOW TITA
+HELD HER SMALL HEAD VERY HIGH, AND FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT WITH THE
+ENEMY.
+
+
+
+There is scarcely time for Lady Rylton to make arrangements for a
+private interview with her daughter-in-law, as Mrs. Bethune has
+scarcely left her room before that small person knocks at the door.
+And there is, perhaps, a slight touch of confusion on the older
+woman's face as Tita enters. She had not had time to prepare the
+little bitter barbs she had meant to fling against the girl's heart,
+and is now slightly taken aback.
+
+However, Nature, the All-Mother, has been generous to Tessie in the
+way of venom, and after a moment or two she tells herself that she
+will be able to get through this interview with honour.
+
+"My dear Tita. You! So glad! Pray come and sit down."
+
+"I just came," says Tita smiling, but hesitating on the threshold,
+as if desirous of an excuse to run away again as quickly as
+possible, "to see if you were quite comfortable--quite happy."
+
+"Ah, _happy!"_ says Lady Rylton in a peculiar tone. "Do come in,
+Tita. It is a fad of mine--a silly one, no doubt--but I cannot bear
+to look at an open door. Besides, I wish to speak to you."
+
+Tita closes the door and comes well into the room. She does not seat
+herself, however; she remains standing near the chimney-piece.
+
+"About what?" asks she promptly.
+
+"About many things." Perhaps the girl's bluntness has daunted her a
+little, because, as she says this, she moves uneasily, and finally
+changes her seat for a low lounge that brings the light on the back
+of her head. "I am sorry to say I have heard several unpleasant
+things about you of late."
+
+Tita stares at her.
+
+"I don't understand you," says she.
+
+"Then it must be my unhappy task to have to explain myself," says
+Tessie, who has now recovered herself, and is beginning to revel in
+the situation. The merriest game of all, to _some_ people, is that
+of hurting the feelings of others. "For one thing, I am grieved to
+hear that you have made my son far from happy in his married life."
+
+A quick red dyes Tita's face. It lasts for a moment only. She
+controls herself admirably, and, going to a chair, pulls it a little
+forward in a perfectly self-possessed fashion, pausing a little over
+the exact position of it, after which she seats herself amongst the
+cushions.
+
+"Has Maurice told you that?" asks she.
+
+"Maurice? _No!"_ haughtily. "In _our_ set husbands do not complain
+of their wives."
+
+"No?" says Tita. She looks amused. "Then who else could it be in
+'our set' who has said nasty little things about me? Mrs. Bethune?"
+
+"All this is beside the question," says the dowager, with a wave of
+her hand. "There is something else I must speak of--painful though
+it is to me!" She unfurls the everlasting fan, and wafts it
+delicately to and fro, as if to blow away from her the hideous aroma
+of the thing she is forced to say. "I hear you have established
+a--er--a far too friendly relationship with a--er--a cousin of your
+own."
+
+If Tita had grown red before, she is very white now.
+
+"I am sure you are not aware of it," says she, setting her small
+teeth, but speaking quite calmly, "but you are very impertinent."
+
+"I--_I?"_ says Lady Rylton. In all her long, tyrannical life she has
+met with so few people to show her defiance, that now this girl's
+contemptuous reply daunts her. "You forget yourself," says she, with
+ill-suppressed fury.
+
+"No, indeed," says Tita, "it is because I remember myself that I
+spoke like that. And I think it will save time," says she quietly,
+"and perhaps a good deal of temper too--mine," smiling coldly, "is
+not good, you know--if you understand at once that I shall not allow
+you to say insolent things like that to me."
+
+_ "You_ allow _me!"_ Tessie gets up from her chair and stares at her
+opponent, who remains seated, looking back at her. "I see you have
+made up your mind to ruin my son," says she, changing her tone to
+one of tearful indignation. "You accepted him, you married him, but
+you have never made even an effort to love him."
+
+Here Tessie sinks back in her chair and covers her eyes with her
+handkerchief. This is her way of telling people she is crying; it
+saves the rouge and the powder, and leaves the eye-lashes as black
+as before.
+
+"It is not always easy to love someone who is in love with someone
+else," says Tita.
+
+"Someone else! What do you mean?"
+
+"There is one fault, at all events, that you cannot find with me,"
+says Tita; "I have not got a bad memory. As if it were only
+yesterday, I remember how you enlightened me about Maurice's
+affection"--she would have said "love," but somehow she
+cannot--"for--for Mrs. Bethune."
+
+"Pouf!" says the dowager. _"That!_ I don't see how that can
+influence your conduct. You married my son, and you ought to do your
+duty by him. As for Marian, if you had been a good wife you should
+have taught him to forget all that long ago. It seems you have not."
+She darts this barbed arrow with much joy, and watches for the pain
+it ought to have caused, but watches in vain. "The fact of your
+remembering it all this time only shows," says Tessie vindictively,
+angry at the failure of her dart, "what a malicious spirit you have.
+You are not only malicious, but silly! People of the world _never_
+remember unpleasant things."
+
+"Well, I am not of them; I remember," says Tita. She pauses. "People
+of the world seem to me to do strange things."
+
+"On the contrary," with a sneer, "it is people who are not in
+society who do strange things."
+
+"Meaning me?" flushing and frowning. Tita's temper is beginning to
+give way. "What have I done now?" asks she.
+
+"That is what I have been trying to explain," says Lady Rylton, "but
+your temper is so frightful that I am afraid to go into anything.
+Temper, my dear Tita, should always be one's slave; it should never
+be given liberty except in one's room, with one's own maid or one's
+own husband."
+
+"Or one's own mother-in-law!"
+
+"Well, yes! Quite so!" says Tessie with a fine shrug. "If you _will_
+make me one apart, so be it. I hate scenes; but when one has a
+son--a precious, _only_ child--one must make sacrifices."
+
+"I beg you will make none for _me."_
+
+"I have made one already, however. I have permitted my son to marry
+you."
+
+"Lady Rylton----"
+
+"Be silent!" says Tessie, in a low but terrible voice. "How _dare_
+you interrupt me, or speak to me at all, until I ask for a reply?
+_You,_ whom I have brought from the very depths, to a decent
+position in society! You--whom I have raised!"
+
+"Raised!"
+
+"Yes--you! I tell you you owe me a debt you never can repay."
+
+"I do indeed," says Tita, in a low voice; her small firm hands are
+clasped in front of her--they are tightly clenched.
+
+"You married him for ambition," goes on Tessie, with cold hatred in
+her voice and eye, "and----"
+
+"And he?" The girl has risen now, and is clinging with both hands to
+the arms of her chair. She is very pale.
+
+"Pshaw!" says the dowager, laughing cruelly. "He married you for
+your money. What else do you think he would marry _you_ for? Are you
+to learn that now?"
+
+"No." Tita throws up her head. _"That_ pleasure is denied you. He
+told me he was marrying me for my money, long before our marriage."
+
+Lady Rylton laughs.
+
+"What! He had the audacity?"
+
+"The honesty!" Somehow this answer, coming straight from Tita's
+heart, goes to her soul, and in some queer, indescribable way
+soothes her--comforts her--gives her deep compensation for all the
+agony she has been enduring. Later on she wonders why the agony
+_was_ so great! Why had she cared or suffered? Maurice and she? What
+are they to each other? A mere name--no more! And yet--and yet!
+
+"At all events," goes on Tessie, "when you made up your mind to
+marry my son, you----"
+
+"It was your son who married me," says Tita, with a touch of hauteur
+that sits very prettily on her. She feels suddenly stronger--more
+equal to the fight.
+
+"Was it? I quite forget"--Tessie shrugs her shoulders--"these
+_little_ points," says she. "Well, I give you that! Oh! he was
+honest!" says she. "But, after all, not quite honest enough."
+
+"I think he was honest," says Tita.
+
+Her heart is beginning to beat to suffocation. There is a horror in
+her mind--the horror of hearing again that he--he had loved Marian.
+But how to stop it?
+
+"You seem to admire honesty," says Lady Rylton, with a sneering
+laugh. "It is a pity you do not emulate _his!_ If Maurice is as true
+to you as you"--with a slight laugh--"imagine him, why, you should,
+in common generosity, be true to him. And this flirtation, with this
+Mr. Hescott----"
+
+"Don't go on!" says Tita passionately; "I cannot bear it. Whoever
+has told you that I ever---- Oh!" She covers her eyes suddenly with
+her pretty hands. "Oh! it is a lie!" cries she.
+
+"No one has told me a lie," says Lady Rylton implacably.
+
+The sight of the girl's distress is very pleasant to her. She gloats
+over it.
+
+"Then you have invented the whole thing," cries Tita wildly, who is
+so angry, so agitated, that she forgets the commonest decencies of
+life. We all do occasionally!
+
+"To be rude is not to be forcible," says Tessie, who is now a fury,
+"and I believe all that I have heard about you!" She makes a quick
+movement towards Tita, her colour showing even through the washes
+that try to make her skin look young. "How _dare_ you insult me?"
+cries she furiously. Tessie in a rage is almost the vulgarest thing
+that anyone could see. "I wish my son had never seen you--or your
+money. I wish now he had married the woman he loved, instead of the
+woman whom----"
+
+"He hated," puts in Tita very softly.
+
+She smiles in a sort of last defiance, but every hope she has seems
+lying dead. In a second, as it were, she seems to _care_ for
+nothing. What _is_ there to care for? It is so odd. But it is true!
+How blank the whole thing is!
+
+"Yes. _Hated!"_ says Tessie in a cold fury. "I tell you he wanted to
+marry Marian, and her only. He would have given his soul for her,
+but she would not marry him! And then, when hope was at an end,
+he--destroyed self--he married _you!"_
+
+"You are very plain! You leave nothing to be said." Tita has
+compelled herself to this answer, but her voice is faint. Her poor
+little face, beautiful even in its distress, is as white as death.
+"I am sorry----"
+
+"For Maurice? So you _ought_ to be," says Lady Rylton, unmoved even
+by that pathetic face before her.
+
+Tita turns upon her. All at once the old spirit springs to life
+within the poor child's breast.
+
+"No, _for myself!"_ cries she, with a bitterness hardly to be
+described.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+HOW TITA GOES FOR A WALK WITH TWO SAD COMPANIONS--ANGER AND DESPAIR;
+AND HOW SHE MEETS SIR MAURICE; AND HOW SHE INTRODUCES HIM TO ANGER.
+
+
+
+Escaping from her mother-in-law's room, Tita goes hurriedly,
+carefully downstairs. There is no one in the smaller hall; she runs
+through it, and into one of the conservatories that has a door
+leading to the gardens outside. Its is a small conservatory, little
+frequented; and when one gets to the end of the two steps, one finds
+one's self at the part of the garden that leads directly into the
+woods beyond.
+
+Tita, flinging open the little rustic gate that opens a way to these
+woods, hastens through it as though all the furies are at her back,
+and never ceases running until she finds herself a good half-mile
+from home.
+
+And now she throws herself upon a sort mossy bank, and, clasping her
+hands in front of her, gives herself up to thought. Most women when
+in grief make direct for their bedrooms; Tita, a mere child of
+Nature, has turned to her mother in her great extremity. Her heart
+seems on fire, her eyes dry and burning. Her quick, angry run has
+left her tired and panting, and like one at bay.
+
+She lays her flushed cheek against the cold, sweet mosses.
+
+How good, how _eternally_ good is the exquisite heart of the earth!
+A very balm from it seems now to arise and take this young creature
+into its embrace. The coolness, the softness of it! Who shall
+describe it? The girl lying on the ground, not understanding, feels
+the great light hand of the All-Mother on her head, and suddenly the
+first great pang dies. Nature, the supreme Hypnotizer, has come to
+her rescue, not dulling or destroying the senses, but soothing them,
+and showing a way out of the darkness, flinging a lamp into the dim,
+winding ways of her misery.
+
+The cool mosses have brought her to herself again. She sits up, and,
+taking her knees into her embrace, looks out upon the world. To her
+it seems a cruel world, full of nothing but injustice. She has a
+long talk with herself, poor child!--a most bitter conversation. And
+the end of it is this: If only she could _see_ Maurice and tell
+him--_tell_ him what she thinks of him; and if only---- But it seems
+so impossible.
+
+And here is where Mother Nature's doings come in. She has driven
+Maurice from his house almost as Tita left it, and has sent him
+here; for does he not know that Tita loves this solitary spot,
+and----
+
+He has sprung upon the wall, and it is quite suddenly he sees her.
+Her attitude makes his heart stand still. Has it come to this? Has
+he brought her to this? What a child she was when he married
+her!--light-hearted, free----
+
+_Free! Was_ she free? This word spoils all his sympathy. Was she
+really free? Did she not love her cousin even then, when she
+consented to marry _him?_ He springs lightly to the ground; his gun
+is on his shoulder, but he lays that against a tree, and goes
+lightly towards her.
+
+How still she is! How tightly her small hands are clasped! How _very
+_small they are! Is that the first ring he had given her, shining on
+her third finger? She had not flung _that_ back in his face, at all
+events! He hardly understands the wild, quick thrill of joy that
+this knowledge affords him. And how pale she is!
+
+    "In all her face was not one drop of blood."
+
+She is staring before her, as if into the future--as if _demanding_
+happiness from it for her youth. He goes quickly to her.
+
+"I was just getting over that fence there," says he, in a rather
+stammering sort of way, the new strange pallor on that small,
+erstwhile happy face having disarranged his nerves a little, "when I
+saw you. I am glad I saw you, as I wanted to say that perhaps I
+spoke to you too--roughly last night."
+
+Tita remains silent. Something in her whole air seems to him
+changed. Her eyes--her mouth--what has happened to them? Such a
+change! And all since last night! Had he indeed been so rough with
+her as to cause all this?
+
+    "How bitter and winterly waxed last night
+    The air that was mild!
+    How nipped with frost were the flowers last night
+    That at dawning smiled!
+    How the bird lost the tune of the song last night
+    That the spring beguiled!"
+
+_Did_ it all happen last night? He breaks through his wonder to hear
+her.
+
+"I don't know how you dared speak to me at all," says she at last
+slowly, deliberately.
+
+Where is the childish anger now that used to irritate--and amuse
+him? It is all gone. This is hardly Tita, this girl, cold,
+repellent; it is an absurd thought, but it seems to him that she has
+grown!
+
+"I spoke--because---- I think I explained," says he, somewhat
+incoherently, upset not so much by her words (which are strange,
+too) as by the strange look that accompanies them.
+
+"Ah, explained!" says she. Her lips curl slightly, and her eyes
+(always fastened upon his) seem to grow darker. "If you are coming
+to explanations----" says she softly, but with some intensity.
+_"Have_ you explained things? And when? Was it _before_ our
+marriage? It _should _have been, I think!"
+
+Rylton changes colour. It is such a sudden change that the girl goes
+over to him and lays her hand upon his chest.
+
+"Did you think--all this time--that I did not know?" says she,
+raising her eyes to his--such solemn young eyes. "I have known it a
+long, long time. _Always,_ I think! Your mother told me when we went
+to the Hall after our--trip abroad."
+
+"She told you what?"
+
+It is a last effort to spare---- To spare whom? Marian or
+himself--or---- All at once he knows it is Tita whom he would spare.
+
+"Ah, that is useless," says Tita, with a slight gesture. "She told
+me a great deal then; she has told me more to-day."
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"A few last items," says the girl, her eyes burning into his as she
+stands before him, her hand upon his breast. "Shall I tell them to
+you? You married me for my money! You ruined your life"--she seems
+to be looking back and repeating things that had been said to
+her--"by doing _that_. Your mother" slowly, "seemed sorry that your
+life was ruined!"
+
+_"Tita!"_
+
+"No, listen; there is a little more. You only consented to make me
+your wife when you found Mrs. Bethune would not have you."
+
+"You shall hear me," says he.
+
+His face is as white as death now, but she silences him. She lifts
+her small, cold hand from his breast, and lays it on his lips that
+are nearly as cold.
+
+"You proposed to her four times! All your love was hers! And it was
+only when hope was _dead_--when life seemed worthless--that
+you--married me."
+
+"She told you that--all that?" asks Rylton; he has caught her hand.
+
+"All that--and more." Tita is smiling now, but very pitifully. "But
+that was enough. Why take it to heart? It is nothing, really. It
+does not concern us. Of course, I always knew. You _told_ me--that
+you did not love me."
+
+"I shall not forgive her," says Rylton fiercely.
+
+There is anguish as well as rage in his tone. He is holding her hand
+tightly clenched between both his own.
+
+"I don't care whether you do or not," says Tita suddenly, almost
+violently. "You can forgive her or not, as you choose. The whole
+thing," dragging her hand forcibly from his, "is a matter of no
+consequence whatever to _me!"_
+
+"You mean that you don't care?" says Rylton, in a suffocating voice.
+
+"Care!" contemptuously. "No! Why should I care, or wonder, or waste
+one thought upon your love affairs?"
+
+This insolent answer rouses Rylton from his remorse.
+
+"Why, indeed!" says he, stung by her scorn. "You have _your own to
+think of!"_
+
+And now a terrible thing happens--swift as lightning she lifts her
+hand, and gives him a little stinging blow across his face.
+
+A second afterwards she has her hands upon her breast, and is crying
+affrightedly.
+
+"I'm sorry--_I'm sorry_--_I'm sorry!"_
+
+Yet through all the fright he can hear there is not an atom of real
+sorrow in her voice.
+
+"Let that alone," says he, smiling grimly. "I dare say I deserved
+it. I take it meekly, as you see. But now--how is it to be between
+us?"
+
+"You know. You _ought_ to know. We agreed before our marriage that
+you were to go your way, and I--mine!"
+
+"Very well," says Rylton slowly. "Let it be so. Remember always,
+however," looking fixedly at her, "that it was _you_ who insisted on
+it."
+
+"I shall remember," says Tita.
+
+She turns and walks quickly on the path that leads to the house.
+Rylton turns to accompany her. But she, stopping short, looks up at
+him with a frowning brow.
+
+"We have been talking about ways," says she. "This," with a little
+significant gesture to the right, "is my way."
+
+He lifts his brows and laughs, a very sad and dismal laugh, however.
+
+"And therefore not mine," says he. "You are right so far. I meant to
+go on to Upsall Farm, but I should like to see you safely back to
+the avenue, at all events--if you will allow me?"
+
+_"No!"_ Tita has turned upon him like a little fury. All her rage
+and grief and misery has at last overpowered her. "I shall not allow
+you! I shall go nowhere with you! Our ways, as you say, are
+separate."
+
+"As _I_ say----"
+
+"It doesn't matter," says she vehemently; "words are nothing. There
+is only meaning left, and what _I_ mean is that I want never to go
+anywhere with you again."
+
+"As you will, of course," says he, drawing back. Evidently it is to
+be war to the knife.
+
+He could have laughed at himself as he leans back against a huge
+oak-tree and lights a cigar. Truly he is no Don Juan! The woman he
+loved did not love him to any measurable extent; the woman he
+married cares for him even less!
+
+A very rage of anger against Tita is filling his breast, but now,
+standing here in the cold soft shades of the silent wood, his anger
+gives place to thought. By what right is he angry with her? By what
+right does he upbraid her? She knows all--everything. His _mother_
+had seen to that. Yes, his wife knows----
+
+And yet, after all, what is there to condemn him for? What man under
+heaven has been so scrupulous, so careful as he? There had been that
+one night at the Warbeck's dance--but beyond that, never by word or
+look had he been unfaithful!
+
+He is beginning almost to pride himself upon his good behaviour,
+when all at once it comes to him that it has been _easy_ to be
+faithful, that there has been no trouble at all about being
+scrupulous.
+
+It is like a dagger in his heart. Is it all at the end then? Must it
+be regarded as a thing that was told--that old, sweet story! Dead,
+withered, with the life, the meaning, gone from it. And if so, what
+remains?
+
+Nothing but the face of a small, angry little girl defying
+him--defying him always.
+
+Pouf! He thrusts it from him. He lights another cigar. Again the old
+anger breaks out. Tita's words come back to him. Plainly she would
+be as glad to get rid of him as he---- She had spoken of her own
+way. Why not let her go that way? It leads to her cousin. All the
+finger-posts point in that direction. Well---- If so---- There might
+be a divorce, and a divorce would mean marriage with Marian, and----
+
+He stands staring stupidly at the ground before him. What is the
+matter with him? Only three months, three little months ago, and
+such a thought would have raised ecstasy within his heart, and
+now----
+
+How flat it all seems, how unprofitable! Nothing seems alive within
+him save a desire for vengeance on this child who has dared to drag
+his name into the dust.
+
+This child!
+
+Again her face rises before him. Pale, determined, scorning him! He
+had read hatred in her glance, and behind that hatred--bred of it,
+perhaps--love for her cousin.
+
+He flings his cigar into a bush near him, and goes back to the
+house, taking the path his wife had chosen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+HOW TITA, RUNNING FROM THE ENEMY, SUDDENLY FINDS HERSELF FACE TO
+FACE WITH ANOTHER FOE; AND HOW SHE FIGHTS A SECOND BATTLE, AND COMES
+OFF VICTORIOUS!
+
+
+
+Tita, once out of the sight of Maurice, had run home very quickly.
+She knew that she was crying, and despised herself for so doing, but
+could not check her tears. She was not sure what they meant, grief
+or rage. Perhaps a little of both. All her guests were in the
+garden, so she would not return to the house that way, though it was
+much the nearest; but turning into a side path she made for a point
+in the shrubberies, from which one could get to the armoury door
+without being seen by anyone.
+
+She is wrong in her calculations, however, for just as she steps
+into the shrubbery walk, she finds herself face to face with Tom
+Hescott.
+
+_"Tita!_ You have been crying!" says he suddenly, after a devouring
+glance at her small face, that indeed shows all the signs of woe.
+
+"No, no!" cries Tita breathlessly.
+
+She puts up her hands in protestation. She has grown crimson with
+shame and vexation.
+
+"You have," says Hescott, almost savagely. The knowledge that he is
+leaving to-morrow (they are all leaving except the elder Lady
+Rylton) has rendered him desperate, and made more difficult of
+concealment the mad passion he entertains for her. "What has
+happened?" he asks, going closer to her and letting his cigar drop
+to the ground. "Are you unhappy? You," breathing quickly, "have been
+unhappy for a long time!"
+
+"And even so, am I the only person in the world who is unhappy? Are
+you never unhappy?" demands Tita defiantly.
+
+"God knows I am, _always!"_ says Hescott. "But you! That _you_
+should be unhappy!"
+
+"Never mind me," says Tita petulantly. "And I must say," with a
+little flaming glance at him, "that it would have been in much
+better taste if you--if you had pretended to see that I was _not_
+crying."
+
+Hescott does not hear, or takes no notice of this little bombshell.
+
+"Has your husband been unkind to you?" asks he sharply, most
+unpardonably.
+
+Tita looks at him for a second as if he had struck her, and then
+waves him aside imperiously.
+
+"Maurice is never unkind to me," says she, "and even if he were, I
+should not allow you or anyone to question me in the matter. What
+are you thinking of?"
+
+"Of you," slowly.
+
+"You waste your time," says Tita.
+
+"It is not wasted. It is spent on you," says Hescott, with
+compressed but strong passion. "And now a last word, Tita. If ever
+you want to--to----" He hesitates. "To leave him," he had almost
+said, but her proud eyes and her pale lips made him hesitate--_such_
+pride! It raises his love for her to fever-heat. "If ever you should
+want anyone to help you, I----"
+
+She interrupts him. She makes a haughty little gesture with hand. It
+would be impossible to describe the wild grace and beauty of it--or
+the dignity.
+
+"If ever I should, I shall have Maurice!" says she coldly.
+
+Hescott looks at her. Of course he has been told that old story
+about Mrs. Bethune, and has seen for himself many things.
+
+"You are an angel!" says he at last, very sadly; yet he would not
+have wished her less than that.
+
+"Don't be absurd!" says Tita most ungratefully.
+
+She marches past him with her angry little head still upheld, but
+presently a word from him brings her to a standstill.
+
+"Don't be angry with me, Tita," he is saying in a low tone. "I'm
+going away to-morrow."
+
+"Ah, so you are!" says Tita. Her sweet nature comes back to her.
+Dear old Tom! And she has been saying such horrid things to him.
+"Never mind me, Tom!" says she, holding out her hand to him. "I'm
+dreadfully cross sometimes, but I don't ever mean it, really. And,"
+smiling gently at him, "you _know_ that I love you!"
+
+Hescott takes her hand. His heart seems very full--too full for
+words. Those words, "I love you!" He stoops and presses a kiss upon
+the little warm fingers now resting within his own. And without
+another word he leaves her.
+
+He is hardly gone, when Rylton lays his hand upon her arm.
+
+"Well," says he, his voice vibrating with anger. He had followed
+her, as has been said, with no idea of watching her, but with a
+curious longing to get near to her again. _Why,_ he could hardly
+have explained even to himself. The only thing he did know in that
+walk homeward was that he was most horribly, most unreasonably
+unhappy!
+
+He had followed her and he had found her crying, or at least with
+the signs of tears upon her eyes, and had seen her cousin kissing
+her hand. A slight madness came over him then. Crying for her
+cousin, no doubt, because he must leave her to-morrow!
+
+"Well!" His tone is abrupt, almost brutal. Yet even in this hour
+where all things point to her discomfiture he cannot get the victory
+over her.
+
+"Well?" demands she in return, shaking her arm loose from his hold.
+
+"You have been crying for him, no doubt--for your----" He pauses.
+
+"My what?" asks Tita. She is looking at him with fearless, wondering
+eyes.
+
+"Your cousin," says Rylton, altering the phrase that would have made
+it in his anger, "your lover."
+
+"I have not been crying because of Tom," says Tita coldly, "though I
+am very sorry he is going. He loves me, I _think."_
+
+"Do you?" says Rylton. A sarcastic smile crosses his lips "And you?
+Do you love him? No doubt cousins are charming possessions. And so I
+find you crying because your dear possession is going, and because,
+no doubt, you were confiding to him what a desperate monster a
+husband can be."
+
+There is hardly anything in his life afterwards that Rylton is so
+ashamed of as this; even now in the heat of the terrible anger that
+leads him so to forget himself, he cowers before the girl's eyes.
+
+"Is that what people do in _your_ set?" says she coldly--icily. "In
+the charmed circle within which your mother tells me I am not fit to
+enter? If so, I am glad I do not belong to it. Set your mind at
+ease, Maurice. I have not told Tom anything about you. I have not
+even told him what a----" She pauses. A flash from her eyes enters
+his. "I have told him nothing--nothing," says she, running past him
+into the house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HOW A LITTLE SPARRING IS DONE AMONGST THE GUESTS AT OAKDEAN; AND HOW
+TOM HESCOTT TELLS A STORY.
+
+
+
+Meantime all the others are sitting out in the garden, gossiping to
+their hearts' content. They had tried tennis, but the courts are
+rather soft now; and though an Indian summer has fallen upon us,
+still it has not sufficed to dry up all the moisture caused by the
+late rains.
+
+The little thatched hut at the end of the gardens, where the sun is
+now blazing, has drawn them all into a net, as it were. It is an off
+day, when there is no shooting, and the women are therefore
+jubilant, and distinctly in the ascendant. The elder Lady Rylton is
+not present, which adds to the hilarity of the hour, as in spite of
+her wonderful juvenility she is by no means a favourite. Miss Gower,
+however, _is--_which balances the situation.
+
+"I don't believe I ever felt so sorry for leaving any place," says
+Mrs. Chichester (who is always talking) with a soft but prolonged
+sigh--the sigh that is meant to be heard. She casts a languishing
+glance at Marryatt as she says this. He is _not_ invited to the next
+country house to which she is bound. He returns her glance fourfold,
+upon which she instantly dives behind Mrs. Bethune's back, on the
+pretence of speaking to Margaret, but in reality to hide her face.
+
+"Yes; I feel sorry too," says Colonel Neilson. "Where are you
+going?"
+
+"To the Hastings'," says Mrs. Chichester, who has now emerged from
+behind Marian's back, with the same sad face as before. _"You_ know
+her. Matilda Bruce!"
+
+"Bless me! Has _she_ got married?" says Colonel Neilson, who is
+really the kindest-hearted man alive.
+
+"Yes; quite a year ago."
+
+Mrs. Bethune laughs her usual slow, cruel little laugh, that is
+always in some strange way so full of fascination. She, too, had
+known Matilda Bruce. "I am afraid poor Mr. Hastings must have had a
+great many refusals," says she. She looks at Mrs. Chichester. "So
+you are going there?"
+
+"Yes, for my sins. Fred Hastings is a very old friend of mine."
+
+"What a great many old friends you have," says Mrs. Bethune softly.
+
+"Well, it is better to have old friends than no friends"--making the
+retort courteous, with a beaming smile.
+
+"I've been staying at the Hastings', too," says Minnie Hescott, glad
+to show that she is within the sacred circle, even though it be on
+its outermost edge. "But----" She stops.
+
+"I know. You needn't go on," says Mrs. Chichester. "I've heard all
+about it. A terrible _ménage,_ and no fires anywhere. Amy Stuart
+told me--she was staying with them last Christmas--that she often
+wished she was the roast joint in the oven, she felt so _withered
+up_ with cold."
+
+"Well, marriage improves people," says Colonel Neilson, laughing.
+"Let us hope it will enlarge Mrs. Hastings' mind as to the matter of
+fires."
+
+"It will!" says Mrs. Chichester.
+
+"But why? If----" says Margaret, leaning forward.
+
+"Because marriage improves women, and"--Mrs. Chichester pauses, and
+lets her queer green eyes rest on Marryatt's--"and does the other
+thing for men."
+
+Marryatt is looking back at her as if transfixed. He is thinking of
+her words rather than of her. Has marriage disimproved _her_
+husband? Has he been a brute to her? He knows so little--she has
+told him so little! At this moment it occurs to him that she has
+told him _nothing._
+
+"What are you staring at?" asks she presently. "Is anything the
+matter with me? Have I straws in my hair?"
+
+His answer is interrupted by Mr. Gower.
+
+"Take it down," says he. "How can anyone tell nowadays what a woman
+has in her hair unless one sees?"
+
+"Well, it's not straws, any way," says Mrs. Chichester, with a shrug
+of her lean shoulders.
+
+"It might be worse!" says Mr. Gower, who has always declared that
+Mrs. Chichester has dyed her hair. His tone, which is always
+sepulchral, attracts immediate attention, as all things sepulchral
+do. "And as for Matilda Bruce, I refuse to see why you should sit
+upon her with such determined cruelty. I know her, and I think her a
+most excellent wife, and house-wife, and--_mother!"_
+
+"A mother!" says Margaret, who had known Mrs. Bruce slightly, but
+had not been in sympathy with her.
+
+"Why, yes! She's got a baby," says Mrs. Chichester. "Didn't you
+hear? Nobody _does_ hear much about them. For my part, I pity her
+about that baby! It's so awkward to have children!"
+
+"Awkward?"
+
+"Yes. Nasty people go about asking their ages, especially the age of
+the eldest little horror, and then they can guess to a nicety how
+long one must have lived. It's a mean way of finding out one's age.
+I'm thankful _I_ have no children."
+
+Mrs. Chichester leans back in her chair and laughs.
+Perhaps--_perhaps_--there is a regret in her laugh.
+
+"I think it is the _children_ who ought to be thankful," says old
+Miss Gower, covering her with a condemnatory glance.
+
+Mrs. Chichester turns her eye on her.
+
+"Do you know, Miss Gower, you have for once hit a happy truth," says
+she.
+
+She smiles blandly on the terrible old maid. But Tita, who has just
+come down from her room, and has entered the hut, is struck by the
+queer expression in her eyes.
+
+"You have come at last, Tita," says Margaret, going to her.
+
+"I have had such a headache," says Tita, pressing her hands to her
+brow. "It has worried me all day. But I came down now, hoping the
+air and"--sweetly looking round her--"all of you would cure it."
+
+"I think you ought to be lying down," says Margaret, seeing the
+pallor of the young face before her, and pitying the determination,
+so plainly to be seen, to keep up.
+
+"Maurice"--to Rylton, who has come on the scene a moment later than
+his wife, so immediately after her, indeed, that one might be
+forgiven for imagining he had come in her train, only for one thing,
+he had come from an opposite direction--"Maurice, I think Tita
+should be induced to lie down for a bit. She looks tired."
+
+"Nonsense," says Tita.
+
+Her tone is almost repellent, although it is to Margaret she speaks.
+But in reality the tone is meant for Maurice.
+
+"I've got a headache, certainly. But I firmly believe that it has
+grown out of the knowledge that you are all going to desert me
+to-morrow."
+
+This little speech, most innocently meant, she points by smiling at
+her cousin, Tom Hescott. She had been unkind to him down there in
+the shrubbery awhile ago, she tells herself, and now she is telling
+him in silent, sweet little ways that she meant nothing nasty,
+nothing cold or uncourteous.
+
+Her husband, watching her, sees the glance, and grinds under it. He
+misunderstands it. As for Tom! Poor Tom! He, too, sees the pretty
+glance, and he, too, misunderstands it.
+
+All at once a quick but most erroneous thought springs to life
+within his heart. Her glance now! Her tears awhile ago! Were they
+for him? Is she sorry because he is leaving her? Is her life here
+unbearable?
+
+Mrs. Bethune has risen and come up to Tita.
+
+"You speak as if we were going to leave you to immediate
+destruction?" says she. "Are you afraid of being left alone
+with--Maurice?"
+
+Mrs. Chichester, who has a great deal of good in her, mixed up with
+a terrible amount of frivolity, comes forward so quietly that Tita's
+sudden whiteness is hardly seen, except by one.
+
+"Fancy being afraid of Sir Maurice," says she. "Sir Maurice,"
+casting a laughing glance at him, _"I_ shouldn't be afraid of you."
+
+Sir Maurice laughs back, and everyone laughs with him, and Mrs.
+Bethune's barb is blunted.
+
+"I am not afraid of anything," says Tita lightly. "But I confess I
+feel sorry at the thought of losing you all, even for a time----"
+
+This prettily, and with a glance round her as good as an invitation
+for next year.
+
+"I know you, Minnie" (to her cousin), "are going to delightful
+people--and you," turning suddenly to Mrs. Bethune, "I hope you are
+going to friends?"
+
+"Friends! I have no friends," says Marian Bethune sombrely. "I have
+learned to forbid myself such luxuries. I can't afford them. I find
+them too expensive!"
+
+"Expensive?"
+
+"Yes. A loss to me of peace of mind that can never be made up." She
+smiles at Tita, a cold, unpleasant smile. "Do you know what my
+definition of a friend is? Someone who takes delight in telling you
+all the detestable things your _other_ friends have said of you."
+
+"I don't think much of _your_ friends, any way," says Mrs.
+Chichester, who as a rule is always _en évidence_. "Do you, Sir
+Maurice?"
+
+"Do I what?"
+
+"Do you agree with Mrs. Bethune?"
+
+"I always agree with everybody," says Rylton, smiling.
+
+Tita moves abruptly away.
+
+"What a hot day it is," says she petulantly, "and nothing to do.
+Tom," beckoning Hescott to her, "tell us a story. Do. You used to
+tell beautiful ones--in--the old days."
+
+"Do you still long for them?" asks Mrs. Bethune, always with her
+supercilious smile, and in a tone that is almost a whisper, yet
+quite loud enough for Rylton, who is standing near, to hear.
+
+"Do _you?"_ demands Tita, turning upon her with eyes ablaze with
+miserable anger.
+
+"I?" haughtily. "What do you mean?"
+
+Tita lifts her eyes to Rylton--_such_ eyes.
+
+_"He_ will tell you," says she, and with a little scornful lifting
+of her chin she turns away.
+
+"Now for your story, Tom," cries she gaily, merrily.
+
+"You take me very short," says Hescott, who seems, in his present
+mood, which is of the darkest, to be the last man in Europe to tell
+an amusing tale. "But one occurs to me, and, of course," looking
+round him, "you all know it. Everyone nowadays knows every story
+that has and has not been told since the world began. Well, any way,
+I heard of a man the other day who--it is a most extraordinary
+thing--but he hated his wife!"
+
+"For goodness' sake tell us something new," says Mrs. Chichester,
+with open disgust.
+
+"Isn't that new? Well, this man was at a prayer-meeting of some
+sort. There is a sort of bad man that hankers after prayer-meetings,
+and, of course, this was a bad man because he hated his wife. It was
+at the East End, and Job was the subject. Job is good for an
+East-End meeting, because patience is the sort of thing you must
+preach there nowadays if you wish to keep your houses from being set
+on fire; and he heard of all the troubles of Job, and how he was
+cursed--and how his children and cattle and goods had been taken
+from him--and _only his wife left!_ That struck him--_about the
+wife!_ 'Hang it! That was a big curse!' said he. 'Fancy leaving the
+_wife!'_ And the odd part of it was," says Hescott, lifting his eyes
+and looking deliberately at Rylton, "that his wife was an angel,
+whereas he--well, _she_ was the Job of _his_ life. She had to endure
+all things at his hands."
+
+Rylton looks back at him, and feels his brow grow black with rage.
+He would have liked to take him and choke the life out of him.
+
+"A delightful story," says he, with a sneer. "So fresh, so
+_original!"_
+
+"Very dull, I think," says Mrs. Chichester, who _can't_ hold her
+tongue. "An everyday sort of thing. Lady Rylton, what do you think?"
+
+But when they look round for her they find Tita has disappeared.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+HOW TITA FLINGS HERSELF UPON MARGARET'S BREAST; AND HOW MARGARET
+COMFORTS HER; AND HOW TITA PROMISES TO BE GOOD; AND HOW SHE HAS A
+MEETING "BY LAMPLIGHT ALONE."
+
+
+
+It is now eleven o'clock. Margaret, who is in her own room, and has
+sent her maid to bed, is sitting over her fire dreaming of many
+things, when her door is suddenly opened and as suddenly closed,
+and, just as suddenly as all the rest of it, a little fragile thing
+runs towards her, and flings herself in a perfectly tragic fashion
+upon her breast, lying there prone--lost, apparently, in an
+unappeasable outburst of grief.
+
+"Tita, my child, my darling! What has happened?" exclaims Margaret,
+pressing the girl to her. _"Do_ look up, my dear, and tell me. There
+is nothing new, surely, Tita."
+
+"Oh, I'm tired--I'm tired of it all!" cries Tita wildly. "I want to
+be done with it. Oh, Margaret, I've said nothing, nothing! _Have_ I,
+now?" appealing to her with great drenched eyes. "But I can go on no
+longer. He hates me."
+
+"Oh, hush, hush, Tita!"
+
+"He does! He was unkind to me all to-day. He is always unkind to me.
+He _hates_ me, and he--loves her."
+
+"I don't think so. I don't, really. Sit down, darling," says
+Margaret, in great agitation.
+
+"I know he does. Did you see that he would hardly speak to me this
+evening, and----"
+
+"I thought it was you who would not speak to him."
+
+"Oh no, no! I was longing to speak to him. I can't bear being bad
+friends with _anyone;_ but, of course, I could not go up to him, and
+tell him so; and he--what did _he_ do?--he spent the whole evening
+with Mrs. Bethune in the conservatory."
+
+"Tita, I assure you he was not alone with her then. Mrs.
+Chichester----"
+
+"I don't care about his being alone with her," says Tita, whose mind
+is as fresh as her face. "He was _with_ her all the evening; you
+know he was. Oh, how I hate that woman!"
+
+"Tita, listen----"
+
+"Yes; I hate her. And----" She stops and lays her hands on
+Margaret's arm and looks piteously at her. "Do you know," says she,
+"I used _not_ to hate people. I thought once I hated my uncle, but I
+didn't know. It was nothing like this. It is dreadful to feel like
+this."
+
+There is poignant anguish in the young voice. It goes to Margaret's
+heart.
+
+"Tita, be sensible," says she sharply. "Do you think all the misery
+of the world is yours?"
+
+"No, no," faintly. "Only _my_ portion is so heavy."
+
+She bursts into tears.
+
+"Good heavens!" says Margaret distractedly, caressing her and
+soothing her. "What a world it is! Why, _why_ cannot you and Maurice
+see how delightful you both are? It is an enigma. No one can solve
+it. Tita darling, take heart. Why--why, if Marian were so bad as you
+think her--which I pray God she isn't--still, think how far you can
+surpass her in youth, in charm, in beauty."
+
+"Beauty!"
+
+The girl looks up at Margaret as if too astonished to say more.
+
+_"Certainly_ in beauty," firmly. "Marian in her best days was never
+as lovely as you are. Never!"
+
+"Ah! Now I know you love me," says Tita very sadly. "You alone think
+that." She pauses, and the pause is eloquent. "Maurice doesn't,"
+says she.
+
+"Maurice is a fool" is on Margaret's lips, but she resists the
+desire to say it to Maurice's wife, and, in the meantime, Tita has
+recovered herself somewhat, and is now giving full sway once more to
+her temper.
+
+"After all, I don't care!" exclaims she. "Why should I? Maurice is
+as little to me as I am to him. What I _do_ care about is being
+scolded by him all day long, when I have quite as good a right to
+scold him. Oh, better! He has behaved badly, Margaret, hasn't he? He
+should never have married me without _telling_ me of--of her."
+
+"I think he should have told you," says Margaret, with decision.
+"But I think, too, Tita, that he has been perfectly true to you
+since his marriage."
+
+"True?"
+
+"I mean--I think--he has not shown any special attention to Marian."
+
+"He showed it to-night, any way," rebelliously.
+
+"He did not indeed. She asked him to show her the chrysanthemums,
+and what could he do but go with her to the conservatory? And I
+particularly noticed that as he passed Mrs. Chichester he asked her
+to come and see them too."
+
+"He didn't ask me, at all events," says Tita.
+
+"Perhaps he was afraid; and, indeed, Tita"--very gently--"you are
+not so altogether blameless yourself. You talked and played cards
+the whole night with Mr. Hescott."
+
+"Oh, poor old Tom! That was only because I had been unkind to him in
+the morning, and because"--ingenuously--"I wanted to pay out
+Maurice."
+
+Margaret sighs.
+
+"It is all very sad," says she.
+
+"It is," says Tita, tears welling up into her eyes again--a sign of
+grace that Margaret welcomes.
+
+"Well, go to bed now, darling; and, Tita, if Maurice says anything
+to you--anything----"
+
+"Cross--_I_ know!" puts in Tita.
+
+"Promise me you will not answer him in anger, do promise me! It
+makes me so unhappy," says Margaret persuasively, kissing the girl,
+and pressing her in her arms.
+
+"Oh! _Does_ it? I'm sorry," says Tita, seeing the real distress on
+Margaret's sweet face. "There! He may say what he likes to me, I
+shan't answer him back. Not a word! A syllable! I'll be as good as
+gold!"
+
+She kisses Margaret fondly, and leaves the room.
+
+Outside, in the long corridor, the lamps are beginning to burn
+dimly. It is already twelve o'clock. Twelve strokes from the hall
+beneath fall upon Tita's ear as she goes hurriedly towards her own
+room. It is the midnight hour, the mystic hour, when ghosts do take
+their nightly rounds!
+
+This is not a ghost, however, this tall young man, who, coming up by
+the central staircase, meets her now face to face.
+
+"Tita! Is it you?"
+
+"Yes, yes," says Tita, trying to hurry past him.
+
+If Tom has come up from the smoking-room, of course the others will
+be coming too, and, on the whole, she is not as well got up as
+usual. It is with a sort of contempt she treats the charming gown in
+which she is now clothed. And yet she has hardly ever looked
+lovelier than now, with her eyes a little widened by her late grief,
+and her hair so sweetly disturbed, and her little slender form
+showing through the open folds of the long white gown that covers
+her.
+
+"Don't go. Don't!" says Tom Hescott; his tone is so full of poignant
+anguish that she stops short. "Stay a moment." In his despair he has
+caught a fold of her gown. To do him fair justice, he honestly
+believes that she hates her husband, and that she is thoroughly
+unhappy with him. Unhappy with great cause. "I am going--you know
+that, and--I have a last word to say. I tried to say it this
+afternoon--out there--you know--in the shrubberies, and when you
+wouldn't listen--I--I respected that. I respected you. But--a time
+may come when you"--hurriedly--"may not always choose to live this
+wretched life. There will be a way out of it, Tita--a way not made
+by _you!"_
+
+Tita suddenly feels very cold, chilled to her heart's core. She had
+listened so far as if stunned; but now she wakes, and the face of
+Marian Bethune seems to look with a cold sneer into hers.
+
+"And after that," goes on Hescott, "if--if----" He breaks down.
+"Well, if _that_ comes, you know I--_love_ you, Tita."
+
+He tries to take her hand.
+
+"Don't touch me!" says Tita vehemently. She pushes his hand from
+her; such a disdainful little push. "Oh, I thought you really _did_
+love me," says she, "but not like _this!"_ Suddenly a sort of rage
+and of anger springs to life within her. She turns a face,
+singularly childish, yet with the sad first break of womanhood upon
+it, to his. "How _dare_ you love me like this?" says she.
+
+"Tita, listen to me----"
+
+"No. Not I! You must be a _fool_ to talk to me like this. Of what
+use is it? What good? If you loved me for ever, what good could come
+of it? I don't love you! Ah!"--she catches her breath and looks
+straight at him with an undying sense of indignation--"Maurice was
+right about you, and I was wrong. He saw through you, I didn't.
+I"--with a little inward glance into her own feelings--"I shan't
+forgive you for _that,_ either!"
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"It really doesn't matter," says Tita, cruel for the first time in
+all her sweet young life. The light is so dim that she cannot see
+his face distinctly. Perhaps if she had, she would have been kinder.
+"I mean nothing. Only go; go at once! Do you _hear?"_
+
+Her childish voice grows imperious.
+
+"I am going," says Hescott dully--"in the morning."
+
+"Oh! I'm glad"--smiting her hands together--"by the _early_ train?"
+
+"The earliest!"
+
+Hescott's soul seems dying within him. All at once the truth is
+clear to him, or, at least, half of it. She may not love her
+husband, but, beyond all question, love for him--Hescott--has never
+entered into her mind.
+
+"And a good thing too!" says Tita wrathfully. "I hope I shall never
+see you here again. I could never bear to look at you after this!"
+She is standing trembling with agitation before him, like one
+full-filled with wrath. "To-day--I shall not forget _that._
+To-day--and that story"--she stops as if choking--"what did you
+_mean_ by telling that story?" demands she, almost violently.
+"Everyone there knew what you meant. It dragged me down to the
+ground. I hated you for it! You invented it. You _know_ you did,
+just to humiliate _him!_ You think Maurice hates me, but he doesn't.
+It is a lie!" She pauses, her lovely eyes aflame. "It is a lie!" she
+repeats passionately.
+
+"If so----" begins Hescott, but in so low a tone, and so dead, that
+she scarcely heeds it.
+
+"And to call me an angel before them all. Ah! I could read through
+you. So could everyone. It was an insult! I _won't_ be called an
+angel. I am just what Maurice is, and no more. I wonder Maurice
+didn't _kill_ you--and he would, only you were his guest. So would
+I--only----"
+
+She breaks off. The tears are running down her cheeks. She makes a
+little swift turn of her body towards him.
+
+"Oh, Tom! and I did so believe in _you!"_
+
+There is a short silence fraught with misery for one soul, at all
+events.
+
+"Believe in me still," says Tom Hescott, in a queer, low tone.
+"Believe in me now--and for ever--to"--with passionate
+fondness--"the last moment of your life." He draws his breath
+sharply. "And now good-bye."
+
+He struggles with himself, and, failing in the struggle, catches her
+suddenly to his breast, and there holds her to his heart for half a
+minute, perhaps.
+
+Then he releases her. It is all over. He had not even tried to kiss
+her. He goes swiftly past her into the gloom beyond the dying lamp,
+and is lost.
+
+Tita stands as if stricken dumb. For a second only. _Then_ she is
+conscious of a hand being laid on her arm, of her being forcibly led
+forward to her own room, of the door being closed behind her.
+
+She turns and looks up at Rylton. His eyes are blazing. He is
+dangerously white across cheeks and nose.
+
+"There shall be an end of this!" says he.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+HOW JEALOUSY RUNS RIOT IN OAKDEAN; AND HOW MARGARET TRIES TO THROW
+OIL UPON THE WATERS; AND HOW A GREAT CRASH COMES, WITH MANY WORDS
+AND ONE SURPRISE.
+
+
+
+Tita has wrenched herself from his grasp.
+
+"Of _what?"_ demands she.
+
+"Do you think you can hoodwink me any longer? There shall be an end
+of it--do you hear?" Rylton's face, as she now sees it in the light
+of the lamps in her room, almost frightens her. "I've had enough of
+it!"
+
+"I don't understand you!" says Tita, standing well away from him,
+her face as white as ashes.
+
+As for _his_ face----
+
+"Don't you?" violently. "Then I shall explain. I've had enough of
+what ruins men's lives and honours--of what leads to----"
+
+"To?" says the girl, shrinking, yet leaning forward.
+
+"To the devil--to the Divorce Court!" says Rylton, with increasing
+violence. "Do you think I did not see you and him just now--you--_in
+his arms!_ Look here!"
+
+He seizes her arm. There is a quick, sudden movement, and she is
+once again free. Such a little, fragile creature! She seems to have
+grown a woman during this encounter, and to be now tall to him, and
+strong and imperious.
+
+"Don't!" says she, in a curious tone, so low as to be almost
+unheard, yet clear to him. "Don't come near me. _Don't!_ What do you
+accuse me of?"
+
+"You know right well. Do you think the whole world--_our_ world, at
+all events--has not seen how it has been with you and----"
+
+He cannot go on. He pauses, looking at her. He had meant to spare
+her feelings; but, to his surprise, she meets his gaze fully, and
+says, "Well?" in a questioning way.
+
+At this his rage bursts forth.
+
+"Are you _quite_ shameless that you talk to me like this?" cries he.
+"Are you mad?" As he speaks, his fingers tighten on a piece of
+paper--evidently a letter--that he is holding in his right hand.
+"You _must_ know that I saw you with him to-night--you--in his
+arms--_you_----"
+
+Tita turns upon him.
+
+"It is you who are mad," says she. She goes quite close to him. "He
+was going. He was bidding me good-bye." She pauses; her breath comes
+heavily, but she goes on: "He was bidding me good-bye, and--he told
+me he loved me----"
+
+Rylton flings her from him.
+
+"Do you pretend that was the first time?"
+
+"The first--the _first?"_ cries Tita passionately. "Do you think--do
+you _dare_ to think that----"
+
+"I refuse to tell you what I think. There is one thing more,
+however, to be said; you shall give up all further intercourse with
+your cousin."
+
+Now, Tita had decided, during her late interview with Tom, that she
+would never willingly see him again; but here and thus to be
+_ordered_ to do her own desire is more than she can bear.
+
+"No, I shall not do that," says she.
+
+"You _shall,"_ says Rylton, whose temper is now beyond his control.
+
+"I shall _not."_ Tita is standing back from him, her small
+flower-like head uplifted, her eyes on fire. "Oh, coward!" cries
+she. "You do right to speak to me like this--to me, who have no one
+to help me."
+
+"You--you!" interrupts he. "Where is Hescott, then?"
+
+His voice, his tone, his whole air, is one great insult.
+
+Tita stands for one moment like a marble thing transfixed; then:
+
+"Tom is not _here,"_ says she slowly, contemptuously, and with great
+meaning. "If he were---- In the meantime, I am in your power, so far
+that I must listen to you. There is no one to help me. I haven't a
+living soul in the wide world to stand by me, and you know it."
+
+Here the door is thrown open, and Margaret comes in, pale, uneasy.
+By a mere chance she had left her room to place a letter for the
+early post in the box in the corridor outside, and had then seen
+Hescott going down the corridor (unconscious of Rylton coming up
+behind him)--had seen the latter's rather rough impelling of Tita
+into her bedroom, and---- And afraid of consequences, she had at
+last smothered her dreadful repugnance to interfering with other
+people's business, and had gone swiftly to Tita's door. Even then
+she was on the point of giving up--of being false to her
+principles--when Tita's voice, a little high, a little strained, had
+frightened her. It had been followed by an angry answer from Rylton.
+Margaret opened the door and went in.
+
+Tita is standing with her back to a small table, her hands behind
+her, resting upon it, steadying her. She is facing Rylton, and every
+one of her small beautiful features breathes defiance--a defiance
+which seems to madden Rylton. His face is terribly white, and he has
+caught his under lip with his teeth--a bad sign with him.
+
+"Maurice, it is not her fault. Tita, forgive me! I heard--I saw--I
+feared something." The gentle Margaret seems all broken up, and very
+agitated. After a pause, as if to draw her breath--a pause not
+interrupted, so great is the amazement of the two belligerents
+before her et her so sudden appearance--she addresses herself solely
+to Sir Maurice. "She had been with me," she begins. "It was the
+merest chance her leaving me just then; she was going to her own
+room."
+
+But Tita cuts he short.
+
+"I forbid you, Margaret!" cries she violently. "Be silent! I tell
+you I will not have myself either excused or explained. Do not
+arrange a defence for me. I will not be defended."
+
+"Let me explain, my dearest--_do_ let me explain," entreats Margaret
+earnestly. "It is for your good."
+
+"It is not; and even if it were, I should not allow it. Besides,
+there is nothing to explain. I was only bidding good-bye to Tom!"
+She pauses, and tears spring to her eyes--tears half angry, half
+remorseful. "Oh, _poor_ Tom!" cries she. _"He_ loves me!" Her breast
+rises and falls rapidly, and, after a struggle with herself, she
+bursts out crying. "He was my _one_ friend, I think! And I was so
+unkind to him! I told him I should never ask him here again! I was
+abominable to him! And all for nothing--nothing at all. Only because
+he said he--_loved_ _me!"_
+
+She is sobbing passionately now.
+
+"Tita," says Rylton; he takes a step towards her.
+
+"As for you," cries she wildly, putting up her hands as if to keep
+him far from her, "I wish I had been born a _beggar._ Then," slowly,
+and in a voice vibrating with scorn--"then I should not have been
+chosen by _you!"_
+
+The cut goes home. For a second Rylton winces, then his fingers
+close even more tightly over the paper he is holding, and a cynical
+smile crosses his lips.
+
+"You believe much in money," says he.
+
+"I have reason to do so," coldly. The strange smile on his lips has
+caught her attention, and has killed the more vehement form of her
+passion. "It induced you to marry me! Your mother told me so!"
+
+"Did she?" He is smiling still. "Well, all that is at an end."
+Something in his voice makes Margaret look quickly at him, and he
+flings the letter he has been crushing in his hand to her. "Read
+that!" says he.
+
+Margaret catches it, opens it hurriedly, and reads. Her face grows
+very pale. She looks up.
+
+"You got it?"
+
+"By the night mail, two hours ago."
+
+"What is it?" demands Tita imperiously.
+
+She had taken no notice of his giving the letter to Margaret; but
+now she is sure that some mystery lies in it--a mystery that has
+something to do with her.
+
+Margaret regards her piteously.
+
+"My dear--I----"
+
+She breaks down, and looks now at Rylton as if reproaching him for
+having cast this task upon her shoulders. Rylton shakes his head.
+
+"From you--it will be kinder," says he.
+
+_"What_ is it?" asks Tita again, taking a step towards Margaret, and
+holding out her hand for the letter.
+
+"Your money!" falters Margaret nervously.
+
+"Yes--yes!"
+
+_ "It is all gone!"_
+
+"Gone?"
+
+"All! There is nothing left," says Margaret, pale as ashes.
+
+"Gone!" Tita repeats the word once or twice, as a child might,
+trying to learn a new syllable; she seems a little stunned. Then
+suddenly her whole face grows bright; it wakes into a new life as it
+were. "Is it _all_ gone?" asks she.
+
+"Yes, my dearest girl, I am afraid so. But you must not be unhappy,
+Tita; I----"
+
+"Oh, _unhappy!"_ cries the girl, in a high clear tone, one full of
+fresh, sweet courage and delight. She walks straight up to Rylton.
+_"Now I can leave you!"_ says she.
+
+If she had been planning a revenge, she could hardly have arranged
+it better. Rylton looks back at her. He is silent, but she reads the
+disturbance of his soul in his firmly shut mouth, and the little,
+quick, flittering frown that draws his brows together in momentary
+rapidity. He had thought many things of her, but that she should
+hail with rapture the ruin that seemed to give her a chance of
+escape from him--_that_ thought had not been his.
+
+In a moment, however, he has pulled himself together. He tells
+himself he sees at once the right course to pursue. In other words,
+he has decided on conquering her.
+
+"You shall certainly not do that," says he icily.
+
+"I shall, however." She almost laughs as she steps back from him,
+and up to Margaret. There is an air about her as though she had
+snapped her pretty fingers in his face. "Now you must help me to
+gain my living," cries she gaily. "'A child of the people' (I quote
+your mother again)," smiling at Rylton, "I will go back to the
+people."
+
+"It is not quite so bad as that," says Margaret, who has been
+studying the fatal letter with a view of tearing _some_ good out of
+it. "It seems that when these speculations that your uncle made with
+your money all failed--and these failures have been going on for
+years--that still he tried to keep up his credit with you by--by
+sacrificing all his own money, and----"
+
+"Poor old Uncle George," says the girl softly. For the first time
+she seems sorry for the misfortune that has fallen on her house.
+"Perhaps I can go to him, and help him. I dare say, now he is down
+in the world, he might be a little kinder to me."
+
+"Impossible, Tita. He has gone abroad," says Margaret, who, as she
+tells herself miserably, is developing into a determined liar!
+
+Uncle George, so runs the letter, has committed suicide. Truly he
+has gone abroad with a vengeance, and no man knoweth whither.
+
+Tita sighs. It is, to tell truth, a sigh of relief. Uncle George had
+not been palatable to her.
+
+"Well, I can earn something."
+
+"You need not that," says Margaret. "It seems there is from two to
+three hundred a year left to you that cannot be disputed. It should
+be sufficient to----"
+
+"I can live on _half_ that!" cries Tita eagerly.
+
+"You shall live with me," says Rylton, breaking in with cold anger.
+"You are my wife. You shall not leave me."
+
+Tita makes a little gesture.
+
+"Why waste time over it?" says she. "I shall leave you as soon as
+ever I can. To-morrow. I am afraid it is too late to-night. I should
+have gone any way, after what you said to me just now----"
+
+"After what _he_ said to you, you mean!" bursts in Rylton violently,
+losing all control over his temper. "You were going with him----"
+
+_"Maurice!"_ Margaret has stepped between them. "How _dare_ you
+speak to her like that?" says she, her calm, kind face transfigured.
+"I hope to see you ashamed of yourself to-morrow. Be quiet, Tita.
+_I_ will look after you." She turns again hurriedly to Rylton, who
+is looking very white and breathing heavily, with his eyes immovably
+fixed on Tita. "She will come with me--to my house to-morrow," says
+Margaret. "You will, Tita?"
+
+"Oh yes, to you!" cries Tita, running to her, and flinging herself
+into her arms. "You are the only one who--of _his_ family"--with a
+baleful glance at Rylton over her shoulder--"who has been kind to
+me!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+HOW MAURICE TELLS HIS MOTHER OF THE GREAT FIASCO; AND HOW SHE
+RECEIVES THE NEWS.
+
+
+
+The guests have all gone! The morning train had swallowed up the
+Hescotts, and the eleven o'clock had disposed of the rest. Only the
+Dowager Lady Rylton and Margaret still remain.
+
+The latter has decided on going by the evening train and taking Tita
+with her, deeming it best to separate husband and wife for a little
+while, until the calamity be overpast for a few weeks, at all
+events. As for Tessie, she had come with a determination to linger
+on until Christmas with her son and his wife, though asked for three
+weeks only; and it is her son's pleasing task to be obliged now to
+explain to her why and wherefore she must go back at once to the old
+home--to The Place--to the old home partially saved from ruin by his
+unhappy marriage, and now doomed to a sure destruction because of
+the loss of the fortune that had been the primary motive in the
+making of that marriage.
+
+Rylton got through the telling of his lamentable tale more easily
+than he could have supposed possible. Whilst walking up the stairs
+to his mother's room, he had tried to compose certain forms of
+speech that might let the whole affair "down easy," to quote from
+the modern English language, but had failed utterly. Yet, when on
+the spot, he had run glibly through it all--coldly--almost without
+feeling. And his mother had heard him as coldly, until she learned
+all hope was at an end--as far as Tita's thousands were concerned.
+
+Then she gave way to hysterics!
+
+And even now, when, by the help of a wet sponge and a maid and a
+bottle of champagne, he has pulled her through, sufficient at all
+events to be able to talk rationally, she is still in the very
+lowest depths of despair.
+
+"And to think you should have sacrificed yourself for a mere
+'person' like that! A little"--sob--"wretched _nobody_. Oh! if your
+father could only see you now! A creature of no family, no manners,
+no----"
+
+"Who are you talking of, mother? My father?"
+
+"If you can be frivolous at this moment, Maurice, you can be
+frivolous for ever," says his mother, weeping (presumably) behind
+her little lace rag, her voice like a dagger.
+
+"I'm far from that," says Maurice, flinging himself into a chair.
+"But the fact is, mother, let us leave Tita out of this affair. I
+object to hearing her--er--criticised by you--or anyone."
+
+Tessie weeps afresh.
+
+"The soul of honour," breathes she, apostrophizing the ceiling. "But
+I cannot let you, Maurice, be so deceived by a mere swindler such as
+she is. Do you for a moment imagine--ah yes!" throwing up her hands
+and plainly admiring Maurice with great fervour--"you probably do;
+you have a soul, Maurice, a great soul, inherited from _me!_ But I
+shall not permit that little vulgar fraud of a girl to demoralize
+it. Of _course_ she knew all about her uncle's speculations--and
+married you gladly, knowing what the end would be. Oh! my poor boy!"
+
+Lady Rylton retires again behind her lace rag.
+
+"That will do," says Maurice curtly.
+
+It seems almost funny to him that he, who has been condemning Tita
+all the night and morning in his heart, can now be so violently
+angry with another fellow-creature for decrying her.
+
+"Of course, I know. I understand," says Tessie, still weeping, "it
+is always so painful to know that one has been thoroughly taken in.
+No wonder you can't listen even to your own mother with common
+patience. I excuse you, Maurice. I often had to excuse your dear
+father. Both you and he were a little weak--a little noble,
+perhaps--but well, you required someone to look after you. And
+I--poor, _poor_ I--what could I do?" Tessie shakes her head
+mournfully from side to side. "And as for this miserable little
+deception----"
+
+"Look here, mother----"
+
+"Oh! I know, I know. It is not the nice thing to do, of course, but
+alone with one's only son one may waive a point and condole with him
+on the abominable qualities of the woman he has chosen to be his
+wife---- Dear Maurice, you should be careful. Didn't you _see_ that
+footstool? I quite thought you kicked it. And her laugh. Do you know
+it used to hurt me?"
+
+"Not until after our marriage, however," says Rylton, who is now a
+little strung.
+
+"Oh! no wonder you reproach me," says his mother. "I shall for ever
+reproach myself. _Such_ a person--without a penny--to fling herself
+into your arms."
+
+"Ah! she had a penny then," says Maurice.
+
+"Then? Yes! Do you think I should have countenanced your marriage
+otherwise?"
+
+"My dear mother, of course not. I know you too well for that."
+
+His irony is thrown away upon Tessie, who is not equal to these
+drags upon her intellect, and as a fact Rylton is scarcely listening
+to her; his whole soul is in a turmoil. He scarcely knows what he
+wants or what he does not want--whom he loves or hates. Only
+Tita--Tita is always before him; and as hate is stronger than love,
+as some folk have it (though they lie), he believes that all his
+thoughts grow with a cruel persistence of detestation towards the
+small, ill-tempered child whom he has married.
+
+"At all events _she_ knew what she was about," says Tessie, flinging
+down her handkerchief and speaking with a touch of viciousness. "She
+knew perfectly how she stood with her wretched uncle before she
+married you. No doubt they arranged it between them. She was fully
+aware of the state of her finances, and so was the uncle. So glad
+that miserable old person is out of the way for ever, of making
+young men of family marry young women of no family, who have not
+even money to recommend them. I must say your--_I shudder_ to utter
+the word, Maurice--your wife--is as thoroughly dishonest a person
+as----" Tessie pauses, and casts a furtive glance at him. "After
+all, there may be a hope for you, Maurice. That cousin! So
+_prononcée_ the whole thing--so unmistakable. And once a divorce was
+established----"
+
+She never knew afterwards what really happened. Perhaps, after all,
+nothing happened--nothing material; but what she does know if that
+Maurice is standing before her, looking like a demon.
+
+"D----n it!" says he. His temper is _very_ bad sometimes. "Can't you
+_see_ that I won't have a word said against her?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+HOW MATTERS COME TO A CLIMAX; AND HOW TITA TELLS MAURICE MANY THINGS
+THAT STING HIM SHARPLY; AND HOW HE LAYS HANDS UPON HER; AND HOW THE
+LAST ADIEUX ARE SAID.
+
+
+
+"So you have made up your mind," says Maurice, looking at his wife
+with a glance as full of coldness as it is of rage. "You see your
+way? It is for ever, remember. You decide on leaving me?"
+
+"Why should I stay?" says Tita.
+
+There is evidently no idea of "staying" about her; she is dressed
+for a journey, with care--_great_ care--but with all the air of one
+who is going away for a long, long time. She is exquisitely dressed;
+the soft gray costume, trimmed with costly furs, sets off her bijou
+figure to perfection, and her soft, dainty curls show coquettishly
+from beneath her fur cap. Her eyes are shining like stars; her lips
+have taken a slightly malicious curve; her rounded chin, soft and
+white as a baby's, is delicately tilted. She is looking lovely. "Why
+should I stay?" Her question seems to beat upon his brain. He could
+have answered it, perhaps, had pride permitted him, but pride is a
+great tyrant, and rules with an iron rod. And, besides, even if he
+had answered, _she_ has a tyrant, too--her own pride. As a fact we
+all have these tyrants, and it is surprising how we hug them to our
+breasts.
+
+"Why should I stay?" says Tita. "All you wanted from me is gone; now
+I go too. You should rejoice. If you have lost in one way you have
+gained in another. You will never see me or my money again!"
+
+The bitterness in the young voice, the hatred in the young eyes, is
+terrible.
+
+For a full minute Rylton remains silent. The mind is a strange
+thing, not to be controlled, full of vagaries, and now, for no
+reason whatever, as it seems to him, it has run back to his wedding
+morning. Is _this_ the careless, idle, little tomboy who had stood
+before the altar--the little girl he had assured himself he could
+mould to his will?
+
+"You forget," says he coldly, "that you are married to me. It is not
+so simple a matter as you seem to imagine for a wife to throw off
+her marriage yoke."
+
+"Yoke! What a good word that is!" says Tita, with the air of one
+making a discovery. Then lightly, "Pouf! Nonsense! I'll show you how
+easy it is! And as for that----" Again her mood changes. "Don't go
+in for that sort of thing," says she contemptuously. "Be honest with
+me now, at the last. You know you will be as glad to get rid of me,
+as I shall be to be rid of you."
+
+"Speak for yourself," says Rylton slowly. His eyes are on the
+ground. "I have not said I shall be glad to get rid of you."
+
+"No, I have said it for you. I have befriended you to the very end;
+and if you _will_ be a hypocrite, why--_be it!"_ cries she gaily.
+
+She throws up her hands with an airy little gesture, full of grace,
+and anger, and something else difficult to describe, but that
+certainly is devoid of any sort of mirth.
+
+"Hypocrite or not, remember this," says Maurice, "it is _you_ who
+have decided on a separation."
+
+"Yes; I--I." She bursts out laughing. "'Alone I did it!' To-day I
+set you free!"
+
+"Free!"
+
+"Ah, not so free as I _would_ make you!" shaking her head.
+
+He looks at her.
+
+_ "You_ are honest, at all events," says he bitterly; then, after a
+moment, "You approve, then, on the step you are taking?"
+
+Tita makes a gesture of impatience.
+
+"What _will_ you have?" says she. "What do you find fault with now?
+Have I not behaved well? Have I not behaved beautifully? I stayed
+with you as long as I had any money--the money for which you gave me
+your--title. I cannot flatter myself that you gave me more than that
+for it. Probably you gave me too much. And so now, when the money is
+gone, the bargain is off, and"--with a shrug of her shoulders, and
+the saucy glance of a naughty child from under her long lashes--_"I_
+am off too! Isn't that being good?"
+
+"Have you no charity?" says he. A dark red flush has crimsoned his
+forehead. "What a character you give me! Do you think I have no
+heart?"
+
+"Oh, _your_ heart!" says she gaily. "I don't think you need to be
+unhappy about it. It will do. You say I am honest, and one thing
+honestly I do regret, that I should have unwittingly tempted you to
+marry me because of my money--when now it has all dropped overboard.
+If I had only known how you regarded it, I----"
+
+"That infernal money!" says he violently.
+
+There is almost a groan in his voice. His eyes are fixed upon her;
+he is wondering at her. What a child she looks in her pretty frock!
+What an unreasonable child! But what a charm in the angry eyes of
+her, the defiance of her whole air! There is something that maddens
+him in the scornful shrug of her dainty shoulders.
+
+"Oh yes--yes--of course!" says she, bringing the little disdainful
+shrug into full requisition now. "No wonder you abuse it, poor
+thing! _But_ for that 'infernal money,' you would never have dreamed
+of marrying me, and now that it is gone--gone----" She pauses. "Oh,"
+sharply, "I am _glad_ it is gone! It opens for me a way to leave
+you!"
+
+Rylton strides forward, and seizes her by both her arms.
+
+"Supposing I don't _let_ you go!" says he.
+
+"I shan't ask your permission," returns she calmly, submitting to
+his violent pressure without a wince--a pressure unmeant--unknown by
+him, to do him justice. "And I need not! Think of the detestable
+life we have lived together! Don't I know that you hated it as much
+as I did--perhaps more! No," softly. "Not _more!"_
+
+Rylton loosens his hold of her, and steps back. If she had said a
+thousand words, they could not have brought her meaning more
+forcibly home to him than these two, "Not _more."_
+
+"Oh, think!" cries she, clasping her hands in a sort of ecstasy.
+"To-day--this very day--in an hour or so, we shall be miles, and
+miles, and _miles_ away from each other! What more can you desire?"
+
+Rylton brings his hand down upon the table before him.
+
+"Nothing!" returns he hoarsely. "I would rather die than subject
+myself to the misery I have been enduring with you. I would, by
+heaven!"
+
+"Ah, you speak the truth at last," says she. "Well"--she moves
+towards him and holds out her hand--"now that you have spoken, I am
+satisfied. Good-bye; I hope I shall never see you again!"
+
+He thrusts her hand aside.
+
+"I shall remember that," says he.
+
+"That was why I said it," returns she. She has flung up her head,
+angered a little perhaps even in this desperate moment at his
+rejection of her hand. Her eyes are gleaming. Her beauty seems to
+shine out--to grow upon him. Maurice regards her curiously even
+now--now, when she is going for ever. _How_ can so bitter a spirit
+dwell in so sweet a temple? "Will you not say good-bye, then?" says
+she.
+
+"No--never."
+
+She turns away deliberately and leaves the room.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+HOW MARGARET STEPS INTO THE BREACH, AND LEARNS THAT ALL PEACEMAKERS
+ARE NOT BLESSED.
+
+
+
+"It is quite the wisest thing to be done at present," says Margaret.
+"I do hope, Maurice, you will not object to the arrangement."
+
+She regards him anxiously. It is an hour later, and the carriage has
+been ordered to be at the door in fifteen minutes. Margaret has come
+to bid Maurice good-bye, and say a few words to him.
+
+_ "I!_ What have I got to do with it?" he laughs contemptuously.
+_"She_ has arranged everything. The farther she goes from me the
+better. I am sorry that the resting-place she has chosen is so near.
+Park Lane as usual, I suppose, Margaret? But it won't last, my dear
+girl. She will go farther afield soon."
+
+"You think her fickle, I don't," says Margaret gravely. "You have
+misjudged her all along. I believe she loves me. I believe," slowly,
+"she has a great capacity for loving."
+
+"Are you alluding to her capacity for loving Mr. Hescott?"
+
+"That is unworthy of you," says his cousin. She rises. "I have only
+a few moments--and your wife is coming with me, and I would say one
+word to you before I go. She is young--_very_ young. She is a mere
+child."
+
+"She is old enough, I presume, to know right from wrong."
+
+"She is the youngest creature I know," persists Margaret, in her
+sweet angelic way, that is all charity, all kindness and all
+forbearance. "And what a little fairy of a thing! A man should have
+patience with her. _Have_ patience, Maurice."
+
+"Oh! All you women support each other," says he, frowning. "You wish
+me to believe that because Nature has built her in a smaller mould
+than other women, I should therefore condone her faults."
+
+"Such pretty faults," says Margaret. "A little hot temper, a little
+sauciness, a little petulance--what more?"
+
+Rylton's lip curls.
+
+"If you are such a devotee at her shrine as all that comes to, there
+is nothing more to be said. Her flirtation with her cousin----"
+
+_"Was_ it a flirtation?"
+
+"There are new names for things every day. Give it the new name and
+be done with it."
+
+"There can be no new name for a mere imagination. I don't believe
+she ever had any--any love affair with Mr. Hescott. I don't really,
+and," boldly, "in your heart I don't think you believe it either.
+No, don't turn away, _don't._ It is for your sake I speak, because I
+have always your interest at heart; Maurice, I entreat you to pause,
+to think. Is all the fault on Tita's side? Have you loved her as she
+should be loved?--that little, quick, enthusiastic creature. Where
+has your heart been since your marriage!"
+
+"You go very far," says Rylton, pale, cold.
+
+"I know; I know. And I am only a cousin, a mere nobody. But I love
+the child, and I _must_ speak. You will hate me for it, perhaps, but
+why has Marian been here?"
+
+"Tita asked her."
+
+"Is that the whole truth?"
+
+"No; the half," says Sir Maurice. He rouses himself from the
+lethargy into which he has fallen, and looks at Margaret. "I
+promised Marian an invitation here; I asked Tita for that invitation
+later. Marian came. I believed there would be harm in her coming,
+and I steeled myself against it. I tell you, Margaret--I tell you,
+and you only--that when she came the harm--was--well"--straightening
+himself--"there was _no_ harm. All at once I found I did not care.
+My love for her seemed dead. It was terrible, but it was the fact; I
+seemed to care for nothing--nothing at all. Margaret, believe me, it
+was all dead. I tell you this, that the night when I discovered
+that, I longed for death as a solution of my misery. To care for
+nothing--nothing!"
+
+"There was something," says Margaret. "There was Tita!"
+
+"Was there?"
+
+"Certainly there was."
+
+"She has proved it," says Rylton, breaking into a sort of
+heart-broken mirth.
+
+"She is angry now," says Margaret eagerly. "She is very
+naturally--unhinged; and she has been told----"
+
+"By my mother?"
+
+"Yes. That was unfortunate. She--Tessie--your mother," hastily,
+"should not have told her."
+
+"After all, I'm glad she did," says Rylton warmly. "What does it
+matter? And, at all events, it makes the thing clear to Tita. It is
+quite as well that she should know that I was a cur of the worst
+description when I asked her to marry me."
+
+"You were never that," says his cousin, tears rising in her eyes.
+"You have been wrong in many ways, but I still believe in you, and I
+think that when you married Tita you meant to be true to her."
+
+"I did, God knows!" says he. "It was the least I could do,
+considering how I had taken advantage of her. But she----"
+
+"Well?" says Margaret.
+
+"Hescott----"
+
+"Oh, Maurice, don't! _Don't_ be unjust over that. I tell you there
+was nothing in that. The poor child has been foolish, faulty,
+absurd, in many ways, but daylight is not sweeter or more pure. I
+tell you this as my last word. And, Maurice, in time--in a month or
+so--come and see us----"
+
+"Us? _Her?_ No!"
+
+"Come and see me, then. I shall be, as you know, in town. _Do_
+come."
+
+"Well, let me know first that she won't be there."
+
+"I shall arrange for you not to see her, if you wish that," says
+Margaret, deeply grieved in her kind spirit. "But I hope that in
+time----"
+
+"If you are hoping that Tita and I shall ever make it up again, you
+are the most hopeful person alive," says he. "No--I tell you
+plainly--I shall go to see you when she is away, never when she is
+with you."
+
+"But why? You certainly can't believe she has any _tendresse_ for
+Mr. Hescott."
+
+"Why should I not believe it?" gloomily.
+
+"Why should you? Dear Maurice, be sensible. I _know_ that Tita cares
+nothing for him."
+
+"How? Has she told you?"
+
+"Not told me. But one can see."
+
+"So can another one." He throws up his head suddenly, as if tired
+and altogether done. "There! I give it up," says he. "I have married
+an enigma, apparently, and my blood must be on my own head."
+
+"You have married one of the sweetest girls on earth," says Margaret
+indignantly, stung by his nonchalant demeanour. "You are unworthy of
+her--you are not capable of understanding her." Rylton shrugs his
+shoulders. "In time--in _time,"_ says the gentle Margaret, now all
+aglow with anger, "you will learn her worth; but as it is----"
+
+She moves towards the door. Rylton hurries to open it for her.
+
+"I may come and see you?" asks he.
+
+"If you will, but I shall certainly not send Tita out of the way to
+oblige you."
+
+"Well, I shall take my chance."
+
+"It is in your own hands."
+
+Margaret sweeps past him. She is at this moment nearly as angry with
+him as Tita is.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+HOW MARGARET AND TITA TREAD MANY PATHS; AND HOW FORTUNE, HAVING
+TURNED HER BACK ON TITA, SHOWS A SMILING FRONT TO MAURICE.
+
+
+
+It is six months later, and now fair May has come to us on young and
+eager feet. On young feet barely born, and with a smile so slight
+that one dare hardly call it sunshine. At this moment a little gleam
+of it, just strong enough to make one dream of summer, but not
+enough to warm one, is stealing timidly though the windows of
+Margaret's smaller drawing-room in Park Lane.
+
+She had taken Tita abroad almost immediately after the rupture at
+Oakdean, explaining to their mutual friends that it was necessary
+for Tita's health that she should winter in the south. An
+explanation received face to face with delicate appreciation and
+warm sympathy, and much laughed over later on. Poor old Margaret! As
+if one didn't _know!_ As if one couldn't _see!_ That cousin, you
+know! He was--he really _was_ far too good-looking. And then this
+sudden loss of fortune! After all, these unequal marriages never
+_do_. Rylton plainly was tired of her, and when the money
+went--well, then Margaret took her off his hands. Of course Margaret
+was better than the cousin--more respectable. This brilliant bit of
+wit was received with much soft smothered mirth. But as for
+Rylton--he certainly had not come well out of it. A fellow should
+stick to his bargain, any way. He had married her for her money, and
+that gone, had shaken himself free. It was certainly playing it a
+little low down. By the way, wouldn't Mrs. Bethune be singing hymns
+over it all! _Such_ a downfall to her rival! There was a good deal
+of gossip about it, here and there.
+
+Mrs. Chichester, who has a heart somewhere in her lean, frivolous
+body, had come all the way up from Devonshire, where she was then
+falsely beguiling a most unlucky young curate, to see Margaret, on
+the latter's way through town, and express her sorrow for Tita. She
+had honestly liked Tita, and she said to Margaret many kindly things
+about her. So many, and so kindly indeed, that Margaret almost
+forgave her that reprehensible flirtation with Captain Marryatt. But
+then Margaret, at that time, knew nothing of the luckless curate!
+
+The greatest surprise of all, however, came from old Miss Gower.
+Popularly she had been supposed to hate Tita, and resent her
+marriage with Rylton, who was a relative of hers; but five days
+after the _fiasco,_ as Randal called it, Rylton had a letter from
+her that somewhat startled him. It was extremely abusive, and rather
+involved; but the meaning of it was that he ought to be ashamed of
+himself, and that Tita was too good for him. She wound up with a few
+very rude remarks directed at Mrs. Bethune, and a hope that Tita
+would stick to her determination to cast off the tyrant--_Man_ (the
+capital was enormous), as personified by Maurice.
+
+Rylton wasn't in the least annoyed by this letter; indeed, it
+somewhat puzzled him to find that he rather liked it, and he put it
+away in his private drawer, amongst the papers he cared for.
+
+Margaret had taken Tita to Rome, and thence to Constantinople. She
+had kept her moving about from place to place, hoping to clear her
+mind of all past deadly thoughts by constant change. She had a hope
+that by breaking off all old associations, the girl might come to
+think of the past--and Maurice--in a more gentle, lenient light, and
+thus be prepared for a reconciliation in the future. To Margaret it
+seemed terrible that these two young people should be for ever
+apart--their lives ruined, their social position smirched.
+
+A long separation from her own country--her own circle--might lead
+Tita to desire a return to it--a return to her husband and her home.
+
+Alas! not to the old home, however. She might desire a return to
+that with all her soul, yet nothing would come of it. It was gone!
+Gone past recall! When Tita's affairs were wound up, it was found
+that all should be sold, not only her other two houses, but the old
+home--the one beloved of her childhood. Oakdean came to the hammer a
+month ago!
+
+Indeed, out of all her large fortune only a bare £300 a year was
+saved for the poor little heiress of yesterday! When Tita was
+assured that even this small sum was honourably hers, she had
+insisted on her lawyers writing and offering half of it to
+Maurice--an offer I need hardly say refused. Maurice declined,
+naturally, but, unfortunately, very rudely, to touch a penny of
+hers.
+
+So far Tita was protected from actual poverty--poverty was much
+closer to Maurice at this time than to her; and, indeed, being with
+Margaret, who loved her from her heart, and would hear no word of
+her leaving her, hardly felt the change in her position. The loss of
+the old home--of Oakdean--had been, so far as Margaret could see,
+the one thing that had deeply affected her. Of Maurice she would
+hardly talk at all, but of Oakdean she would talk by the hour.
+
+The wheels of law grind slowly, and it was not until last month that
+the actual sale of her beautiful home took place. The news came to
+her when she and Margaret were at Berne on their homeward way, and
+she had quite broken down. She had cried terribly over it night and
+day--so much, indeed, that Margaret, who had been astonished at her
+strength of mind over her loss of fortune, now began to regard her
+as devoid of it altogether. For days and days she fretted, eating
+scarcely anything, caring for nothing. It was when Margaret was
+almost in despair about her that she grew better, and let herself be
+amused by the ordinary occurrences of the day.
+
+As for Rylton, these past six months had been the fullest of his
+life. Time had made him his shuttlecock. Fortune had played with
+him. It had caught him when he was up in the world and flung him to
+the ground, and after that had seized him afresh, and sent him
+flying to a higher altitude than he had ever known before. As a
+fact, three months had not elapsed after his parting with his wife
+when his uncle (a comparatively young man) had died of typhoid
+fever, leaving him all his property.
+
+It seemed the very irony of fate. A year ago, if he had had this
+money, he would not have even _seen_ Tita. The marriage was an
+arrangement of his mother's, and now that he has got this money, of
+what good is it to him? His wife is gone, yet he still is wedded.
+The first sense of comfort he got from his newly-acquired fortune
+was the thought that he could now give Tita some of it.
+
+But Tita would none of it! The very fact that their cases had been
+so suddenly and so marvellously reversed made her the more strong in
+her determination to spurn any gift from him. She was now sitting on
+the lowest rung of Fortune's ladder, whilst he stood at the top;
+but, for all that, she would take nothing from him. Rylton wrote to
+Margaret, who scolded Tita vigorously to no end; and so the matter
+stood. The first instalment of a very magnificent allowance was paid
+into Tita's bank, and rested there untouched, doing no good to
+anybody.
+
+"It is senseless! As his wife, you are entitled to some of his
+money. It is not a gift," said Margaret angrily.
+
+But Tita had laughed, and tore his letter to Margaret in two.
+
+"He wouldn't take my small gift," said she, alluding to that offer
+of hers of the half of her tiny income. "And now it does me _good_
+to be able to refuse his big one."
+
+"But it isn't a gift; it is your right," Margaret urged again; but
+all in vain.
+
+Now they are back once more in England. Ten days ago they arrived,
+and are this morning in Margaret's pretty room that is half filled
+with growing plants, moving about from this flower to that, and
+feeling unconsciously little thrills of delight in the fresh
+sweetness of the morning.
+
+    "Spring goeth all in white,
+    Crowned with milk-white May;
+    In fleecy flocks of light,
+    O'er heaven the white clouds stray.
+
+    "White butterflies in the air,
+    White daisies prank the ground;
+    The cherry and the hoary pear
+    Scatter their snow around."
+
+Well, there are no cherry-trees or hoary pear-trees here, but the
+perfume of the delicate lilac comes to them from the Park, telling
+them that spring is reigning, even in this dusty old city, with a
+right royal gaiety.
+
+Twice during these ten days Rylton has called, always asking
+scrupulously for Margaret; and Margaret only has he seen. Hescott
+had called once, but Tita would not see him either, and poor
+Margaret had a rather dreadful interview with him. He had offered
+her in a frantic, foolish moment, half of all he was worth to be
+given from him to Tita, and Margaret had a good deal of difficulty
+in explaining to him that Tita, in reality, was as well off as any
+young woman need be. Margaret even exaggerated somewhat, and told
+him that she had a large sum lying idle in a bank--as indeed she
+had, considering Rylton paid in his princely allowance to her, with
+determined punctuality, every month, in spite of his knowledge of
+the fact that she would not touch it. Margaret suffered a good deal
+through Hescott, and was devoutly grateful when she learned the
+morning after his visit to her that he had started for a prolonged
+tour in South Africa. She learned this from himself in a somewhat
+incoherent letter, and a paragraph in the papers the day after set
+her mind at rest. Margaret was a Christian, or she might have found
+consolation in the thought that there are lions in South Africa!
+
+She watched Tita anxiously for a day or two after this, but could
+not see that the girl was distressed at Tom's departure. She talked
+of him, indeed, very freely--always a good sign.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+"Tita, do you hear the birds?" says Margaret, in quite a little
+excited way. "Come here to this window. How they sing!"
+
+"Don't they!" says Tita rapturously.
+
+Her face lights up, but presently she looks a little sad.
+
+"It makes you long for the country?" asks Margaret gently, looking
+at her without seeming to do so.
+
+"No," says Tita, shaking her head resolutely; and then: "Yes--yes.
+But I shall always hate to go to it now--now that the dear old home
+is gone."
+
+"I wish I had been able to buy it!" says Margaret regretfully.
+
+"Oh, Meg, don't go on like that! You--you who have been everything
+to me!"
+
+"I wasn't rich enough," says Margaret ruefully; "and, at all events,
+I wasn't in time. I confess now I sold out some shares a little time
+ago with a view to getting it, but I was too late; it was bought--a
+private sale, they said."
+
+"There is nothing I can say--nothing," says Tita, tears dimming her
+eyes. "Why are you so good to me? Oh, Meg! there is one, one
+thing--I love you, and love you, and love you!" She slips her soft
+arms round Margaret's neck, and presses her cheek to hers. There is
+moisture on Margaret's face when this little burst of gratitude has
+been accomplished. "I never loved anyone as I love you," says Tita.
+
+"There is someone else you ought to love better, Tita."
+
+"There is someone else I _hate,"_ returns Tita, with really
+astonishing promptitude.
+
+"Well, about Oakdean," says Margaret quickly, appalled by this
+outbreak of wrath.
+
+"There is nothing about it; it is gone," says Tita, in a forlorn
+sort of way; then: "I wonder who bought it?"
+
+"I don't know. I asked, but I could not find out. Some rich
+merchant, no doubt."
+
+"Well," sighing, "a rich merchant bought it before--my poor
+father--and to a rich merchant it has gone. That is as it should be.
+Still, it was so pretty, so lovely, so homelike, that I wish----"
+
+"What, darling?"
+
+"That it had been burnt to the ground before anyone else got it,"
+breaks out Tita, in a little storm of grief and despair.
+
+"Yes, I know; I can feel with you," says Margaret, pressing her back
+into a chair, and hovering over her with loving touches and tender
+words. "But, after all, Tita, one has to give up things daily. It is
+life. Life is one long surrender."
+
+"My surrender has been done in a bundle," says Tita indignantly.
+"Other people do their surrenders by degrees, year after year; but
+in _one_ year I have lost everything--my home, my money, my
+husband."
+
+Margaret notes with fear that she has put her husband last in the
+list of her losses.
+
+"Not that I care a fig about Maurice," continues Tita, with a tilt
+of her chin that would have made any man admire her. "I was
+delighted to get rid of _him."_ Then, glancing at Margaret, she
+flings her arms round her neck again. "No; don't look at me like
+that. I'm a wretch. But _really,_ Margaret, you know that Maurice
+was a wretch, too!"
+
+"Well, well!" says Margaret sadly. "It seems useless to defend
+Maurice--you know how sorry I am for you always," she goes on
+gently. "To come from riches to poverty is one of the worst things
+the word offers; but to be very rich is not well, Tita. It clogs the
+mind; it takes one away from the very meaning of life. Money hardens
+the soul; it keeps one away from touch with the inner circle of
+humanity--from the misery, the sorrow, the vice! It is bad to be too
+rich."
+
+"Yet you are rich, Margaret!"
+
+"Yet--yes; and it frightens me," says she, in a low tone.
+
+Tita rubs her cheek softly against hers.
+
+"Yet _you_ are not far from the kingdom of God!" says she.
+
+The little kittenish gesture and the solemn phrase! Margaret presses
+Tita to her. What a strange child she is! What a mixture!
+
+"Neither are you, I trust," says she.
+
+"So you see riches have got nothing to do with it," says Tita,
+breaking into a gay, irresistible little laugh.
+
+Miss Knollys laughs too, in spite of herself, and then grows
+suddenly very grave. There is something she must say to Tita.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+HOW MARGARET STARTS AS A SPECIAL PLEADER, AND IS MUCH WORSTED IN HER
+ARGUMENT; AND HOW A SIMPLE KNOCK AT THE HALL DOOR SCATTERS ONE BEING
+WHO DELIGHTS IN WAR.
+
+
+
+"I think you ought to see your husband," says Margaret.
+
+It is a bombshell! Tita withdraws her arms from round Margaret's
+neck and looks at her like one seeing her for the first time. It is
+plain to Margaret that she is very angry.
+
+Poor Margaret! She feels torn in twain. Rylton, as has been said,
+had called twice during the past ten days, but on neither of those
+occasions had seen Tita. Tita, indeed, had obstinately refused to
+come downstairs, even though Margaret had gone up to fetch her.
+Margaret had not forgotten that occasion. She had found the girl in
+her room.
+
+"Never, never, never!" said Tita, in answer to all her entreaties,
+who had screwed herself into the farthest corner of her room between
+a wardrobe and a table--a most uncomfortable position, but one
+possessed of certain advantages. It would be difficult, for example,
+to dislodge her from it. And she gave Margaret the impression, as
+she entered the room, that she thought force was about to be
+resorted to.
+
+"It is your duty to come downstairs and see him," Margaret had said.
+
+She always brought in poor Duty, who certainly must have been fagged
+to death at that time.
+
+"I hate him!" said Tita rebelliously, and now with increased venom,
+as she saw that Margaret only had come to the assault. "Go down and
+tell him that."
+
+"This is dreadful," said poor Margaret, going to the door.
+
+But even now the little miscreant wedged in between the furniture
+was not satisfied.
+
+"Tell him I hope I'll never see him again!" said she, calling it out
+loudly as though afraid Margaret might not hear and deliver her
+words.
+
+"I shall certainly deliver no such message," said the latter,
+pausing on the threshold and waxing wroth. Even the worm will turn,
+they say, though I confess I never saw one that did. "You can tell
+him that yourself, some day, when you see him!"
+
+But this parting shaft had only made Tita laugh. _"See him!_ She
+would die first!"
+
+Margaret had gone down with a modified edition of this _rencontre_
+to Rylton, and Rylton had shrugged his shoulders. He could not
+disguise from Margaret the fact, however, that he was chagrined. He
+had seen through the modifying, of course, and had laughed--not very
+merrily--and told Margaret not to ruin her conscience on _his
+_account. He had lived with Tita long enough to know the sort of
+message she would be sure to send.
+
+Margaret mumbled something after that, never very clear to either of
+them, and Rylton had gone on to say that he was going down to the
+country for a month. He was starting on Monday next. He had said all
+that on Thursday, and this is Tuesday. There is a sense of relief,
+yet of regret, in Margaret's heart as she tells herself that he is
+well out of town. But _now,_ certainly, is the time to work on
+Tita's sense of right and wrong. Rylton will come back at the end of
+the month, and when he does, surely--surely his wife should be
+willing to, at all events, receive him as a friend. The gossip
+surrounding these two people, so dear to her, is distressing to
+Margaret, and she would gladly have put an end to it. The whole
+thing, too, is so useless, so senseless. And as for that affair of
+Marian's Bethune's--she has no belief in that. It has blown over--is
+dead. Killed--by time.
+
+"See him?" says Tita at last, stammering.
+
+"Yes, when he comes back. You have a month to think about it. He has
+gone to the country."
+
+"A very good thing too," says Tita, with a shrug of her shoulders.
+"I hope he will stay there."
+
+"But he won't," says Margaret in despair. "He returns to town in
+June. Tita, I hope--I do hope you will be sensible, and consent to
+see him then."
+
+"Does he want to see me?" asks Tita.
+
+Here Margaret is posed. Rylton had certainly _known,_ that day she
+had gone up to Tita's room to bring her down, what her errand was,
+but he had not asked her to go upon it. He had expressed no desire,
+had shown no wish for a meeting with his wife.
+
+"My dear--I----"
+
+"Ah, you make a bad liar, Meg!" says Tita; "you ought to throw up
+the appointment. You aren't earning your salary honestly. And,
+besides, it doesn't matter. Even if he were _dying _to see me, I
+should still rather die than see him."
+
+"That is not a right spirit, to----"
+
+"I expect my spirit is as right as his," says Tita rebelliously,
+"and," with a sudden burst of indignation that does away with all
+sense of her duty to her language, "a thousand times righter for the
+matter of that. No, Margaret! No--no--no! I will _not_ see him. Do
+you think I ever forget----"
+
+"I had hoped, dearest, that----"
+
+"It is useless to hope. _What_ woman would forgive it? I knew he
+married me without loving me. That was all fair! He told me that.
+What he did not tell me was the vital thing--that he loved someone
+else."
+
+"You should never have married him when he told you he did not love
+you."
+
+"Why not?" warmly. "I knew nothing of love; I thought he knew
+nothing of it either. Love seemed to me a stupid sort of thing (it
+seems so still). I said to myself that a nice strong friendship
+would be sufficient for me----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, so it would--only he felt no friendship. He felt nothing but
+his love for that odious woman! I couldn't stand that."
+
+"You stood it for a long time, Tita--if it ever existed."
+
+"Yes; I know. I didn't seem to care much at first, but when he grew
+rude to me about Tom---- Well, I knew what _that_ meant."
+
+"If you knew, you should have kept your cousin at a greater
+distance."
+
+"Nonsense, Margaret! what do you mean by that?" Tita has turned a
+pair of lustrous eyes upon her--eyes lit by the fire of battle--not
+battle with Margaret, however, but with memory. "You honestly think
+that he believed I was in love with Tom?"
+
+"I do. And I think he was jealous."
+
+Tita bursts out laughing. There is little music in her mirth.
+
+"And now I'll tell you what _I_ think. That he was _glad_ to pretend
+to believe I was in love with Tom, because he hoped to get rid of
+me, and after that to marry his cousin."
+
+"Tita! I shall not listen to you if you say such things. How dare
+you even think them? Maurice is incapable of such a design."
+
+"In my opinion, he is capable of anything," retorts Maurice's wife,
+without a trace of repentance. She looks long at Margaret, and then
+dropping gracefully upon a _pouf_ at Margaret's feet, says sweetly,
+"He's a beast!"
+
+"Oh, Tita! I don't know _why_ I love you," says Margaret, with
+terrible reproach.
+
+At this Tita springs to her feet, and flings her arms round Miss
+Knollys. Presently she leans back and looks at her again, still,
+however, holding her with her arms. Her small face, so woeful a
+while ago, is now wreathed in smiles; it even suggests itself to
+Margaret that she is with difficulty suppressing a wild outbreak of
+mirth--a suppression meant, no doubt, as a concession to Margaret's
+feelings.
+
+"I'll tell you," whispers she. "You love me because you would be the
+most ungrateful wretch on earth unless you did. You give me _some_
+of your love; I give you all mine. I have no one else."
+
+"That is your own fault," says Margaret, still trying to scold her,
+actually believing she is doing it, whilst with her eyes and mouth
+she is smiling at her.
+
+"Not another word, not one," says Tita. "And promise me you won't
+ask me to see him again. I hate him! He sets my nerves on edge. I
+think he is actually _ugly."_
+
+"I think you must have forgotten what he is like by this time."
+
+"No, I don't. One doesn't forget a nightmare in a hurry."
+
+"Tita, really----"
+
+"There! I'll be good. I'll consign him to the lowest depths and
+never dig him up again. And so he has left town? What a blessed
+relief! Now I can go out and enjoy myself. _Let_ us go out, Meg! Let
+us----_what's that?"_
+
+She stands transfixed in the middle of the room, Margaret opposite
+her. Both seem stricken into marble.
+
+A knock at the door, loud, sharp, resounding--a knock well known to
+both.
+
+"And you _said_ he was gone to the country," says Tita, in a low
+whisper filled with deepest suspicions.
+
+"He said so. I believed it. It must be a mistake," says Margaret.
+"He _certainly_ said so."
+
+They have lost some moments over their fear and astonishment. The
+sound of a rapidly approaching footstep, quite as well known to them
+as the knock, rouses both to a sense of desperation.
+
+"What on earth shall I do?" says Tita, who is now as white as a
+sheet.
+
+"Stay and see him," says Margaret, with sudden inspiration.
+
+"Stay! Do you think I should stay for one moment in the room with
+him? No! I shall go in there," pointing to the next room that opens
+out of this with folding-doors, "and wait until he goes away."
+
+She has hardly time to reach this seclusion when the door is thrown
+wide, and Sir Maurice is announced.
+
+"Nobody with you?" says he, glancing somewhat expectantly around
+him. "I fancied I heard someone. _So_ glad to find you alone!"
+
+"Yes--yes--perhaps it is better," says Margaret vaguely, absently,
+thinking always of the little firebrand in that room beyond, but so
+near, so fatally near.
+
+"Better? You mean----"
+
+"Well, I mean that Tita has only just left the room," says Margaret
+desperately.
+
+"She--is in there, then?" pointing towards the folding-doors.
+
+"Yes. _Do_ speak low. You know she--I can't disguise from you,
+Maurice, that she----"
+
+Margaret hesitates.
+
+"Hates me? I'm quite aware of that." A long pause. "She is well, I
+hope?" frigidly.
+
+"I think so. She looks well, lovely indeed--a little pale, perhaps.
+Maurice," leaning across and whispering cautiously, "why don't you
+try to make a reconciliation of some sort? A beginning might lead to
+the happiest results, and I am sure you do care for her--and--_do_
+try and make up with her."
+
+"You must be out of your mind!" says Maurice, springing to his feet,
+and to poor Margaret's abject fear speaking at the top of his lungs.
+"With _her,_ when she deliberately deserted me of her own
+accord--when----"
+
+"Oh, hush, hush!" says Margaret in an agony. She makes wild signs to
+him, pointing towards the closed doors as she does so. A nice girl,
+we all know, would rather _die_ than put her ear to a keyhole, even
+if by doing so she could save her neck from the scaffold; but the
+very best of girls might by chance be leaning against a door through
+the chinks of which sounds might enter from the room beyond it.
+"She'll _hear_ you!" gasps Margaret.
+
+"I don't care if she does," says Maurice indignantly, but he calms
+down for all that, and consents to sit in a chair as far from the
+folding-doors as possible. "You have misjudged me all through," says
+he.
+
+"I think not--I hope not. But I will say, Maurice, that I think you
+began your marriage badly, and--you should not have----"
+
+"Have what?"
+
+"Asked Marian to stay with you."
+
+"That was"--gloomily--"a mistake. I admit that. But have _I_ nothing
+to complain of?"
+
+"Nothing, I honestly believe."
+
+Her tone is so honest (Margaret herself is so sweetly honest all
+through) that he remains silent for a moment. It is, however, a
+constrained silence. The knowledge that Tita is standing or sitting,
+laughing or frowning, behind those boards over there, disturbs him
+in spite of himself.
+
+"Well, I have often thought that, too," says he, "and yet I have
+often thought--the other thing. At all events, you cannot deny that
+_he_ was in love with her."
+
+"Why should I deny that? To me"--with a reproachful glance at
+him--"she seems like one with whom many might be in love."
+
+"Oh, you are a partisan!" says he irritably, rising abruptly, and
+preparing to pace the room.
+
+Margaret catches his coat as he goes by her.
+
+"I entreat, I implore you to be quiet. It is so _slight_ a
+partition," says she. "Do sit down like a dear boy and talk softly,
+unless"--wistfully and evidently hopefully--"you want to go away."
+
+"Well, I don't," says he grimly.
+
+He reseats himself. An extraordinary fascination keeps him in this
+room, even in face of the fact that the mistress of it is plainly
+longing for his departure. She has even openly hinted at it. And the
+fascination? It lies there behind the folding-doors. There is no
+romance in it, he tells himself; it is rather the feeling of an
+enemy who knows his foe to be close by. He turns to Margaret.
+
+"Why did she refuse that money?"
+
+"Why did you refuse hers?"
+
+"Pshaw! You're evading the question. To take half of her little
+pittance! I wonder you can even suggest the thing. It--it is almost
+an insult," says he, reddening to his brows.
+
+"I didn't mean it," says Margaret quickly, the more so that she
+thinks he is going to walk the room again. "Of course you could not
+have taken it."
+
+"And yet I did take her money," says he miserably; "I wish to heaven
+now I hadn't. _Then_ it seemed a fair exchange--her money for my
+title; it is done every day, and no one thinks anything of it--but
+now---- It was a most cursed thing," says he.
+
+"It would have been nothing--nothing," says Margaret eagerly, "if
+you had been heart-whole. But to marry her, loving another, that was
+wrong--unpardonable----"
+
+"Unpardonable!" He looks at her with a start. What does she mean? Is
+he beyond pardon, indeed? Pardon from---- "That's all over," says
+he.
+
+"It wasn't over _then!"_
+
+"I don't know----" He gets up and walks to the window in an agitated
+fashion, and then back again. "Margaret, I don't believe I ever
+loved her."
+
+Margaret stares at him.
+
+"You are talking of Marian?"
+
+"Yes; Marian. If I did love her, then there is no such thing as
+love--love the eternal--because I love her no longer."
+
+"It is not that," says Margaret; "but love can be killed. Poor
+love!" she sighed. "Marian of her own accord has killed yours."
+
+There is a long pause; then: "Well, I'm glad of it," says he.
+
+He lifts his arms high above his head, as a man might who yawns, or
+a man might who has all at once recognised that he is rid of a great
+encumbrance.
+
+"I suppose you did not come here to discuss your love affairs with
+Marian," says Margaret, a little coldly.
+
+In a strange sort of way she had liked Marian, and she knew that
+Marian, in a strange sort of way, clung to _her_. And, besides, to
+say love could be killed! It was tantamount to saying love could
+die! Has _her_ love died? Colonel Neilson had been with her a good
+deal since her return to town, and there had been moments of
+heart-burning, when she had searched her heart indeed, and found it
+wanting--wanting in its fixed determination to be true for ever to
+the dear dead beloved. And such a miserable wanting, a mere craving
+to be as others are--to live in the life of another, to know the
+warmth, the _breath_ of the world's sunshine--to love, and be loved
+again.
+
+No wonder Margaret is angry with Rylton for bringing all these
+delinquencies into the light of certainty.
+
+"No," says Sir Maurice moodily. "I came here to see you."
+
+"You told me you intended leaving town yesterday."
+
+"Yes, I know. I meant it. But I've changed my mind about stopping in
+the country--at least, I'm running down to The Place for the night
+to see after some business with the agent, but I'll be back
+to-morrow."
+
+"Really, you must forgive me if I say I don't think much of your
+mind," says Margaret, who is still a little sore over her own
+reflections.
+
+"I don't think much of it myself," says Rylton, with increasing
+gloom.
+
+At this abject surrender Margaret's tender heart relents.
+
+"I believe all you have told me," says she; "and I suppose I'm glad
+of it, although--Well, never mind that. Marian deserves no pity, but
+still----"
+
+"Pshaw!" says he. "What has Marian got to do with it? Marian never
+cared _that_ about me." He makes an expressive movement with his
+fingers--a little snap. "I know now that Marian only played with me.
+I amused her. I was the plaything of an hour."
+
+"You wrong her there, Maurice."
+
+"Do I? How? They tell us"--with a bitter smile--"that if a woman
+loves a man she will cling to him through all things--poverty,
+ill-repute, even crime. But poverty, the least of these things,
+daunted _her."_
+
+"She had known so _much_ poverty----"
+
+"Are you pleading _her_ cause now?" says Maurice, with a slight
+smile. "You plead it badly. The very fact of her knowing it so well
+should not have deterred her from trying it again with the man she
+loved. I offered to throw up everything for her, to go abroad, to
+work, to wrestle with fortune for her sake, but she----" He stops,
+and draws a long breath. "Well, it is over," says he.
+
+"That is. But your future life----"
+
+"I'm not a favourite of gods, am I?" says he, laughing. "My future
+life! Well, I leave it to them. So Tita is looking well?"
+
+"Yes; quite well. A little pale, I said."
+
+"She never had much colour. She never speaks of me, I suppose?"
+
+"Sometimes--yes."
+
+Rylton looks down at the carpet, and then laughs a little awkwardly.
+
+"I expect I had better not inquire into it," says he. "It is a
+general remark, yet it is _all _question."
+
+"Of course, she remembers things," says Margaret nervously.
+
+If he were to make another scene, to prance up and down the room,
+and talk at the top of his lungs, there is no knowing _what_ may not
+happen, considering who is standing behind those folding-doors.
+
+"We can all remember things," says Sir Maurice, rising and holding
+out his hand. He bids her good-bye. As he gets to the door he looks
+back. "Tell her I didn't like to keep her in durance vile longer
+than was necessary," says he.
+
+With this parting shot, he goes down the stairs and out of the
+house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+HOW MARGARET MAKES A FEARFUL DISCOVERY; HOW SHE RUSHES TO THE
+RESCUE, BUT IS FAR FROM WELL RECEIVED; AND HOW TITA GIVES HERSELF
+AWAY, NOT ONCE, BUT TWICE.
+
+
+
+Margaret, with a keen sense of relief, goes to the folding-doors,
+opens them cautiously, and looks in. A distinctly cold and cutting
+air greets her; she is aware at once that she is standing in a
+thorough draught. And where is Tita?
+
+Good gracious! where _can_ she have gone to? There is no exit from
+this room save through the next, where she and Rylton have been
+sitting--except by the chimney, or through one of the windows. For
+one awful moment it occurs to Miss Knollys that Tita might have
+flung herself out of a window.
+
+She glances hurriedly to the window nearest her, and then sees
+something that makes her heart stand still.
+
+Are those Tita's heels?
+
+Margaret's mind is full of suicidal fears. She steps cautiously
+towards the open window--the window through which Tita's body is now
+flung. Tita's feet alone are in the room! Tita herself is suspended
+between heaven and earth, like Mahomet's coffin!
+
+"Tita! what are you doing?" cries Margaret, laying a sudden hand
+upon the white sash that is encircling Lady Rylton's waist.
+
+At this, the latter scrambles back into a more respectable position,
+and stares at Margaret with angry, shamed eyes, and cheeks like a
+"red, red rose."
+
+"Good gracious!" says she. "Why, you very nearly threw me out of the
+window."
+
+Now, this is so manifestly unfair that Margaret feels resentment.
+What had her action been? She had dragged Tita backwards into the
+room; she had not pushed her out, as the latter seemed to suggest.
+
+"I quite thought you were trying to throw yourself out of the
+window," says Margaret, with emphasis. "What _have_ you been doing?"
+
+"Nothing--nothing," declares Tita airily, hurriedly. "The day is so
+lovely--you remember we were talking about it a while ago. I
+was--er--listening to the birds."
+
+"Surely one need not hang one's self out of a window to listen to
+them," says Miss Knollys. "Why don't you confess the truth? You were
+looking at Maurice."
+
+"Well, if you _will_ have it," says Tita resentfully, "I _was!_ I
+was curious to see if he was as ill-tempered looking as ever. I was
+foiled, however; I saw nothing but the back of his odious head."
+
+"What a disappointment!" says Margaret, laughing with an
+irrepressible if rather unkind mirth.
+
+"I dare say I shall get over it," coldly, with a distrustful glance
+at Margaret. "Well--how _is_ he looking?"
+
+At this Margaret laughs again.
+
+"That was just what he asked about you!"
+
+"About me!" frowning. "Fancy his asking anything about me! Well, and
+you said I was looking----"
+
+"Lovely, but a little pale, as if you were pining."
+
+"Margaret, you did _not_ say that!"
+
+"My dear child, of course I did. I am not sure about the pining, but
+I certainly said you looked pale. So you do. You couldn't expect me
+to tell a lie about it."
+
+"I could indeed. I," with deep reproach, "would have told a dozen
+lies for you in a minute."
+
+"Well, I don't want you to," says Miss Knollys. "By-the-bye, he is
+not going out of town, after all."
+
+"No?" with studied indifference. "Then I suppose we may expect to
+hear that Mrs. Bethune will be in town shortly?"
+
+"I really do think, Tita, that you ought to refrain from speeches
+like that. They are unworthy of you, and they are not true. Whatever
+infatuation Maurice felt for Marian Bethune in the past, lies in the
+past. Only to-day he told me----"
+
+"Told you?"
+
+Tita leans eagerly forward.
+
+"That if he ever _had_ loved her--and he seemed now to doubt
+that--he loved her no longer."
+
+"Just shows how fickle he is," says Tita, with supreme scorn.
+
+"Of course, if you are determined to misjudge him in _every_
+way----"
+
+"It is he who misjudges me!" She gets up and walks impatiently from
+Margaret to the window and back again. "How could he say I
+deliberately deserted him?"
+
+Margaret looks at her. It suddenly occurs to her what a blessed
+thought that was of hers to take him out of hearing to the far end
+of the room.
+
+"You heard that, then?"
+
+Tita starts and turns crimson.
+
+"Oh, that!" stammers she. "Well, I--I couldn't help it. I was near
+the door, and he spoke very loudly, and----"
+
+"And you heard," says Margaret, suppressing some amusement. "Quite
+so. Well, you did leave him, you see."
+
+"Not until he drove me to it by his cruelty, his wicked suspicions.
+You know that, Margaret."
+
+"Oh! I know he behaved like a stupid boy," says Margaret
+impatiently.
+
+"Ah, _darling_ Meg! I _knew_ you would take my part."
+
+"And you," mercilessly, "behaved like a silly baby."
+
+Tita flings herself into a chair with a petulant gesture.
+
+"He has won you over to his side. I knew, when he took you down to
+the end of the room, where I could hear nothing, that he was going
+to poison your mind against me."
+
+Miss Knollys gives way once more to ill-timed mirth.
+
+"So you were _looking,_ too?" says she.
+
+"I--no. Oh _no._ I--I only"--growing crimson--"wanted to see whether
+you were safe. You had stopped talking, and I know how violent he
+can be, and," with a gasp, "I just looked once to see that you were
+alive."
+
+"Tita," says Miss Knollys solemnly, "when I want those dozen lies
+told for me in a minute, I shan't ask _you_ to tell them."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+HOW MAURICE SMOKES A CIGAR, AND MUSES ON MANY THINGS; HOW HE LAMENTS
+HIS SOLITUDE; AND HOW AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR COMES TO HIM.
+
+
+
+"It is the mynd that maketh good or ill," says the old poet. Sir
+Maurice, sitting here in the library at The Place, feels _his_
+"mynd" far from happy. He has finished his business with the agent,
+and now there lies before him a long, dull evening in which to think
+on many things.
+
+He is comfortable enough. His mother is well away, somewhere in
+Essex, and so he has the house to himself. The fire is burning very
+nicely--these May evenings are often chilly--and the cigar he is
+smoking is excellent. The dinner has been excellent, too.
+Astonishing, considering the shortness of the notice and what
+servants are. And yet--yet he feels dull to the last degree.
+
+Over and over again his mind runs back to his morning's interview
+with Margaret. He would have stifled such returns, but they are
+beyond him. His brain insists on making photographs of Margaret's
+drawing-room, with its screens here and its pots there, and the tall
+jar filled with the sweet-scented flowers of early summer. The
+photographs go farther than that, too. One prominent object in all
+of them are the folding-doors at the end of the room.
+
+It seems to him, as he angrily flicks the ash off the end of his
+cigar, that he had seen nothing but those folding-doors. His eyes
+had been riveted upon them. He--it was absurd, of course--but he had
+in a way seen through them--seen _her_--that little faithless,
+stormy child, who is playing the very mischief with his life.
+
+    "Ask not her name;
+    The light winds whisper it on every hand."
+
+That is the worst of it! Rylton gets up, and begins to pace the
+room. Her name--her face---- He cannot get rid of them. They seem to
+haunt him! And what has he _done_ that she should so deride and
+scorn him? Say he was in fault about Marian Bethune. Well, he
+_was_--grossly in fault, if you like, so far as his having kept
+silence about his love for her before his marriage. But afterwards!
+He had little or nothing to reproach himself with afterwards. His
+married life had been blameless so far as Marian had been concerned.
+He had often wondered, indeed, about that--about that strange
+coldness he had felt when she had come to stay with them--with Tita
+and him. He had looked forward to her coming, and when she came--it
+was a sort of blank! At the time he hated himself for it, but it was
+not to be overcome. However, it was Marian's own doing. That last
+time when she had refused him, he had understood her. Love with her
+took a second place. Money held the reins.
+
+Up and down, up and down the room he goes, smoking and thinking.
+
+    "She
+    Whom the gods love--tranquillity--"
+
+is far from him to-night. Why had Tita run away when he went in?
+Margaret had told him plainly that she would not see him; she had
+almost allowed that she hated him, and certainly her whole conduct
+points that way. What is to be the end of it, then? Is he to be
+bound to her, and she to him, until kindly Death drops in to release
+them one from the other? And never a word between them all the time!
+It sounds ghastly! He flings his cigar into the fire, and, seating
+himself on the edge or the table, gives himself up a prey to evil
+prognostications.
+
+His thoughts wander, but always they come back to those
+folding-doors, and the possible vision behind them.
+
+Such a tender vision! Half child, half woman, wholly sweet, yet a
+little tyrant in her own way. The vision behind the folding-doors
+grows brighter. A little thing, slender, beautiful, with such
+bright, earnest eyes, and her lips just smiling and apart, and the
+soft rings of hair lying on the white forehead. Behind those
+doors--were the eyes glad, or angry, as they so often were--with
+him? With Margaret, no doubt, they were always bright. She loved
+Margaret, but him she never loved. Why should she? Had _he_ loved
+her?
+
+It is a terrible question, and all in a moment the answer to it
+comes to him--an answer almost as terrible. He had thought of it,
+trifled with it, played with it, this question. But now he _knows!_
+Yes, he does love her. Her, and her only.
+
+He is still sitting at the table thinking. His head is bent a little
+down, his hands are resting on the table behind him. Will she ever
+forgive or forget?
+
+    "My love is like the sea,
+    As changeful and as free;
+    Sometimes she's angry, sometimes rough,
+    Yet oft she's smooth and calm enough--
+    Ay, much too calm for me!"
+
+The pretty words come to him as if describing her; "sometimes she's
+angry": with him she had been often angry, but now, looking back on
+it, what sweetest anger it had been, anger that cried aloud for
+tender arms in which to sink and lose itself for ever. Oh, if
+only--only--she would be angry with him once again, he might so
+argue with her that she would forgive him, and, perhaps, take him,
+worthless as he is, to that warm heart of hers.
+
+Mechanically he slips from the table to a standing position. He will
+be in town to-morrow. He will make one last effort to see her.
+Margaret will aid him, and, after all, what is there to separate
+them? Hescott is in South Africa (there was nothing in that
+really--he had made an ass of himself over that, more or less). And
+Marian Bethune? Well, Tita must know by this time that that old
+folly is at an end for ever--even Marian herself has tired of it.
+
+He turns slowly; the door has opened behind him. The lamp is a
+little low, and he has to look closely into the gloom at the end of
+the room to see who has come in. One of the servants, no doubt. He
+looks again.
+
+"The post, Peter?" says he expectantly. But it is not Peter who
+comes forward.
+
+_ "Maurice!"_ says Marian Bethune, in a tone that is barely above a
+whisper.
+
+She is with him now, her hands upon his arms, her eyes riveted upon
+his.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+HOW RYLTON'S EVIL GENIUS COMES TO HIM AND SPEAKS SWEET TREACHERIES
+WITHIN HIS EAR; AND HOW HE RENOUNCES HER AND ALL HER DEEDS.
+
+
+
+"You!" says Rylton. His voice is as low as her own, and strange--it
+sounds strange even to himself. Her hands are lying on his arms--the
+little hands he used to call snowflakes long ago. Great heaven!
+_how_ long ago!
+
+He does not repulse her--that is beyond him--but in this new strange
+voice of his there is assuredly no welcome. He feels choking. The
+dead past is so horribly dead that he cannot bear to look upon it.
+He feels cold--benumbed. What is he to say to her, or she to him?
+Must this battle be fought? And through all this weary wondering
+there is ever present with him a strong fear.
+
+If Tita should hear of this--if she should learn that Marian was
+here to-night--with him--alone! His heart sinks within him. Not all
+the waters of Jordan could wash him clean in her eyes.
+
+A sudden anger against this woman rises within him. Has she not been
+his undoing from first to last? Gently, but with determination, he
+lifts her fingers from his arms.
+
+"Is this wise?" says he.
+
+"No one can know. _No_ one," says she hurriedly. "I have arranged it
+all. I am staying with the Heriots, and when I heard at dinner that
+you would be here to-night, I felt that I _should_--_must_ see you."
+
+She flings back the soft furred cloak that is enfolding her with a
+little rapid movement, as though stifling. It falls in a loose mass
+at her feet, and leaves her standing before him a very picture of
+beauty perfected. Beauty ripe, yet fresh!
+
+All in black! From head to foot black clothes her. In her hair jet
+stars are shining, round her neck jet sparkles, making more fair the
+sweet fair flesh beneath; and her gown that clings around her
+shapely limbs as though it loves them, is black, too, and glittering
+with black beads.
+
+She is looking her loveliest. Maurice takes a step towards her.
+Nature (as poor a thing at times as it is often grand) compels this
+step, then suddenly he stops. All at once, from the shadow of the
+room, the memory of a small, sweet, angry, frowning little face
+stands out.
+
+"Still----" begins he.
+
+"You need not be uneasy about me," says Marian, in the full egotism
+of her nature, still believing herself as dear to him as in those
+old days when he was at her feet. "I told them--the Heriot girl (who
+_would_ follow me, and see to my bad headache)--that I should go for
+a long walk in the park to ease the pain; I told her not to expect
+me for some time. You know they let me do as I like. I ran through
+the park, and at the village inn I engaged a fly."
+
+"But the people at the inn?"
+
+"They could not see me. They did not know me; and, besides, I felt I
+could risk all to see you." She pauses. She lifts her beautiful face
+to his, and suddenly flings herself into his arms. "Oh, Maurice! you
+are free now--free! Oh! those _cursed_ days when your mother watched
+and followed me. Now at last I can come to you, and you are free!"
+
+"Free?"
+
+"Yes, yes." She has raised herself again from his unwilling arms,
+and is gazing at him feverishly. So wild is her mood, so exalted in
+its own way, that she does not mark the coldness of his mien. "What
+is that little fool to you? Nothing! A mere shadow in your path!"
+
+"She is my wife," says Rylton steadily.
+
+"And _such_ a wife!" Marian laughs nervously, strangely. "Besides,"
+eagerly, "that might be arranged." She leans towards him. There is
+something terrible to Rylton in the expression of her eyes, the
+certainty that lies in them, that he is as eager to rid his life of
+Tita as she is. "There are acts, words of hers that could be used.
+On less"--again she goes close to him and presses the fingers of one
+hand against his breast--"on far less evidence than we could produce
+_many_ a divorce has been procured."
+
+Rylton's eyes are fixed upon her. A sense of revulsion is sickening
+him. How _her_ eyes are shining! So might a fiend look; and her
+fingers--they seem to burn through his breast into his very soul.
+
+"Acts--words--whose acts?" asks he slowly.
+
+"Tita's."
+
+"Lady Rylton's? What do you mean?"
+
+He shakes himself suddenly free of the touch that has grown hateful
+to him.
+
+"I mean," says she boldly, still unconscious of his real meaning of
+the abyss that lies before her, "that you can at any moment get rid
+of her. You can at any moment get a divorce!"
+
+"By lying?" says he, with agitation. "By"--vehemently--"dragging her
+name into the dust. By falsely, grossly swearing against her."
+
+"Why take it so much to heart?" says she, again coming close to him.
+"She would not care, she would _help_ you. She could then marry her
+cousin. We could all see how that was. Would it be such false
+swearing after all?"
+
+"Don't!" says Rylton, in a suffocating tone.
+
+"Ah, Maurice, I understand you. I know how your honour revolts from
+such a step, but it is only a step--one--_one,_ and then--_we_----"
+She covers her eyes with her hands and leans heavily against the
+table behind her. "We should be together--for ever," whispers she
+faintly.
+
+A long, long silence follows this. It seems to hold, to envelop the
+room. It is like darkness! All at once Marian begins to tremble. She
+lifts her head.
+
+"You do not speak," says she. There is something frantic in her low
+voice--an awful fear. The first dawn of the truth is breaking on
+her, but as yet the light is imperfect. "You do not speak," she
+repeats, and now her voice is higher, shriller; there is agony in
+it. "You mean--you mean---- _What_ do you mean, Maurice?"
+
+"What can I mean? You called me just now an honourable man."
+
+"Ah, your honour!" says she bitterly.
+
+"You, at least, can find no flaw in it," says he suddenly.
+
+"No? Was it an honourable man who married that girl for her money,
+loving me all the time? You," passionately, "you _did_ love me
+then?"
+
+There is question in her tone.
+
+"The dishonour was to her, not to you," returns he, his eyes bent on
+the ground.
+
+"Oh, forget her! What has she got to do with us?" cries she, with a
+sudden burst of angry misery, stung by the fact that he had given no
+answer to that last question of hers. "You loved me once. You loved
+me. Oh, Maurice," smiting her hands together, "you cannot have
+forgotten that! You cannot. Why should _I_ remember if you forget?
+Each kiss of yours, each word, is graven on my soul! When I am dead,
+perhaps I shall forget, but not till then; and you--you, too--you
+must remember!"
+
+"I remember!"
+
+He is looking white and haggard.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There is a quick triumphant note in her voice.
+
+"But what?" he goes on quickly. "What have I to remember about you?
+That I prayed you on my knees day after day to give yourself to me.
+To risk the chances of poverty, to marry me--and," slowly, "I
+remember, too, your answer. It was always _'No'_. You loved me, you
+said, but you would wait. Poverty frightened you. I would have given
+my life for you, you would not give even your comfort for me. Even
+when my engagement with--with----"
+
+_"Your wife."_
+
+The words come like a knife from between her clenched teeth.
+
+"With Tita was almost accomplished--but not quite--I spoke to you
+again, but you still held back. You let me go--you deliberately gave
+me up to another. Was that love? I tell you," says he vehemently,
+"that all the money the world contains would not have forced me from
+you at that time. You of your own accord put me outside your life.
+Was that love?"
+
+"I was content to wait. I did not seek another in marriage. I, too,
+was poor. But I swore to myself to live and die a pauper--for your
+sake, if--if no help came to us." She pauses. A sigh--a cruel sigh
+bursts from her lips. "No help came."
+
+She is deadly white. A sudden reaction from hope, sure and glorious,
+to horrible despair is mastering her. She had not thought, she had
+not known she loved him so well until now, when it has begun to dawn
+upon her that he no longer loves her.
+
+In all her life no gladness had come to her until she met Rylton,
+and then her heart went forth, but without the full generosity of
+one who had been fed with love from its birth. Soured, narrowed by
+her surroundings, and chilled by a dread of the poverty she had so
+learned to fear, she had hung back when joy was offered to her, and
+now that joy was dead. It would be hers never, never! The love on
+which she had been counting all these days,
+
+    "For which I cry both day and night,
+    For which I let slip all delight,
+    Whereby I grow both deaf and blind,
+    Careless to win, unskilled to find,"
+
+is hers no longer. Deaf and blind she has been indeed.
+
+A little faintness falls on her; she sways, and Rylton, catching
+her, presses her into a chair. His touch recalls her to life, and
+rouses within her a sudden outbreak of passion.
+
+"Maurice!"--she holds him with both her hands--"I will _not_ believe
+it. It is not true! You love me still! You do, you do. I was"--she
+lets his arms go and raises her hands to his shoulders, and, leaning
+back, gazes with wild, beautiful, beseeching eyes into his
+face--"wrong--foolish--_mad,_ I think, when I flung from me the only
+good that Heaven ever gave me, but--but for all that you love me
+still." She pauses. His eyes are on the ground; he looks like a
+criminal condemned to death. "Say it, _say_ it," whispers she
+hoarsely. There is a silence that speaks. He can feel the shudder
+that runs through her. It nerves him.
+
+"All this," he says--his voice is low and harsh, because of the
+agony of the moment--"all this comes----"
+
+He grows silent. He cannot say it. _She_ can.
+
+_"Too late?"_
+
+The words fall like a knell, yet there is a question in them, and
+one that must be answered.
+
+"Too late!" repeats he. He could have cursed himself, yet it had to
+be done. He frees himself from her and stands back. "Why do you
+compel me to say such things?" cries he violently.
+
+But she does not hear him. She is looking into the distant corner of
+the room as though--as one might suppose, seeing her earnest
+gaze--she can there see something. Her dead life's hope, perhaps,
+lying in its shroud. And perhaps, too, the sight is too much for
+her, for after a moment or two she raises her hands to her eyes, and
+clasps them there.
+
+A sound breaks from her. In all his after life Rylton never forgets
+it.
+
+"Oh!" says she, and that is all--but it sounds like a last breath--a
+final moan--an end.
+
+Then all at once it is over. Whatever she has felt is done with for
+the present. She takes down her hands, and looks round at him
+deliberately. Her face is as the face of one dead, but her voice is
+clear and cold and cutting as an east wind.
+
+"It is this, then," says she, "that all is at an end between us. You
+have tired of me. I have heard that men do tire. Now I know it. You
+wish me dead, perhaps."
+
+"No! Marian, No!"
+
+"For that, I suppose, I should thank you. Thank the man who once
+wanted so much to make me his wife. You _did_ wish to make me--your
+wife?"
+
+"Yes--yes. But that is all over," says he desperately.
+
+"For you, yes! For me----"
+
+She pauses.
+
+"Great heavens!" cries Rylton. "Why go on like this? Why go into it
+again? Was it my fault? At that time I was a poor man. I laid my
+heart at your feet, but"--drawing a long breath--"I _was_ a poor
+man. It all lay in that."
+
+"Ah! You will throw that in my teeth always," says she--not
+violently now, not even with a touch of excitement, but slowly,
+evenly. "Even in the days to come. Yet it was not that that killed
+your love for me. There was something else. Go on. Let me hear it."
+
+"There is nothing to hear. I beg of you, Marian, to----"
+
+"To let you off?" says she, with a ghastly attempt at gaiety. "No,
+don't hope for that. There is something--something that has cost
+_me_--everything. And I will learn it. No one's love dies without a
+cause. And there is a cause for the death of yours. Be frank with
+me, now, in this our last hour. Make me a confession."
+
+Five minutes ago she would have thrown her arms round him, and
+besought him, with tender phrases, to tell her what is on his mind.
+Now she stands apart from him, with a cold, lifeless smile upon her
+still colder lips.
+
+"No! Do not perjure yourself," says she quickly, seeing him about to
+speak. "Do you think I do not know? That I cannot see by your face
+that there is something? I have studied it quite long enough to
+understand it. Come, Maurice. The past is the past--_you_ have
+decided that--and it is a merely curious mood that leads me to ask
+you the secret of the great crime that has separated us. _My_ crime,
+_bien entendu!"_
+
+Rylton turns away from her with an impatient gesture, and goes back
+to the hearthrug. To persist like this! It is madness!
+
+"There was no crime," says he. "But"--frowning--"as we are on the
+subject, and as you compel me to it, I----"
+
+"No, don't speak. _Don't!"_ says she quickly.
+
+She seems to cower away from him. She had solicited his
+condemnation, yet when it came to the point she had no strength to
+bear it. And after all, is she had only known, he was merely going
+to accuse himself of having been over-foolish when he induced Tita
+to ask her to Oakdean on a visit.
+
+"As you will," says he listlessly. "I was merely thinking of----"
+
+"I know--I know. Of course _she_ would make me out the worst in the
+world, and I have reason to know that her cousin, Miss Hescott, told
+you stories about me. There was a night when----
+
+"When----"
+
+"Ah, I was wrong there. I was merely thinking of----"
+
+"Wrong!" says Rylton slowly.
+
+His thoughts have gone back to that last interview with Margaret,
+and what she had said about his folly in asking Marian on a visit to
+Oakdean, considering all that had been said and done between them in
+the old time.
+
+"You remember it, then?" asks Marian. She looks at him. Her face is
+still livid, and as she speaks she throws back her head and laughs
+aloud--such a cruel, hateful laugh! "Well, I know it--I lied. I lied
+then most abominably."
+
+"Then?"
+
+"That night on the balcony--I confess it. I know Minnie Hescott told
+you."
+
+Rylton's mind goes quickly back.
+
+"That night," says he slowly, as if thinking, as if concentrating
+his thoughts, "the night you led me to where----"
+
+He hesitates.
+
+"Does it hurt you to name her in my presence?" asks Mrs. Bethune in
+a tone like velvet. "Well, spare yourself. Let us call her
+'she'--the immaculate 'she.' Now you can go on with safety."
+
+Her tone, her sneer, so evidently directed at Tita, maddens Rylton.
+
+"You _say_ you lied that night," says he, with barely suppressed
+fury. "And--I believe you. I was on the balcony with you, and you
+told me then that you did not know where my wife was. At all events,
+you gave me the _impression_ that you did not know where she was.
+You made me a bet--you can't have forgotten it--that she was with
+her cousin in the garden. I took the bet, and then you led me to the
+arbour--the arbour where you _knew_ she was. All things seemed to
+swear against her--all things save her cousin, Minnie Hescott."
+
+"Minnie Hescott!" Marian Bethune laughs aloud. "Minnie and Tom
+Hescott! Would a brother swear against a brother? Would a sister
+give a brother away? No. And I will tell you why. Because it is to
+the interest of each to support the other. Minnie Hescott would lie
+far deeper than I did to save her brother's reputation, for with her
+brother's reputation her own would sink. _I_ lied when I said I did
+not know where your precious wife was at that moment, but I lied for
+_your_ sake, Maurice--to save you from a woman who was betraying
+you, and who would drag you down to the very dust with her."
+
+Rylton lifts his head.
+
+"To what woman are you alluding?" asks he shortly, icily.
+
+"To Tita," returns she boldly. "I knew where she was that night; I
+knew she would be with her cousin at that moment--the cousin she had
+known and loved all her life. The cousin she had cast aside, _for
+the moment,_ to take your title, and mount by it to a higher rank in
+life." She takes a step towards him, her large eyes blazing. _"Now_
+you know the truth," says she, with a vehemence that shakes her.
+"Your love may be dead to me, but you shall know _her_ as she is!
+Faithless! False as hell she is! _She_ shall not supplant me!"
+
+She stands back from him, her hands outstretched and clenched. She
+looks almost superb in her wicked wrath.
+
+Rylton regards her steadily.
+
+"You are tired," says he coldly. "You ought to get some rest. You
+will sleep here to-night?"
+
+There is a question in his tone.
+
+"Why not? In this my old home--my home for years--your mother's
+home."
+
+"My mother is in Scotland," says he briefly.
+
+Something is tearing at his breast. Her deliberate, her most cruel
+attack on Tita has touched him to the quick.
+
+"Don't be frightened!" says Mrs. Bethune, bursting out laughing.
+"What are you thinking of--your reputation?"
+
+"No!"
+
+Manlike, he refrains from the obvious return. But she, in her mad
+frenzy of despair and anger, supplies it.
+
+"Mine, then? It is not worth a thought, eh? Who cares for me?
+Whether I sink with the vile, or swim with the good? No! I'll tell
+you what you are thinking of, Maurice." She lays her hand upon her
+throat quickly, as if stifling, yet laughs gaily. "You are thinking
+that that little _idiot_ may hear of my being here, and that she
+will make a fuss about it--all underbred people love a fuss--and
+that----"
+
+She would have gone on, but Rylton has given up his neutral position
+on the hearthrug--he has made one step forward, his face dark with
+passion.
+
+"Not another word!" says he in a sharp, imperious tone. "Not another
+word about--MY WIFE!"
+
+The last two words explain all. Mrs. Bethune stand still, as if
+struck to the heart.
+
+For a full minute she so stands, and then--"You are right. I should
+not be here," says she. She turns, and rests her eyes steadily on
+him. "So _that_ is my fault," says she, "that you love--_her!"_
+
+Shame holds him silent.
+
+"You _do_ love her?" persists she, playing with her misery,
+insisting on it. She lays her hand upon her heart as if to stay its
+beating. Is it going to burst its bonds? Oh, if it only might, and
+at this moment! To think that she--that _girl_--should take her
+place! And yet, had she not known? All through, had she not known?
+She had felt a superstitious fear about her, and now--"You do not
+speak?" says she. "Is it that you cannot? God knows I do not wonder!
+Well," slowly, "good-night! good-bye!"
+
+She goes to the door.
+
+"You cannot go like this," says Rylton, with some agitation. "Stay
+here to-night. I shall have time to catch the up-train, and I have
+business in town; and besides----"
+
+"Do not lie!" says she. She stops and faces him; her eyes are
+aflame, and she throws out her right arm with a gesture that must be
+called magnificent. It fills him with a sort of admiration. "I want
+no hollow courtesies from you." She stoops, and gathering up her
+wraps, folds them around her. Then she turns to him again. "As all
+is dead between us." She stops short. "Oh no!"--laying her hand upon
+her heart.--"As all is dead in _you_----"
+
+Whether her strength forsakes her here, or whether she refuses to
+say more, he never knows. She opens the door and goes into the hall,
+and, seeing a servant, beckons to him.
+
+Rylton follows her, but, seeing him coming, she turns and waves him
+back. One last word she flings at him.
+
+"Remember your reputation."
+
+He can hear the bitterness of her laugh as she runs down the stone
+steps into the fly outside. She had evidently told the man to wait.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+HOW TITA PLEADS HER CAUSE WITH MARGARET; AND HOW MARGARET REBUKES
+HER; AND HOW STEPS ARE HEARD, AND TITA SEEKS SECLUSION BEHIND A
+JAPANESE SCREEN; AND WHAT COMES OF IT.
+
+
+
+"What hour did he say he was coming?" asks Tita, looking up suddenly
+from the book she has been pretending to read.
+
+"About four. I wish, dearest, you would consent to see him."
+
+"_I_ consent? Four, you say? And it is just three now. A whole hour
+before I feel his hated presence in the house. Where are you going
+to receive him?"
+
+"In the small drawing-room, I suppose."
+
+"You _suppose._ Margaret, is it possible you have not given
+directions to James? Why, he might show him in _here."_
+
+"Well, even if he did," says Margaret impatiently, "I don't suppose
+he would do you any bodily harm. Once you saw him the ice would be
+broken, and----"
+
+"We should both fall in and be drowned. It would only make matters
+worse, I assure you."
+
+"It would be a change at all events, and 'variety is charming.' As
+it is, you have both fallen out."
+
+"You are getting too funny for anything," says Tita, tilting her
+chin saucily.
+
+"Now, if you were to do as you suggest, fall in--in _love_--with
+each other----"
+
+"Really, Margaret, this is beneath you," says Tita, laughing in
+spite of herself. "No! no! no! I tell you," starting to her feet,
+"I'd rather _die_ than meet him again. When you and Colonel Neilson
+are married----"
+
+"Oh! as to _that,"_ says Margaret, but she colours faintly.
+
+"I shall take a tiny cottage in the country, and a tiny maid; and
+I'll have chickens, and a big dog, and a pony and trap, and----"
+
+"A desolate hearth. No, Tita, you were not born for the old maid's
+joys."
+
+"Well, I was not born to be tyrannized over, any way," says Tita,
+raising her arms above her head, her fingers interlaced, and yawning
+lightly. "And old maid has liberty, at all events."
+
+"I don't see that mine does me much good," says Margaret ruefully.
+
+"That's why you are going to give it up. Though anyone who could
+call _you_ an old maid would be a fool. I sometimes"--wistfully--
+"wish you _were_ going to be one, Meg, because then I could live
+with you for ever."
+
+"Well, you shall."
+
+"No; not I. Three is trumpery."
+
+"There won't be three."
+
+"I wish I had a big bet on that. I wish someone would bet me my old
+dear home, my Oakdean, upon that. I should be a happy girl again."
+
+A great sadness grows within her eyes.
+
+"Tita, you could be happy if you chose."
+
+"You are always saying that," says Lady Rylton, looking full at her.
+"But how--_how_ can I be happy!"
+
+_"See_ Maurice! Make it up with him. Put an end to this foolish
+quarrel."
+
+"What should I gain by agreeing to live again with a man who cares
+nothing for me? I tell you, Margaret, that I desire no great things.
+I did not expect to wring from life extraordinary joys. I have never
+been exorbitant in my demands. I did not even ask that Maurice
+should _love_ me. I asked only that he should _like_ me--be--be
+_fond_ of me. I"--her voice beginning to tremble--"have had _so_ few
+people to be fond of me; and to _live_ with anyone, Margaret, to see
+him all day long, and know he cared nothing for me, that he thought
+me in his way, that he so hated me that he couldn't speak to me
+without scolding me, or saying hurtful words! Oh, no! I could not do
+that again."
+
+"Maurice has been most unfortunate," says Margaret, very sadly. "Do
+you really believe all this of him, Tita?"
+
+"I believe he loved Mrs. Bethune all the time," returns she simply.
+"And even if it be true what you say, that he does not love her
+now--still he does not love me either."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Oh, I--I am like the 'miller of the Dee.'" She had been on the
+verge of tears, but now she laughs.
+
+    "'I care for nobody, no, not I,
+    And nobody cares for me.'
+
+I told you that before. Why do you persist in thinking I am in love?
+Such a silly phrase! At all events"--disdainfully--"I'm not in love
+with Maurice."
+
+"I am afraid not, indeed," says Margaret, in a low voice. "And yet
+you seem to have such a capacity for loving. Me I _know_ you
+love--and that old home."
+
+"Ah yes--that! But that is gone. And soon you will be gone, too."
+
+"Never! never!" says Margaret earnestly. "And all this is so morbid,
+Tita. You must rouse yourself; you know some of our old friends are
+coming to see me on Sunday next. You will meet them?"
+
+"If you like." She pauses. "Is Mrs. Chichester coming?"
+
+"Yes, I think so, and Randal Gower, and some others."
+
+"I should like to see them very much."
+
+She has grown quite animated.
+
+"The only one you _don't_ want to see, in my opinion, is your
+husband," says Margaret, with a little reproach.
+
+"I want to see him quite as much as he wants to see me," says Tita.
+"By-the-bye, you ought to tell James about his coming. It is
+half-past three now."
+
+"He's always late," says Margaret lazily.
+
+But even as she says it, both Tita and she are conscious of the
+approach of a man's footstep, that assuredly is not the footstep of
+James.
+
+"I told you--I told you!" cries Tita, springing to her feet, and
+wringing her hands. "Oh! _why_ didn't you give some directions to
+James? Oh, Margaret! Oh! _what_ shall I do? If I go out there I
+shall meet him face to face. Oh! why do people build rooms with only
+one door in them? I'm undone." She glances wildly round her, and in
+the far distance of this big drawing-room espies a screen. "That,"
+gasps she, _"that_ will do! I'll hide myself behind that. Don't keep
+him long, Meg darling! Hurry him off. Say you've got the
+cholera--_any_ little thing like that--and get rid of him."
+
+"Tita--you can't. It is impossible. He will probably say things, and
+you won't like them--and----"
+
+"I shan't listen! I shall put my fingers in my ears. Of
+_course"_--indignantly--"I shan't listen."
+
+"But--Tita--good gracious----"
+
+Her other words are lost for ever. The handle of the door is turned.
+Tita, indeed, has barely time to scramble behind the screen when Sir
+Maurice is announced by James, who is electrified by the glance his
+mistress casts at him.
+
+"I expect I'm a little early," says Rylton, shaking hands with
+Margaret--apologizing in his words but not in his tone. He is of
+course unaware of the heart-burnings in Margaret's breast, or the
+apology would have been more than a mere society speech. "You are
+alone?"
+
+Here poor Margaret's purgatory begins--Margaret, who is the soul of
+truth.
+
+"Well, you can see!" says she, spreading out her hands and giving a
+comprehensive glance round her--a glance that rests as if stricken
+on the screen. What awful possibilities lie behind that!
+
+"Yes, yes, of course. Yet I fancied I heard voices."
+
+"How curious are our fancies!" says poor Margaret, taking the tone
+of an advanced Theosophist, even while her heart is dying within
+her.
+
+"Where is Tita?" asks Rylton suddenly. To Margaret's guilty
+conscience the direct question sounds like an open disbelief in her
+former answers. But Rylton had asked it thus abruptly merely because
+he felt that if he lingered over it it never might be asked; and he
+_must_ know. "Where is Tita?" asks he again. Where indeed!
+
+"She is here--at least," hurriedly, almost frantically, _"with me,_
+you know; staying with me. _Staying,_ you know."
+
+"Yes, I know. Gone out, perhaps?"
+
+"No, n--o. In retirement," says Margaret wretchedly. _Is_ she
+listening? How can she answer him all through? If he speaks
+_against_ her, what is she to do? If she has in all justice to
+condemn her in some little ways, will she bear it? Will she keep her
+fingers in her ears?
+
+"Ah--headache, I suppose," says Rylton.
+
+"Yes; her head aches sometimes," says Margaret, who now feels she is
+fast developing into a confirmed liar.
+
+"It usen't to ache," says he.
+
+At this Miss Knollys grows a little wild.
+
+"Used it not?" says she. "You remember, perhaps; I don't! But I am
+certain she would object to being made a subject for
+cross-examination. If you are anxious about her health, you need not
+be. She is well, very well indeed. Excellently well. She seems to
+regret--to require--nothing."
+
+Margaret has quite assured herself that this little speech of hers
+will be acceptable to the hidden form behind the screen. She feels,
+indeed, quite proud of it. Tita had been angry with her that last
+day when she had told Rylton she looked pale, but now she casts a
+glance at the screen, and to her horror sees that it shakes
+perceptibly. There is something angry in the shake of it. What is
+wrong now? What has she said or done?
+
+"I am glad to hear that," says Sir Maurice, in a tone that is
+absolutely raging. He moves up the room, as he speaks, to the
+fire--a small fire, it is still a little chilly--and terribly close
+to the screen. Indeed, as he stoops to lift the poker and break the
+coals, his elbow touches the corner of it.
+
+"Don't stand there; come over here. So bad for your complexion!"
+says Margaret frantically.
+
+As Maurice is about as brown as he can be, this caution falls
+somewhat flat.
+
+"It's cold enough," says he absently, standing upright, with his
+hands behind him. He gives himself a little shake, as men do when
+airing themselves before a fire in mid-winter. It is quite warm
+to-day, but he had "seen the fire," and--we are all children of
+habit. "It is wonderfully cold for this time of year," continues he,
+even more absently than before. He lays his hand upon the corner of
+the screen near him. Margaret is conscious of a vague sensation of
+faintness. Maurice turns to her.
+
+"You were saying that Tita----"
+
+Here Margaret rebels.
+
+"Once for all, Maurice, I decline to discuss your wife," says she
+quickly. "Talk of anything else on earth you like--of Mr. Gladstone,
+the Irish question, poor Lord Tennyson, the mice in Hungary,
+_anything_--but _not_ of Tita!"
+
+"But why?" asks Rylton. "Has she forbidden you to mention her to
+me?"
+
+"Certainly not! Why should she?"
+
+"Why indeed? A man more barbarously treated by her than I have
+been--has seldom----"
+
+Margaret's unhappy eyes once more glance towards the screen. It is
+shaking now--ominously.
+
+"Of course! Of course! We all know that," says she, her eyes on the
+screen, her mind nowhere. She has not the least idea of the words
+she has chosen. She had meant only to pacify him, to avert the
+catastrophe if possible: she had spoken timidly, enthusiastically,
+_fatally_. The screen now seems to quiver to its fall. An earthquake
+has taken possession of it, apparently--an earthquake in an
+extremely advanced stage.
+
+Oh, those girls, and their promises about their fingers and their
+ears!
+
+"I'm sorry I can't ask you to stay, Maurice," says she hurriedly.
+"But--but I'm not well: I, too, have a headache--a sort of
+neuralgia, you know."
+
+"You seem pretty well, however," says Sir Maurice, regarding her
+curiously.
+
+"Oh, I dare say," impatiently. "But I'm not. I'm ill. I tell you
+this sudden attack of influenza is overpowering me, and--it's
+_infectious,_ my dear Maurice. It is really. They all say so--the
+very cleverest doctors; and I should never forgive myself if you
+took it--and, besides----"
+
+"You can't be feeling very bad," says Maurice slowly. "Your colour
+is all right."
+
+"Ah! That is what is so deceptive about it," says Margaret eagerly.
+"One looks well, even whilst one is almost dying. I assure you these
+sudden attacks of--of toothache"--wildly--"are most trying. They
+take so much out of one."
+
+"They must," says Maurice gravely. "So many attacks, and all endured
+at the same time, would shake the constitution of an annuitant.
+Headache, neuralgia, influenza, toothache! You have been greatly
+afflicted. Are you sure you feel no symptoms of hydrophobia?"
+
+"Maurice----"
+
+"No? So glad of that! My dear girl, why are you so anxious to get
+rid of me?"
+
+"Anxious to get rid of you? What an absurd idea!"
+
+"Well, if not that, what on earth _do_ you mean?"
+
+"I have told you! I have a headache."
+
+"Like Lady Rylton. The fact is, Margaret," says he, turning upon her
+wrathfully, "she has bound you down not to listen to a word I can
+say in my own defence. The last day I was here you were very
+different. But I can see she has been at work since, and is fast
+prejudicing you against me. I call that most unfair. I don't blame
+_you,_ though I think you _might_ give half an hour to a cousin and
+an old friend--one who was your friend long before ever _she_ saw
+you. You think the right is all on her side; but is it? Now I put it
+fairly to you. _Is it?"_
+
+Margaret is quaking.
+
+"My dear Maurice--I--you know how I feel for you--for"--with a
+frantic glance at the screen--"for _both_ of you, but----"
+
+"Pshaw! that is mere playing with the subject. Do you mean to say
+you have given up even your honest opinion to her? You must know
+that it is not right for a wife to refuse to live with her husband.
+Come"--vehemently--"you _must_ know that."
+
+"Yes. Yes, of course," says poor Margaret, who doesn't know on earth
+what she is saying.
+
+Her eyes are riveted on that awful screen, and now she is shaken to
+the very core by the fact that it _is_ evidently undergoing a second
+earthquake! What is to be done? How long will this last? And when
+the end comes, will even _one_ of them be left alive to tell the
+tale?
+
+"Look here!" says Rylton. "She won't see me, it appears; she
+declines to acknowledge the tie that binds us. She has plainly
+decided on putting me outside her life altogether. But she can't do
+that, you know. And"--with some vehemence--"what I wish to say is
+this, that if I was in fault when I married her, fancying myself in
+love with another woman----"
+
+"Maurice, I entreat," says Margaret, rising, "I _desire_ you to----"
+
+"No; you must listen. I will not be condemned unheard. She can't
+have it all her own way. If I was in fault, so was she. Is it right
+for a woman to marry a man without one spark of love for him,
+with--she never concealed it--an almost open dislike to him?"
+
+"Dislike? Maurice----"
+
+"Well, is she not proving it now? My coming seems to be the signal
+for her hiding herself away in her own room. 'In retirement' you
+said she was, with a bad headache. Do you think"--furiously--"I
+can't see through her headaches? Now listen, Margaret; the case
+stands thus: I married her for her money, and she married me for my
+title. We both accepted the risk, and----"
+
+Margaret throws up her hands. Her face grows livid, her eyes are
+fastened on the screen, and at this moment it goes over with a loud
+crash.
+
+"It is not true! It is a lie!" says Tita, advancing into the middle
+of the room, her lips apart, her eyes blazing.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+HOW TITA WAGES WAR WITH MARGARET AND MAURICE; AND HOW MARGARET
+SUFFERS IGNOMINIOUS TREATMENT ON BOTH HANDS; AND HOW MAURICE AT THE
+LAST GAINS ONE SMALL VICTORY.
+
+
+
+There is a moment's awful silence, and then Tita sweeps straight up
+to Rylton, who is gazing at her as if he never saw her before. As
+for Margaret, she feels as if she is going to faint.
+
+"I--_I!_" says Tita; "to accuse me of marrying you for your title! I
+never thought about your title. I don't care a fig for your title.
+My greatest grief now is that people call me Lady Rylton."
+
+"I beg of you, Tita----" begins Margaret, trembling; she lays her
+hand on the girl's arm, but Tita shakes her off.
+
+"Don't speak to me. Don't touch me. You are as bad as he is. You
+took his part all through. You said you _felt_ for him! When he was
+saying all sorts of dreadful things about me. You said, 'Yes, yes,
+of course.' I heard you; I was listening. I heard every word."
+
+"May I ask," says Rylton, "if you did not marry me for my title,
+what _did_ you marry me for? Not," with a sneer, "for love,
+certainly."
+
+"I should think not," with a sneer on her part that sinks his into
+insignificance. "I married you to escape from my uncle, who was
+making me wretched! But not"--with an ireful glance at him--_"half_
+as wretched as _you_ have made me!"
+
+Rylton shrugs his shoulders. You should never shrug your shoulders
+when a woman is angry.
+
+"Yes, wretched--wretched!" says Tita, angry tears flooding her eyes.
+"There was never _any_ one so miserable as I have been since I
+married you."
+
+"That makes it all the more unfortunate that you are married to me
+still," says Rylton icily.
+
+"I may be married to you--I shan't live with you," says Tita.
+
+"We shall see to that," says Rylton, who has lost his head a little.
+
+"Yes, _I_ shall," returns she, with open defiance.
+
+Meantime Margaret, who had been crushed by that first onslaught on
+her, has recovered herself a little. To appeal to Tita again is
+useless; but to Maurice--she _must_ say a word of entreaty to
+Maurice. Tita has been most unjust, but men are of nobler make.
+Maurice will understand.
+
+"I think," says she very gently, catching his eye, "that it would be
+better for you to--to discuss all this--with Tita--alone. I shall
+go, but I beg of you, Maurice, to----"
+
+"Pray don't beg anything of me," says Maurice, turning upon her with
+an expression that bodes no good to anyone. "I should think you
+ought to be the last person in the world to ask a favour of me."
+
+"Good gracious! what have I done now?" exclaims Margaret shrinking
+back, and cut to the heart by this fresh affront.
+
+"You knew she was there, behind that screen, and you never gave me
+even a hint about it. A hint would have been sufficient, but----"
+
+"I did!" says Margaret, driven to bay. "I told you I had a headache,
+and that you were to go away--but you wouldn't!"
+
+"You told me you had twenty diseases, but even that wouldn't
+exonerate you from letting her hear what was not meant for her
+ears."
+
+"Ah! I'm glad you acknowledge even _so_ much," breaks in Tita
+vindictively.
+
+"Even though they weren't meant for your ears I'm glad you heard
+them," says Rylton, turning to her with all the air of one who isn't
+going to give in at _any_ price. "But as for you, Margaret, I did
+not expect this from you. I believed you stanch, at all events, and
+honest; yet you deliberately let me say what was in my mind,
+_knowing_ there was an unseen listener who would be sure to make the
+worst of all she heard."
+
+"Tita, _you_ shall explain this!" says Margaret, turning with a
+tragic gesture towards her. "Speak. Tell him."
+
+"What is the good of telling him anything?" says Tita, regarding her
+coldly. "Yet though you have forsaken me, Margaret, I will do as you
+wish." She turns to Rylton. "It was against Margaret's wish that I
+hid behind that screen. I heard you coming, and there was no way out
+of the room except by the door through which you would enter, and
+rather than meet you I felt"--with a sudden flash of her large eyes
+at him--"I would willingly die. So I got behind that screen,
+and--and" She pauses. "Well, that's all," says she.
+
+"You see it was not my fault," says Margaret.
+
+She lets a passing glance fall on Rylton, and with an increase of
+dignity in her air leaves the room. The two left behind look
+strangely at each other.
+
+"So you were listening?" says Rylton. "Listening all that time?"
+
+"You wrong me as usual. I was _not_ listening all the time. I didn't
+want to listen at all. Do you think I ever wanted to hear your voice
+again?"
+
+"I didn't flatter myself so far, as to this,"--bitterly--"and
+yet----"
+
+"I only wanted to get away from you, and I wasn't listening, really.
+I kept my fingers _tight_ in my ears until you had been there for
+_hours;_ then my arms felt as if they were dead, and I--well, I
+dropped them then."
+
+"Hours! I like that! Why, I haven't been here for half an hour yet."
+
+"Oh, _you_ could say anything!" says Tita contemptuously.
+
+She walks away from him, and flings herself into a lounging chair.
+She is dressed in a very pale pink gown, with knots of black velvet
+here and there. And as she has seated herself a tiny, exquisitely
+shaped foot, clad in a pale pink stocking and black shoe, betrays
+itself to the admiring air.
+
+Rylton, who is too angry to see anything, and has only a
+half-conscious knowledge that she is looking more beautiful than
+ever, goes up to the lounging chair in which she is reclining, and
+looking down upon her, says sternly, and with a distinctly dramatic
+air:
+
+"At last we meet."
+
+"At last," returns she, regarding with fixed interest the tip of her
+shoe as she sways it with an air of steady indifference to and fro.
+"Against my will!"
+
+"I know that. I have had plenty of time to know that."
+
+"Then why do you come?"
+
+"To see you," says he plainly.
+
+"Knowing that I didn't wish to see _you?"_
+
+"Yes. Because I wish to see you."
+
+"What a man's reason!" says she, with a scoffing smile. "I wonder
+you aren't ashamed of yourself."
+
+"Well, I _am_ sometimes," says Rylton, making an effort to suppress
+the anger that is rising within him. "I sometimes tell myself, for
+example, that I must be the meanest hound alive. I know you avoid
+me--hate me--and yet I come."
+
+"But why--why?" impatiently.
+
+"Because," slowly, "I--do not hate _you."_
+
+"Don't be a hypocrite," says Tita sharply. She gets up suddenly,
+pushing back her chair behind her. _"Why_ do you pretend?" says she.
+"What is to be gained by it? I know we are bound to each other in a
+sense--bound----" She breaks off. "Ah, that horrid word!" cries she.
+"Why can we not get rid of it? Why can't we separate? How ridiculous
+the laws are! You would be as glad to say good-bye to me for ever as
+I should be to say it to you, and yet----"
+
+"I beg your pardon," says Rylton, interrupting her quickly. "Speak
+for yourself only. For my part, I have no desire to be separated
+from you now, or," steadily, "at any other time."
+
+Tita lifts her eyes and looks at him. Their glances meet, and there
+is something in his that brings the blood to her face.
+
+"I cannot understand you," cries she, with some agitation. "You
+don't want my money _now;_ you have plenty of your own, and,"
+throwing up her head with a disdainful little gesture, "certainly
+you don't want _me."_
+
+"You seem wonderfully certain on many points," says Rylton, "but is
+your judgment always infallible?"
+
+"In this case, yes."
+
+"Ah! you have decided," says he. His gaze wanders from her face and
+falls upon her hands. On the right hand is a beautiful pearl ring.
+He regards it without thought for a second or two, and then he
+wakens to the fact that he had never seen it there before. "Who gave
+you that ring?" demands he suddenly, with something of the old
+masterful air. It is so like the old air that Tita for a little
+while is silent, then she wakes. No! It is all over now--that
+ownership. She has emancipated herself; she is free. There is
+something strange and terrible, however, to her in the knowledge
+that this thought gives her no joy. She stands pale, actually
+frightened, for there _is_ fear in the knowledge--that she had felt
+a sharp throb of delight when that commanding tone had fallen on her
+ears.
+
+She recovers almost instantly.
+
+"You think it was Tom, perhaps," says she, speaking with a little
+difficulty, but smiling contemptuously. "Well, it was not. It was
+only Margaret, after all. This is a last insult, I suppose. Was it
+to deliver it that you came here to-day?"
+
+"No," he is beginning, "but----"
+
+_ "You_ ask me questions," continues she, brushing his words aside
+with a wave of her small hand. "And I--I--have _I_ no questions to
+ask?" She stops, as if suffocating.
+
+"You have, God knows," says he. "And"--he hesitates--"I don't expect
+you to believe me, but--that old folly--it is dead."
+
+"Dead?" She shakes her head. "What killed it?"
+
+_"You!"_ says Rylton.
+
+One burning glance she casts at him.
+
+"Do not let us waste time," says she. "Tell me plainly why you came
+here, why you want to see me."
+
+"You give me little encouragement to speak"--bitterly. "But it is
+this: I want you to come back to me, to be mistress of my house
+again. I"--he pauses as if seeking words--"I have bought a new
+house; I want you to come and be the head of it."
+
+Tita has been listening to him with wide eyes. She had grown pale as
+death itself during his speech, and now she recoils from him. She
+makes a little movement as though to repel him for ever, and then,
+suddenly she covers her eyes with her hands, and bursts into violent
+weeping.
+
+"Oh no! No!" gasps she. "Never! Never again! How _could_ you ask
+me!"
+
+He takes a step towards her, and lays his hand upon her arm.
+
+"No, don't touch me. Don't speak to me," cries she. "I have _had_ to
+see you to-day, and it has been terrible to me--so terrible that I
+hope I shall _never_ see you again. I could not bear it. Go--go
+away!"
+
+"Do not send me from you like this," entreats Rylton, in a voice
+that trembles. Her tears cut him to the heart. He is so close to her
+that he has only to put out his hand to catch her--to take her to
+him, and yet----"Think, Tita! We have got to live out our lives,
+whether we like it or not. _Can_ we not live them out together?"
+
+"We cannot," says Tita, in a low but distinct voice. She turns to
+him proudly. "Have you forgotten?" says she. Her poor little face is
+stained with tears, but he sees no disfigurement in it; he has but
+one desire, and that is to take her into his arms and kiss those
+tears away from it for ever.
+
+"Forget! Do you think I shall ever forget? It is my curse that I
+shall always remember. But that is at an end, Tita. I _swear_ it! I
+hope I shall never see her again. If you wish it--I----"
+
+"I wish nothing with regard to either her or you," interrupts Tita,
+her breath coming a little quickly. "It is nothing to me. I do not
+care."
+
+"Don't say that," says Rylton hoarsely. He is fighting his battle
+inch by inch. "Give me some hope! Is one sin to condemn a man for
+ever? I tell you all that is done. And you--if you love no one--give
+_me_ a chance!"
+
+"Why should I trouble myself so far?" says she, with infinite
+disdain.
+
+At this Rylton turns away from her. He goes to the window, and
+stands there gazing out, but seeing nothing.
+
+"You are implacable--cold, heartless," says he, in a low tone,
+fraught with hidden meaning.
+
+"Oh, let us leave _hearts_ out of the discussion," cries Tita
+scornfully. "And, indeed, why should we have any discussions? Why
+need we talk to each other at all? This interview"-- clenching her
+handkerchief into a ball--"what has it done for us? It has only made
+us both wretched!" She takes a step nearer to him. "Do--do promise
+me you will not seek another."
+
+"I cannot promise you that."
+
+"No?" She turns back again. "Well--go away now, at all events," says
+she, sighing.
+
+"Not until I have said what is on my mind," says Rylton, with
+determination.
+
+"Well, say it"--frowning.
+
+"I will! You are my wife, and I am your husband, and I think it is
+your _duty_ to live with me."
+
+She looks at him for a long time, as if thinking.
+
+"I'll tell you what you think," says she slowly, "that it will add
+to your respectability in the eyes of your world to have your wife
+living in _your_ house, and not in Margaret's."
+
+"I don't expect to be generously judged by you," says he. "But even
+as you put it there is sense in it. If our world----"
+
+"Yours! yours!" interrupts she angrily--that old wound had always
+rankled. "It is not my world! I have nothing to do with it. I do not
+belong to it. Your mother showed me that, even so long ago as when
+we were first"--there is a little perceptible hesitation--"married".
+
+_"Hang_ my mother!" says Rylton violently. "I tell you my world is
+your world, and if not--well, then I have no desire to belong to it.
+The question is, Tita, will you consent to forget--and--and
+forgive--and"--with a sudden plunge--"make it up with me?"
+
+He would have taken her hand here, but she slips adroitly behind a
+small table.
+
+"Say it is for respectability's sake, if you like, that I ask you to
+return to me," goes on Rylton, a little daunted, however, by her
+determined entrenchment; "though it is not. Still----"
+
+She stops him.
+
+"It is no use," says she. "Don't go on. I cannot. I _will_ not. I,"
+her lips quiver slightly--"I was _too_ unhappy with you. And I
+should always think of----" Her voice dies away.
+
+Rylton is thinking, too, of last night, and that terrible interview
+with Marian. A feeling of hatred towards her grows within him. She
+had played with him--killed all that was best in him, and then flung
+him aside. She had let him go for the moment--only to return and
+spoil whatever good the world had left him. Her face rises before
+him pleading, seductive; and here is the other face--angry,
+scornful. Oh, dear little angry face! How fair, how pure, and how
+beloved!
+
+"I tell you," says he, breaking out vehemently, "that all that is at
+an end--if I ever loved her." He forgets everything now, and,
+catching her hands, holds them tightly in his own. "Give me another
+trial," entreats he.
+
+"No, no!" She speaks as if choking, but for all that she draws her
+hands out of his. "It would be madness. You would tire. We should
+tire of each other in a week--where there is no love. No, no!"
+
+"You refuse, then?"
+
+"I refuse!"
+
+"Tita----"
+
+She turns upon him passionately.
+
+"I _won't_ listen. It is useless. You"--a sob breaks from her--"why
+_don't_ you go!" she cries a little wildly.
+
+"This is not good-bye," says he desperately. "You will let me come
+again? Margaret, I know, receives on Sundays. _Say_ I may come
+then."
+
+"Yes."
+
+She gives the permission faintly, and with evident reluctance. She
+lifts her eyes, and makes a gesture towards the door.
+
+"Oh, I am going," says Rylton bitterly. He goes a step or two away
+from her, and then pauses as if loath to leave her.
+
+"You might at least shake hands with me," says he.
+
+She hesitates--then lays a cold little hand in his. He too
+hesitates, then, stooping, presses his lips warmly, lingeringly to
+it.
+
+In another moment he is gone.
+
+Tita stands motionless, listening to his departing footsteps. For a
+while she struggles with herself, as if determined to overcome the
+strange emotion that is threatening to master her. Then she gives
+way, and, flinging herself into an armchair, breaks into a passion
+of tears.
+
+Margaret, coming presently into the room, sees her, and going to
+her, kneels down beside the chair and takes her into her arms.
+
+"Oh, Margaret!" cries Tita. "Oh, Meg! Meg! And I was so rude to you!
+But to see him--to see him again----"
+
+"My poor darling!" says Margaret, pressing the girl to her with
+infinite tenderness.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+HOW SOME OLD FRIENDS REAPPEAR AGAIN; AND HOW SOME NEWS IS TOLD; AND
+HOW MAURICE MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT TO WIN HIS CASE.
+
+
+
+"Just been to see her," says Mr. Gower, who has selected the
+snuggest chair in Margaret's drawing-room, and is now holding forth
+from its cushioned depths with a radiant smile upon his brow. "She's
+staying with the Tennants. They always had a hankering after Mrs.
+Bethune."
+
+"Fancy Marian's being with _anyone_ when Tessie is in town!" says
+Margaret. "Captain Marryatt, that is a wretchedly uncomfortable
+chair. Come and sit here."
+
+"Oh, thanks! I'm all right," says Marryatt, who would have died
+rather than give up his present seat. It has a full command of the
+door. It is plain, indeed, to all present that he is expecting
+someone, and that someone Mrs. Chichester--his mistaken, if honest,
+infatuation for that lean young woman being still as ardent as of
+yore.
+
+Minnie Hescott, who is talking to Tita, conceals a smile behind her
+fan.
+
+"What! haven't you heard about her and Marian?" asks Gower, leaning
+towards his hostess. "Why, you must be out of the swim altogether
+not to have heard that. There's a split there. A regular cucumber
+coldness! They don't speak now."
+
+"An exaggeration, surely," says Margaret. "I saw lady Rylton
+yesterday and---- How d'ye do, colonel Neilson?"
+
+There is the faintest blush on Margaret's cheek as she rises to
+receive her warrior.
+
+"I hardly expected you to-day; I thought you were going down to
+Twickenham."
+
+"What an awful story!" says Gower, letting her hear his whisper
+under pretence of picking up her handkerchief.
+
+"Monday will do for that," says Neilson. "But Monday might not do
+for you. I decided not to risk the Sunday. By-the-bye, I have
+something to say to you, presently, if you can spare me a moment."
+
+"Certainly," says Margaret, whereon the Colonel moves away to talk
+to someone else.
+
+"Same old game, I suppose," suggests Gower, in a sweetly
+confidential tone, when he has gone. "Find it a little slow, don't
+you, knowing exactly what he's going to say to you, presently, when
+you have spared him a moment?"
+
+"I really _don't_ know," says Margaret, bringing a dignified eye to
+bear upon him.
+
+"No? Then you ought. It isn't that you haven't had opportunities
+enough. Time has not been denied you. But as you say you _don't_
+know, I think it my duty to prepare you; to----"
+
+"Really, Randal, I don't wish to know anything. I dare say Colonel
+Neilson is quite capable of----"
+
+"He appears to me," severely, "to be thoroughly _in_-capable. He
+ought to have impressed it upon your brain in half the time he's
+taken to do it. It is quite a _little_ speech, and only firmness was
+required to make you remember it. This is it----"
+
+"I don't wish to hear anything," says Margaret with suspicious
+haste.
+
+"But _I_ wish you to hear it. I think it bad to have things sprung
+upon one unawares. Now listen. 'For the nine hundred and ninetieth
+time, my beloved Margaret, I implore you on my bended knees to make
+me a happy man!' You remember it now?"
+
+"No, indeed; I never heard such an absurd speech in my life."
+
+"That's the _second_ story you've told to-day," says Mr. Gower,
+regarding her with gentle sorrow.
+
+"Oh, don't be stupid!" says Margaret. "Tell me what I _want_ to
+know; about Marian. I am sorry if there really has occurred a breach
+between her and my aunt."
+
+"There is little doubt about that! What a born orator is a woman!"
+says Mr. Gower, with deep enthusiasm. "Not _one_ woman, mind you,
+but _every_ woman. What command of language is theirs! I assure you
+if Mr. Goldstone had heard Mrs. Bethune on the subject of the
+Dowager Lady Rylton to-day, he would have given her a place in the
+Cabinet upon the spot. She would carry all before her in the House
+of Commons; we should have Home Rule for Ireland in twenty-four
+hours."
+
+"Perhaps she wouldn't have voted for it," says Margaret, laughing.
+
+"You bet!" says Mr. Gower. "Any way, there's a row on between her
+and Lady Rylton. The hatchet that has been buried for so long is dug
+up again, and it is now war to the knife between them."
+
+"But what is to become of Marian?" asks Margaret anxiously, whose
+kind heart bleeds for all sad souls.
+
+"She's going to marry a Russian. A nobody--but lots of money. Best
+thing she could do, too," says Gower, speaking the last words
+hurriedly, as he sees the door open and Margaret rise to receive her
+new visitor.
+
+The fresh arrival is Mrs. Chichester, exquisitely arrayed in a
+summery costume of apple-green. It suits her eyes, which are greener
+than ever to-day, and sparkling. Her whole air, indeed, is full of
+delightful vivacity. There is a _verve,_ a brightness, about her
+that communicates itself to her audience. She looks taller, thinner
+than usual.
+
+"Such news!" cries she, in her clear, sharp voice. "Jack is coming
+home next month!"
+
+"Jack?" questions Margaret.
+
+"Yes, Jack. Jack Chichester--my husband, don't you know?"
+
+At this a stricken silence falls upon her listeners. They all try to
+look as if they had been accustomed to think of Jack Chichester as
+an old and bosom friend. They also try (and this is even harder)
+_not_ to look at Marryatt. As for him, he has forgotten that there
+is anyone to look at him. His foolish, boyish eyes are fixed on Mrs.
+Chichester.
+
+"Yes, really," goes on that somewhat flighty young person. "No
+wonder you are all surprised. He has been so long away that I expect
+you thought he wasn't anywhere. _I_ did almost. Well, he's coming
+now, any way, and that's a blessing. You'll all like him, I can tell
+you."
+
+There is a ring of genuine feeling in her tone, not to be mistaken.
+She _is_ glad at the thought of her husband's return. Marryatt,
+recognising that ring, sinks into a chair with a groan. Oh, heavens!
+How he has pranced after that woman for fully twelve months, dancing
+attendance upon her, fulfilling her commands, and all the time her
+heart was filled with the face of this abominable Jack!
+
+Presently, on the first moment, indeed, when he can do so with any
+decency, he leaves Miss Knollys' house a sadder, and most decidedly
+a wiser, man!
+
+"Am I to sympathize with you?" asks Gower, in a low, expressive
+voice, as Mrs. Chichester sweeps towards him.
+
+She laughs.
+
+"Pouf!" says she, making light of his little impertinence. "You're
+out of it altogether. Why, I'm _glad_ he's coming home. You've
+mistaken me."
+
+"I knew it. I felt it all along," cries Gower enthusiastically. "It
+is _you_ who have mistaken me. When I mentioned the word
+'sympathy'--ah!" rapturously, "that was sympathy with your joy!"
+
+"Was it? You ought to do it again," says Mrs. Chichester; "and
+before the glass next time. _Practise_ it. However, I'm too happy to
+give you the lesson you deserve. I can tell you Jack isn't half bad.
+I like him better, any way, than any man I ever met in my life, and
+that's saying a lot. Of course," candidly, "I doubt if I could ever
+like any man as well as myself; but I confess I run it very close
+with Jack."
+
+"Naturally. 'We all love Jack,'" quotes Mr. Gower in a sort of
+ecstasy.
+
+"But for all that, I must have my little fling sometimes," says
+Jack's wife, with a delightful smile, that makes her look thinner
+than ever.
+
+"Quite so," says Gower.
+
+They both laugh--a good healthy laugh; and, indeed, the vulgar
+expression coming from her does not sound so bad as it might. There
+are some people who, when they say a queer thing, set one's teeth on
+edge; and there are others who, when they use the same words, raise
+only a smile. As yet, there is much injustice in the world.
+
+Margaret is standing in a distant window, talking in an undertone to
+Colonel Neilson, and Gower is now teasing Minnie Hescott, when once
+again the door is thrown open and Sir Maurice comes in.
+
+"Another surprise packet!" says Gower faintly. "Miss Hescott, you
+know everything. _Are _there more to come? I'm not strong; my heart
+is in a bad state. Pray, _pray_ give me a gentle word of warning
+if----"
+
+"Isn't he looking well!" says Minnie excitedly.
+
+Sir Maurice is indeed looking very handsome as he comes up the room.
+It brings a mutual smile to Margaret and Colonel Neilson's lips as
+they note the extreme care with which he has got himself up for the
+visit to--_his wife!_
+
+He is holding his head very high, and the flower in his button-hole
+has evidently been chosen with great care. He shakes hands with
+Margaret first, of course, and with Tita last. She is sitting near
+Mrs. Chichester, and she gives him her hand without looking at him.
+She has grown a little white.
+
+And then presently they all fade away: Captain Marryatt first, as
+has been said, and Mrs. Chichester last, still saying absurd things
+about the return of her "Jack"--absurd, but undoubtedly sincere.
+"That's what made them so funny," said Gower afterwards. And now
+Margaret makes a little excuse and goes too, but not before she has
+asked Maurice to stay to dinner.
+
+"Oh, thank you!" says Rylton, and then hesitates; but after a glance
+at Tita's face, most reluctantly, and a little hopelessly, as it
+seems to Margaret, declares he has a previous engagement.
+
+"Another night, then," says Margaret kindly, and closes the door
+behind her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+HOW MAURICE GAINS ANOTHER POINT; AND HOW TITA CONSENTS TO THINK
+ABOUT IT; AND HOW MARGARET TELLS A LIE.
+
+
+
+For a little while no word is spoken. It seems as if no words are
+theirs to speak. Rylton, standing on the hearthrug, has nothing to
+look at save her back, that is so determinedly turned towards him.
+She is leaning over the plants in one of the windows, pretending to
+busy herself with their leaves.
+
+"Won't you speak to me?" says Rylton at last.
+
+He goes to her, and so stands that she is forced to let him see her
+face--a face beautiful, but pale and unkind, and with the eyes so
+steadfastly lowered. And yet he
+
+    "Knows they must be there,
+    Sweet eyes behind those lashes fair,
+    That will not raise their rim."
+
+"I _have_ spoken," says Tita.
+
+"When?"
+
+"I said, 'How d'ye do' to you."
+
+"Nonsense" says he; and then, "I don't believe you said even so
+much. You gave me your hand, that was all; and that you gave
+reluctantly."
+
+"Well, I can't help it," slowly. "Remember what I told you that last
+day."
+
+"I don't want to remember anything," says he earnestly. "I want to
+start afresh--from this hour. And yet--there _is_ one thing I must
+recall. You said--that last day--there was no love between
+us--that," slowly, "was not true. There is love on one side, at all
+events. Tita"--taking a step towards her--"I----"
+
+She makes a sudden, wild gesture, throwing out her hands as if to
+ward off something.
+
+_"Don't!"_ cries she in a stifled voice. "Don't say it!"
+
+"I must! I _will!"_ says Rylton passionately. "I love you!" There is
+a dead silence, and in it he says again, "I love you!"
+
+For a moment Tita looks as if she were going to faint; then the
+light returns to her eyes, the colour to her face.
+
+"First her, then me," says she.
+
+"Will you never forgive that?" asks he. "And it was _before_ I saw
+you. When I did see you--Tita, do try to believe this much, at all
+events, that after our marriage I was true to you. I think now, that
+from the first moment I saw you I loved you. But I did not know it,
+and----"
+
+"That is not all," says Tita in a low tone.
+
+"I know--about Hescott. I beg your pardon about that. I was mad, I
+think; but the madness arose out of jealousy. I could not bear to
+think you were happy with him, _un_happy with me. If I had loved
+another, would I have cared with _whom_ you were happy?"
+
+"I don't know," says Tita.
+
+There is something so forlorn in the sad little answer--something so
+forlorn in her whole attitude, indeed--the droop of her head, the
+sorrowful clasping of her small hands before her--that Rylton's
+heart burns within him.
+
+"Be just--be just to me," cries he; "give me a chance. I confess I
+married you for your money. But now that accursed money is all gone
+(for which I thank heaven), and our positions are reversed. The
+money now is mine, and I come to you, and fling it at your feet, and
+implore you from my very soul to forgive me, and take me back."
+
+She still remains silent, and her silence cuts him to the heart.
+
+"What can I say? What can I do to move you?" exclaims he, in a low
+tone, but one that trembles. "Is your heart dead to me? Have I
+killed any hope that might have been mine? Is it too late in the day
+to call myself your lover?"
+
+At this she lifts her hands and covers her face. All at once he
+knows that she is crying. He goes to her quickly, and lays his arm
+round her shoulder.
+
+"Let me begin again," says he. "Trust me once more. I know well,
+Tita, that you do not love me yet, but perhaps in time you will
+forgive me, and take me to your heart. I am sorry, darling, for
+every angry word I have ever said to you, but in every one of those
+angry words there was love for you, and you alone. I thought only of
+you, only I did not know it. Tita, say you will begin life again
+with me."
+
+"I--I _couldn't_ go to The Place," says Tita. A shudder shakes her
+frame. "It was there I first heard---- It was there your mother told
+me of----"
+
+"I know--I know; and I don't ask you to go there. I think I told you
+I had bought a new place. Come there with me."
+
+"Why do you want me to go with you," asks she, lifting her mournful
+eyes to his, "when you know I do not love you?"
+
+"Yes; I know that." He pauses. "I ask you for many reasons, and not
+all selfish ones. I ask you for your own sake more than all. The
+world is cruel, Tita, to a woman who deliberately lives away from
+her husband; and, besides----"
+
+"I don't care about the world."
+
+"We all care about the world sooner or later, and, besides, you who
+have been accustomed to money all your life cannot find your present
+income sufficient for you, and Margaret may marry."
+
+"Oh yes! Yes; I think so." For the first time she shows some
+animation. "I _hope_ so. You saw them talking together to-day?"
+
+"I did." There is a slight pause, and then: "You are glad for
+Margaret. You wish everyone"--reproachfully--"to be happy except
+me."
+
+She shakes her head.
+
+"Give me a kind word before I go," says Rylton earnestly.
+
+"What can I say?"
+
+"Say that you will think of what I have been urging."
+
+"One _must_ think," says she, in a rather refractory tone.
+
+"You promise, then?"
+
+"Yes; I shall think."
+
+"Until to-morrow, then," says he, holding out his hand.
+
+"To-morrow?"
+
+She looks troubled.
+
+"Yes; to-morrow. Don't forbid me to come to-morrow."
+
+He presses her hand.
+
+The troubled look still rests upon her face as she turns away from
+him, having bidden him good-bye. The last memory of her he takes
+away with him is of a little slender figure standing at the window,
+with her hands clasped behind her back. She does not look back at
+him.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+"Well?" says Margaret, coming into the room half an hour later.
+"Why, what a little snowflake you are! Come up to the fire and warm
+those white cheeks. Was it Maurice made you look like that? I shall
+scold him. What did he say to you?"
+
+"He wants me to go back to him."
+
+"Yes?" anxiously.
+
+"Well---- That's all."
+
+"But you, dearest?"
+
+"Oh, I can't _bear_ to think of it!" cries Tita, in a miserable
+tone.
+
+At this Margaret feels hope dying within her. Beyond question she
+has again refused to be reconciled to him. Margaret is so fond of
+the girl that it goes to her very heart to see her thus wilfully (as
+she believes) throwing away her best chance of happiness in this
+world.
+
+"Tita, have you well considered what you are doing? A woman
+separated from her husband, no matter how free from blame she may
+be, is always regarded with coldness by----"
+
+"Oh, yes! I know," impatiently. _"He_ has been saying all that."
+
+"And, after all, what has Maurice done that you should be so hard
+with him? Many a man has loved another woman before his marriage.
+That old story----"
+
+"It isn't that," says Tita suddenly. "It is"--she lays her hands on
+Margaret's shoulders, and regards her earnestly and with
+agitation--"it is that I fear _myself."_
+
+"You fear"--uncertainly--"that you don't love him?"
+
+"Pshaw!" says Tita, letting her go, and rising to her feet, as
+though to sit still is impossible to her. "What a speech from you to
+me--you, who know all! _Love_ him! I am sure about that, at all
+events. I know I don't."
+
+"Are you so sure?"
+
+"Positive--_positive!"_
+
+"What? Not even _one_ doubt?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"What is your fear, then?" asks Margaret.
+
+"That even if I went back to him, took up my old position, asked his
+guests to our house, and so on, that sooner or later I should
+quarrel with him a second time, and then this dreadful work would
+have to be done all over again."
+
+"That would rest in your own hands. Of course, it is a risk, if,
+indeed, you mean what you say, Tita"--watching her closely--"that
+you do not care for Maurice. But"--anxiously--"at all events, you do
+not care for anyone else?"
+
+"No--no--no" petulantly--"why should I? I think all men more trouble
+than they are worth."
+
+"If that is so, and you are heart-whole, I think it your positive
+duty to live with your husband," says Margaret, with decision. "How
+can you hesitate, Tita? Are the vows you uttered at the altar
+nothing to you? Many a woman lives with a bad husband through
+conscientious motives, and----"
+
+"I don't believe it," says Tita, who is evidently in one of her most
+wayward moods. "They go on living with their horrid husbands because
+they are afraid of what people will say about them. You know you
+said something about it yourself just now, and so did--_he;_
+something about the world being disagreeable to any woman, however
+good, who is separated from the man she married."
+
+Margaret gives up the argument.
+
+"Well," says she, smiling, "at all events, Maurice isn't a horrid
+husband."
+
+"You say that because he isn't yours," with a shrug.
+
+"Come back here, you bad child," says Margaret, laughing now, "and
+listen to me for a little while longer. You know, Tita, darling,
+that I have your interest, and yours only, at heart. Promise me you
+will at least think of what Maurice proposes."
+
+"Oh, I've promised _him_ that," says Tita, frowning.
+
+"You have?" cries Margaret. "Oh, you _good_ girl! Come! that's
+right. And so you parted not altogether at war? How glad I am! And
+he--he was glad, too. He"--anxiously--"he said----"
+
+"He said he was coming again to-morrow," with apparent disgust.
+
+"To get your answer?"
+
+"Oh, I suppose so! I don't know, I'm sure," with such a sharp
+gesture as proves to Margaret her patience has come to an end. "Let
+us forget it--put it from us--while we can." She laughs nervously.
+"You see what a temper I have! He will repent his bargain, I
+think--if I do consent. Come, let us talk of something else, Meg--of
+you."
+
+"Of me?"
+
+"What better subject? Tell me what Colonel Neilson was saying to you
+in that window this evening," pointing to the one farthest off.
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all. He is so stupid," says Margaret, blushing
+crimson. "He really never sees me without proposing all over again,
+as if there was any good in it."
+
+"And what did you say this time?"
+
+Margaret grows confused.
+
+"Really, dearest, I was so taken up thinking of you and Maurice,"
+says she, with a first (and most flagrant) attempt at dissimulation,
+"that I believe I forgot to--to--say anything."
+
+Tita gives way to a burst of irrepressible laughter.
+
+"I like that," says she. "Well, at all events, by your own showing,
+you didn't say _no."_
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+HOW TITA RECEIVES A BASKET OF FLOWERS AND AN ENTREATY; AND HOW SHE
+CEASES TO FIGHT AGAINST HER DESTINY.
+
+
+
+It is quite early, barely eleven o'clock, and a most lovely morning.
+Tita and Margaret, who have just settled down in the latter's
+boudoir, presumably to write their letters, but actually to have a
+little gossip, are checked by the entrance of a servant, who brings
+something to Tita and lays it on the table beside her.
+
+"With Sir Maurice Rylton's compliments," says the servant.
+
+"What is it?" says Tita, when he has gone, with the air of one who
+instinctively knows, but would prefer to go on guessing about it.
+
+"Not dynamite, assuredly," says Margaret. "What a delightful
+basket!"
+
+"What can be inside it?"
+
+"The best way to find that out is to open it," says Margaret, with
+abominable briskness. "Shall I cut these pretty ribbons, or will
+you?"
+
+"No, _don't_ cut them," says Tita quickly.
+
+She draws the basket towards her, and slowly and with care unties
+the true lover's knot of pale blue ribbon that fastens it.
+
+"Flowers, I expect," says Margaret.
+
+"But tied up like this?"
+
+"That is because there is a letter inside it."
+
+"You seem to know all about it," says Tita, at which Margaret grows
+a little red, and wishes, like the parrot, that she had not spoken.
+
+"Yes; it is flowers," says Tita.
+
+"Such flowers!" cries Margaret. And, indeed, it is a rare basketful
+of Nature's sweetest gifts that lies before them. Delicate reds, and
+waxen whites, and the tender greens of the waving fern. "How
+beautiful!" exclaims Margaret.
+
+Tita has said nothing. But now she puts out her hand.
+
+"What is that?" says she.
+
+"Why, the letter," says Margaret, forgetting her late discomfiture
+in the excitement of this new discovery.
+
+Tita draws it forth reluctantly. It is tied to a little plant--a
+tiny plant of pale forget-me-not.
+
+"What can he have to write about?" says she. "Perhaps it is to say
+he is not coming to-day; let us hope so. But what does this plant
+mean?"
+
+She opens the envelope with disdainful fingers. It does not,
+however, contain a letter, after all. It is only a verse scribbled
+on a card:
+
+    "If you will touch, and take, and pardon,
+    What I can give;
+    Take this, a flower, into your garden,
+    And bid it live."
+
+Neither of them speaks for a moment.
+
+"It is a pretty message," says Margaret at last.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Tita's face is turned aside. Her hand is still resting on the table,
+the verse and the little plant within it.
+
+"He will be coming soon," says Margaret again.
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"You will be kind to him, dearest?"
+
+"That--I _don't_ know."
+
+"Oh! I _think_ you do," says Margaret; "I think you must see that
+he----"
+
+"Let me think it out, Meg," says Tita, turning a very pale face to
+hers. "When he comes tell him I am in the small drawing-room."
+
+She kisses Margaret and leaves the room. The basket of flowers, too,
+she has left behind her. But Margaret can see that she has taken
+with her the tiny plant of forget-me-not.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  * *
+
+
+
+He comes quickly towards her, holding out his hand.
+
+"Margaret said I should find you here," says he. Hope, mingled with
+great fear, is in his glance. He holds the hand she gives him. "Have
+you kept your promise?" he asks her. "Have you thought of it?"
+
+"I am tired of thinking," says she, with a long sigh.
+
+"And your decision?"
+
+"Oh! it shall be as you wish," cries she, dragging her hand out of
+his, and walking backwards from him till she reaches the wall, where
+she stays, leaning against it as if glad of its support, and
+glancing at him from under her long lashes. "You shall have your own
+way. You have always had it. You will have it to the end, I
+suppose."
+
+"You consent, then!" exclaims her.
+
+"Ah! That is all you think of. To save appearances! You"--her breath
+coming quickly--"you care nothing for what _I_ am feeling----"
+
+"Don't wrong me like that," says Rylton, interrupting her. "If you
+could read my heart you would know that it is of you alone I think.
+For you I have thought out everything. You shall be your own
+mistress---- I shall not interfere with you in any way. I ask you to
+be my wife, so far as entertaining our guests goes, and the
+arranging of the household, and that---- No more! You shall be free
+as air. Do you think that I do not know I have sinned towards you?"
+He breaks off in some agitation, and then goes on. "I tell you I
+shall not for one moment even question a wish of yours."
+
+"I should not like that," says Tita sadly. "That would keep me as I
+was: always an outsider; a stranger; a guest in my own house."
+
+Rylton walks to the window and back again. A stranger! _Had_ she
+felt like a stranger in her own house? It hurts him terribly.
+
+"It was I who should have been the stranger," says he. "It was all
+yours--and yet--did I really make you so unhappy?"
+
+There is something so cruel in his own condemnation of himself that
+Tita's heart melts.
+
+"It is all over," says she. "It is at an end. If"--with a sad,
+strange little glance at him--"we must come together again, let us
+not begin the new life with recriminations. Perhaps I have been hard
+to you--Margaret says I have--and if so----" Tears rise in her eyes
+and choke her utterance. She turns aside from him, and drums with
+her fingers on the table near her. "I thought those flowers so
+pretty," says she.
+
+"I didn't know what to send," returns he, in a voice as low as her
+own.
+
+"I liked them."
+
+"Did you?" He looks at her. "And yet you are not wearing one of
+them--not even a bud. I said to myself, when I was coming here, that
+if you wore one I should take hope from it."
+
+"Flowers die," says she, with her eyes upon the ground.
+
+"Cut flowers. But I sent you a little plant."
+
+"Forget-me-not would not live in town."
+
+"But we shall not live in town. You have promised to come to the
+country with me," says he quickly. "And even if this plant dies,
+another can grow--a new one. I told you that I bought a place.
+It--it is in the same county as Oakdean."
+
+"Ah! Oakdean!" A pathetic look grows within her large eyes. She
+turns aside. "I _dread_ the country now that my old house is
+gone---- I----" Suddenly she gives way, and bursts into a storm of
+tears. "Everything seems gone!" cries she. "But if I _must_ seek a
+new home let me go to it at once. Don't let me think about it. Take
+me there as soon as ever you can."
+
+"To-morrow," says Rylton, "if you wish."
+
+"Yes, yes," feverishly, "to-morrow."
+
+She is sobbing bitterly.
+
+"Tita," says Rylton, who is now very pale, "if it costs you so much,
+I give up my plan. Stay with Margaret--stay where you like, only let
+me provide for you."
+
+"No, I shall go with you," says Tita, making a violent effort to
+suppress her sobs. "It is arranged, I tell you. Only let me go _at
+once_. I cannot stand the thinking of it day by day."
+
+"To-morrow, then, by the evening train; will that suit you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I shall call for you here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Remember our compact. You shall be as free as air."
+
+"I know."
+
+He goes to her, and, taking her head between his hands, kisses her
+forehead. He would have liked to take her in his arms and kiss her
+with all his heart, but something forbids him.
+
+"Good-bye, Tita."
+
+"Good-bye."
+
+He has his hand upon her shoulder now.
+
+"Do you know you have never once called me by my name," says he.
+
+"Have I not?" mournfully.
+
+"Not once; and if we are to be friends--friends, at least--you
+might----" He pauses, but no answer comes. "Well, good-bye," says he
+again.
+
+He is half-way across the room when she says: "Good-bye, Maurice,"
+in a faint tone, like a child repeating a lesson.
+
+The sorrow in Rylton's heart is deeper as he leaves the house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+HOW A JOURNEY IS BEGUN AS THE DAY DIES DOWN; AND HOW THAT JOURNEY
+ENDS; AND HOW A GREAT SECRET IS DISCOVERED--THE SECRET OF TITA'S
+HEART.
+
+
+
+The parting between Margaret and Tita had taken a long time. There
+had been many admonitions from the former, and entreaties from the
+latter, principally about Margaret's coming to see her as soon as
+possible. These precious moments had been broken in upon by Colonel
+Neilson, who had sent up word by one of the servants that he asked a
+few minutes' conversation with Miss Knollys.
+
+Those minutes had grown into a quarter of an hour, and then Margaret
+had come back looking decidedly guilty, but rather inclined to a
+tearful mirth.
+
+"You needn't speak," said Tita, with a pretence at contempt. "You
+didn't say 'No' on Sunday, and you have said 'Yes' to-day. It is
+quite simple."
+
+"Well, it is all your fault," Margaret had returned, sinking into a
+chair, and beginning to laugh rather shamefacedly. "If you had
+stayed with me it never would have happened. But you have shown me
+how delightful companionship is, and having shown it, you basely
+desert me. And now--I feel so lonely that----"
+
+"That?"
+
+"I have broken through all my vows, and said----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"You must _both_ come down and stay with me as soon as ever you
+can," said Tita, giving her a tender hug.
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  * *
+
+
+
+The long sweet summer evening is growing into night as the train
+draws up at the old station that Tita knows so well. She looks out
+of the window, her heart in her eyes, taking in all the old
+signs--the guard fussy as ever--Evans the porter (she nods to him
+through eyes filled with tears)--the glimpse of the church spire
+over the top of the station-house--the little damp patch in the roof
+of the booking-office.
+
+She almost starts, so deep is her reverie, as Rylton lays a hand
+upon her shoulder.
+
+"Come," says he, smiling.
+
+"Why----" begins she, surprised. She sees he has her travelling-bag
+in his hand, and that he wants to pass her to open the window.
+
+"This is our station," says he.
+
+"This?"
+
+"Yes. I think I told you the new place I had bought was in this
+county."
+
+"Yes. I know, but so near----"
+
+Rylton has opened the door, and is calling to a porter. Evan comes
+up.
+
+"Welcome home, my lady," says he, touching his cap to Tita, who
+gives him a little nod in return, whilst feeling that her heart is
+breaking.
+
+"Home!" She feels as if she hates poor Evans, and yet of course he
+had meant nothing. No doubt he thought she was coming back to
+Oakdean. Dear, _dear_ Oakdean, now lost to her for ever!
+
+A carriage is waiting for them, and Rylton, putting her into it,
+goes away to see to their luggage. Tita, sitting drearily within,
+her heart sad with recollections of the past, is suddenly struck by
+a sound that comes to her through the shut windows of the carriage.
+She opens the one nearest to her and listens.
+
+It is only a poor vagrant on the pavement without, singing for a
+penny or two. But the song goes to her very heart:
+
+    "It's hame, and its hame--hame fain wad I be,
+    O! hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree."
+
+A sob rises in her throat. So near to her own dear home, and yet so
+far. She finds her purse, and hastily flings half a crown to the
+poor wretch outside, who never guesses why she got so large a dole.
+
+And now Rylton returns. He gets in. The carriage drives away through
+the well-remembered town, over the old bridge, and into the
+sweetness of the sleeping country.
+
+Already the stars are out. Through the warm bank of dying sunset
+over there a pale little dot is glimmering. Steel-gray are the
+heavens, fast deepening into darkest blue, and over the hills, far,
+far away, the faint suggestion of a "young May moon" is growing. A
+last faint twittering of birds is in the air, and now it ceases, and
+darkness falls and grows, and shadows fill the land and hide the
+edges of the moors, and blacken the sides of the walls as they drive
+past them.
+
+Tita is always peering out of the window. At a sudden turn in the
+road she draws back as if hurt.
+
+"This is the turn to Oakdean!" says she sharply.
+
+"Yes; we are going this road."
+
+"It must be near, then, this new place--_quite_ near?"
+
+"It is near."
+
+She looks at him for a moment, her face fraught with great grief.
+
+"Oh, how _could_ you?" says she. "How _could_ you have bought a
+place so close to it?"
+
+She leans back into her corner, and it is his misery at this moment
+that he cannot know whether she is crying or not. Presently she
+starts forward again.
+
+"Why, we are going down the road!" cries she. "We shall go past the
+gates!" She waits as if for an answer, but he makes her none. "Oh,
+you _should_ have told me," says she faintly.
+
+He puts out his hand and takes hers. She does not repulse him, and
+he holds it in a close clasp. Is there some magnetic influence at
+work that tells her all the truth--that betrays to her his secret?
+She turns suddenly and looks at him, but he refuses to meet her
+glance. He can feel that she is trembling violently. Her hand is
+still in his, and her eyes are fixed intently on the open window
+near her.
+
+And now they are nearing Oakdean. She can see the pillars of the
+gates. A little cry escapes her. And now, _now_ they are _at_ the
+gate--soon they will be past----
+
+_But what is this?_ The coachman has drawn up! They stop! The groom
+springs down--someone from the lodge rushes quickly out. The gates
+are flung wide. The horses dash down the avenue!
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+Presently they draw up at the hall door--the door of Oakdean!
+
+Rylton, getting out, takes her in his arms, and places her on the
+first step of the stones that lead to the hall.
+
+Not one word has passed between them since that last reproach of
+hers.
+
+And now they have reached the library. It is brilliantly lit. Tita,
+flinging off her wraps in a mechanical sort of way, looks round her.
+Nothing is changed--nothing! It is _home_. Home really--home as it
+always had been!
+
+She is pale as a little ghost! Though she has looked at the room,
+she has not once looked at _him!_ And, with a sort of feeling that
+he has made a bid for her favour, Rylton makes no attempt to go to
+her or say a word.
+
+She is so silent, so calm, that doubts arise within him as to the
+success of his experiment--for experiment it must be called. He had
+bought in the old house expressly to please her the moment he was in
+a position to do so; had bought it, indeed, when she was showing a
+most settled determination to have nothing to do with him--directly
+after her refusal to accept a competence at his hands.
+
+And now, how will it be? Her eyes are wandering round the room,
+noting each dear familiar object; at last they come to Rylton.
+
+He is looking back at her--a little sad, a little hopeless. Their
+eyes meet.
+
+Then all at once she gives way. She runs to him, and flings herself
+into his open arms.
+
+"To do this for me! _This!_" cries she.
+
+She clings to him. Her voice dies away.
+
+She is lying on his breast. He can feel her heart beating against
+his. His arms tighten round her.
+
+"Tita, you love me!" whispers he, in a low tone, passionately.
+
+She feels so small a thing in his embrace--a mere child of fourteen
+might be a bigger thing than she is. The knowledge that she has
+grown very thin during their estrangement goes to his heart like a
+knife. Oh, dear little, _darling_ girl!
+
+"You must love me--you _must,"_ says he, holding her to him, as if
+he could never let her go. _"Try_ to love me, Tita."
+
+Slowly, very slowly, she stirs within his arms. She looks up at him.
+It is such a strange look. It transfigures the beautiful little
+face, making it even more beautiful than it was before. But Maurice,
+who is hanging on it, to whom it means life or death, does not dare
+translate the expression. It seems to him that she is going into all
+that intolerable past and reading his very soul. God grant she may
+read it aright!
+
+The strain grows too terrible; he breaks it.
+
+"My darling, speak!" entreats he.
+
+She wakes as if from a dream.
+
+"Oh, I love you--I do love you!" cries she. She lays her hands
+against his breast, and leans back from him. "I have loved you
+always, I think; but now I know it. Oh, Maurice, love me too, and
+not _her_--_not her!"_
+
+
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+It is half an hour later. He has induced her to eat something; and
+at her request has eaten something himself--as a fact, being both
+young, they were both extremely hungry, and are now feeling
+infinitely better.
+
+"I want a fresh handkerchief," says Tita, looking up at him shyly,
+but with a smile that shows all her pretty teeth. _"See_ how you
+have made me cry!" She holds up the little damp rag that she has
+been using since her arrival. "Give me one out of my bag."
+
+Opening her bag to get the handkerchief desired, something else
+falls to the floor--a small thing. He picks it up.
+
+"Why, what is this?" says he.
+
+"Oh, it is my---- Give it to me. It is my forget-me-not," says she,
+colouring hotly.
+
+A pause.
+
+"The little plant I sent?" asks he softly.
+
+"Yes," in a lovely, shamefaced way.
+
+"You kept that?"
+
+"To plant it here."
+
+"Because----"
+
+"Oh, you _know."_
+
+"Tell me again."
+
+"Because I love you."
+
+She throws her arms around his neck, and their lips meet.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Obvious typographical errors silently corrected by the
+transcriber:
+
+volume 1 Chapter 4 : =Marry me as I am, and for what I am in your
+sight, and seek a new life with me abroad.= silently corrected as
+=Marry me as I am, and for what I am in your sight, and seek a new
+life with me abroad."=
+
+volume 1 chapter 6 : ='They laugh who win," is an old proverb.=
+silently corrected as ='They laugh who win,' is an old
+proverb.=
+
+volume 1 chapter 9 : =Rickfort is my house, too, but I hate it; it
+is so gloomy." I'm sure," with a shrug of her shoulders= silently
+corrected as =Rickfort is my house, too, but I hate it; it is so
+gloomy. I'm sure," with a shrug of her shoulders=
+
+volume 1 chapter 10 : ="God heavens, yes!" says his mother=
+silently corrected as ="Good heavens, yes!" says his mother=
+
+volume 1 chapter 21 : =she'll always be able to tell you something
+about them you never heard before."= silently corrected as
+=she'll always be able to tell you something about them you never
+heard before=
+
+volume 1 chapter 22 : ="Many I night I saw the Pleiads, rising
+through the mellow shade,= silently corrected as ="Many a night
+I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade,=
+
+volume 1 chapter 27 : ="Oh, Randal!" you are too stupid for
+anything," says Tita, showing all her pretty teeth=. Silently
+corrected as ="Oh, Randal! you are too stupid for anything," says
+Tita, showing all her pretty teeth.=
+
+volume 2 chapter 1 : ="Oh, do, _do_ stop," says Margaret, lifting
+her hand. "You are getting on that--that wretched old tack
+again.= silently corrected as ="Oh, do, _do_ stop," says
+Margaret, lifting her hand. "You are getting on that--that wretched
+old tack again."=
+
+volume 2 chapter 2 : =Tita's determination not to accept the olive
+branch he offered her yesterday is before him too. What if
+she=--="= silently corrected as =Tita's determination not
+to accept the olive branch he offered her yesterday is before him
+too. What if she--=
+
+volume 2 chapter 4 : ="I know--I know," says she. "If is a
+dishonourable thought,= silently corrected as "=I know--I
+know," says she. "It is a dishonourable thought,=
+
+volume 2 chapter 8 : ="Yes, you? When I left home this morning,
+what was the last word I said to you? =silently corrected as=
+"Yes, you! When I left home this morning, what was the last word I
+said to you?=
+
+volume 2 chapter 8 : =words seem to fail her. Oh! I should like to
+_shake_ you," says she at last.= silently corrected as =words
+seem to fail her. "Oh! I should like to _shake_ you," says she at
+last.=
+
+volume 2 chapter 8 =: "She has come close up to him. Her charming
+face is uplifted to his.= silently corrected as =She has come
+close up to him. Her charming face is uplifted to his.=
+
+volume 2 chapter 17 : ="You forget," says he coldly, "that you are
+married to me. It is not so simple a matter as you seem to imagine
+for a wife to throw off her marriage yoke.= silently corrected as
+"=You forget," says he coldly, "that you are married to me. It is
+not so simple a matter as you seem to imagine for a wife to throw
+off her marriage yoke."=
+
+volume 2 chapter 17 : =" 'Alone I did it!" To-day I set you free!"
+=silently corrected as =" 'Alone I did it!' To-day I set you
+free!"=
+
+volume 2 chapter 22 : =It is the mynd that maketh good or ill,"
+says the old poet.= silently corrected as ="It is the mynd that
+maketh good or ill," says the old poet.=
+
+volume 2 chapter 23 =: "You loved me once. You loved me. Oh,
+Maurice, smiting her hands together,= silently corrected as
+"=You loved me once. You loved me. Oh, Maurice," smiting her hands
+together,=
+
+volume 2 chapter 25 : =Maurice will understand."= Silently
+corrected as =Maurice will understand.=
+
+Volume 2 chapter 25 : =says Rylton, interrupting her quickly.
+Speak for yourself only. For my part,= silently corrected as
+=says Rylton, interrupting her quickly. "Speak for yourself only.
+For my part,=
+
+volume 2 chapter 26 : ="I really _don't_ know," says Margaret,
+"bringing a dignified eye to bear upon him=. Silently corrected
+as ="I really _don't_ know," says Margaret, bringing a dignified
+eye to bear upon him.=
+
+
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
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+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hoyden, by Mrs. Hungerford
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOYDEN ***
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