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diff --git a/17052-h/17052-h.htm b/17052-h/17052-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d5642b --- /dev/null +++ b/17052-h/17052-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5391 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Argosy, Vol. LI, No. 6, June 1891. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: left; + color: gray; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .name {margin-left: 65%; font-size: 115%;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +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 Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 6, June, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Wood + +Release Date: November 11, 2005 [EBook #17052] +[Date last updated: March 25, 2006] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h3><i>"Laden with Golden Grain"</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1>ARGOSY.</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>EDITED BY</h4> +<h2>CHARLES W. WOOD.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>VOLUME LI.</h3> + +<h2><i>January to June, 1891.</i></h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + + +<h4>RICHARD BENTLEY & SON,</h4> +<h4>8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W.</h4> + +<p class="center">Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty.</p> + +<h5><i>All rights reserved.</i></h5> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p class="center"> +LONDON:<br /> +PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED,<br /> +GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>CONTENTS.</i></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><span class="smcap">The Fate of the Hara Diamond</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">M.L. Gow</span>.</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>Chap. I. </td> + <td align='left'>My Arrival at Deepley Walls</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>II. </td> + <td align='left'>The Mistress of Deepley Walls</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>III. </td> + <td align='left'>A Voyage of Discovery</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>IV. </td> + <td align='left'>Scarsdale Weir</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>V. </td> + <td align='left'>At Rose Cottage</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VI. </td> + <td align='left'>The Growth of a Mystery</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VII. </td> + <td align='left'>Exit Janet Hope</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VIII. </td> + <td align='left'>By the Scotch Express</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>IX. </td> + <td align='left'>At "The Golden Griffin"</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>X. </td> + <td align='left'>The Stolen Manuscript</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XI. </td> + <td align='left'>Bon Repos</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XII. </td> + <td align='left'>The Amsterdam Edition of 1698</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIII. </td> + <td align='left'>M. Platzoff's Secret—Captain Ducie's Translation of M. Paul Platzoff's MS</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIV. </td> + <td align='left'>Drashkil-Smoking</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XV. </td> + <td align='left'>The Diamond</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVI. </td> + <td align='left'>Janet's Return</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVII. </td> + <td align='left'>Deepley Walls after Seven Years</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVIII. </td> + <td align='left'>Janet in a New Character</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIX. </td> + <td align='left'>The Dawn of Love</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XX. </td> + <td align='left'>The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXI. </td> + <td align='left'>Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXII. </td> + <td align='left'>Mr. Madgin at the Helm</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_441'>441</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXIII. </td> + <td align='left'>Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_448'>448</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXIV. </td> + <td align='left'>Enter Madgin Junior</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_451'>451</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXV. </td> + <td align='left'>Madgin Junior's First Report</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_459'>459</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><span class="smcap">The Silent Chimes</span>. By <span class="smcap">Johnny Ludlow</span> (Mrs. <span class="smcap">Henry Wood</span>).</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Putting Them Up</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Playing Again</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Ringing at Midday</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Not Heard</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Silent for Ever</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'><b><span class="smcap">The Bretons at Home</span>. By <span class="smcap">Charles W. Wood</span>, F.R.G.S. With 35 Illustrations</b></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, <a href='#Page_484'>484</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>About the Weather</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_465'>465</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Across the River. By <span class="smcap">Helen M. Burnside</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>After Twenty Years. By <span class="smcap">Ada M. Trotter</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Memory. By <span class="smcap">George Cotterell</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Modern Witch</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>An April Folly. By <span class="smcap">Gilbert H. Page</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Philanthropist. By <span class="smcap">Angus Grey</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_468'>468</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Aunt Phœbe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Social Debut</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Song. By <span class="smcap">G.B. Stuart</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Enlightenment. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>In a Bernese Valley. By <span class="smcap">Alexander Lamont</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Legend of an Ancient Minster. By <span class="smcap">John Græme</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Longevity. By <span class="smcap">W.F. Ainsworth</span>, F.S.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Mademoiselle Elise. By <span class="smcap">Edward Francis</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_511'>511</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Mediums and Mysteries. By <span class="smcap">Narissa Rosavo</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Miss Kate Marsden</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>My May Queen. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Old China</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_524'>524</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>On Letter-Writing. By <span class="smcap">A.H. Japp</span>, LL.D.</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C."</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Proctorised"</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Rondeau. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Saint or Satan? By <span class="smcap">A. Beresford</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sappho. By <span class="smcap">Mary Grey</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Serenade. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_467'>467</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sonnets. By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Apr, <a href='#Page_483'>483</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>So Very Unattractive!</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_506'>506</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Spes. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sweet Nancy. By <span class="smcap">Jeanie Gwynne Bettany</span></td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Church Garden. By <span class="smcap">Christian Burke</span></td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Only Son of his Mother. By <span class="smcap">Letitia McClintock</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_505'>505</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Unexplained. By <span class="smcap">Letitia McClintock</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Who Was the Third Maid?</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Winter in Absence</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><i>POETRY.</i></b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sonnets. By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Apr, <a href='#Page_483'>483</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Song. By <span class="smcap">G.B. Stuart</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Enlightenment. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Winter in Absence</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Memory. By <span class="smcap">George Cotterell</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>In a Bernese Valley. By <span class="smcap">Alexander Lamont</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Rondeau. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Spes. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Across the River. By <span class="smcap">Helen M. Burnside</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>My May Queen. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Church Garden. By <span class="smcap">Christian Burke</span></td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Serenade. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_467'>467</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_505'>505</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Old China</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_524'>524</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><i>ILLUSTRATIONS.</i></b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'><b>By M.L. Gow.</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Behold!"</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent prayer."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/01large.jpg"> + <img src="images/01.jpg" + alt="He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter." + title="He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter.</span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE ARGOSY.</h1> + +<h3><i>JUNE, 1891.</i></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>MR. MADGIN AT THE HELM.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Madgin's house stood somewhat back from the main street of Eastbury. +It was an old-fashioned house, of modest exterior, and had an air of +being elbowed into the background by the smarter and more modern +domiciles on each side of it. Its steep, overhanging roof and porched +doorway gave it a sleepy, reposeful look, as though it were watching the +on-goings of the little town through half-closed lids, and taking small +cognizance thereof.</p> + +<p>Entering from the street through a little wooden gateway of a bright +green colour, a narrow pathway, paved with round pebbles that were very +trying to people with tender feet, conducted you to the front door, on +which shone a brass plate of surpassing brightness, whereon was +inscribed:—</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='left' class="bbox"> <br /><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mr. Solomon Madgin </span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>General Agent</i>,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 6em;"><i>Valuer, &c.</i><br /> </span></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The house was a double-fronted one. On one side of the passage as you +went in was the office; on the other side was the family sitting-room. +Not that Mr. Madgin's family was a large one. It consisted merely of +himself, his daughter Mirpah, and one strong servant-girl with an +unlimited capacity for hard work. Mirpah Madgin deserves some notice at +our hands.</p> + +<p>She was a tall, superb-looking young woman of two-and-twenty, and bore +not the slightest resemblance in person, whatever she might do in mind +or disposition, to that sly old fox her father. Mirpah's mother had been +of Jewish extraction, and in Mirpah's face you read<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> the unmistakable +signs of that grand style of beauty which is everywhere associated with +the downtrodden race. She moved about the little house in her +inexpensive prints and muslins like a discrowned queen. That she had +reached the age of two-and-twenty without having been in love was no +source of surprise to those who knew her; for Mirpah Madgin hardly +looked like a girl who would marry a poor clerk or a petty tradesman, or +who could ever sink into the commonplace drudge of a hand-to-mouth +household. She looked like a girl who would some day be claimed by a +veritable hero of romance—by some Ivanhoe of modern life, well endowed +with this world's goods—who would wed her, and ride away with her to +the fairy realms of Tyburnia and Rotten Row.</p> + +<p>And yet, truth to tell, the thread of romance inwoven with the +composition of Mirpah Madgin was a very slender one. In so far she +belied her own beauty. For a young woman she was strangely practical, +and that in a curiously unfeminine way. She was her father's managing +clerk and <i>alter ego</i>. The housewifely acts of sewing and cooking she +held in utter distaste. For domestic management in any of its forms she +had no faculty, unless it were for that portion of it which necessitated +a watchful eye upon the purse-strings. Such an eye she had been trained +to use since she was quite a girl, and Mirpah the superb could on +occasion haggle over a penny as keenly as the most ancient fishwife in +Eastbury market.</p> + +<p>At five minutes past nine precisely, six mornings out of every seven, +Mirpah Madgin sat down in her father's office and proceeded to open the +letters. Mr. Madgin's business was a multifarious one. Not only was he +Lady Chillington's general agent and man of business, although that was +his most onerous and lucrative appointment, and the one that engaged +most of his time and thoughts, but he was also agent for several lesser +concerns, always contriving to have a number of small irons in the fire +at one time. Much of Mr. Madgin's time was spent in the collection of +rents and in out-door work generally, so that nearly the whole of the +office duties devolved upon Mirpah, and by no clerk could they have been +more efficiently performed. She made up and balanced the numerous +accounts with which Mr. Madgin had to deal in one shape or another. +Three-fourths of the letters that emanated from Mr. Madgin's office were +written by her. From long practice she had learned to write so like her +father that only an expert could have detected the difference between +the two hands; and she invariably signed herself, "Yours truly, Solomon +Madgin." Indeed, so accustomed was she to writing her father's name that +in her correspondence with her brother, who was an actor in London, she +more frequently than not signed it in place of her own; so that Madgin +junior had to look whether the letter was addressed to him as a son or +as a brother before he could tell by whom it had been written.</p> + +<p>As her father's assistant Mirpah was happy after a quiet, staid sort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> of +fashion. The energies of her nature found their vent in the busy life in +which she took so much delight. She was not at all sentimental: she was +not the least bit romantic. She was thoroughly practical, and was as +keen in money-making as her father himself. Yet with all this, Mirpah +Madgin could be charitable on occasion, and was by no means deficient of +high and generous impulses—only she never allowed her impulses to +interfere with "business."</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin never took any important step without first consulting his +daughter. Herein he acted wisely, for Mirpah's clear, good sense, and +feminine quickness at penetrating motives where he himself was sometimes +at fault, had often proved invaluable to him in difficult transactions. +In a matter of so much moment as that of the Great Hara Diamond it was +not likely that he would be long contented without taking her into his +confidence. He had scarcely finished his first pipe when he heard her +opening the door with her latch-key, and his face brightened at the +sound. She had been on one of those holy pilgrimages in which all who +are thus privileged take so much delight: she had been to the bank to +increase the little store which lay there already in her father's name. +She came into the room tired but smiling. A white straw bonnet, a black +silk mantle, and a muslin dress, small in pattern, formed the chief +items of her quiet attire. She was carefully gloved and booted; but to +whatever she wore Mirpah imparted an air of distinction that put it at +once beyond a suggestion of improvement.</p> + +<p>"Smoking at this time of day, papa!" exclaimed Mirpah. "And the whisky +out, too! Are we about to retire on our fortunes, or what does it all +mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means, child, that I have got one of the hardest nuts to crack that +were ever put before me. If I crack it, I get five thousand pounds for +the kernel. If I don't crack it—but that's a possibility I can't bear +to think about."</p> + +<p>"Five thousand pounds! That would indeed be a kernel worth having. My +teeth are younger than yours, and perhaps I may be able to help you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin smoked in silence for a little while, while Mirpah toyed +patiently with her bonnet strings. "The nut is simply this," said the +old man at last. "In India, twenty years ago, a diamond was stolen from +a dying man. I am now told to find the thief, to obtain from him the +diamond either by fair means or foul—supposing always that he is still +alive and has the diamond still in his possession—and on the day I give +the stone to its rightful owner the aforementioned five thousand pounds +become mine."</p> + +<p>"A grand prize, and one worth striving for!"</p> + +<p>"Even so; but how can I strive, when I have nothing to strive against? I +am like a man put into a dark room to fight a duel. I cannot find my +antagonist. I grope about, not knowing whether he is on the right hand +of me or the left, before me or behind me. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> fact, I am utterly at +sea; and the more I think about the matter the more hopelessly +bewildered I seem to become."</p> + +<p>"Two heads are better than one, papa. Let me try to help you. Tell me +the case from beginning to end, with all the details as they are known +to you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin willingly complied, and related <i>in extenso</i> all that he had +heard that morning at Deepley Walls. The little man had a high opinion +of his daughter's sagacity. That such an opinion was in nowise lessened +by the result of the present case will be best seen by the following +excerpts from Mr. Madgin's diary, which, as having a particular bearing +on the case of the Great Hara Diamond, we proceed at once to lay before +the reader:—</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Excerpts from the Diary of Mr. Solomon Madgin.</span></h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"July 9th, Evening.—After the wonderful revelation made to me by +Lady Chillington this morning, I came home, and got behind a +churchwarden, and set my wits to work to think the matter out. I +shut my eyes and puffed away for an hour and a half, but at the end +of that time I was as much in a fog as when I first sat down. +Nowhere could I discern a single ray of light. Then in came Mirpah, +and when she begged of me to tell her the story, I was glad to do +so, remembering how often she had helped me through a puzzle in +days gone by—but none of them of such magnitude as this one. So I +told her everything as far as it was known to myself. After that we +discussed the whole case carefully step by step. The immediate +result of this discussion was, that as soon as tea was over, I went +as far as the White Hart tavern in search of Sergeant Nicholas. I +found him on the bowling-green, watching the players. I called for +a quart of old ale and some tobacco, and before long we were as +cosy as two old cronies who have known each other for twenty years. +The morning had shown me that the Sergeant was a man of some +intelligence, and of much worldly experience; and when I had +lowered myself imperceptibly to the level of his intellect, so as +to put him more completely at his ease, I had no difficulty in +inducing him to talk freely and fully on that one subject which, +for the last few hours, has had for me an interest paramount to +that of any other. My primary object was to induce him to retail to +me every scrap of information that he could call to mind respecting +the Russian, Platzoff, who is said to have stolen the diamond. It +was Mirpah's opinion and mine, that he must be in possession of +many bits of special knowledge, such as might seem of no +consequence to him, but which might be invaluable to us in our +search, and such as he would naturally leave out of the narrative +he told Lady Chillington. The result proved that our opinion was +well founded. I did not leave the Sergeant till I had pumped him +thoroughly dry. (Mem.: An<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> excellent tap of old ale at the White +Hart. Must try some of it at home.)</p> + +<p>"I found Mirpah watering her geraniums in the back garden. She was +all impatience to learn the result of my interview. I am thankful +that increasing years have not impaired my memory. I repeated to +Mirpah every word bearing on the case in point that the Sergeant +had confided to me. Then I waited in silence for her opinion. I was +anxious to know whether it coincided in any way with my own. I am +happy to think that it did coincide. Father and daughter were +agreed.</p> + +<p>"'I think that you have done a very good afternoon's work, papa,' +said Mirpah, after a few moments given to silent thought. 'After a +lapse of twenty years, it is not likely that Sergeant Nicholas +should have a very clear recollection of any conversation that he +may have overheard between Captain Chillington and M. Platzoff. +Indeed, had he pretended to repeat any such conversation, I should +have felt strongly inclined to doubt the truth of his entire +narrative. Happily he disclaims any such abnormal powers of memory. +He can remember nothing but a chance phrase or two which some +secondary circumstance fixed indelibly on his mind. But he can +remember a great number of little facts bearing on the relations +between his master and the Russian. These facts, considered singly, +may seem of little or no importance, but taken in the aggregate, +and regarded as so many bits of mosaic work forming part of a +complicated whole, they assume an aspect of far greater importance. +In any case, they put us on a trail, which may turn out to be the +right one or the wrong one, but at present certainly seems to be +worth following up. Finally, they all tend to deepen our first +suspicion that M. Platzoff was neither more nor less than a +political refugee. The next point is to ascertain whether he is +still alive.'</p> + +<p>"Here again the clear logical intellect of Mirpah (so like my own) +came to my assistance. Before parting for the night we were agreed +as to what our mode of procedure ought to be on the morrow. This +most extraordinary case engages all my thoughts. I am afraid that I +shall not be able to sleep much to-night.</p> + +<p>"July 10th.—I owe it to Mirpah to say that it was entirely in +consequence of a hint from her that I went at an early hour this +morning to the office of the <i>Eastbury Courier</i>, there to consult a +file of that newspaper. Six months ago the daughter of Sir John +Pennythorne was married to a rich London gentleman. Mirpah had read +the account of the festivities consequent on that event, and seemed +to remember that among other friends of the bridegroom invited down +to Finch Hall was some foreign gentleman, who was stated in the +newspaper to belong to the Russian Legation in London. Acting on +Mirpah's hint, I went back through the files of the <i>Courier</i> till +I lighted on the account of the wedding. True enough, among other +guests on that occasion, I found catalogued the name of a certain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> +Monsieur H—— of the Russian Embassy. I had got all I wanted from +the <i>Eastbury Courier</i>.</p> + +<p>"My next proceeding was to hasten up to Deepley Walls, to obtain an +interview with Lady Chillington, and to induce her ladyship to +write to Sir John Pennythorne, asking him to write to the aforesaid +M. H——, and inquire whether, among the archives (I think that is +the correct word) of the Embassy, they had any record of a +political refugee by name Paul Platzoff, who, twenty years ago, was +in India, etc. I had considerable difficulty in persuading her +ladyship to write, but at last the letter was sent. I await the +result anxiously. The chances seem to me something like a thousand +to one against our inquiry being productive of any tangible result. +What I dread more than all is that M. Platzoff is no longer among +the living.</p> + +<p>"July 20th.—Nine days without a word from Sir John Pennythorne, +except to say that he had written his friend Monsieur H——, as +requested by Lady Chillington. I began to despair. Each morning I +inquired of her ladyship whether she had received any reply from +Sir John, and each morning her ladyship said: 'I have had no reply, +Mr. Madgin, beyond the one you have already seen.'</p> + +<p>"Certain matters connected with a lease took me up to Deepley Walls +this afternoon for the second time to-day. The afternoon post came +in while I was there. Among other letters was one from Sir John +Pennythorne, which, when she had read it, her ladyship tossed over +to me. It enclosed one from M. H—— to Sir John. It was on the +latter that I pounced. It was written in French, but even at the +first hasty reading I could make it out sufficiently to know that +it was of far greater importance than even in my wildest dreams I +had dared to imagine.</p> + +<p>"I never saw Lady Chillington so excited as she was during the few +moments which I took up in reading the letter. During the nine days +that had elapsed since the writing of her letter to Sir John she +had treated me somewhat slightingly; there was, or so I fancied, a +spice of contempt in her manner towards me. The step I had induced +her to take in writing to Sir John had met with no approbation at +her hands; it had seemed to her an utterly futile and ridiculous +thing to do; therefore was I now proportionately well pleased to +find that my wild idea had been productive of such excellent fruit.</p> + +<p>"'I must certainly compliment you, Mr. Madgin, on the success of +your first step,' said her ladyship. 'It was like one of the fine +intuitions of genius to imagine that you saw a way to reach M. +Platzoff through the Russian Embassy. You have been fully justified +by the result. Madgin, the man yet lives!—the man whose +sacrilegious hands robbed my dead son of that which he had left as +a sacred gift to his mother. May the curse of a widowed mother +attend him through life! Let me hear the letter again, Madgin; or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> +stay, I will read it myself: your French is execrable. Ha, ha! +Monsieur Paul Platzoff, we shall have our revenge out of you yet.'</p> + +<p>"She read the letter through for the second time with a sort of +deliberate eagerness which showed me how deeply interested her +heart was in the affair. She dropped her eye-glass and gave a great +sigh when she came to the end of it. 'And what do you propose to do +next, Mr. Madgin?' she asked. 'Your conduct so far satisfies me +that I cannot do better than leave the case entirely in your +hands.'</p> + +<p>"'With all due deference to your ladyship,' I replied, 'I think +that my next step ought to be to reconnoitre the enemy's camp.'</p> + +<p>"'Exactly my own thought,' said her ladyship. 'When can you start +for Windermere?'</p> + +<p>"'To-morrow morning, at nine.'</p> + +<p>"After a little more conversation I left her ladyship. She seemed +in better spirits than I had seen her for a long time.</p> + +<p>"I need not attempt to describe dear Mirpah's delight when I read +over to her the contents of Monsieur H.'s note. She put her arms +round me and kissed me. 'The five thousand pounds shall yet be +yours, papa,' she said. Stranger things than that have come to pass +before now. But I am working only for her and James. Should I ever +be so fortunate as to touch the five thousand pounds, one-half of +it will go to form a dowry for my Mirpah. Below is a free +translation of the business part of M.H.'s letter, which was simply +an extract from some secret ledger kept at the Embassy:—</p> + +<p>"'Platzoff, Paul. A Russian by birth and a conspirator by choice. +Born in Moscow in 1802, his father being a rich leather-merchant of +that city. Implicated at the age of nineteen in sundry +insurrectionary movements; tried, and sentenced to three years' +imprisonment in a military fortress. After his release, left Russia +without permission, having first secretly transferred his property +into foreign securities. Went to Paris. Issued a scurrilous +pamphlet directed against his Majesty the Emperor. Spent several +years in travel—now in Europe, now in the East, striving wherever +he went to promulgate his revolutionary ideas. More than suspected +of being a member of several secret political societies. Has +resided for the last few years at Bon Repos, on the banks of +Windermere, from which place he communicates constantly with other +characters as desperate as himself. Russia has no more bitter and +determined enemy than Paul Platzoff. He is at once clever and +unscrupulous. While he lives he will not cease to conspire.'</p> + +<p>"After this followed a description of Platzoff's personal +appearance, which it is needless to transcribe here.</p> + +<p>"I start for Windermere by the first train to-morrow."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>MR. MADGIN'S SECRET JOURNEY.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Madgin left home by an early train on the morning of the day +following that on which Lady Chillington had received a reply from Sir +John Pennythorne. His first intention had been to make the best of his +way to Windermere, and there ascertain the exact locality of Bon Repos. +But a fresh view of the case presented itself to his mind as he lay +thinking in bed. Instead of taking the train for the North, he took one +for the South, and found himself at Euston as the London clocks were +striking twelve. After an early dinner, and a careful consultation of +the Post-Office Directory, Mr. Madgin ordered a hansom, and was driven +to Hatton Garden, in and about which unfragrant locality the diamond +merchants most do congregate. After due inquiries made and answered, Mr. +Madgin was driven eastward for another mile or more. Here a similar set +of inquiries elicited a similar set of answers. Mr. Madgin went back to +his hotel well pleased with his day's work.</p> + +<p>His inquiries had satisfied him that no green diamond of the size and +value attributed to the Great Hara had either been seen or heard of in +the London market during the last twenty years. It still remained to +test the foreign markets in the same way. Mr. Madgin's idea was that +this work could be done better by some trustworthy agent well acquainted +with the trade than by himself. He accordingly left instructions with an +eminent diamond merchant to have all needful inquiries made at Paris, +Amsterdam, and St. Petersburg, as to whether such a stone as the Great +Hara had come under the cognizance of the trade any time during the last +twenty years. The result of the inquiry was to be communicated to Mr. +Madgin by letter.</p> + +<p>Next day Mr. Madgin journeyed down to Windermere. Arrived at Bowness, he +found no difficulty in ascertaining the exact locality of Bon Repos, the +house and its owner being known by sight or repute to almost every +inhabitant of the little town. Mr. Madgin stopped all night at Bowness. +Next morning he hired a small boat, and was pulled across the lake to a +point about half a mile below Bon Repos, and there he landed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin was travelling <i>incog</i>. The name upon his portmanteau was +"Joshua Deedes, Esq." He was dressed in a suit of glossy black, with a +white neck-cloth, and gold-rimmed spectacles. He had quite an episcopal +air. He did not call himself a clergyman, but people were at liberty to +accept him as one if they chose.</p> + +<p>Assisted by the most unimpeachable of malaccas, Mr. Madgin took the +high-road that wound round the grounds of Bon Repos. But so completely +was the house hidden in its nest of greenery that the chimney-pots were +all of it that was visible from the road. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> under a spur of the hill +by which the house was shut in at the back, Mr. Madgin found a tiny +hamlet of a dozen houses, by far the most imposing of which was the +village inn—hotel, it called itself, and showed to the world the sign +of The Jolly Fishers. Into this humble hostelry Mr. Madgin marched +without hesitation, and called for some refreshment. So impressed was +the landlord with the clerical appearance of his guest that he whipped +off his apron, ushered him into the state parlour, and made haste to +wait upon him himself. He, the guest, had actually called for a bottle +of the best dry sherry, and when the landlord took it in he invited him +to fetch another glass, and come and join him over it. Mr. Joshua Deedes +was a tourist—well-to-do, without doubt; the landlord could see as much +as that—and having never visited Lakeland before, he was naturally +delighted with the freshness and novelty of everything that he saw. The +change from London life was so thorough, so complete in every respect, +that he could hardly believe he had left the great Babel no longer ago +than yesterday. It seemed years since he had been there. He had thought +Bowness a charming spot, but this little nook surpassed Bowness, +inasmuch as it was still farther removed and shut out from the +frivolities and follies of the great world. Here one was almost alone +with Nature and her wondrous works. Then Mr. Deedes filled up his own +glass and that of the landlord.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sir, you would like to stay here for a night or two," +suggested the host timidly; "we have a couple of spare beds."</p> + +<p>"Nothing would please me better," answered Mr. Deedes, with solemn +alacrity. "I feel that the healthful air of these hills is doing me an +immensity of good. Kindly send to the Crown at Bowness for my +portmanteau, and ascertain what you have in the house for dinner."</p> + +<p>After a while came dinner, and a little later on, Mr. Deedes having +expressed a desire to see something of the lake, the landlord sent to +borrow a boat, and then took his guest for an hour's row on Windermere. +From the water they had a capital view of the low white front of Bon +Repos. There were two gentlemen smoking on the terrace. The lesser of +the two, said the landlord, was M. Platzoff. The taller man was Captain +Ducie, at present a guest at Bon Repos. Then the landlord wandered off +into a long, rambling account of Bon Repos and its owner. Mr. Deedes was +much interested in hearing about the eccentric habits and strange mode +of life of M. Platzoff, with the details of which the landlord was as +thoroughly acquainted as though he had formed one of the household. +Their row on the lake was prolonged for a couple of hours, and Mr. +Deedes went back to the hotel much edified.</p> + +<p>In the dusk of evening he encountered Cleon, M. Platzoff's valet, as he +was lounging slowly down the village street on his way to The Jolly +Fishers. Mr. Deedes scrutinised the dark-skinned servant narrowly in +passing. "The face of a cunning, unscrupulous rascal, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> ever I saw +one," he muttered to himself. "Nevertheless, I must make his +acquaintance."</p> + +<p>And he did make his acquaintance. As Cleon and the landlord sat +hob-nobbing together in the little snuggery behind the bar, Mr. Deedes +put in his head to ask a question of the latter. Thereupon the landlord +begged permission to introduce his friend Mr. Cleon to the notice of his +guest, Mr. Deedes. The two men bowed, Mr. Cleon rather sulkily; but Mr. +Deedes was all affability and smiling <i>bonhommie</i>. He had several +questions to ask, and he sat down on the only vacant chair in the little +room. He wanted to know the distance to Keswick; how much higher +Helvellyn was than Fairfield; whether it was possible to get any potted +char for breakfast, and so on; on all which questions both Cleon and the +landlord had something to say. But talking being dry work, as Mr. Deedes +smilingly observed, brought naturally to mind the fact that the landlord +had some excellent dry sherry, and that one could not do better this +warm evening than have another bottle fetched up out of the cool depths +of the cellar. Mr. Cleon, being pressed, was nothing loth to join Mr. +Deedes over this bottle. Mr. Deedes, without condescending into +familiarity, made himself very agreeable, but did not sit long. After +imbibing a couple of glasses, he bade the landlord and the valet an +affable good-night, and went off decorously to bed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Deedes was up betimes next morning, and took a three miles' trudge +over the hills before breakfast. He spent a quiet day mooning about the +neighbourhood, and really enjoying himself after his own fashion, +although his mind was busily engaged all the time in trying to solve the +mystery of the Great Diamond. In the evening he took care to have a few +pleasant words with Cleon, and then early to bed. Two more days passed +away after a similar quiet fashion, and then Mr. Deedes began to chafe +inwardly at the small progress he was making.</p> + +<p>Although he had been so successful in tracing out M. Platzoff, and in +working the case up to its present point in a remarkably short space of +time, he acknowledged to himself that he was completely baffled when he +came to consider what his next step ought to be. He could not, indeed, +see his way to a single step beyond his present standpoint. Much as he +seemed to have gained at a single leap, was he in reality one +hair's-breadth nearer the secret object of his quest than on that day +when the name of the Great Hara Diamond first made music in his ears? He +doubted it greatly.</p> + +<p>When he first decided on coming down to Bon Repos, he trusted that the +chapter of accidents and the good fortune which had so far attended him +would somehow put it in his power to scrape an acquaintance with M. +Platzoff himself, and such an acquaintance once made, it would be his +own fault if, in one way or another, he did not make it subservient to +the ambitious end he had in view.</p> + +<p>But in M. Platzoff he found a recluse: a man who made no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> fresh +acquaintanceships; who held the whole tourist tribe in horror, and who +even kept himself aloof from such of the neighbouring families as might +be considered his equals in social position. It was quite evident to Mr. +Deedes that he might reside close to Bon Repos for twenty years, and at +the end of that time not have succeeded in addressing half-a-dozen words +to its owner.</p> + +<p>Then again he had succeeded little better with regard to Cleon than with +regard to Cleon's master. All his advances, made with a mixture of +affability and <i>bonhommie</i> which Mr. Deedes flattered himself was +irresistible with most people, were productive of little or no effect +upon the mulatto. He received them, not with suspicion, for he had +nothing of which to suspect harmless Mr. Deedes, but with a sort of +sulky indifference, as though he considered them rather a nuisance than +otherwise, and would have preferred their being offered to anyone else. +Did Mr. Deedes, in conversation with him and the landlord, venture to +bring the talk round to Bon Repos and M. Platzoff; did he hazard the +remark that since his arrival in Lakeland several people had spoken to +him of the strange character and eccentric mode of life of Mr. Cleon's +employer—he was met with a stony silence, which told him as plainly as +any words could have done that M. Platzoff and his affairs were matters +that in no wise concerned him. It was quite evident that neither the +Russian nor his dark-skinned valet was of any avail for the furtherance +of that scheme which had brought Mr. Deedes all the way to the wilds of +Westmoreland.</p> + +<p>He began to despair, and was on the point of writing to Mirpah, thinking +that her shrewd woman's wit might be able to suggest some stratagem or +mode of attack other than that made use of by him, when suddenly a +prospect opened before him such as in his wildest dreams of success he +dared not have bodied forth. He was not slow to avail himself of it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>ENTER MADGIN JUNIOR.</h3> + + +<p>"Beg your pardon, sir," said the landlord of The Jolly Fishers one +morning to his guest, Mr. Deedes, "but I think I have more than once +heard you say that you came from London?"</p> + +<p>"I do come from London," answered Mr. Deedes; "<i>I</i> am Cockney born and +bred. I came direct from London to Windermere. But why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Simply, sir, because they are in want of a footman at Bon Repos, to +fill up the place of one who has gone away to get married. Mossoo +Platzoff don't like advertising for servants, and Mr. Cleon is at a loss +where to find a fellow that can wait at table and has some manners about +him. You see sir, the country louts about here are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> neither useful nor +ornamental in a gentleman's house. Now, sir, it struck me that among +your friends you might perhaps know some gentleman who would be glad to +recommend a respectable man for such a place. Must have a good character +from his last situation, and be able to wait at table; and I hope, sir, +you will pardon the liberty I've taken in mentioning it to you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Deedes was holding up a glass of wine to the light as the landlord +brought his little speech to a close. He sipped the wine slowly, with +his eyes bent on the floor; then he put down the glass and rubbed his +hands softly one within the other. Then he spoke.</p> + +<p>"It happens, singularly enough," he said, "that a particular friend of +mine—Mr. Madgin, a gentleman, I daresay, whose name you have never +heard—spoke to me only three weeks ago about one of his people for whom +he was desirous of obtaining another situation, he himself being about +to break up his establishment and go to reside on the Continent. I will +write Mr. Madgin to-night, and if the young man has not engaged himself, +I will ask my friend to send him down here. He will have a first-class +testimonial, and I have no doubt he would suit M. Platzoff admirably. I +am obliged to you, landlord, for mentioning this matter to me."</p> + +<p>Mr. Deedes went off at once to his room, and wrote and despatched the +following letter:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Boy</span>,—I saw by an advertisement in last week's +<i>Era</i> that you are still out of an engagement. I have an opening +for you down here in a drama of real life. It will be greatly to +your advantage to accept it, so do not hesitate for a moment. Come +without delay. Book yourself from Euston Square to Windermere. Take +steamer from the latter place to Newby Bridge. There, at the hotel, +await my arrival. Bear in mind that down here my name is <i>Mr. +Joshua Deedes</i>, and that yours is <i>James Jasmin</i>, a footman, at +present out of a situation. To a person of your intelligence I need +not say more.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Your affectionate father,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">"S.M.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"N.B.—This communication is secret and confidential. All expenses +paid. Do not on any account fail to come. I will be at the Newby +Bridge Hotel on Thursday morning at eleven."</p></div> + +<p>This letter he addressed, "Mr. James Madgin, Royal Tabard Theatre, +Southwark, London." Having posted it with his own hands, he went for a +long, solitary ramble among the hills. He wanted to think out and +elaborate the great scheme that had unfolded itself before his dazzled +eyes while the landlord was talking to him. He had seen the whole +compass of it at a glance; he wanted now to consider it in detail. There +was an elation in his eye and an elasti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span>city in his tread that made him +seem ten years younger than on the previous day.</p> + +<p>He had requested the landlord to tell Mr. Cleon what steps he was about +to take with the view of supplying M. Platzoff with a new footman. In +these proceedings the mulatto acquiesced ungraciously. Truth to tell, he +was bored by Mr. Deedes and his friendly officiousness, and although +secretly glad that the trouble of hunting out a new servant had been +taken off his hands, he was not a man willingly to acknowledge his +obligations to another.</p> + +<p>Mr. Deedes set out immediately after breakfast on Thursday morning, and +having walked to the Ferry Hotel, he took the steamer from that place to +Newby Bridge. Mr. James Jasmin was at the landing-stage, awaiting his +arrival. After shaking hands heartily, and inquiring as to each other's +health, the two wandered off arm-in-arm down one of the quiet country +roads. Then Mr. Deedes explained to Mr. Jasmin his reasons for sending +for him from London, and with what view he was desirous of introducing +him into Bon Repos. The younger man listened attentively. When the elder +one had done, he said:</p> + +<p>"Father, this is a very pretty scheme of yours; but it seems to me that +I am to be nothing more than a cat's-paw in the affair. You have only +given me half your confidence. You must give me the whole of it before I +can agree to act as you wish. I want to hear the whole history of the +case, and how you came to be mixed up in it. Further, I want to know how +much Lady Chillington intends to give you in case you succeed in getting +back the diamond, and what my share of the recompense is to be?"</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! what a headstrong boy you are!" moaned Mr. Deedes. "Why +can't you be content with what I tell you, and leave the rest to me?"</p> + +<p>The younger man made no reply in words, but turned abruptly on his heel +and began to walk back.</p> + +<p>"James! James!" cried the old man, catching his son by the coat tails, +"do not go off in that way. It shall be as you wish. I will tell you +everything. You headstrong boy! Do you want to break your poor father's +heart?"</p> + +<p>"Break your fiddlestick!" said Mr. Jasmin, irreverently. "Let us sit +down on this green bank, and you shall tell me all about the Diamond +while I try the quality of these cigars. I am all attention."</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, Mr. Deedes sighed deeply, wiped his forehead with his +handkerchief, looked meditatively into his hat for a few seconds, and +then began.</p> + +<p>Beginning with the narrative of Sergeant Nicholas, Mr. Deedes went on +from that point to detail by what means he had discovered that M. +Platzoff was still alive and where he was now living. Then he told of +his coming down to Bon Repos, and all that had happened to him since +that time. He had already told his son with what view<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> he had sent for +him from London—that not being able to make any further headway in the +case himself, he was desirous of introducing his dear James, in the +guise of a servant, into Bon Repos, as an agent on whose integrity and +cleverness he could alike depend.</p> + +<p>"But you have not yet told your dear James the amount of the honorarium +you will be entitled to receive in case you recover the stolen Diamond."</p> + +<p>"What do you say to five thousand pounds?" asked Mr. Deedes in a solemn +whisper.</p> + +<p>The younger man opened his eyes. "Hum! A very pretty little amount," he +said, "but I have yet to learn what proportion of that sum will +percolate into the pockets of this child. In other words, what is to be +my share of the plunder?"</p> + +<p>"Plunder, my dear boy, is a strange word to make use of. Pray be more +particular in your choice of terms. The mercenary view you take of the +case is very distressing to my feelings. A proper recompense for your +time and trouble it was my intention to make you; but as regards the +five thousand pounds, I hoped to be able to fund it in toto, to add it +to my little capital, and to leave it intact for those who will come +after me. And you know very well, James, that there will only be you and +Mirpah to divide whatever the old man may die possessed of."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear dad, you are not going to die for these five-and-twenty +years. My present necessities are imperative: like the daughters of the +horse-leech, they are continually asking for more."</p> + +<p>"James! James! how changed you are from the dear, unselfish boy of ten +years ago!"</p> + +<p>"And very proper too. But do let us be business-like, if you please. The +rôle of the 'heavy father' doesn't suit you at all. Keep sentiment out +of the case, and then we shall do very well. Listen to my ultimatum. The +day I place the Hara Diamond in your hands you must give me a cheque for +fifteen hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen hundred pounds!" gasped the old man. "James! James! do you wish +to see me die in a workhouse?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen hundred pounds. Not one penny less," reiterated Madgin, junior. +"What do you mean by a workhouse? You will then have three thousand, +five hundred pounds to the good, and will have got the job done very +cheaply. But there is another side to the question. Both you and I have +been counting our chickens before they are hatched. Suppose I don't +succeed in laying hold of the Diamond—what then? And, mind you, I don't +think I shall succeed. To begin with—I don't half believe in the +existence of your big Diamond. It looks to me very much like a hoax from +beginning to end. But granting the existence of the stone, and that it +was stolen by your Russian friend, are not the chances a thousand to one +either that he has disposed of it long ago, or else that he has hidden +it away in some place so safe that the cleverest burglar in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> London +would be puzzled to get at it? Suppose, for instance, that it is +deposited by him at his banker's: in that case, what are your +expectations worth? Not a brass farthing. No, my dear dad, the risk of +failure is too great, outweighing, as it does, the chances of success a +thousandfold, for me to have the remotest hope of ever fingering the +fifteen hundred pounds. I have, therefore, to appraise my time and +services as the hero of a losing cause. I say the hero; for I certainly +consider that I am about to play the leading part in the forthcoming +drama—that I am the bright particular 'star' round which the lesser +lights will all revolve. Such being the case, I do not consider that I +am rating my services too highly when I name two hundred guineas as the +lowest sum for which I am willing to play the part of James Jasmin, +footman, spy and amateur detective."</p> + +<p>Again Mr. Deedes gasped for breath. He opened his mouth, but words +refused to come. He shook his head with a fine tragic air, and wiped his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Take an hour or two to consider it," said the son, indulgently. "If you +agree to my proposition, I shall want it put down in black and white and +properly signed. If you do not agree to it, I start back for town by +this night's mail."</p> + +<p>"James, James, you are one too many for me!" said the old man, +pathetically. "Let us go and dine."</p> + +<p>The first thing Madgin junior did after they got back to the hotel was +to place before his father a sheet of note-paper, an inkstand and a pen. +"Write," he said; and the old man wrote to his dictation:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I, Solomon Madgin, on the part of Lady Chillington, of Deepley +Walls, do hereby promise and bind myself to pay over into the hands +of my son, James Madgin, the sum of fifteen hundred pounds (£1,500) +on the day that the aforesaid James Madgin places safely in my +hands the stone known as the Hara Diamond.</p> + +<p>"Should the aforesaid James Madgin, from causes beyond his own +control, find himself unable to obtain possession of the said +Diamond, I, Solomon Madgin, bind myself to reimburse him in the sum +of two hundred guineas (£210) as payment in full for the time and +labour expended by him in his search for the Hara Diamond.</p> + +<p class="center">"(Signed) <span class="smcap">Solomon Madgin</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 10em;">"July 21st, 18—."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Madgin threw down the pen when he had signed his name and chuckled +quietly to himself. "You don't think, dear boy, that a foolish paper +like that would be worth anything in a court of law?" he said, +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"As a legal document it would probably be laughed at," said Madgin +junior. "But in another point of view I have no doubt that it would +carry with it a certain moral weight. For instance, suppose the claim +embodied in this paper were disputed, and I were compelled to resort to +ulterior measures, the written promise given<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> by you might not be found +legally binding, but, on the other hand, neither Lady Chillington nor +you would like to see that document copied in extenso into all the +London papers, nor the whole of your remarkable scheme for the recovery +of the Hara Diamond detailed by the plaintiff in open court, to be +talked over next morning through the length and breadth of England. +"Extraordinary Case between a Lady of Rank and an Actor." How would that +read, eh?"</p> + +<p>"My dear James, let me shake hands with you," exclaimed the old man with +emotion. "You are a most extraordinary young man. I am proud of you, my +dear boy, I am indeed. What a pity that you adopted the stage as your +profession! You ought to have entered the law. In the law you would have +risen—nothing could have kept you down."</p> + +<p>"That is as it may be," returned James. "If I am satisfied with my +profession you have no cause to grumble. But here comes dinner."</p> + +<p>Mr. James Madgin was first low comedian at one of the transpontine +theatres. The height of his ambition was to have the offer of an +engagement from one of the West-end managers. Only give him the +opportunity, and he felt sure that he could work his way with a +cultivated audience. When a lad of sixteen he had run away from home +with a company of strolling players, and from that time he had been a +devoted follower of Thespis. He had roughed it patiently in the +provinces for years, his only consolation during a long season of +poverty and neglect arising from the conviction that he was slowly but +surely improving himself in the difficult art he had chosen as his mode +of earning his daily bread. When the manager of the Royal Tabard, then +on a provincial tour, picked him out from all his brother actors, and +offered him a Metropolitan engagement, James Madgin thought himself on +the high road to fame and fortune. Time had served to show him the +fallacy of his expectations. He had been four years at the Royal Tabard, +during the whole of which time he had been in receipt of a tolerable +salary for his position—that of first low comedian; but fame and +fortune still seemed as far from his grasp as ever. With opportunity +given him, he had hoped one day to electrify the town. But that hope was +now buried very deep down in his heart, and if ever brought out, like an +"old property," to be looked at and turned about, its only greeting was +a quiet sneer, after which it was relegated to the limbo whence it had +been disinterred. James Madgin had given up the expectation of ever +shining in the theatrical system as a "great star;" he was trying to +content himself with the thought of living and dying a respectable +mediocrity—useful, ornamental even, in his proper sphere, but certainly +never destined to set the Thames on fire. The manager of the Tabard had +recently died, and at present James Madgin was in want of an engagement.</p> + +<p>As father and son sat together at table, you might, knowing their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> +relationship to each other, have readily detected a certain likeness +between them; but it was a likeness of expression rather than of +features, and would scarcely have been noticed by any casual observer.</p> + +<p>Madgin junior was a fresh complexioned, sprightly young fellow of six or +seven and twenty, with dark, frank-looking eyes, a prominent nose, and +thin mobile lips. He had dark-brown hair, closely cropped; and, as +became one of his profession, he was guiltless of either beard or +moustache. Like Mirpah, he inherited his eyes and nose from his mother, +but in no other feature could he be said to resemble his beautiful +sister.</p> + +<p>Father and son were very merry over dinner, and did not spare the wine +afterwards. The old man could not sufficiently admire the shrewd +business-like aptitude shown by his son in their recent conference. The +latter's extraction of a written promise by his own father was an action +that the elder man could fully appreciate; it was a stroke of business +that touched him to the heart, and made him feel proud of his "dear +James."</p> + +<p>"But how will you manage about waiting at table?" asked Solomon of his +son as they strolled out together to smoke their cigars on the little +bridge by the hotel. "I am afraid that you will betray your ignorance, +and break down when you come to be put to the test."</p> + +<p>"Never fear; I shall pull through somehow," answered James. "I am not so +ignorant on such matters as you may suppose. Geary used to say that I +did the flunkey business better than any man he ever had at the Tabard: +I have always been celebrated for my footmen. Of course I am quite aware +that the real article is very different from its stage counterfeit, but +I have actually been at some pains to study the genus in its different +varieties, and to arrive at some knowledge of the special duties it has +to perform. One of our supers had been footman in the family of a +well-known marquis, and from him I picked up a good deal of useful +information. Then, whenever I have been out to a swell dinner of any +kind, I have always kept my eye on the fellows who waited at table. So +what with one thing and what with another, I don't think I shall make +any very terrible blunders."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, or else Mr. Cleon will give you your <i>congé</i>, and that will +spoil everything. Further, as regards the mulatto, I have a word or two +to say to you. It is quite evident to me that he is the presiding genius +at Bon Repos. If you wish to retain your situation you must pay court to +him far more than to M. Platzoff, with whom, indeed, it is doubtful +whether you will ever come into personal contact. You must therefore, my +dear boy, swallow your pride for the time being, and take care to let +the mulatto see that you regard him as a patron to whose kindness you +hold yourself deeply indebted."</p> + +<p>"All that I can do, and more, to serve my own ends," answered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> the son. +"Your words are words of wisdom, and shall live in my memory."</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin stopped with his son till summoned by the whistle of the last +steamer. The two bade each other an affectionate farewell. When next +they met it would be as strangers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cleon and the landlord were enjoying the cool of the evening and +their cigars outside the house as Mr. Deedes walked up to The Jolly +Fishers. He stopped for a moment to speak to them.</p> + +<p>"I had a note this morning from my friend Mr. Madgin, of Deepley Walls," +he said, "in which that gentleman informs me that the young man, James +Jasmin, will be with you in the course of the day after to-morrow at the +latest. He hopes that Jasmin will suit you, and he is evidently much +pleased that a position has been offered him in an establishment in +every way so unexceptionable as that of Bon Repos."</p> + +<p>The mulatto's white teeth glistened in the twilight. Evidently he was +pleased. He muttered a few words in reply. Mr. Deedes bowed courteously, +wished him and the landlord a very good night, and withdrew.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon of the day but one following that of his visit to +Newby Bridge, as Mr. Deedes was busy with a London newspaper three or +four days old, the landlord ushered a young man into his room, who, with +a bow and a carrying of the forefinger to his forehead, announced +himself as James Jasmin, from Deepley Walls.</p> + +<p>"Don't you go, landlord," said Mr. Deedes; "I may want you." Then he +deliberately put on his gold-rimmed glasses, and proceeded to take a +leisurely survey of the new corner, who was dressed in a neat (but not +new) suit of black, and was standing in a respectful attitude, and +slowly brushing his hat with one sleeve of his coat.</p> + +<p>"So you are James Jasmin, from Deepley Walls, are you?" asked Mr. +Deedes, looking him slowly down from head to feet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I am the party, sir," answered James.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jasmin, and how did you leave my friend Mr. Madgin? and what is +the latest news from Deepley Walls?"</p> + +<p>"Master and family all pretty well, sir, thank you. Master has got a +tenant for the old house, and the family will all start for the +Continong next week."</p> + +<p>"Well, Jasmin, I hope you will contrive to suit your new employer as +well as you appear to have suited my friend. Landlord, let him have some +dinner, and he had better perhaps wait here till Mr. Cleon comes down +this evening."</p> + +<p>When Mr. Cleon arrived a couple of hours later, Jasmin was duly +presented to him. The mulatto scrutinised him keenly and seemed pleased +with his appearance, which was decidedly superior to that of the +ordinary run of Jeameses. He finished by asking him for his +testimonials.</p> + +<p>"I have none with me, sir," answered Jasmin, discreetly em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span>phasising the +<i>sir</i>. "I can only refer you to my late master, Mr. Madgin, of Deepley +Walls, who will gladly speak as to my qualifications and integrity."</p> + +<p>"That being the case, I will take you for the present on the +recommendation of Mr. Deedes, and will write Mr. Madgin in the course of +a post or two. You can go up to Bon Repos at once, and I will induct you +into your new duties to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Jasmin thanked Mr. Cleon respectfully and withdrew. Ten minutes later, +with his modest valise in his hand, he set out for his new home. He and +Mr. Deedes did not see each other again. Next day Mr. Deedes announced +that he was summoned home by important letters. He bade the landlord and +Cleon a friendly farewell, and left early on the following morning in +time to catch the first train from Windermere going south.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>MADGIN JUNIOR'S FIRST REPORT.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Madgin senior lost no time after his arrival at home before +hastening up to Deepley Walls to see Lady Chillington. He had a brief +conference with Mirpah while discussing his modest chop and glass of +bitter ale; and he found time to read a letter which had arrived for him +some days previously from the London diamond merchant whom he had +employed to make inquiries as to whether any such gem as the Great Hara +had been offered for sale at any of the great European marts during the +past twenty years. The letter was an assurance that no such stone had +been in the market, nor was any such known to be in the hands of any +private individual.</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin took the letter with him to Deepley Walls. In her grim way +Lady Chillington seemed greatly pleased to see him. She was all +impatience to hear what news he had to tell her. But Mr. Madgin had his +reservations; he did not deem it advisable to detail to her ladyship +step by step all that he had done. Her sense of honour might revolt at +certain things he had found it necessary to do in furtherance of the +great object he had in view. He told her of his inquiries among the +London diamond merchants, and read to her the letter he had received +from one of them. Then he went on to describe Bon Repos and its owner +from the glimpses he had had of both. For all such details her ladyship +betrayed a curiosity that seemed as if it would never be satisfied. He +next went on to inform her that he had succeeded in placing his son as +footman at Bon Repos, and that everything now depended on the +discoveries James might succeed in making. But nothing was said as to +the false pretences and the changed name under which Madgin junior had +entered M. Platzoff's household. Those were details which Mr. Madgin +kept judiciously to himself. Her ladyship was perfectly satisfied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> with +his report; she was more than satisfied—she was pleased. She was very +sanguine as to the existence of the diamond, and also as to its +retention by M. Platzoff; far more so, in fact, than Mr. Madgin himself +was. But the latter was too shrewd a man of business to parade his +doubts of success before a client who paid so liberally, so long as her +hobby was ridden after her own fashion. Mr. Madgin's chief aim in life +was to ride other people's hobbies, and be well paid for his jockeyship.</p> + +<p>"I am highly gratified, Mr. Madgin," said her ladyship, "by the style, +<i>plein de finesse</i>, in which you have so far conducted this delicate +investigation. I will not ask you what your next step is to be. You know +far better than I can tell you what ought to be done. I leave the matter +with confidence in your hands."</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship is very kind," observed Mr. Madgin, deferentially. "I +will do my best to deserve a continuance of your good opinion."</p> + +<p>"As week after week goes by, Mr. Madgin," resumed Lady Chillington, "the +conviction seems to take deeper root within me that that man—that +villain—M. Platzoff, has my son's diamond still in his possession. I +have a sort of spiritual consciousness that such is the case. My waking +intuitions, my dreams by night, all point to the same end. You, with +your cold, worldly sense, may laugh at such things; we women, with our +finer organisation, know how often the truth comes to us on mystic +wings. The diamond will yet be mine!"</p> + +<p>"What nonsense women sometimes talk," said Mr. Madgin contemptuously to +himself as he walked back through the park. "Who would believe that my +lady, so sensible on most things, could talk such utter rubbish. But +women have a way of leaping to results, and ignoring processes, that is +simply astounding to men of common sense. The diamond hers, indeed! +Although I have been so successful so far, there is as much difference +between what I have done and what has yet to be done as there is between +the simple alphabet and a mathematical theorem. To-morrow's post ought +to bring me a letter from Bon Repos."</p> + +<p>To-morrow's post did bring Mr. Madgin a letter from Bon Repos. The +writer of it was not his son, but Cleon. It was addressed, as a matter +of course, to Deepley Walls, of which place the mulatto had been led to +believe Mr. Madgin was the proprietor. The note, which was couched in +tolerable English, was simply a request to be furnished with a +testimonial as to the character and abilities of James Jasmin, late +footman at Deepley Walls. Mr. Madgin replied by return of post as +under:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"> +"Deepley Walls, July 27th. +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—In reply to your favour of the 25th inst, inquiring +as to the character and respectability of James Jasmin, late a +footman in my employ, I beg to say that I can strongly recommend +him, and have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> much pleasure in so doing, for any similar +employment under you. Jasmin was with me for several years; during +the whole time I found him to be trustworthy, sober and intelligent +in an eminent degree. Had I not been reducing my establishment +previous to a lengthened residence in the south of Europe, I should +certainly have retained Jasmin in the position which he has +occupied for so long a time with credit to himself and with +satisfaction to me.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">"I have the honour, sir, to remain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Your obedient servant,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">"<span class="smcap">Solomon Madgin.</span></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"—— <span class="smcap">Cleon</span>, Esq.,</span><br /> +"Bon Repos, Windermere."<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>After writing and despatching the above epistle, over the composition of +which he chuckled to himself several times, Mr. Madgin was obliged to +wait, with what contentment was possible to him, the receipt of a +communication from his son. But one day passed after another without +bringing news from Bon Repos, till Mr. Madgin grew fearful that some +disaster had befallen both James and his scheme. At length he made up +his mind to wait two days longer, and should no letter come within that +time, to start at once for Windermere. Fortunately his anxiety was +relieved and the journey rendered unnecessary by the receipt, next day, +of a long letter from his son. It was Mirpah who took it from the +postman's hand, and Mirpah took it to her father in high glee. She knew +the writing and deciphered the post-mark. For once in his life Mr. +Madgin was too agitated to read. He put his hand to his side, and +motioned Mirpah to open the letter.</p> + +<p>"Read it," he said in a husky voice, as she was about to hand it to him. +So Mirpah sat down near her father and read what follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"> +"Bon Repos, July<br /> +"(some date, but I'll be hanged if I know what). +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Dad</span>,—In some rustic nook reclining, silken +tresses softly twining, Far-off bells so faintly ringing, While we +list the blackbird singing, Merrily his roundelay. There! I +composed those lines this morning during the process of shaving. I +don't think they are very bad. I put them at the beginning of my +letter so as to make sure that you will read them, a process of +which I might reasonably be doubtful had I left them for the fag +end of my communication. Learn, sir, that you have a son who is a +born poet!!!</p> + +<p>"But now to business.</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry over my letter, dear dad; don't run away with the idea +that I have any grand discovery to lay before you. My epistle will +be merely a record of trifles and commonplaces, and that simply +from the fact that I have nothing better to write about. To me, at +least, they seem nothing but trifles. For you they may possess an +occult significance of which I know nothing.</p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> + +<p>"In the first place. On the day following that of your departure +from Windermere, I was duly inducted by Cleon into my new duties. +They are few in number, and by no means difficult. So far I have +contrived to get through them without any desperate blunder. +Another thing I have done of which you will be pleased to hear: I +have contrived to ingratiate myself with the mulatto, and am in +high favour with him. You were right in your remarks; he is worth +cultivation, in so far that he is all-powerful in our little +establishment. M. Platzoff never interferes in the management of +Bon Repos. Everything is left to Cleon; and whatever the mulatto +may be in other respects, so far as I can judge he is quite worthy +of the trust reposed in him. I believe him to be thoroughly +attached to his master.</p> + +<p>"Of M. Platzoff I have very little to tell you. Even in his own +house and among his own people he is a recluse. He has his own +special rooms, and three-fourths of his time is spent in them. +Above all things he dislikes to see strange faces about him, and I +have been instructed by Cleon to keep out of his way as much as +possible. Even the old servants, people who have been under his +roof for years, let themselves be seen by him as seldom as need be. +In person he is a little, withered-up, yellow-skinned man, as dry +as a last year's pippin, but very keen, bright and vivacious. He +speaks such excellent English that he must have lived in this +country for many years. One thing I have discovered about him, that +he is a great smoker. He has a room set specially apart for the +practice of the sacred rite to which he retires every day as soon +as dinner is over, and from which he seldom emerges again till it +is time to retire for the night. Cleon alone is privileged to enter +this room. I have never yet been inside it. Equally forbidden +ground is M. Platzoff's bedroom, and a small study beyond, all <i>en +suite</i>.</p> + +<p>"Those who keep servants keep spies under their roof. It has been +part of my purpose to make myself agreeable to the older domestics +at Bon Repos, and from them I have picked up several little facts +which all Mr. Cleon's shrewdness has not been able entirely to +conceal. In this way I have learned that M. Platzoff is a confirmed +opium-smoker. That once, or sometimes twice, a week he shuts +himself up in his room and smokes himself into a sort of trance, in +which he remains unconscious for hours. That at such times Cleon +has to look after him as though he were a child; and that it +depends entirely on the mulatto as to whether he ever emerges from +his state of coma, or stops in it till he dies. The accuracy of +this latter statement, however, I must beg leave to doubt.</p> + +<p>"Further gossip has informed me, whether truly or falsely I am not +in a position to judge, that M. Platzoff is a refugee from his own +country. That were he to set foot on the soil of Russia, a +life-long banishment to Siberia would be the mildest fate that he +could expect; and that neither in France nor in Austria would he be +safe from arrest. The people who come as guests to Bon Repos are, +so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> I am informed, in nearly every instance foreigners, and, as a +natural consequence, they are all set down by the servants' gossip +as red-hot republicans, thirsting for the blood of kings and +aristocrats, and willing to put a firebrand under every throne in +Europe. In fact, there cannot be a popular outbreak against bad +government in any part of Europe without M. Platzoff and his +friends being credited with having at least a finger in the pie.</p> + +<p>"All these statements and suppositions you will of course accept +<i>cum grano salis</i>. They may have their value as serving to give you +a rude and exaggerated idea as to what manner of man is the owner +of Bon Repos; and it is quite possible that some elements of truth +may be hidden in them. To me, M. Platzoff seems nothing more than a +mild old gentleman; a little eccentric, it may be, as differing +from our English notions in many things. Not a smiling fiend in +patent boots and white cravat, whose secret soul is bent on murder +and rapine; but a shy valetudinarian, whose only firebrand is a +harmless fusee wherewith to light a pipe of fragrant cavendish.</p> + +<p>"One permanent guest we have at Bon Repos—a guest who was here +before my arrival, and of whose departure no signs are yet visible. +That is why I call him permanent. His name is Ducie, and he is an +ex-captain in the English army. He is a tall, handsome man of four +or five and forty, and is a thorough gentleman both in manners and +appearance. I like him much, and he has taken quite a fancy to me. +One thing I can see quite plainly; that he and Cleon are quietly at +daggers drawn. Why they should be so I cannot tell, unless it is +that Cleon is jealous of Captain Ducie's influence over Platzoff; +although the difference in social position of the two men ought to +preclude any feeling of that kind. Captain Ducie might be M. +Platzoff's very good friend without infringing in the slightest +degree on the privileges of Cleon as his master's favourite +servant. On one point I am certain: that the mulatto suspects Ducie +of some purpose or covert scheme in making so long a stay at Bon +Repos. He has asked me to act as a sort of spy on the Captain's +movements; to watch his comings and goings, his hours of getting up +and going to bed, and to report to him, Cleon, anything that I may +see in the slightest degree out of the common way.</p> + +<p>"It was not without a certain inward qualm that I accepted the +position thrust upon me by Cleon. In accepting it, I flatter myself +that I took a common-sense view of the case. In the <i>petit</i> drama +of real life in which I am now acting an uneventful part, I look +upon myself as a 'general utility' man, bound to enact any and +every character which my manager may think proper to entrust into +my hands. Now, you are my manager, and if it seem to me conducive +to your interests (you being absent) that, in addition to my +present character, I should be a 'cast' for that of spy or amateur +detective, I see no good reason why I should refuse it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> So far, +however, all my Fouché-like devices have resulted in nothing. The +Captain's comings and goings—in fact, all his movements—are of a +commonplace and uninteresting kind. But I have this advantage, that +the character I have undertaken enables me to assume, with Cleon's +consent, certain privileges such as under other circumstances would +never have been granted me. Further, should I succeed in +discovering anything of importance, it by no means follows that I +should consider myself bound to reveal the same to Cleon. It might +be greatly more to my interest to retain any such facts for my own +use. Meanwhile, I wait and watch.</p> + +<p>"Thus you will perceive, my dear dad, that an element of +interest—a dramatic element—is being slowly evolved out of the +commonplace duties of my position. This nucleus of interest may +grow and develop into something startling; or it may die slowly out +and expire for lack of material to feed itself upon. In any case, +dear dad, you may expect a frequent feuilleton from</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">"Your affectionate Son,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"J.M. (otherwise <span class="smcap">James Jasmin</span>).</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I should not like to be a real flunkey all my life. Such a +position is not without its advantages to a man of a lazy turn, but +it is terribly soul-subduing. Not a sign yet of the G.H.D."</p></div> + +<p>"There is nothing much in all this to tell her ladyship," said Mr. +Madgin, as he took off his spectacles and refolded the letter. "Still, I +do not think it by any means a discouraging report. If James's patience +only equal his shrewdness and audacity, and if there be really anything +to worm out, he will be sure to make himself master of it in the course +of time. Ah! if he had only my patience, now—the patience of an old man +who has won half his battles by playing a waiting game."</p> + +<p>"Is it not possible that Lady Chillington may want you to read the +letter?"</p> + +<p>"It is quite possible. But James's irreverent style is hardly suited in +parts for her ladyship's ears. You, dear child, must make an improved +copy of the letter. Your own good taste will tell you which sentences +require to be altered or expunged. Here and there you may work in a neat +compliment to your father; as coming direct from James, her ladyship +will not deem it out of place—it will not sound fulsome in her ears, +and will serve to remind her of what she too often forgets—that in +Solomon Madgin she has a faithful steward, who ought to be better +rewarded than he is. Write out the copy at once, my child, and I will +take it up to Deepley Walls the first thing to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>(<i>To be continued</i>.)</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span></p> +<h2>ABOUT THE WEATHER.</h2> + + +<p>Why is it that we in England talk so much about the weather? One reason, +I suppose, is because we are shy and awkward in the presence of +strangers, and the weather is a safe subject far removed from +personalities of any kind. Then the variableness of our climate +furnishes an opportunity for comment which does not exist in countries +where for months there is not a cloud in the sky, and you can tell long +before what kind of weather there will be on any particular day.</p> + +<p>Whatever else may be said of our English climate, it cannot be accused +of monotony. You are not sure of seeing the same sky every morning you +arise, than which there is no greater source of ennui. Those of us who +have lived long abroad know how tired we got of a cloudless blue sky. We +can sympathise with the sailor who, on returning to London from the +Mediterranean, joyfully exclaimed—"Here's a jolly old fog, and no more +of your confounded blue skies!" Certainly we could do with a little more +sunshine in England than we get. It is not true that while we have much +weather we have no sunshine, but we have not as much of it as many of us +would like. Still England is not as bad as some places; for instance, +Halifax, Nova Scotia, where they have nine months' winter and three +months' bad weather. Indeed, the English takes rather a good place +amongst the climates of the world. It is free from extremes, and allows +us to go out every day and at all hours.</p> + +<p>However, judging from the way we grumble, it would seem that we are +anything but satisfied with our climate.</p> + +<p><i>Scene</i>—Drawing-room at Scarborough. Melissa (writing): "Aunty, +darling, how do you spell damnable?" "Good gracious, darling, never use +such a word. I am surprised." "Well, but, auntie, I am writing to papa, +to tell him about the weather." "Oh, well, my darling, I suppose I may +tell you. D-a-m-n-a-b-l-e; but remember that you must not use the word +except to describe the weather."</p> + +<p>I suppose the clerk of the weather office has long ago ceased trying to +satisfy us in this matter. What seems wretched weather to one person +makes another happy. Cold, that the young enjoy because it makes them +feel their vitality to the tips of their fingers, is death to the old. +Those who are fond of skating look out of the windows of their bedrooms, +hoping to see a good hard frost. The man who has three or four hunters +"eating their heads off" in the stable wishes for open weather, so that +he and they may have a run. The farmer says that frost is good for his +land; the sportsman, who has hired an expensive shooting, does not like +it. A young lady enjoys her walk and looks her best on a fine frosty +morning; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> she should not forget that the weather which is so +pleasant to her puts thousands of people out of work.</p> + +<p>Idle people feel changes of weather most. A man who lives a busy life in +a hot climate once said to me: "I do not know why people growl about the +heat; for my part, I have no time to be hot." And if the energetic feel +heat less than do the indolent, they certainly feel cold less. They are +too active to be cold; and perhaps it is easier to make oneself warm in +a cold climate than cool in a hot one.</p> + +<p>A man who had been complaining because it had not rained for a good +while, when the rain did come then grumbled because it did not come +sooner. The rich, however, rather than the poor, talk of the "wretched +weather," because they have fewer real sorrows to grumble at. Indeed, +the poor often set an example of cheerfulness and resignation in this +matter which is very praiseworthy. "What wretched weather we are +having!" said a man to an old woman of his acquaintance whom he passed +on the road. "Well, sir," she replied, "any weather is better than +none." Fuller tells us of a gentleman travelling on a misty morning who +asked a shepherd—such men being generally skilled in the physiognomy of +the heavens—what weather it would be. "It will be," said the shepherd, +"what weather shall please me." Being asked to explain his meaning, he +said, "Sir, it shall be what weather pleaseth God; and what weather +pleaseth God, pleaseth me."</p> + +<p>The people who are most satisfied with their climate are the Australians +and New Zealanders. I never met one of them who did not, in five +minutes, begin to abuse the English climate and glorify his own. They +will not admit that it has a single fault, though we have all heard of +the hot winds that make the Australian summer terribly oppressive. The +fact is that every country has a bad wind, or some other kind of +supposed drawback, which is very trying to strangers, but which, whether +they know it or not, suits the inhabitants. God knows better than we do +the sort of weather that each country should have.</p> + +<p>What are we to say about the winter we have lately been enduring? Well, +it was very "trying" for us all, and an even stronger word might be used +by the poor, the aged, and the delicate. Still, let us remember that +without omniscience it is impossible to say whether any given season is +good or bad. So infinitely complex are the relations of things that we +are very bad judges as to what is best for us. How do we know that our +past winter of discontent may not be followed by a glorious summer, and +that the two may not be merely antecedent and consequent, but in some +degree cause and effect?</p> + +<p>On no other subject are people so prone to become panegyrists of the +past as in this matter of the weather. "Ah," they say, "we never now +have the lovely summers we used to have." Reading the other day +Walpole's Letters, I discovered that so far from the summers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> in his day +being "lovely," they were not uniformly better than the winters: "The +way to ensure summer in England," he writes, "is to have it framed and +glazed in a comfortable room." This remark was made of the summer of +1773; that of 1784 was not more balmy, judging from the same writer's +comment: "The month of June, according to custom immemorial, is as cold +as Christmas. I had a fire last night, and all my rosebuds, I believe, +would have been very glad to sit by it."</p> + +<p>Here is another weather grumble from the same quaint letter-writer: "The +deluge began here but on Monday last, and then rained nearly +eight-and-forty hours without intermission. My poor bag has not a dry +thread to its back. In short, every summer one lives in a state of +mutiny and murmur, and I have found the reason: it is because we will +affect to have a summer, and have no title to any such thing."</p> + +<p>This reminds us of Quin, who, being asked if he had ever seen so bad a +winter, replied: "Yes, just such an one last summer." If people could be +satisfied about the weather, this sort of summer ought to have pleased +the Irishman who, as he warmed his hands at a fire remarked: "What a +pity it is that we can't have the cold weather in the summer."</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/01de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + +<h2>SERENADE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come out! the moon is white, and on the river<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The white mist lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twilight deepens, and the stars grow brighter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the pure, perfect skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dewy woods with silent voices call you;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come out, heart of my heart, light of my eyes!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come out, for where you are not, beauty is not;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come out, my Dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how the fairies will adorn the meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moment you draw near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the world wear that robe and crown of glory<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It never wears except when you are here."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain!—a little light among the jasmine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lattice gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her white hand at the closing of it lingers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A moment—so it seems—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drop an unseen rose down to her lover:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White rose—whose scent will sanctify his dreams!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span></p> +<h2>A PHILANTHROPIST.</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By Angus Grey</span>.</h4> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<p>"And when I had your own bottle finished, Doctor, an ould man that was +passing by to the fair of Kinvarra told me that there was nothin' in the +world so good for a stiff arm as goose's grease or crane's lard, +rendered, rubbed in, and, says he, in a few days your arm will be as +limber as limber. So I went to the keeper at Inchguile, and he shot a +crane for me; but there wasn't so much lard in it as I thought there'd +be, because it was just after rearing a chitch."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must try and get you a better one next time," said the Doctor, +nodding farewell to his loquacious patient, one of those non-paying ones +who look on a "dispensary ticket" as conveying an unlimited right of +discourse on the one hand and attention on the other. But the Doctor was +just now in a position of vantage, being seated on his car, on which he +slowly jogged out of sight, leaving the victim of rheumatism who had +stopped him still experimentally rubbing the joints of his arm.</p> + +<p>It was the first of June by the calendar, but the outward signs of the +season were but slightly visible in that grey West Country, where stones +lay as the chief crop in the fields and innumerable walls took the place +of hedges, and a drizzling mist from the Atlantic hid all distant +outlines.</p> + +<p>The Doctor had been all day face to face with such cheerless +surroundings, and was on his way homewards. But presently he stopped at +the entrance of a little "boreen," where a wrinkled, red-skirted dame +was standing sentry, leaning on a stout blackthorn stick. "Is it me +you're looking out for, Mrs. Capel?" he asked. "I hope Mary is no worse +to-day."</p> + +<p>"She's the one way always," was the reply; "and it wasn't of you I was +thinking, Doctor, but standing I was to watch that ruffian of a pig of +Mr. Rourke's that had me grand cabbages eat last night, and me in Cloon +buying a pound of madder to colour a petticoat. Ah, then, look at him +now standing there by the wall watching me out of the corner of his +eye!" and flourishing her stick the energetic old lady trotted off to +the attack.</p> + +<p>"I may as well go in and see Mary," muttered the Doctor, tying the reins +to an isolated gate-post, and walking up the narrow lane to the thatched +cottage it led to.</p> + +<p>"God save all here," he said, putting his head in over the half-door.</p> + +<p>"God save you kindly," was the reply from an old man in corduroy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> +knee-breeches and a tall hat, who sat smoking a short pipe in the deep +chimney-corner, and watching with interest the assault of various hens +and geese upon the heap of potato-skins remaining in a basket-lid which +had done duty as a dinner-table.</p> + +<p>The Doctor passed through to a little room beyond, whitewashed and +containing a large four-post bed. The invalid, a gentle, +consumptive-looking girl, lay on the pillows and smiled a greeting to +the Doctor.</p> + +<p>His eye, however, passed her, and rested with startled curiosity on a +visitor who was sitting by her side, and who rose and bowed slightly. +The stranger was a lady, young and slight, with dark eyes and hair and a +small, graceful head. He guessed at once she must be Miss Eden, the new +Resident Magistrate's sister, of whose ministrations to the poor he had +heard much since his return from his late holiday.</p> + +<p>He stopped awkwardly, rather confused at so unexpected a meeting; but +the stranger held out her hand, and looking up at him said: "I am so +glad you have come back; we have wanted you so much."</p> + +<p>The Doctor did not answer. The sweet, low voice, with no touch of Irish +accent, was a new sound to him, the little hand that she gave him was +fairer and smaller and more dainty than any he had ever touched. To say +the truth, his early farm-house life and his hospital training and +dispensary practice had not brought him into contact with much +refinement, and this girl with her slight, childlike figure and soft, +earnest eyes seemed to him to have stepped from some unreal world. Then, +finding he still held the little hand, he blushed and let it go.</p> + +<p>"How are you getting on, Mary?" he asked, turning to his patient.</p> + +<p>"Middling, sir, thank you," said the girl. "I do have the cough very bad +some nights, but more nights it's better; and the lady, may God enable +her, has me well cared."</p> + +<p>"I could not do much," said the lady, with an appealing glance, "and you +must not be angry with me for meddling with your patients. But now that +you have come I am sure Mary will be better."</p> + +<p>"Don't be troubling yourself about me," said the sick girl, gently. +"I'll never be better till I see Laurence again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be giving yourself up like that," said the Doctor, cheerily; +"we won't let you die yet awhile."</p> + +<p>"I won't die," she answered, gravely, "till the same day that Laurence +died: the 13th of September. There's no fear of me till then."</p> + +<p>She looked tired, and her visitors left, the Doctor telling his new +acquaintance as they walked down the lane what a strong, bright girl +this had been till a year ago, when her brother had died of consumption. +From that day her health had begun to fail, the winter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> had brought a +cough, and Easter had found her kept to her bed. It was a hopeless case, +he thought, though she might linger for a time.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and she's a loss to us," put in old Mrs. Capel, who had now +joined them, having returned from her pursuit of the predatory pig. "She +was a great one for slavin', and as strong as any girl on the estate, +but she did be frettin' greatly after her brother, and then she got cold +out of her little boots that let in the water, and there she's lying +now, and couldn't get up if all Ireland was thrusting for it."</p> + +<p>The mist had now turned to definite rain, and Louise Eden accepted "a +lift" on the Doctor's car, as he had to pass her gate in going home. His +shyness soon wore off as the girl talked to him with complete ease and +simplicity, first of some of his poor patients, then of herself and her +interest in them.</p> + +<p>She was half-Irish, she said, her mother having come from this very West +Country, but she had lost both her parents early and been brought up at +school and with English relatives. Lately her brother, or rather +step-brother, having been made an R.M. and appointed to the Cloon +district, had asked her to live with him, and this she was but too happy +to do. She had always longed to give her life to the poor and especially +the Irish poor, of whose wants she had heard so much. She had even +thought of becoming a deaconess, but her friends would not hear of it, +and she had been obliged to submit herself to their conventional +suburban life. "But here at last," she said, "I find my hands full and +my heart also. These people welcome me so warmly and need so much, the +whole day is filled with work for them; and now that you have come, Dr. +Quin," she added, smiling at him, "I can do so much more, for you will +tell me how to work under you and to nurse your patients back to health +again."</p> + +<p>It was almost dark when they came to the gate of Inagh, the house +usually tenanted by the Resident Magistrate of the day, and here Louise +Eden took leave of her new acquaintance, again giving him her hand in +its little wet glove. The Doctor watched her as she ran lightly towards +the house. She wore a grey hat and cloak, and the rough madder-dyed +skirt of the peasant women of the district. None of the "young ladies" +he had hitherto met would have deigned to appear in one of these fleecy +crimson garments, so becoming to its present wearer. She turned and +waved her hand at the corner of the drive, and the Doctor having gazed a +moment longer into the grey mist that shrouded her, went on his journey +home.</p> + +<p>His little house on the outskirts of Cloon had not many outward charms, +being built in the inverted box style so usual in Ireland. A few bushes +of aucuba and fuchsia scarcely claimed for the oblong space enclosed in +front the name of a garden. But within he found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> a cheerful turf fire, +and his old housekeeper soon put a substantial meal on the table.</p> + +<p>"Any callers to-day, Mamie?" he asked as he sat down.</p> + +<p>"Not a one, sir, only two," was the reply. "The first was a neighbouring +man from Killeen that was after giving himself a great cut with a +reaping-hook where he was cutting a few thorns out of the hedge for to +stop a gap where the cows did be coming into his oatfield. Sure I told +him you wouldn't be in this long time, and he went to Cloran to bandage +him up."</p> + +<p>"And who was the other, Mamie?"</p> + +<p>"The second first, sir, was a decent woman, Mrs. Cloherty, from Cranagh, +with a sore eye she has where she was cuttin' potatoes and a bit flew up +and hot it, and she's after going to the Friars at Loughrea to get a rub +off the blessed cross, but it did no good after."</p> + +<p>The old woman rambled on, but the Doctor gave her but a divided +attention. He laughed and blushed a little presently to find himself +gazing in the small round mirror that hung against the wall, his +altitude of six feet just bringing his head to its level. The face that +laughed and blushed back at him was a pleasant one: frank, blue eyes and +a square brow surmounted by wavy fair hair were reflected, and the glad +healthfulness of four-and-twenty years. He had been looked on as a +"well-looking" man in his small social circle of Galway and Dublin, and +had laughed and joked and danced with the girls he had met at merry +gatherings, but without ever having given a preference in thought to one +above another. Certainly no eyes had ever followed him into his solitude +as the dark ones first seen to-day were doing.</p> + +<p>He went out presently, the rain having ceased, and sauntered down the +unattractive "Main Street" of Cloon.</p> + +<p>The shops were shut, save those frequent ones which added the sale of +liquor to that of more innocent commodities. In one a smart-looking +schoolboy was reading the <i>Weekly Freeman</i> aloud to a group of +frieze-coated hearers. At the door of another a ballad-singer was +plaintively piping the "Mother's Farewell," with its practical +refrain:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then write to me often, <i>and send me all you can</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And don't forget where'er you are that you're an Irishman."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Doctor might at another time have joined and enlivened one of the +listless groups standing about, but, after a moment or two of +hesitation, he turned his back to them and walked in the direction of +the gate of Inagh. "There's Mrs. Connell down there, that I ought to go +and see; she's always complaining," he said to himself, in self-excuse. +But having arrived at her cottage, he saw by a glance at the unshuttered +window that his visit would be a work of supererogation, as she was +busily engaged in carding wool by the fireside, the clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> light of the +paraffin lamp, which without any intervening stage of candles had +superseded her rushlight, showing her comely face to be hale and hearty.</p> + +<p>Half unconsciously the young man passed on, crossed a stile and walked +up a narrow, laurel-bordered path towards the light of another window +which was drawing him, moth-like, by its gleam. It also, though in the +"Removable's" house, was unshuttered, testifying to the peaceful state +of the district. He could see a cheerful sitting-room, gay with flowers +and chintzes, the light of a shaded lamp falling on Louise Eden's fair +head, bent over a heavy volume on the table, an intrusive white kitten +disputing her attention with it. He drew back, with a sudden sense of +shame at having ventured so far, and hurried homewards to dream of the +fair vision the day had brought him.</p> + +<p>It was the beginning of an enchanted summer for the young Doctor. Day +after day he met Miss Eden, at first by so-called accident; but soon +their visits were pre-arranged to fall together at some poor cottage, +where she told him he could bring healing or he told her she could bring +help.</p> + +<p>She had thrown herself with devotion into the tending of the poor. "I +have wasted so many years at school," she would say, "just on learning +accomplishments for myself alone; but now I have at last the chance of +helping others I must make the most of it, especially as it is in my own +dear Ireland."</p> + +<p>"The lady" was soon well known amongst the neglected tenants of an +estate in Chancery. Her self-imposed duties increased from day to day. +The old dying man would take no food but from her hands. The Doctor +found her at his house one evening. She had cut herself badly in trying +to open a bottle for him, and was deadly pale. "I can't bear the sight +of blood," she confessed, and fainted on the earthen floor. It was with +gentle reverence that he carried her out and laid her on the cushions of +his car, spread by the roadside; but the sweet consciousness of having +for that one moment held her in his arms never left him when alone. In +her presence her frank friendliness drove away all idle dreams and +visions.</p> + +<p>It was on a Sunday afternoon of September that Dr. Quin and Louise Eden +met again sadly at the house where they had first seen each ocher, that +of the Capels. They were called there by a sudden message that the poor +girl Mary was dying, and before they could obey the summons she had +passed away.</p> + +<p>The little room was brighter now; a large-paned window, the gift of her +ministering friend, let the light fall upon the closed eyes. At the foot +of the bed hung a beautiful engraving of the Magdalen at the Saviour's +feet, while a bunch of tea-roses in a glass still gave out their +delicate fragrance. Neighbours were beginning to throng in, but gave +place to "the lady." The old father silently greeted her and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> wrung her +offered hand, but moved away without speaking. The mother, staying her +loud weeping, was less reserved.</p> + +<p>"It's well you earned her indeed, miss," she said; "and she did be +thinking of you always. The poor child, she was ill for near ten months, +but I wouldn't begrudge minding her if it was for seven year. Sure I got +her the best I could, the drop of new milk and a bit o' white bread and +a grain o' tea in a while, and meself and the old man eatin' nothin' but +stirabout, and on Christmas night we had but a herrin' for our dinner, +not like some of the neighbours that do be scattering. Sure we never +thought she was goin' till this morning, when she bid us send for the +priest. And when she saw the old man crying, 'Father,' says she, 'don't +fret. I'll soon be in Heaven praying for you with me own Laurence.' Sure +she always said she'd die on the same day as him, and she didn't +after—it was of a Saturday he died and this is a Sunday."</p> + +<p>Louise and the Doctor looked up suddenly at each other. This was indeed +the 13th of September, the day on which Laurence Capel had last year +passed away.</p> + +<p>They presently left the house of mourning, soon to become, by sad +incongruity, a house of feasting, Louise leaving a little money for "the +wake" in the old woman's hands. They walked towards home together, the +Doctor leading his horse.</p> + +<p>"I hope there is nothing wrong, Miss Eden," he asked after a little, +noticing how abstracted and depressed she seemed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered; "I have had news that troubles me. My brother has +written to tell me that he is going to marry the lady at whose house he +has been staying in Yorkshire; and that, as she has a large property +there, he will give up his Irish appointment. They offer me a home, and +I am sure they would be very kind. But what troubles me is the thought +of leaving Cloon, where I have learned to help the people and to love +them. I can never settle into a dull, selfish, luxurious life again." +Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke.</p> + +<p>The young man's heart beat fast. Might he—might he dare to lay himself +at her feet? He nervously played with the horse's mane and said +tremulously, "We can never do without you now, Miss Eden. We should all +be lost without you."</p> + +<p>He paused and looked at her. She was gazing sadly at the distant blue +outline of the Clare hills, and the sun sinking behind them flashed upon +her tearful eyes. She was on the other side of the horse and a little in +advance, and he could not, had he dared, have touched her hand. The +words came out suddenly:</p> + +<p>"We can never do without you here: I can never do without you. Will you +stay with me? I haven't much to offer you: two hundred pounds a-year is +all I am earning now, and I may soon get the hospital. I can't give you +what you are used to; but if I had the whole world and its riches, it's +to you I would bring them."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had stopped now and listened to him, startled. Then she turned +again, looked at the tranquil hills and the far-stretching woods of +Inchguile, and the smoke curling from many a poor hearthstone. A vision +flashed across her mind of a life spent here in the country she had +learned to love, amongst the people she longed to succour, with for a +helper the strong, skilful man who had stood with her by so many beds of +sickness. Then she thought of what her future would be in a luxurious +English household. She could see the well-regulated property, the tidy +cottages, where squire and parson would permit her help, but not need +it. An old woman looked from her doorway as they passed and said: "God +speed ye! God bring ye safe home and to heaven!"</p> + +<p>They had come to the high road now, and as they stopped to let a drove +of cattle pass, she turned and met the Doctor's wistful eyes with a +flash of enthusiasm in hers.</p> + +<p>"I will stay," she said. "I will give my life to Cloon and its poor!"</p> + +<p>Then, as they reached the stile which led into Inagh, she crossed it +lightly and walked up the narrow path, scarcely remembering to look back +before she was out of sight and wave her hand in farewell to her happy +lover.</p> + +<p>Happy was not, perhaps, the word to describe him by. A sudden rapture +had swept over him, blinding his vision, when she had said, "I will +stay." Yet now that she was out of sight without having deigned him one +touch of her hand, one soft word, he felt as if all had been a dream; +and was also conscious of a feeling, too subtle to be formed into a +thought, that there was something wanting in this supreme moment which +surely is not wanting when two hearts for the first time know themselves +to be beating for each other. But she had always been such an object of +worship to him, as one beyond his sphere, that he remembered how far +away she had been from him but yesterday, and that doubtless the +ordinary rules of love must be put aside when one so high stooped to +crown the life of so unworthy a worshipper.</p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>Colonel Eden returned that evening, and for some days Louise was +constantly occupied with his affairs, driving and walking with him and +listening to his plans and projects, and thus giving up her own solitary +expeditions and visits.</p> + +<p>She was glad of the excuse to do this. The moment of exaltation in which +she had resolved to devote her life to these poor Galway peasants had +passed away, and though she kept pictures before her mind of a redeemed +district, and children brought up in health and cleanliness instead of +disease and dirt, and home industries taking the place of the idleness +that followed spasmodic labour, misgivings entered with them as she saw +herself no longer "the lady" who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> stooped from a high level, but a mere +doctor's wife (she would not admit even to her thoughts the undesirable +title of "Mrs. Quin"), living in that small staring house at the +entrance of the town. Of one thing she was certain, she could not +possibly suggest such an idea to her brother. She could imagine too well +his raised eyebrows and sarcastic words. She must wait until he had +broken all ties with the neighbourhood, and then she could come back +without consulting him. Her affianced husband's personality she kept as +much as possible in the background. He was to be her fellow in good +works, her superior in the skill and knowledge of a healer. She had only +seen him during her ministrations to the poor, only talked with him of +their needs and his own aspirations, had hardly looked on him as a being +in whom she could take a personal interest, until that moment in the +sunset when she had in the impulse of a moment linked her life to his.</p> + +<p>A dread began to creep over her of seeing him again. How should she meet +him? Could she still keep him at a fitting distance? Would he not feel +that he had some claim upon her even now?</p> + +<p>One morning, hearing wheels, she looked up from her half-hearted study +of an Irish grammar and saw the well-known car and the bony grey horse +appearing. To fly out by the back door, catching up her hat on the way +was the work of a second. She ran down the laurel walk, crossed the +stile, and was soon safely on her way to the Inchguile woods.</p> + +<p>She was overtaken presently by a frieze-coated man, Martin Regan, who, +though an Inchguile tenant and out of her usual beat, she had met once +or twice, his bedridden father having sent to beg a visit from her. +Their holding was a poor one enough, but by constant hard work the son +had managed to keep things going. She knew the old woman who ruled in +the house was his stepmother, but had not noticed any want of harmony in +the family. Rumours, however, had reached her lately that the old man +had been making a will, by which he left the farm and all his +possessions to his wife, who had already written to recall her own son +from America to share the expected legacy with her.</p> + +<p>These rumours came back to the mind of Louise Eden as she noticed the +trouble in Martin Regan's face.</p> + +<p>"I was just going up to speak to your honour, miss," he said, "when I +seen you going through the gate, so I followed you to tell of the +trouble I'm in."</p> + +<p>"Is what I have heard true, then?" asked Louise. "Surely your father +could not be so unjust as to leave the farm you have worked on so hard +away from you?"</p> + +<p>"It's true indeed, miss," said Martin. "And I'm after going to the agent +about it, for Sir Richard is away, and if he could hear of it—he's a +good landlord and would never see me wronged. But he says all the power +is gone from the landlord now, and that if the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> old man was to leave the +land to Parnell or another and away from all his own blood the law +couldn't stop him. So God help us! I dunno at all what'll I do."</p> + +<p>"Had you any quarrel with your father that led to this?" asked Louise, +with sympathy that won the confidence of her companion, who had walked +on with her to the woods, where their path was brilliantly bordered by +the opaque red berries of the mountain ash, and the transparent hues of +the guelder-rose.</p> + +<p>"None at all," was the answer. "They made the will unknownst to me, and +they have the little farm and the little stock, and all there is left to +themselves, and for me nothing but the outside of the door and the +workhouse."</p> + +<p>"Do you think they threatened him or used force?" suggested the girl.</p> + +<p>"Did they force him to do it, is it? They did not. But it's too much +whisky and raisin cakes they had, and me coming into the house after +selling a sick pig. I never heard word or sound about it till a +neighbouring man told me they were gathered in the house with the +priest, and looking for a witness, and I went in, and Peter Kane was in +the house preparing to sign his name, and I took him by the neck and +threw him out of the door, and the stepmother she took me by the skin of +the shirt, and gave me a slap across the face with the flat of her hand, +and I called Peter Kane to witness that she struck me, and he said he +never saw it. And why? Because he had a cup of whisky given him before, +and believe me, when he turned about, it smelled good! After that, no +decent man could be found to sign his name, till they got two paid men. +Sure there's schemers about that 'ud hang you up for half a glass of +whisky."</p> + +<p>"And who drew up the will?" inquired Miss Eden.</p> + +<p>"The curate, Father Sheehy that did it. Sure our own priest would never +have done it, but it was a strange curate from the County Mayo. And I +asked him did he know there was such a one as me in the world, and he +said he never did. Then yourself'll need forgiveness in heaven, Father, +says I, as well as that silly old man."</p> + +<p>"Could you not speak quietly to your father about it?" suggested Louise.</p> + +<p>"Sure I never see the old man but when I go into the room in the morning +to wipe my face with the little towel after washing it, and he don't +speak to me himself, but to himself he do be speaking. And the old woman +says to me, 'Go down now to your landlord and see what he can do for +you;' and I said I will go, for if he was at home, there was never a +bishop or a priest or a friar spoke better and honester words to me than +his honour's self."</p> + +<p>Martin Regan paused to take breath and wipe his mouth with his coat +sleeve, and after a moment's abstracted gaze at the vista of tall fir +trees before him, burst out again:</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And now it's whisky and tea for the old woman, and trimmings at two +shillings the yard for the sister's dress, and what for Martin? what for +the boy that worked for them the twelve months long? Me that used to go +a mile beyond Cloon every morning to break stones, and to deal for two +stone o' meal every Saturday to feed the childer when there was nothing +in the field. And it's trying to drive me from the house now they are, +and me to wet my own tea and to dress my own bed, and me after wringing +my shirt twice, with respects to ye, after working all the day in the +potato ridges."</p> + +<p>"Could no one influence your stepmother; has she no friends here?" asked +Louise, much moved.</p> + +<p>Martin Regan laughed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Sure she never belonged to the estate at all," he said, "but came in +the middle of the night on me and the little sister sitting by the +little fire of bushes, and me with a little white coat on me. And we +never knew where she came from, and never brought a penny nor a blanket +nor a stitch of clothes with her, and our own mother brought seventy +pounds and two feather beds. And now she's stiffer than a woman that +would have a hundred pounds. And now the old man's like to die, and +maybe he won't pass the night, and where'll I be? Sure if he would keep +him living a little longer he might get repentance."</p> + +<p>"Had you not better ask the Doctor to see him?" said Louise. "He might +bring him round for a time, and then we must do our best for you."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking that myself," said Regan; "and I believe I'd best go +look for him now; I might chance to find him at home. I heard the old +woman had the priest sent for; but, sure, he's wore out anointing +him—he threatened to die so often. But he's worse now than ever I saw +him." And taking off his hat with many expressions of gratitude, he left +Louise to finish her walk alone.</p> + +<p>An hour or two later she returned, her hands full of sprays and berries +as an excuse for her wanderings. The Colonel was smoking contentedly on +the bench outside the door.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Louise," he said, "you have missed your friend the Doctor you were +so full of when you wrote to me. He seemed to want to see you—I suppose +to have a crack about some of your patients; so I asked him to come and +dine this evening."</p> + +<p>No escape now! Louise bit her lip, and proceeded to arrange her berries.</p> + +<p>"He seems an intelligent young man," the Colonel went on; "rather +good-looking, if he had a drill-sergeant to teach him to hold himself +up; and I hear he doesn't drink, which can't often be said of these +dispensary doctors."</p> + +<p>The red deepened in the girl's face. How could she ever say, "This is +the man I have promised to marry?" With much uneasiness she looked +forward to dinner-time. Dr. Quin sent no apology;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span> nay, was worse than +punctual. He came in rather shyly, looking awkward in a new and +ill-fitting evening suit, for which he had put aside his usual rough +homespun. Louise, furious with herself for having blushed as he +appeared, gave him a cold and formal reception.</p> + +<p>Dinner began uncomfortably for all three, as the Colonel, who had +trusted to his sister to entertain their guest, found himself obliged to +exert his own powers of conversation. The Doctor's discomfort was +intensified by what seemed to one of his simple habits the unusual +variety of courses and dishes. His fish-knife embarrassed him; he waited +to use fork or spoon until he had watched to see which implement was +preferred by his host. He chose "sherry wine" as a beverage; and left a +portion of each viand on his plate, in the groundless fear that if he +finished it he would be pressed to take a further supply. When dessert +was at last on the table, he felt more at ease; his host's genial manner +gave him confidence; and he was led on to talk of his work and prospects +at Cloon, of the long drives over the "mountainy roads," and the often +imaginary ailments of the patients who demanded his attendance, and +their proneness when really ill to take the advice of priest or +passer-by on sanitary matters rather than his own. "But I'll get out of +it, I hope, some day," he said, looking at Louise; "when I get a few +more paying patients and the infirmary, I can give up the dispensary."</p> + +<p>Louise listened, dismayed. It was the thought of succouring the poor and +destitute that had led her to make the resolve of marrying their +physician; and he now dreamed of giving up his mission amongst them! He, +poor lad, only thought for the moment of how he might best secure a home +for his fair bride not too much out of harmony with her present +surroundings.</p> + +<p>"And are you pretty sure of the infirmary?" asked the Colonel with an +appearance of warm interest.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not rightly sure," was the answer. "I have a good deal of +promises and everybody knows me, and the other man, Cloran, is no doctor +at all—only took to it lately. Sure his shop in Cloon isn't for +medicine at all, but for carrot-seed and turnip-seed and every +description of article. But there's bribery begun already; and +yesterday, Mr. Stratton asked one of the Guardians to keep his vote for +me, and says he, 'how can I when I have the other man's money in my +pocket?'"</p> + +<p>"And where did you learn doctoring?" asked the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Well, I walked St. James' Hospital in Dublin three years; and before +that I was in the Queen's College, Galway, where I went after leaving +the National School in Killymer."</p> + +<p>"Were you well taught there?" inquired his host.</p> + +<p>"I was indeed. I learned a great deal of geography and arithmetic. +There's no history taught at all though, nor grammar. But you'll wonder +how good the master was at mathematics, and he nothing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span> look at at +all. His name was Shee," went on the Doctor, now quite over his shyness; +"and he was terrible fond of roast potatoes. I remember he used to put +them in the grate to roast and take them out with two sticks, for in +those days there were no tongs; and one day I brought four round stones +in my pocket and put them in the grate as if they were potatoes to roast +for myself. By-and-by, he went over and took the stick and raked out one +of them, and took it up in his hand and rubbed it on his trousers (so) +to clean it, and not a tint of skin was left on his hand. And I out of +the door and he after me, and I never dared go to the school again till +my grandfather went before me to make peace."</p> + +<p>The Colonel laughed heartily and was proceeding further to draw out his +ingenuous guest, but Louise, visibly impatient, rose to leave the room. +She was chafing with shame and mortification. Had she ever thought of +becoming the wife of that man with his awkward manners and Connaught +brogue? Certainly she had never realised what it meant. She could never +look her brother in the face again if the idea of the engagement should +dawn on him. How could she escape it? Carry it out she could not. All +her enthusiastic wish to spend her life in making this poor district +better was now overshadowed by the unendurable thought of what her +promise entailed.</p> + +<p>Presently the Doctor came in alone, Colonel Eden having gone to write a +letter he wished to send by late post. He came forward at first gladly, +then timidly, repelled by the girl's cold expression as she stood by the +fire in her long white dress. She felt that her only chance of avoiding +dangerous topics was in plunging into the subject of their mutual +patients.</p> + +<p>"Did Regan find you in time to bring you to his father?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He found me," said the Doctor; "but I told him I couldn't come before +to-morrow as I was to dine here. I thought there was no occasion for +hurry."</p> + +<p>"But did he tell you how much depends on his father's life?" said +Louise, unconsciously glad to find something definite at which she might +show displeasure. "Do you not know of the unjust will he has made, and +that if he dies now his son will be disinherited?"</p> + +<p>"He was telling me about it, but there's no danger of his dying yet +awhile," answered the Doctor, unaware of the gathering storm. "That old +man has a habit of dying; he was often like that before."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was your duty to go at once when you are told there is +urgent necessity," said Louise, with heightened colour; "and until now I +thought it was your pleasure also."</p> + +<p>"I'd have gone quick enough, Miss Eden, if I'd known <i>you</i> were so +anxious about it," was the rather unfortunate reply; "and I'll go now +this minute if you wish me to."</p> + +<p>"My wishes are not in question," said the girl, yielding to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span> +irritation she felt against herself and against him; "but if you neglect +the call of the dying on such a trivial plea as a dinner invitation, I +do not think you are justified in holding the position you do."</p> + +<p>Colonel Eden at this moment came in, and the Doctor, feeling he had +given offence, but rather puzzled as to the cause, asked at once that +his car might be ordered, as he had to go and see a patient some way +off.</p> + +<p>"So late, and on such a dark night!" said the Colonel, good-naturedly; +"surely he could wait till to-morrow. Don't you think so, Louise?"</p> + +<p>"I have no opinion to give on the matter," said his sister, coldly.</p> + +<p>She was now really vexed by the young man's quick obedience to what he +interpreted to be her wish. He had no sooner taken leave than she went +to her room and burst into sobs of mortified pride and real perplexity.</p> + +<p>A day or two passed by during which she stayed in the house and garden. +The Colonel was away, doing duty for some fellow "Removable" absent on +leave. On his return he told his sister that he had found a letter +awaiting him calling for his immediate return to Yorkshire on business +connected with settlements.</p> + +<p>"I must go the day after to-morrow," he said; "and would it not be a +good plan, Louise, for you to come with me and make friends with Agnes?"</p> + +<p>A light flashed in the girl's eyes. Was not this a way of escape for +her? Oh, that she might leave Cloon while no one knew of the momentary +folly that now she blushed to remember!</p> + +<p>She quickly assented, and next morning began to make her preparations. +She knew, though she would not confess to the knowledge, that she was +saying good-bye for ever to Inagh, the bright little home where she had +been so happy; but a thought of changing her resolution never crossed +her mind. She still nervously dreaded a visit from the man she was +conscious she was about to wound cruelly, and in the afternoon, hearing +wheels, was relieved to see only her brother driving up. He had called +for a cup of tea, having to drive on and wind up some business at +another village in his jurisdiction.</p> + +<p>"I was sorry to hear of Dr. Quin's accident," he said as he waited. "I +hope it is not so serious as they say."</p> + +<p>"What accident?" asked Louise, startled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, did you not hear that the night he dined here he went on up that +narrow road to Ranahasey to see some old man, and in the dark he was +thrown off his car and the wheel went over him? They brought him back to +Cloon on the car; which was a mistake, and must have caused him agony. +Dr. Cloran, his rival, is looking after him, and seems rather puzzled +about the case, and says if he is not better to-morrow he will send to +Limerick for further advice. I am very sorry, for he seemed an +intelligent, good-hearted young fellow."</p> + +<p>Louise remained alone, sick at heart. What had she done?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> Had she +brought upon this poor lad, in return for his worship of her, actual +bodily injury even before the keener pain that was to follow?</p> + +<p>The dignified letter of dismissal and farewell she had been meditating +all day became suddenly inadequate. She must ask his pardon and break to +him very gently the hard sentence of renunciation and separation. Keen +remorse took hold of her as she remembered his gentle ways with the sick +and suffering, his strength and wisdom, when fighting against disease +and death. Oh that she had never come across his path, or that she had +had a mother or friend to warn her of the dangerous precipice to which +she was unconsciously leading him. What could she do now? She could not +write to him, not knowing into what hands the letter might fall. She +could not leave him to hear by chance next day of her departure. It was +growing dark, and there was no time to lose. She would go to his house, +and at all events leave a message for him. It was hardly a mile away, +and she was not likely to meet anyone on the road.</p> + +<p>The low terraced hills looked bleak and dreary, a watery sky above them. +The pale sunset gleams were reflected in the pools of water on the +roadside, not yet absorbed into the light limestone soil. The straggling +one-sided street forming the entrance to Cloon looked more squalid than +usual, the houses more wretched under their grass-grown thatch, the +gleam and ring from the smithy the only touch of light and sound that +relieved their gloom.</p> + +<p>Louise Eden walked up the little path to the Doctor's house, and, +knocking at the door, asked the old woman who appeared for news of her +master.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, he's the one way always," was the reply; "no better and no +worse since they brought him and laid him on the bed. You'd pity him to +see him lying there, me fine boy."</p> + +<p>"Will you give him a message from me?" asked Louise. "Will you say I +have come to ask how he is, and to say good-bye, as I am going back to +England?"</p> + +<p>"He'll be sorry for that, indeed," said the old woman. "Sure, you'd best +go up and see him yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Louise, shrinking back, "unless—his life is not in +danger, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Danger, is it," echoed old Mamie, indignantly, though not without a +momentary glance of uneasiness. "Why would he be in danger? Sure he +wasn't so much hurted as that. He bled hardly at all only for a little +cut on the head, and sure he has all he wants, and a nurse coming from +Dublin and one of the nuns sitting with him now. It'd be a bad job if he +was in danger, only twenty-four year old, and having such a nice way of +living, and, indeed, he has the prayers of the poor. Go up the stairs +and see him—here's his reverence coming, and might want me," she +continued, as a car stopped at the gate.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, yet not knowing how to draw back, and unwilling to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> meet +the priest, whom she knew slightly, Louise went up the narrow staircase. +She knocked at a door standing ajar, and hearing a low "come in," +entered. It was a small bare room enough, no carpet save one narrow +strip, whitened walls, and a great fire smouldering under the +chimney-board of black painted wood. Even at that first glance she +noticed that the only attempt at ornament was a vase containing a bunch +of the red-seeded wild iris; she remembered having gathered and given it +to the Doctor a little time before as a "yerb" sometimes in request +amongst his patients.</p> + +<p>The fading light fell on the low iron bed upon which the young man lay, +propped up with pillows. His face was much altered by these two or three +days of suffering. The fair hair was covered by a bandage and the blue +eyes looked larger for the black shades beneath them. But as he saw who +his visitor was, a smile, very sweet and radiant, lighted them up, and a +little colour came into the pallid cheeks. A nun, dressed in black and +with a heavily-veiled bonnet half concealing her face, sat by his +bedside, and looked with curiosity at the girl as she came in and gave +her hand to the patient.</p> + +<p>"I have come to ask how you are," she said, "and to tell you how very +sorry I am—we are—for your accident. I am doubly grieved because—" +and she stopped, embarrassed at having to speak before a third person. +The Doctor's eyes were fixed on her face with the same glad smile.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> wanted to see you," he said gently, "but I never thought you would +come to this poor place. I wanted to tell you I had seen old Regan +before I was hurt, and I did my best for him, and I think he won't die +yet awhile."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," began Louise again, and then hesitated. How could she +explain for how much she was sorry? How could she at this moment make +any explanation at all? "I am going away," she went on—"I am going to +England with my brother to-morrow. I have come to say good-bye."</p> + +<p>The eyes that rested on her lost none of their glad look of content; she +was not sure if her words had been understood, and went on talking +rather hurriedly of her brother's arrangements, and who was to take his +place, and of the long journey to Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>"And now I must go," she concluded, "for I have a good deal to do at +home."</p> + +<p>The hand which lay on the counterpane sought a little packet beside the +pillow.</p> + +<p>"This was for you," he said, handing it to her.</p> + +<p>She said good-bye again, and went slowly away; but, turning at the door, +she was filled once more with keen remorse at the sight of the strong +frame laid low, and the glance that followed her was so full of +wistfulness that she felt that she would have stooped and, in asking +forgiveness, have kissed the white-bandaged brow, if it had not been for +the nun's silent presence.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was not until late at night that she remembered and opened the little +packet. It contained a massive marriage ring, such as were used by the +fisher-folk on the Galway coast. She was troubled at seeing it. The +strong-clasped hands and golden heart were an emblem that vexed her. She +felt that while she kept it she could not be free from the promise she +had given, and that her farewell could not have been understood as a +final one. She determined to leave it at the Doctor's house as she +passed to-morrow, and wrote, to enclose with it, a letter, penitent, +humble, begging forgiveness for the wrong she had thoughtlessly done to +so good and loyal a friend. She did not care now if others read it; she +must confess her desertion and implore pardon. The letter was blotted +with tears as she folded it round the heavy ring.</p> + +<p>But that ring of betrothal was never returned. In the morning, as +Colonel Eden and his sister drove for the last time into Cloon, they saw +groups of frieze-coated men and blue-cloaked women whispering together +with sad faces, and a shutter being closed over each little shop window.</p> + +<p>And when they came to the Doctor's house they saw that the blinds were +all drawn down.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/02de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<h2>SONNET.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our life is one long poem. In our youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We rise and sing a noble epic song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trumpet note of sound both clear and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With idyls now and then too sweet for truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lyric of lament, it swells along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tide of years, a protest 'gainst the wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life, an unavailing cry for ruth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wish to know the end—the end forsooth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not on earth. The end which makes or mars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song of life, we who sing seldom know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That end is where, beyond the pale fair stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which have looked down so calmly on our woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal music will set right the jars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all that sounds so harsh and sad below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BRETONS AT HOME.</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By Charles W. Wood, F.R.G.S., Author of "In Sunny Climes," "Letters +from Majorca," etc. etc.</span></h4> + + +<p>We were very sorry to leave Morlaix. The old town had gained upon our +affections. We had found the Hôtel d'Europe very comfortable, and Mr. +and Mrs. Hellard kind and attentive beyond praise. The indiscretions of +that fatal night were more than effaced and forgotten. Morlaix, at the +time of the Fair, was a Pandemonium: at the Regatta, if not exactly +Paradise, it was at least very lively and amusing; whilst, when neither +Fair nor Regatta was in question, Morlaix was full of the charm of +repose; a sleepy atmosphere that accorded well with its old-world +outlines.</p> + +<div class="figleft"> + <img src="images/02.jpg" + alt="Fishwomen, Brittany." + title="Fishwomen, Brittany." /><br /> + <span class="caption">Fishwomen, Brittany.</span> +</div> + +<p>Not least was our regret at saying good-bye to Catherine. She was an +original character, who had much amused and entertained us. There was a +vein of humour in her composition which the slightest touch brought to +the surface. The solemnity of her features never relaxed, and whilst she +made others laugh, and laugh again, her own face would invariably be +grave as a judge's. It was also a pleasure—in these days of +incapacity—to meet with a woman who managed the affairs of her little +world with all the discretion of a Prime Minister.</p> + +<p>"Ces messieurs are going to Quimper," she exclaimed that last morning. +We were alone in the dining-room, taking an early breakfast. Our small +side-table faced the end window, and we looked upon the old square, and +the canal, where a long row of women were already washing, beating, +rinsing their linen, their white caps conspicuous, their voices raised +in laughter that rippled down the troubled waters. It was a lively +scene; very picturesque; very suited to the old town.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ces messieurs are going to Quimper," said Catherine, speaking the name +in the very italics of scorn. "They would do much better to remain in +Morlaix, where at least there is a good hotel, and a Catherine who is +ready to serve them night and day. But human nature is curious and must +see everything. One house is like another; one street like another; the +sea coast is the same everywhere; the same water, the same air, the same +sky; but just because one shore is a bay and the other a point, because +one coast is flat and the other has cliffs, mankind must rush about and +call it seeing the world."</p> + +<p>"Would you have us stay here for ever?" we asked, amused at Catherine's +idea of life and travel.</p> + +<p>"Well, no," she acknowledged; "I suppose not. It would hardly do. +Morlaix, after all, is not exciting. Only I am sorry you are going, and +it makes me unjust to the rest of the world," she acknowledged. "We +shall have a quiet time all this week, and I could have served you +better than I did last. But I don't like Quimper. There is not a decent +hotel in the place, and I wouldn't live there for a hundred francs a +week. I cannot breathe there; I grow limp. It has a dreadful river right +in front of the hotels—you will have benefit. I have heard that there +are seventy-two separate smells in Cologne—in Quimper the seventy-two +are concentrated into one."</p> + +<p>This was not encouraging; but we knew that as Catherine's strong nature +saw things in extremes, so her opinions had to be taken cum grano salis. +In spite of what she said, we departed with much hope and expectation.</p> + +<p>Everyone assisted in seeing us off the premises. They declared it to be +a melancholy pleasure, a statement hard to reconcile with their beaming +faces. Catherine alone was grave and immovable as the Man with the Iron +Mask. Yet she actually presented us—this downright, determined, +apparently unromantic woman—with buttonholes of small white roses tied +up with white ribbon: ribbon that in our grandmothers' days, I believe, +was called <i>love</i> ribbon.</p> + +<p>"We shall look quite bridal," we said, as she placed them in the +destined receptacle next our hearts. "Catherine, why have you never +married?"</p> + +<p>Catherine laughed. "Thereby hangs a tale," she replied, actually +blushing. "It has not been for want of offers, you may be sure; I might +have married twenty times over had I so wished." And so we gathered that +Catherine, too, had had her little romance. Perhaps it had helped to +form her character, and develop her capacities. "And now, be sure that +some day you come back to Morlaix," she added, as she finally +accomplished her delicate task to her satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Shall we find you here?" we asked. "You may have married and gone +away."</p> + +<p>"To toil and slave like Madame Mirmiton!" cried Catherine. "I would not +marry if it was the President of the Republic, or even the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> Marquis de +Carabas. Besides, who would have me at my age? No? no! I know when I am +well off. Men, do you see, are not angels; they are much nearer allied +to the opposite, sauf votre respect! Of course, <i>gentlemen</i>, I admit, +<i>are</i> angels—sometimes. But then, no gentleman would have me. No; I am +a fixture, here, every bit as much as the doors and the windows. +Monsieur and Madame and the hotel would go to ruin without me."</p> + +<p>And, although Monsieur and Madame assisted at this conference, +Catherine's statement went uncontradicted. She was certainly their right +hand, and added no little to the popularity of the establishment.</p> + +<p>Finally we were off. The omnibus took our traps, whilst we walked up +Jacob's Ladder. We let our gaze linger and rest upon all the old +familiar points; the quaint gables, the dormer windows in the red, red +roofs; the latticed panes, behind which life must seem less sad and +sorrowful than it really is; the antiquarian and his old curiosities. He +knew we were leaving, and was on the look-out for us. The pale, +spiritual face stood out conspicuously amidst its surroundings: the +spiritual strangely contrasting with the material. The eyes looked into +ours with their sad, dreamy, far-away gaze, so full of the pain and +suffering of life. Behind him stood his Adonis of a son, the flush of +genius making the countenance yet more beautiful. Perched on his +shoulder was the cherub. He held out his arms as soon as he saw us, and +seemed quite ready to go forth with us and, as Catherine would have +said, see the world. Some of the old Louis Quatorze furniture had been +transferred from the seclusion of the monastery to the glitter of the +outer world, and here found a temporary repose.</p> + +<p>"You are leaving," said the old antiquarian sadly—but his tones were +always sad. "I am sorry. I am always sorry when anyone leaves who +possesses the true artistic temperament. The town feels more deserted. +There are so many things around us that appeal only to the few. But you +have made quite a long stay amongst us; people generally come one day +and depart the next. And now you are bound for Quimper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. What shall we find there?"</p> + +<p>"Much that is interesting; the loveliest church in Brittany; many quaint +and curious houses and perspectives; some things that are better than +Morlaix, but nothing better than our Grande Rue. Brittany has nothing +better than that in its way; nothing so good. Du reste, comparisons +should never be made. But you will find few antiquities in Quimper—and +no old antiquarian," he added with a quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"I am under the impression," said H.C., a sensitive flush mantling to +his poetical and expressive eyes, "that some of these good people are +mistaking us for dealers in curiosities, and fancy that this is our +object in travelling."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/03large.jpg"> + <img src="images/03.jpg" + alt="Quimper." + title="Quimper." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Quimper.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What would your aunt, Lady Maria, say to her nephew's being so +degraded?" we asked.</p> + +<p>"She would diminish her supply of crystallised violets," he returned. +"You know she lives by weight—Apothecaries' Weight—and measures +everything she takes. She would put a few grains less into the balance, +and incense her rooms."</p> + +<p>All the same, I thought him mistaken, and asked the old antiquarian the +plain question. He smiled; the nearest approach we ever saw him give to +a laugh.</p> + +<p>"No, sirs," he replied; "I have not so far erred. We do not make those +mistakes. Besides, you have too much love and veneration for the +beautiful. Indeed we know with whom we have to deal, and in our little +way possess a knowledge of the world."</p> + +<p>But time and tide wait for no man. Our hour was up; the omnibus had +rumbled past us, and we had to depart. We reluctantly turned away from +this interesting group. The rift within the lute was probably busy with +household matters above, and no discordant element marred our farewell. +But we were sad, for we felt that somehow here was being lost and wasted +a great deal of that true talent which is so rare in the world.</p> + +<p>The train rolled away from Morlaix. We had a long journey before us; a +journey right through the heart of Finistère. The first portion of it as +far as Landerneau had already been taken; the remainder was new ground. +The trains are slow and lingering in Brittany; this goes without saying, +and has already been said; but patience was an easy virtue. In spite of +Catherine, new ground must always be interesting.</p> + +<p>The guard had put us into a compartment at Morlaix containing two +people; a young bride and bridegroom or an engaged couple; we could not +be quite sure at which stage they had arrived. The train was almost in +motion and we had no time to change. The gentleman glared at us, and we +felt very uncomfortably in the way. At the next station we left and went +into the next compartment, which contained nothing but a priest reading +his breviary; a dignified ecclesiastic; proving once more that there is +only one step from the ridiculous to the sublime. We carefully removed +all our small traps, including H.C.'s numerous antique parcels. But he +forgot his umbrella, which he had placed up in the rack. A dreadful +umbrella, which had been a martyrdom to me ever since we had left +England. An umbrella that was only fit for a poet or a Mrs. Gamp; huge, +bulky, tied round like a lettuce, with half a yard of stick above the +material, and a crane's head for a handle with a perpetual grin upon it +that was terribly irritating. H.C. called it one of his antiquities, and +was proud of it. When he had first bought it he had offered it to his +aunt, Lady Maria, for a carriage sunshade, who straightway went off into +one of her fainting fits, and very nearly disinherited him. At Quimper I +could stand it no longer, and when his back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span> was turned, I quietly put +it up the chimney. There it no doubt still remains, unless it has +suffered martyrdom in the flames, in return for the martyrdom it had +inflicted upon others. But I am dating forward.</p> + +<p>This horrible apparition he left in the rack of the first compartment. I +saw the omission, and was delighted to think that we had at last got rid +of the encumbrance. Had I only remembered the tale of the Eastern +Slippers I might have taken warning. The train went off; he took a +sketch of the priest, and then hastily looked round.</p> + +<p>"My umbrella!" he exclaimed in an agony. "Where is it? You have not +thrown it out of window?"</p> + +<p>My will had been good to do it many a time, as the familiar saying runs; +but he carried a stick as well as an umbrella, and he was five times as +strong as I.</p> + +<p>"You may have left it at Morlaix," I suggested. "Now I come to think of +it—"</p> + +<p>"The next compartment," he interrupted. "I distinctly remember putting +it up in the rack, and thinking how quaint and pretty the crane's head +looked as it gaped through the netting."</p> + +<p>It is always so. The fateful crossness of events pursues us through the +world. The only time when he should have been absent-minded and +oblivious, his memory served him well. At the next station he got out +for his umbrella, and returned after quite a long interval, not looking +exactly triumphant; rather flushed and uncomfortable; but in proud +possession of the horror.</p> + +<p>"I had quite a difficulty in getting it back," he said. "They had +actually put it up and were sitting under its shade. He complained of +the glare of the sunshine. You see, although these are first-class +compartments, there are no blinds to the windows. So very public."</p> + +<p>"But the morning is grey," I observed. "There is no sunshine."</p> + +<p>H.C. looked out; he had not observed the absence of sunlight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," he returned, doubtfully, "perhaps it was the draught they +complained of. You know I am rather dull at French, and have to make a +shot at a good deal that's said. Any way," he added, with a frank look +of innocence, "I am sure they are only an engaged couple, not married. +Married people wouldn't sit in a railway carriage under one umbrella. +She's very pretty—I wonder whether she's very fond of him? It looks +like it. One compartment—one umbrella. It was <i>my</i> umbrella—then <i>I</i> +ought to have had his place," he added dreamily, as if in some way or +other he felt that something was wrong and the world was a little out of +joint.</p> + +<p>The priest looked up from his breviary. I should have thought he +understood English, only that his expression was rather comical than +reproving. I changed the subject and asked him a question. He +immediately closed his book and disposed himself for conversation We +found him an extremely intellectual and entertaining companion He +intimately knew both Brittany and the Breton character.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am not a Breton," he said in reply to a remark, "but I have lived +amongst them for thirty years. My early days were passed in Paris, and +to live in Paris up to the age of twenty-one is alone an education. My +father was X——, the great minister of his time. My grandfather went +through all the horrors of the French Revolution. He saw the beautiful +head of Marie Antoinette roll into the sawdust; heard the last footfall +of Charlotte Corday as she ascended the scaffold. He always said that +she was one of our most heroic martyrs, and as she walked patiently and +full of courage to her doom, the expression of a saint upon her +features. She was a saint, more worthy of canonisation than some who are +found in the calendar. He was a young man in those days, but its horrors +turned his hair white. Later on he was of great assistance to Napoleon, +although we have always been Royalists. But he held that it was well to +sacrifice private opinion for the good of one's country. It is of no use +fighting against the stream. Life is short, the present only is ours; +therefore why waste the present in vainly wishing for what is not?"</p> + +<p>"And you have chosen neither sword nor portfolio?" we observed.</p> + +<p>"'The lot is cast into the lap,'" he quoted. "I was to have been a +soldier, but just at that moment my sight failed. I was threatened with +blindness. Fortunately it passed off with time, and I now see better +than I did at twenty. But my career as a soldier was ended. I had no +taste for politics—the world is not sufficiently honest. It seems to me +a constant struggling for party and power rather than an earnest union +of hearts and minds to do one's very best for King and country, avienne +que pourra. And as extremes meet in human nature just as they sometimes +meet in the physical world, so I, throwing aside the sword, took to the +cowl. Yes; I withdrew from the world; I entered a monastery; the severe +order of the Trappists. But I made a mistake—I did not know myself. A +life of seclusion, of inactivity, could never be mine. I should have +become demoralised. Half the men who enter monasteries make the same +mistake, but they have not the courage to withdraw. I went back into the +world before my novitiate was six months over. Not to forsake religion, +but to enter the Church."</p> + +<p>"We have heard of you as a great preacher," we remarked.</p> + +<p>"I believe that it is my vocation," he returned with a smile which quite +illumined his face. "Heaven has bestowed upon me the gift of sympathy; I +have influence with my fellow mortals—Heaven grant that I use it well. +I first touch their hearts, then I have gained their minds. This is +especially necessary with the good Breton folk. They are fervently +religious, but not intellectual. They are sterling, but narrow-minded +and superstitious. Nor did I choose my sphere of action; it was placed +before me and I accepted it. I would rather have preached to Parisian +congregations, the refined and cultivated of the earth; but I should +probably not have done more good—if I have done good at all—and it +might have been a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span> snare to me. I might have grown worldly; +intellectually proud; too fond of the good things of this life at the +tables of the rich and great. All that is not possible in Brittany. With +us, more or less, it is Lent all the year round, intellectually as well +as physically. We need very few indulgences from his Holiness."</p> + +<p>There was something extremely winning about him. It must have been the +charm of character, for he had long passed the charm of youth. His hair, +worn long, was white as snow; he must have been verging upon sixty. His +face was pale and very pure in expression; his eyes were large, dark, +and singularly soft and luminous, without a trace of age about them, or +of their early weakness. He was tall and powerfully made, and a tendency +to embonpoint only added to his dignity and importance. He had a fund of +quiet humour about him also, which made him an excellent companion.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/04large.jpg"> + <img src="images/04.jpg" + alt="Old Mill, Landerneau." + title="Old Mill, Landerneau." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Old Mill, Landerneau.</span> +</div> + +<p>"We should much like to hear you preach," we said. "Is there no chance +of our doing so?"</p> + +<p>"I am bound for Quimper," he returned; "so are you. Next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span> Sunday I shall +preach in the cathedral, and if you are still there your wish may easily +be gratified."</p> + +<p>"We are Protestant," I remarked. "You will look upon us as a heretic."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no," he returned quickly. "I am not so narrow-minded as some of +my cloth. One is of Paul, another of Cephas. I would not even try to +convert you, though I am aware that my Church demands it. But to a +certain extent man must be a free agent and judge for himself. I do not +hold with my Church in all things. We are all bound for the same goal, +just as two rivers flowing from opposite directions may empty themselves +into one sea. All roads lead to Rome—it would be sad if only one road +led to Heaven."</p> + +<p>Thus the hours passed swiftly and pleasantly. The country on either side +was diversified and interesting. Occasionally a river, flowing to the +sea, reflected the sky and clouds above, giving poetry to the landscape. +Now hills and gently sloping undulations, here rocky and barren, there +fringed with trees whose graceful curves and branches were traced +against the pale background of sky. Again there were long stretches of +plain, dreary and monotonous, sad and sombre, like the Breton character.</p> + +<p>The peasantry, indeed, are much influenced by their climate, by the sad +aspect of the long reaches of field and plain that so often meet their +gaze, unbroken perhaps by any other object than a cross or calvary +erected under religious influence in days gone by. And these very +crosses, beautiful in themselves, have a saddening tendency, reminding +them constantly of the fact that here they have "no continuing city." +These wide reaches, artistically, are full of tone and beauty, but here +again they are at fault. They know nothing of "tone," of "greys and +greens;" they only know that the general influence is melancholy; that +the sun shines too seldom in their skies, and that those skies too often +weep. They cannot argue and analyse; cannot tell why the tendency of +their nature, individually and collectively, is grave and sombre; +reasoning is beyond them, and if they think of it at all, they arrive at +the truth by instinct. For instinct takes the place of reason, and +gradually dies out as the higher powers of the intellect are developed.</p> + +<p>They stood out here and there in the fields, few and far between, very +picturesque objects; something sad and patient in their very attitudes. +But it was not the time for ploughing and seed-sowing, when they are +seen to greatest advantage; for what is more picturesque than a peasant +following a plough drawn by the patient oxen, who are never, like so +many of the men and women of the world, "unequally yoked together." Here +and there a woman would be kneeling in the fields, her favourite +attitude when minding cattle; kneeling and knitting; there they stay +from sunrise to sunset, their mind a blank; vegetating; expecting +nothing better from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span> life; untroubled by the mysterious problems that +disturb and perplex so many of us; in very many ways so much to be +envied; escaping the heritage of those more richly endowed: the mental +and spiritual pain and oppression of existence.</p> + +<p>The day passed on and we approached Quimper. We thought of Catherine and +wondered what we should find awaiting us. Much, according to her, that +would be better avoided. But as we drew near to the ancient town and +saw, rising heavenwards, the beautiful spires of her cathedral, standing +out in the romantic gloaming as an architectural dream against the +background of sky, we felt that here would be our reward, come what else +might. The train steamed into the station; our day's journey was over. +We must now part from our pleasant travelling companion.</p> + +<p>"I hope not, for ever," he said, as he bared his head on the platform, +according to the polite custom of his country. "We have some things in +common; we see much from the same point of view; accident made me a +Frenchman and a priest, and I would not have it otherwise; but I think +that I could also have been very happy as an Englishman and a member of +your Church. Here I think that we meet half-way; for if I find myself so +much in touch with an Englishman, you seem to me in still closer union +with the French nature."</p> + +<p>Then he gave us his card and asked us if we would go and see him.</p> + +<p>"Do not be afraid," he laughed; "I will not try to convert you—pervert, +you would call it. I think we are both too broad-minded to meddle with +things that do not concern us. Here, I am the guest of the Bishop, but +he is absent, and will only return the day before my departure. It is a +pity, for he would charm you by many delightful qualities, though he may +not be quite so tolerant as I."</p> + +<p>We parted with an understanding that it was to meet again, and went our +different ways. We consigned our traps to the omnibus, H.C. for once +trusting his precious treasures out of sight, but retaining his umbrella +with all the determination of an inquisitor inflicting torture upon a +fellow mortal. A short avenue brought us to the river, which flowed +through the town, and, not without reason, had been condemned by +Catherine. We crossed the bridge and went down the quay. It was lined +with trees, and in fine weather is rather a pleasant walk. The chief +hotels of the town are centred here, and some of the principal shops and +cafés. It is fairly bustling and lively, but not romantic.</p> + +<p>We had been recommended to the Hôtel de l'Epée as the best in Quimper, +and soon found ourselves entering its wide portals; a huge porte-cochère +that swallowed up at a single mouthful the omnibus and the piled-up +luggage that had quickly followed us from the station.</p> + +<p>Ostlers and landlord immediately came forward with ladders and other +attentions, and we were soon domiciled.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a rambling old inn, with winding staircases, dark and dirty, and +guiltless of carpet. The walls might have been painted at the beginning +of the century, but hardly since. "In fact," said H.C., "they look quite +mediæval." There were passages long and gloomy, in which we lost +ourselves. Ancient windows let in any amount of draught and rain, and +would have been the despair of old maids. But we were given a large +room, the very essence of neatness, and beds adorned with spotless +linen. A chambermaid waited upon us, dressed in a Breton cap that was +wonderfully picturesque, and made us feel more in Brittany than ever. +She had long passed her youth, but possessed a frank and expressive +face, and was superior to most of the hotel servants. In early life she +had lived with a noble family, and had travelled with them for many +years. She had seen something of the world.</p> + +<p>Our windows looked on to the back of the hotel, in comparison with which +the front was tame and commonplace. Below us we saw an accumulation of +gables and angles; a perfect sea of wonderful red roofs, with all the +beauty and colouring of age. Some of them possessed dormer windows, that +just now reflected the afterglow of sunset; small dormer windows high up +in the slanting roofs that perhaps had reflected the changes of light +and shade, and day and night, for centuries. Here and there we traced +picturesque courtyards and gardens that were small oases of green in +this wilderness of red-roofed buildings. On the one side flowed the +second river of Quimper, on the other, like a celestial vision, rose the +wonderful cathedral. A dream, a vision of Paradise, it did indeed look +in this fast falling twilight. The towers, crowned by their graceful +spires, rose majestically above this sea of houses. Beyond, one traced +the outlines of pinnacle and flying buttress, slanting roof and +beautiful windows.</p> + +<p>We were just in time for table d'hôte, and groped our way down the dark, +winding stairs. The way to the dining-room lay through the bureau, where +Madame sat in state at her desk, entertaining a select party of friends, +who had evidently called in upon her for a little scandal and +conversation. She was a tall, majestic woman, with a loud voice, and +apparently a long life before her; but at a second visit we paid Quimper +not long after, she, too, had passed into the regions that lie "beyond +the veil."</p> + +<p>The dining-room was long and large and crowded. Most of the people at +table were evidently commercial travellers, and more or less habitués of +the place. All the women who served wore those wonderful Brittany caps, +and quite redeemed the room from its common-place elements.</p> + +<p>The shades of night had quite fallen upon the old town when we went out +to reconnoitre. It would only be possible to gain a faint and scarcely +true impression of what the town was like. At night, new things often +look old, and old new, outlines are magnified, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span> general effects are +altogether lost. The river ran down the quay like a dark and sluggish +thread; there was no poetry or romance about it. The banks were built up +with granite, which made it look more like a canal than a river. To be +at all picturesque it wanted the addition of boats and barges, of which +just now it was free and void. The trees whispered in the night breeze. +On the opposite bank, covering a large space, a fair was holding its +revelry; a small pandemonium; shows were lighted up with flaring gas, +and houris in spangles danced and threw out their fascinations. Big +drums and trumpets made night hideous. The high cliffs beyond served as +a sort of sounding-board, so that nothing was lost.</p> + +<p>We turned away and soon found ourselves in the cathedral square. Before +us rose the great building in all its majesty, distinctly outlined +against the dark sky. In Brittany, one rather hungers for these fine +ecclesiastical monuments, Normandy is so full of them that we miss them +here. Brittany has the advantage in its old towns, but the mind +sometimes asks for something higher and more perfect than mere street +architecture.</p> + +<div class="figleft"> + <img src="images/05.jpg" + alt="Brittany Peasant." + title="Brittany Peasant." /><br /> + <span class="caption">Brittany Peasant.</span> +</div> + +<p>Therefore, even to-night, in the darkness, we revelled and gloried in +the magnificent cathedral that stood before us in such grand +proportions. The spires seemed to touch the skies. The west front was in +deep shadow. We traced the outlines of flying buttresses, of heavier +buttresses between the windows, of the beautiful apse. The windows, +faintly lighted up, added wonderfully to the effect. Surely the church +was not closed? We tried the west door, it yielded, and we entered.</p> + +<p>The interior was in semi-darkness; a gloom that almost inspired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> awe; a +silence and repose which forbade the faintest echo of our footsteps. +Pillars and aisles and arches could be barely outlined. Everything +seemed dim and intangible; we felt that we were going through a vision, +there was so little that was real or earthly about it; so much that was +beautiful, mysterious, full of repose and saintly influence. The far +east end was lost in obscurity, and we could barely trace the outlines +of the splendid roof. Far down, near a confessional, knelt a small group +of hooded women, motionless as carven images. Their heads were bowed, +their whole attitude betrayed the penitential mood. There might have +been eight or ten at most, and they never stirred. But every now and +then a fair penitent issued from the confessional box; and, cloaked and +hooded, glided back to the seat she had lately occupied, and resumed the +penitential attitude. The ceremony was drawing near its end when we +entered, and when all was over they rose in a group and, noiselessly as +phantoms, like spirits from the land of shadows, passed down the long +aisle and disappeared into the night.</p> + +<p>It was a strange hour for confession, and there must have been some +special reason for it. They were strangely dressed, too, in their silken +cloaks and hoods, as if they belonged to some religious order, or some +charitable institution. We wondered much.</p> + +<p>When the west doorway had closed behind them, and not before, the priest +left his box, and we started as we recognised our fellow traveller. How +came it that he was confessing so soon after his arrival, or confessing +at all, in a church to which, as far as we knew, he was not attached? +His tall and portly form looked magnificent and commanding as he stepped +forth into the shadowy aisle, and, preceded by a verger, or suisse, +bearing a lighted flambeau and a staff of office, was soon lost in the +sacristy.</p> + +<p>We lost ourselves in dreams. It is wonderfully refreshing to fall out of +the influence of the crowded and commonplace world into these silent +resting-places, which whisper so much of Heaven, and seem to breathe out +a full measure of the spiritual life. They seem steeped in a religious, +a celestial atmosphere; just as, on the Sabbath, in quiet country +places, far from crowded haunts, surrounded only by the beauties of +nature, there seems a special peace and repose in earth and sky, and +people say to each other, "One feels that it is Sunday."</p> + +<p>But we were very nearly in danger of prolonging our dreams until the +night shadows passed away, and the day-dawn broke and lighted up that +far-off east window. H.C. was a very broken reed to trust to on such +occasions. He was not only wrapped in visions—his spirit seemed +altogether to have taken flight. I was rudely brought back to earthly +scenes and necessities by hearing the key hastily turned in the west +door by which we had entered, and the verger commencing to retrace his +steps, preparatory to putting out the lights and departing himself +through the sacristy.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span></p> + +<p>We hurried up to him, having no mind to pass the night in silent +contemplation, with the pavement for couch and a stone for pillow. The +influence we had just experienced must have given us "pallid sorrowful +faces," for the verger almost dropped his torch, and his keys fell to +the ground and awoke mysterious echoes in the distant arches.</p> + +<p>It was a weird, wonderfully expressive scene. The torch threw lights and +shadows upon aisle and arch, which flickered and danced like so many +ghosts at play, until our nerves felt overwrought and our flesh creeped. +In our present mood it all seemed too strange, too mysterious for earth. +We felt as if we had joined the land of shadows in very truth. But the +verger's voice awoke us to realities: a very earthly voice, unmusical +and pronounced, not at all in harmony with the moment. It grated upon +us; nevertheless, under the circumstances, it was good hearing.</p> + +<p>"Sirs, you are very imprudent," he cried. "You might have been locked up +for the night, and I promise you that it is neither warm nor lively in +this great building at three o'clock in the morning. You also alarmed +me, for I took you for ghosts. I have seen them and believe in them, and +I ought to know. When I die I am persuaded that I, too, shall visit +these haunts, whose pavement I have trod with staff and torch for fifty +years. I took you for ghosts, look you, for you seem harmless and +peaceable, incapable of visiting these sacred aisles for sacrilegious +purposes."</p> + +<p>We felt flattered. The countenance is undoubtedly the index to the inner +man, though it is not given to everyone to read the riddle. It was +consoling to hear that we did not exactly look like midnight assassins.</p> + +<p>"I have never come across anyone like this before," continued the +verger. "I was not in the least prepared for you. What could have +induced you to come in and contemplate all this darkness, and risk being +locked up for the night? If I had been at the other end when I +discovered you, I should have fled, quite sure that you were ghosts. I +tell you that I have seen ghosts, but I do not care to converse with +them; they rather frighten me."</p> + +<p>"Those fair penitents," murmured H.C. "They looked very graceful and +picturesque; therefore they ought to be very pretty. Could I go and see +them, and make a sketch of them? Do you think they would admit me? Are +they nuns?"</p> + +<p>"They are not nuns, or they would not be here," returned the old verger. +"But they do a great deal of good. For my part I should say their +confession was superfluous. They can have no sins. <i>I</i> never go to +confession. What could I say? My life is always the same. I get up in +the morning, open the church; lock it up at night, go to bed. I eat my +meals in peace, do harm to no one, am in charity with all men. There is +my life from January to December. What have I to confess?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are an extremely interesting character, but not so interesting as +the fair penitents," said H.C., bringing him back to the point from +which he had wandered. "Who are they, and can I go and call upon them?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe they would admit you if you took them an order from the +Pope," returned the old verger emphatically. "Without being nuns, they +have taken a vow of celibacy, and live in partial retirement. No man is +ever admitted within their portals, excepting their Father Confessor, +and he is old and ugly; in fact, the very image of a baboon. A very good +and pious man, all the same, is his reverence, and very learned. These +ladies teach the children of the poor; they nurse the sick; they have a +small orphanage; and they are full of good works."</p> + +<p>"Why were they here to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever that very holy man, the Reverend Father, visits Quimper, they +always make it a point of going to confess to him the very first night +of his arrival. The good Mother of the establishment, as she is called, +is his cousin. I am told that she is Madame la Comtesse, by right, but +renounced the world for the sake of doing good. The Reverend Father +arrived only this evening by train. He went straight to the palace, took +a bouillon, and immediately came on here. He is a great man. You should +come on Sunday and hear him preach. There have been times when I have +seen the women sob, and the men bow their heads. But it grows late, +sirs. It is not worth while opening that west door again. If you will +follow me, I will let you out by the sacristy. We will lock up together, +and leave this great building to darkness and the ghosts."</p> + +<p>And ghosts indeed there seemed to be as we followed him up the aisle. He +put out the few lights that remained, until his torch alone guided our +footsteps, which sounded in the immense space, and disturbed the +mysterious silence by yet more mysterious echoes. Lights and shadows +cast by the torch flitted about like wings. The choir gates were closed, +and within them all was darkness and solemnity. Finally we entered the +sacristy, where again the surplices hanging up in rows looked strange +and suggestive. The old verger opened the door, extinguished his torch, +and we stood once more in the outside night, under the stars and the +sky.</p> + +<p>"How often we come in for these experiences," said H.C. "How delightful +they are; full of a sacred beauty and solemnity. How few ever attempt to +enter a cathedral at night, and how much they lose. And yet," he mused, +"perhaps not so much as we imagine. If their souls responded to such +influences, they would seek them out. The needle is attracted to the +pole; like seeks like—and finds it. You cannot draw sweet water from a +bitter well."</p> + +<p>The town was in darkness. The shops were now all closed, but lights +gleamed from many windows. The beautiful latticed panes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> we had found in +Morlaix were here very few and far between. Here and there we came upon +gabled outlines, but much that we saw seemed modern and unpicturesque; +very tame and commonplace after our late experience in the cathedral. +The streets were silent and deserted; all doors were closed; the people +of Quimper, like those of Morlaix, evidently carried out the good old +rule of retiring early. Occasionally we came upon a group of buildings, +or a solitary house standing out conspicuously amidst its fellows, which +promised well for the morrow, and made us "wish for the morning."</p> + +<p>When we found our way back to the quay, all was in darkness. The fair +had put out its lights, closed its doors, and dismissed the assembly. +Where the people had gone to, we knew not; we had seen none of them. A +few cafés were still open, and their lights fell across the pavement and +athwart the roads, and gleamed upon the rustling trees. We turned in to +the hotel, where all was quiet. The night was yet young, but the +staircases were in darkness and we had to grope our way. Decidedly it +was the most uncivilized place we had yet come to, and Catherine was not +very far wrong in her judgment.</p> + +<div class="figleft"> + <img src="images/06.jpg" + alt="A Brittany Servant." + title="A Brittany Servant." /><br /> + <span class="caption">A Brittany Servant.</span> +</div> + +<p>The next morning we awoke to grey skies. "It always rains at Quimper," +said Catherine, and she was only quoting a proverb. There was something +close and oppressive and depressing about the town. The air was +enervating. The hotels were unfavourably placed. The quays were +commonplace—for Brittany. There was nothing romantic or beautiful about +the river, which, I have said, resembled a canal. Its waters were black +and sluggish, confined, as they probably were, by locks. In front rose +high cliffs which shut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span> out the sky and the horizon and heaven's +glorious oxygen. We many of us know what it is to dwell for some time +under the shadow of a great mountain. Gradually it seems to oppress us +and crush down upon us until we feel that we must get away from it or +die of suffocation. Here there was a heaviness in the air which taxed +all our mental resources, our reserve of energy, our amiability to the +utmost.</p> + +<p>The cathedral by daylight should be our first care, and we found it +worthy of all the effect it had produced upon us last night. All its +mystery and magic had gone, but all the beauty and perfection of +architecture remained. Certainly we had seen nothing like it in +Brittany.</p> + +<p>It is dedicated to St. Corentin, a holy man who is supposed to have come +over from Cornwall in the very early ages of the Christian era. Quimper +was then the capital of the Cornouaille, a corruption, as we can easily +trace, of the word Cornwall. The cathedral, commenced about the year +1239, was only completed in 1515. The spires are modern, but of such +excellent workmanship and design that they in no way interfere with the +general effect. The harmony of the whole is indeed remarkable when it is +considered that it was nearly three centuries in process of +construction. The west front is very fine and stately, with deep portals +magnificently sculptured. It was commenced in 1424, and is surmounted by +two flamboyant windows, one above the other. Within the contour of the +arch is a triple row of angels, sculptured with a great deal of artistic +finish. Time, however, whilst beautifying it, has robbed it of some of +its fineness.</p> + +<p>The towers were also commenced in 1424, and the great bell of the clock +which they contain dates from 1312. The north and south doorways are +both fine. The latter is dedicated to St. Catherine, and a figure of the +saint adorns a niche in the left buttress. Both portals possess scrolls +bearing inscriptions or mottoes, such as, A ma Vie, one of the mottoes +of the House of Brittany. In the pediment of the west doorway is the +finest heraldic sculpturing that the Middle Ages of Brittany produced. +In the centre, the lion of Montfort holds the banner of Brittany, on +which may be read the motto of Duke John V.: Malo au riche duc. In the +corner to the left are the arms of Bishop Bertrand de Rosmadec, stamped +with the mitre and crozier, and the motto, En bon Espoir. Many other +mottoes, such as Perac (Wherefore?); A l'aventure; Léal à ma foy; En +Dieu m'attens, belonging to different lords of Brittany, will also be +found here.</p> + +<p>The effect of the interior is extremely grand and imposing. It is of +great height, whilst the side chapels and outer aisles give it an +appearance of more breadth than it deserves. The apse is polygonal. The +principal nave, with its large arches, its curved triforium, and its +flamboyant windows, bears the mark of the fifteenth century. The choir +is thirteenth century, and possesses a triforium with a double<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span> gallery, +surrounded by gothic arches supported by small columns, of which the +capitals are extremely elegant.</p> + +<p>The church has a peculiarity which is not often found, at any rate in so +pronounced a manner. The chancel is not in a line with the nave, but +inclines to the left, or north. Thus, in standing at the west end, only +a portion of the apse can be seen. The effect is singular, and, at the +first moment, seems to offend. But after a time the peculiarity becomes +decidedly effective. The stiffness of the straight line, of the sides +running exactly parallel one with the other, is lost. One grows almost +to like the break in the uniformity of design. It appeals to the +imagination. Certain other cathedrals incline in the same way, but in a +more modified form. The architects' reasons for thus inclining the choir +are lost in obscurity. By some it has been supposed that their motive +was purely effect; by others that it was in imitation or commemoration +of our Lord, Who, when hanging upon the cross, inclined His Head to the +left.</p> + +<p>Many of the windows are old, and add greatly to the fine effect of the +interior. Those in the nave date from the end of the fifteenth century. +Some of those in the choir—unfortunately the most conspicuous—are +modern; but a few are ancient. The whole interior has suffered in tone +by restoration and scraping.</p> + +<p>The high-altar is richly decorated with enamels and precious stones. The +tabernacle—in the centre of which is a figure of the Saviour in the act +of blessing—is flanked by twelve arcades, containing the figures of the +Apostles in relief, holding the instrument of their martyrdom. It is +crowned by a cross with double rows, or branches, at the foot of which +are the evangelists with their symbolical animals. The lower arms of the +cross bear the figures of the Virgin and St. John weeping at the feet of +the crucified Redeemer.</p> + +<p>Amongst the treasures of the cathedral are preserved three drops of +blood, of which the following is the legend:—</p> + +<p>A pilgrim of Quimper, on starting for the Holy Land, had confided a sum +of money to a friend. On returning, he claimed the money, but the friend +denied having received it, offering to take an oath to that effect +before the crucifix in the church of St. Corentin. At the moment of +raising his hand to take the oath, he gave a stick that he carried to +his friend to hold. The stick was hollow and contained the gold. As soon +as he had taken the oath, the stick miraculously broke in two, and the +money rolled on to the pavement. At the same moment the feet of the +crucifix, held together by a single nail, separated, and three drops of +blood fell on to the altar. These drops were carefully absorbed by some +linen, which is preserved amongst the treasures of the church. The +miracle is reproduced in a painted window of one of the chapels.</p> + +<p>Last night we had seen the interior in the gloom and mystery of +darkness; this morning we saw it by the dim religious light of day. It +was difficult to say which view was the more impressive. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span> results +were very different. We now gazed upon all its beauty of detail, all the +harmony of perfect architecture. The coloured rays coming in through the +ancient stained windows added their glamour and refinement to the scene; +to those that were more modern we tried to shut our eyes. The lofty +pillars of the nave, separating the aisles, rose majestically, fitting +supports for the beautiful gothic arches above them, in their turn +surmounted by the triforium; in their turn again crowned by the ancient +windows. Above all, at a great height, came the arched roof. Thus the +eye was carried up from beauty to beauty until it seemed lost in +dreamland. Wandering aside, it fell upon the aisles and side chapels, +visions of beauty interrupted only by the wonderful columns, with their +fine bases and rich capitals. The east window seemed very far off, a +portion of it lost in the curve to the left, together with the beautiful +gothic arches and double triforium of that side of the choir.</p> + +<p>We sat and gazed upon all, and lost ourselves in the spell of the +vision; and presently our old friend the verger found us out.</p> + +<p>"But you <i>live</i> in the cathedral!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No," we replied; "we should only like to do so. We envy you, whose days +are chiefly passed here."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he returned, with the resigned air of a martyr. "If you +had trodden this pavement for fifty years as I have, I think you would +like to change the scene. And I have not the chance of doing it even in +the next state, for you know I have a conviction that I shall come back +here as a ghost. I thought <i>you</i> were ghosts last night, and a fine +fright you gave me. I don't know why ghosts should frighten one, but +they do. I don't like to feel that when I get into the next state, and +come back to earth as a ghost, I shall frighten people. It would be +better not to come back at all."</p> + +<p>"What are they like, those that you have seen?" we asked, out of +curiosity.</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes, as if invoking a vision, put on a very solemn +expression, and then opened them with a wide stare into vacancy. We +quite started and looked behind us to see if any were visible.</p> + +<p>"No, they are not there," he said. "They only come at night. How can I +describe them? How can you describe a shadow? They are all shadows, and +they seem everywhere at once. I never hear them, but I can see them and +feel them. I mean that I feel them morally—their influence: of course +you cannot handle a ghost. The air grows cold, and an icy wind touches +my face as they pass to and fro."</p> + +<p>"Then if the wind is icy they cannot come from purgatory?" suggested +H.C. very innocently.</p> + +<p>The old verger seemed a little doubtful; the idea had not occurred to +him. "I don't know about that," he said. "I have heard that the extremes +of heat and cold have the same effect upon one. So perhaps what feels +like ice to me is really the opposite. But my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> idea is that the ghosts +who appear on earth are exempt from purgatory: to visit the scenes of +their former haunts under different conditions must be sufficient +punishment for their worst sins."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/07large.jpg"> + <img src="images/07.jpg" + alt="Quimper." + title="Quimper." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Quimper.</span> +</div> + +<p>So that our verger was also a philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Have you never spoken to one, and made some inquiry about the next +world?" we asked. "Have they never given you some idea of what it is all +like?"</p> + +<p>"Never," he replied. "I am much too frightened. Just as frightened now +as I was when I first saw them fifty years ago. Nor would they reply. +How can they? How can shadows talk? I only once took courage to speak," +he added, as if by an after recollection. "I thought it was the ghost of +a woman who promised to marry me, and then jilted me for a journeyman +cabinet-maker. He treated her badly and she died at the end of two +years. Somehow I felt as if it was her spirit hovering about me, and I +took courage and spoke."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I received no answer; only a long, long sigh, which seemed to float all +through the building and pass away out of the windows. But it was a +windy night, and it may have been only that. For if shadows can't talk, +I don't see how they can sigh."</p> + +<p>The old verger evidently had faith in his ghosts. The fancy had gained +upon him and strengthened with time into part of himself; as inseparable +from the cathedral as its aisles and arches.</p> + +<p>"Have you never tried the experiment of passing a night in these old +walls?" we asked.</p> + +<p>"Once; thirty years ago."</p> + +<p>"And the result?"</p> + +<p>He turned pale. "I can never speak of that night. What I saw then will +never be known. I cannot think of it without emotion—even after thirty +years. Ah, well! my time is growing short. I shall soon know the great +secret. When we are young and going up-hill, we think ourselves +immortal, for we cannot see the bottom of the other side, where lies the +grave. But I have been going down-hill a long time; I am very near the +end of the journey, and see the grave very distinctly."</p> + +<p>"Yet you seem very happy and cheerful," said H.C.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" returned the old verger. "Old age should not be miserable, +but the contrary. The inevitable cannot be painful and was never +intended to be anything but a source of consolation; I have heard the +Reverend Father say so more than once. Shall you come and hear him +preach next Sunday? The whole place will be thronged. He spoke to me +about you this morning—it must be you—I have just been to the Evéché +for his commands—and said that in case you came I was to reserve two +places for you inside the choir gates—quite the place of honour, sirs. +You will see and hear well; and when preaching, it is almost as good to +watch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span> him as to listen. Ah! I have been here fifty years, but I never +saw his equal."</p> + +<p>"And the Bishop?"</p> + +<p>"I never make comparisons; they must always be to the disadvantage of +one or the other," replied this singular old man. "And now I must away +to my duties."</p> + +<p>"One word more," said H.C. hastily. "Will those picturesque ladies come +again to Confession to-night?"</p> + +<p>"To-night!" he returned reproachfully. "Do you think those virtuous +creatures pass their lives in sinning—like ordinary beings? No, no. +Besides—enough's as good as a feast, and they were well shriven last +night. They are now reposing in the odour of sanctity. Au revoir, +messieurs. I see your hearts are in the cathedral, and I know that I +shall meet you here again before Sunday."</p> + +<p>He departed. We watched his stooping figure and his white hair moving +slowly up the aisle, so fitting an object for the venerable building +itself. He disappeared in the sacristy, and a few moments after we found +ourselves without the building, standing in the shadow of the great +towers, under the grey skies of Quimper.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/01de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<h2>TO MY SOUL.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the French of Victor Hugo.</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You stray, my soul, whilst gazing on the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The path of duty is the path of life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit by the cold hearth where dead ashes lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put on the captive's chain—endure the strife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be but a servant in this realm of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O child of light!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To lost and wandering feet deliverance bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fulfil the perfect law of suffering;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink to the dregs the bitter cup; remain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In battle last; be first in tears and pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, with a prayer that much may be forgiven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go back to Heaven!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">C.E. Meetkerke.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span></p> +<h2>SO VERY UNATTRACTIVE!</h2> + + +<p>"Yes," meditated pretty Mrs. Hart; "I suppose it would be invidious to +pass her over and ask the other three, but I would so much rather have +them."</p> + +<p>"Cannot you ask the whole four?" suggested her sister.</p> + +<p>"Does it not strike you as being almost too much of a good thing? You +see, our space is not unlimited."</p> + +<p>"Ask the three eldest," said Bertie Paine decidedly.</p> + +<p>"But I do not want her. What use is she? She can sing, certainly, but +you cannot keep her singing all the evening; and the rest of the time +she neither talks nor flirts. And she is altogether so very +unattractive," ended Mrs. Hart, despondently.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" asked the handsomest man in the room, strolling up to the +group by the window. "Who is this unfortunate lady? I always feel such +sympathy with the unattractive, as you know."</p> + +<p>"Naturally," laughed Mrs. Hart. "The individual in question is a Miss +Mildmay, a plain person and the eldest of four sisters."</p> + +<p>"Mildmay? Who are they? I used to know people of that name, and there +were four girls in the family. One of them—her name was Minnie, I +remember—promised to grow up very pretty."</p> + +<p>"So she is; Minnie is the third. They are certainly your friends, Mr. +Ratcliff. They are all pretty but the eldest, and all their names begin +with M: Margaret, Miriam, Minnie, and Maud. Absurd, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody had a strong fancy for alliteration. So Miss Mildmay is +plain?"</p> + +<p>"Very plain, very dull, very uninteresting," said Mrs. Hart and her +sister in a breath. "Much given to stocking-knitting and good works."</p> + +<p>"And good works comprise?" quoth Mr. Ratcliff, interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"She sat up every night for a week with Blanche Carter's children when +they had diphtheria, and saved their lives by her nursing," said Elsie +Paine indignantly. "That is the woman that those good people sneer at. +You are not fair to her, Mrs. Hart. She has a sweet face when you come +to know her."</p> + +<p>"There, you have put Elsie up," cried mischievous Bertie. "No more peace +for you here, Mrs. Hart. Come out into the garden with me, and postpone +this question in favour of tennis."</p> + +<p>The conclave broke up and Mark Ratcliff said and heard no more of +Margaret Mildmay. He betook himself to solitude and cigars, and as he +strode over the breezy downs he wondered what a predilection for +stocking-knitting and good works might signify in the once merry girl, +and if they might be possibly a form of penance for past misdeeds.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She did behave abominably," he said to himself, flinging a cigar-end +viciously away into a patch of dry grass, which ignited and required +much stamping before it consented to go out. "Yes, she behaved +abominably, and at my time of life I might amuse myself better than in +thinking of a fickle girl. Poor Margaret! stockings and good works—she +might have done as well taking care of me!"</p> + +<p>Then he lit another cigar, put up a covey of partridges, remembered how +he used to shoot with Margaret's father, told himself that there was no +fool like an old fool—not referring to Mr. Mildmay in the least—and +took himself impatiently back into the town.</p> + +<p>And there he did a very dishonourable thing.</p> + +<p>A bowery lane ran at the bottom of the gardens attached to a row of +scattered villas, picturesque residences inhabited by well-to-do people; +and along the bank were placed benches here and there, inviting the +passer-by to rest.</p> + +<p>From one of the gardens came the sound of quiet voices, one of which he +knew, though it had been unheard for years. He sat himself deliberately +down upon the bench conveniently near the spot, and hearkened to what +that voice had to say.</p> + +<p>"Sing to me, Margaret, dear," pleaded the other speaker. "I am selfish +to be always wanting it, I know, but it will not be for long now, and if +you do not sing me 'Will he Come?' I shall keep on hearing it till I +have to try to sing it myself, and that hurts."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Ailie. You know I will sing," and Mark Ratcliff held his breath +in surprise as the notes of the song rose upward.</p> + +<p>Margaret used to sing, but not like this. Every note was like a winged +soul rising out of prison. He had never heard such a voice before. No +wonder that Mrs. Hart had said that she could sing, and no wonder that +this sick girl wanted to hear it. By the way, this was one of the good +works, of course!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rest to the weary spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace to the quiet dead,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>repeated Ailie as the song died away. "He never came, Margaret, and he +never will come to me. It may be wicked, but I could die gladly if I +could see him first and know that he had not betrayed me. It is terrible +to lie drifting out into the dark without a word from him!"</p> + +<p>"Dear Ailie, why do you make me sing this wretched song? Why do you try +to dwell on the thought of faithless loves? Have patience a little; your +letters may yet find him."</p> + +<p>"Too late. In time for him to drop a tear over my grave and tell you +that he never meant to hurt me," cried the girl hysterically. "Oh, +Margaret! Why do I tell you all the anguish that eats upon my heart? If +you could only know the comfort you are to me! the blessed relief of +lying in your arms and telling you what nobody else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span> could forgive or +understand! You are the best person I know, and yet you never make me +feel myself lost beyond redemption."</p> + +<p>"You are talking nonsense, darling," said the voice of the very dull +person.</p> + +<p>"Am I, you pearl of womanhood? What would you say if I told you all the +fancies I have about you? Ah, Margaret, I do not want to know that you +have had your heart broken by a false lover!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I was always a plain and unattractive person, just as I am at +this day," answered Margaret in a voice of infinite gentleness. "But why +should you not know? There are more faithless than faithful lovers, may +be; the one I had grew tired of so dull a person and he went away. That +was all."</p> + +<p>Then the two women moved away towards the house and the garden lay in +silence.</p> + +<p>Mark Ratcliff sat stiff with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he exclaimed at last. "She flings all the blame on me! The +whole treachery was hers, and this is positively the coolest thing that +ever I heard. Faithless lover, indeed! When she dismissed me with actual +insult! But a woman with such a voice might do almost anything, you +plain and unattractive Miss Mildmay!"</p> + +<p>He lit another cigar, rose in leisurely fashion and sought the way to +the front entrances of the villas. Under the shade of the +horse-chestnuts, which his critical eye decided to be, like himself and +Margaret, approaching the season of the sere and yellow leaf, he +loitered, smoking and watching, and counting up the years since he had +waited and watched for the same person before.</p> + +<p>At last the right door opened and down the steps came a very +sober-looking and unconscious lady. She was thinking of nothing but the +dying girl from whom she had just parted.</p> + +<p>"Margaret!"</p> + +<p>She started violently. She knew the voice well enough, but after these +years it was impossible that it should be sounding here.</p> + +<p>"Margaret!" he said again imperatively.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ratcliff," she faltered. "I did not expect to see you again."</p> + +<p>"Your expectations seem to be a little curious," he replied, surveying +her coolly. "There is a great deal that you have to explain to me. What +do you mean by calling me a false lover?"</p> + +<p>"Who told you that I accused you of falsehood?" she asked, dropping the +book she was carrying in her surprise. "If I did you could scarcely +contradict me, but this is not quite the place for such discussions."</p> + +<p>He possessed himself of the book and led the way to the public gardens, +where the principal walks offered privacy enough at an hour when most of +the world was busy over tennis. Children and nursemaids do not count as +intruders on privacy.</p> + +<p>"See here, Margaret, I was eavesdropping under the garden-fence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> while +you talked with your sick friend, and I heard you giving me a famously +bad character. At least," suddenly recollecting himself, "unless I have +made a fool of myself, and it was somebody else you meant."</p> + +<p>Margaret said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Had you ever any other love?"</p> + +<p>"Never," said she, and the colour flew up into her pale face. She did +not at all understand the accusation brought against her, or the +fierceness of the accuser.</p> + +<p>"Then apologise at once for the charge you have brought against me."</p> + +<p>She looked up at him with knitted brows. She wanted to look at him, but +her eyes would drop again immediately.</p> + +<p>"Are you not unreasonable?" she asked. "Years ago you made love to me. +Then you went away. Your father was ill, and you could not choose but +go, but you gave me to understand that you were coming back to me. You +never came. Do you call that faithfulness?"</p> + +<p>"I wrote."</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Margaret!" he cried indignantly. "I wrote and had your answer. Are you +dreaming?"</p> + +<p>"You never wrote. In my life I never wrote to you."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! When I have your letter in my pocket! I wrote to you +asking if I might come back as your accepted lover, and you sent me this +in return," said he, giving her the paper for which he had searched his +pocket-book.</p> + +<p>She took it and looked it over. When she gave it back her glance was +fixed far away over the miraculous river that ran with mimic waterfalls +through the gardens, and she was ghastly pale.</p> + +<p>"I did not write that," she said. "You ought to have known it."</p> + +<p>"It is your signature and your hand."</p> + +<p>"It is like my hand. I never signed myself M. Mildmay. How could I, when +we were all M. Mildmay?"</p> + +<p>A light broke in upon him. They were all M. Mildmay, of course, and he +remembered a long-forgotten feud with Miriam. He bit his lip and stamped +his foot angrily. What a fool he had been!</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," said Margaret humbly. "For all the world I would not have +insulted you, and it is cruel that you should have had to think it of +me. I do apologise for any share I have had in it."</p> + +<p>Her heart and throat were almost bursting with agony as she spoke in +those quiet tones, and he stamped away up the path with his back to her.</p> + +<p>"Margaret!" he said, coming back and seizing her hands. "I thought I was +case-hardened, but just tell me that you loved me then!"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I love you now," she answered, crying a little. "I am not of the sort +that changes in the matter of loving. Is it bold to say that, and I so +unattractive?"</p> + +<p>"Hang your unattractiveness! Margaret, just say, 'I love you, Mark +Ratcliff,' and set me some atoning penance for my idiocy. You do not +know what a curse that vile paper has been to me," and he shot the +offending missive into the foolish little river and broke into vigorous +and ungraceful language with regard to the writer.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush!" cried Margaret, in deep distress. "She is my sister, and +she could not know how much it meant to me."</p> + +<p>"Of course not! And what did it matter to her that I must go hungry and +thirsty all these years, cursing the whole of womankind because you had +tricked me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, why did you distrust me?" exclaimed she sorrowfully, leaning back +against the holly arbour in which they had sheltered, and bursting into +downright weeping.</p> + +<p>"What an amiable desire you evince to throw the fault on me, Margaret," +and he drew her hands from her face very gently; "must there be tears +now that I have found you again? Forgive me, dear. I was worse than a +fool to doubt you, but now we will leave room for no more possibilities +of trouble and parting. I am going to find out that other poor +distrusted beggar, your friend Ailie's lover, and let him know what you +women accuse him of, and when I come back, we shall see!"</p> + +<p>"See what?" gasped Margaret.</p> + +<p>"What we shall see!" he returned, triumphantly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Awfully sorry to have been late for dinner, Mrs. Hart," said Mr. +Ratcliff, without the least appearance of distress, when he joined the +ladies in the drawing-room; "I was unavoidably detained. By the way, +your party is not for another month, I think?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, wondering why her handsome friend looked so gleefully +mischievous. "I have fixed upon the thirtieth; I do not want to clash +with Mrs. Dent and Mrs. Clarence."</p> + +<p>"Then I am commissioned to tell you that you may invite all the Misses +Mildmay, without the least inconvenience. Miss Mildmay the undesirable +will not be in a position to accept your invitation. It is anticipated +that she will then be on her wedding tour as Mrs. Mark Ratcliff."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! How sudden!" exclaimed Mrs. Hart, opening her pretty +blue eyes to their widest extent; and for the life of her she could not +help adding under her breath, "And she so very unattractive!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span></p> +<h2>MADEMOISELLE ELISE.</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By Edward Francis.</span></h4> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<p>M. Lorman, director of the Théâtre Royal, Rocheville, stood at a window +of Mademoiselle Elise's apartment that looked on the Rue Murillo, Paris. +His gloves were drawn on, he carried his hat and stick, and he waited +impatiently—now smoothing his grey moustache, now looking at his watch, +now tapping his well-polished boot with the tip of his cane. Then he +turned his back to the window and began to walk to and fro. At the +second turn, he paused before a picture—a little water-colour +sketch—that hung from the wall. It was a painting of a girl dressed in +a rich costume of the Empire. Her slight figure was bent a little +forward, and her tiny hands drew back a pale green skirt, just so much +as to show one dainty pink shoe. M. Lorman adjusted his spectacles to +make a closer inspection.</p> + +<p>The door of the room opened, and Mademoiselle Elise came in, carrying an +open note-book in her hand.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle was about twenty-four years of age, and not tall, her +figure was slender and well-proportioned, her dress fitted perfectly. +Her hair and eyes were dark, her lips thin. When she talked her features +grew animate, and she became beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "you may take rooms for me at the Hôtel St. Amand. I +want to be close by the cathedral."</p> + +<p>Then she looked at the picture.</p> + +<p>"Did you recognise me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. But who did it? It is charming."</p> + +<p>"It is very nice. Bouvard painted it and gave it to me. I am very fond +of it."</p> + +<p>"It is an excellent likeness!"</p> + +<p>"I think it is. I am vain enough to be proud of it. But tell me—what +shall I do with myself at Rocheville?"</p> + +<p>"As if you were ever at a loss! You will have enough society; and there +are the students and the officers—"</p> + +<p>"Bah! I am sick of them all. I shall turn recluse and spend all my days +in some quiet nook by the sea. After Paris, one hates society."</p> + +<p>"After Paris," said M. Lorman, "one hates many good things."</p> + +<p>He laughed self-complacently, and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She went with him to the hall, and waited, leaning against the table and +breaking to pieces a shred of grass that she had taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span> from a vase, +while he drew a great packet of loose papers from the breast-pocket of +his coat, and tried to discover the time of his train.</p> + +<p>"Who will play the dance in 'Le vrai Amant?'" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Raoul—a man who fiddles for love of the thing. He is a +hunchback, or nearly so, and will interest you."</p> + +<p>"Why will he interest me?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur, as he answered, ran his gloved finger slowly down the line of +close figures.</p> + +<p>"He will interest you for several reasons. Firstly, because he plays +superbly and asks for no pay. He is rich. Secondly, because he is clever +and dislikes women; and, finally—because you won't understand him."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle laughed defiantly.</p> + +<p>"He is a gentleman, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Will he dislike <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I have used a wrong word. It is more disdain than dislike."</p> + +<p>"Will he disdain me?"</p> + +<p>M. Lorman replaced the papers in his pocket and looked with comic +gravity at her, as if to judge the effect she would be likely to have on +his friend. Then, his eyes twinkling with mischief, he answered +deliberately:</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He took up his hat and stick and prepared to go.</p> + +<p>"Eh bien," she retorted, "that is a challenge. You have found something +to occupy me. Adieu. Take care that my room faces the cathedral."</p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>Someone had gone out by the stage-door and the noise of the storm came +in along the low passage. The theatre was almost in darkness. Only +Monsieur Raoul and old Jacques Martin were there. In the shadow, as he +bent over his violin case, the younger man seemed tall and well-made; +but when he stood up, though he was tall, his bent shoulders became +apparent, and the light fell on a stern, pale face that seemed older +than its thirty years. He began to button his cloak around him.</p> + +<p>"You might tell ma femme, Monsieur Raoul, that I shall be late. I must +prepare for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The old man and his wife kept house for Raoul, who was a bachelor.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly I will tell her." Then Raoul went away.</p> + +<p>The rain had ceased, but the scream of the wind sounded again and again. +The thin, weather-beaten trees bent low, like reeds; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> heavy clouds, +suffused with moonlight, drove inland in rugged broken masses.</p> + +<p>For a few moments Jacques lingered on; then he put out the lights, +locked up, drew his coat closer round his spare body, and hurried across +to the more cheerful shelter of the Café des Artistes.</p> + +<p>In the Rue Louise the door of Raoul's house opened directly into the +kitchen. Madame Martin was sitting patiently by the fire, knitting. She +rose and took the violin case and wiped the raindrops from its +waterproof covering. Then she hung up Raoul's cloak.</p> + +<p>"And Jacques, Monsieur?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Jacques will be late. He bade me tell you, Julie."</p> + +<p>"He is always late!"</p> + +<p>"He has to prepare for Mademoiselle Elise, who comes to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Raoul went to his room, and in a few moments Julie carried his supper up +to him there. Then, with the assurance of an old servant, she stood a +moment at the door, with her hands crossed before her.</p> + +<p>"The new actress comes from Paris, Monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It will be a good thing."</p> + +<p>"A very good thing—for the Théâtre Royal."</p> + +<p>"She will require a great salary."</p> + +<p>"Of course; but the proprietors will gain. Everybody will want to see +her."</p> + +<p>"She lodges at M. Lorman's?"</p> + +<p>"No. She will stay at the Hôtel St. Amand, opposite the cathedral."</p> + +<p>"Is she old, Monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"No, not old; not thirty years."</p> + +<p>"Ah!—The sea is very rough to-night, Monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Yes; more so than we often see it."</p> + +<p>She went downstairs. By-and-by, as she sat knitting, she heard +Monsieur's fiddle as he played over a passage in the morrow's score.</p> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>Mademoiselle Elise was down early at the theatre, which looked very grey +and very miserable in the pitiless daylight. M. Lorman was with her. +When Raoul appeared, she said:</p> + +<p>"So this is your monster. Introduce him to me."</p> + +<p>And the hunchback, with his fiddle under his arm and his bow hanging +loosely from his left hand, was duly presented. Mademoiselle's eyes +beamed graciously as she held out her hand and said what pleasure it +gave her to make the acquaintance of one who loved art for its own sake. +Then, while M. Lorman bustled here and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span> there, she took the violin and +begged Raoul to show her how to hold it. She laughed like a child when +the drawing of the bow across the strings only produced a horrid noise. +Then she asked him to play the dance movement from the garden scene.</p> + +<p>He played.</p> + +<p>"A little slower, please."</p> + +<p>He played more slowly. She moved a few steps, and then paused and sat +down, marking the time of the music with her foot.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is beautiful!" she said.</p> + +<p>Raoul sat and watched while the rehearsal proceeded.</p> + +<p>They played "Le vrai Amant." Mademoiselle infused a new life into all, +and scarcely seemed to feel the labour of it. Raoul marvelled that a +woman, apparently delicate, should be possessed of such tireless energy. +She criticised so freely, and insisted so much on the repetition of +seeming trivialities, that, as the morning wore on, Augustin—who was +"le vrai Amant"—lost patience and glanced markedly at his watch. But +she did not heed him.</p> + +<p>Beside Raoul sat M. Lorman, in high spirits. "Good! good!" he ejaculated +at intervals. "But she is marvellous!" And after each outburst of +satisfaction he took a pinch of snuff.</p> + +<p>When at last Mademoiselle sank exhausted into her chair, the others +seized hats and cloaks and fled hurriedly, lest she should revive and +begin all over again.</p> + +<p>She called to Raoul to bring his score, that she might show him where to +play slowly and where to pause; and M. Lorman having wrapped a shawl +around her shoulders, she began gossiping with Augustin. When they +differed, she appealed to Raoul, and agreed prettily with his decision. +Augustin succumbed to her influence at once, and lost all his sulkiness. +He had played at the Odéon, and he knew what art was. M. Sarcey had said +of him that he would do well; and M. Regnier had been pleased to advise +him. He told Mademoiselle this, and he promised to bring to her a copy +of the <i>Temps</i> that she might read the great critic's words for herself. +She ended the conversation with coquettish abruptness, and begged Raoul +to kneel beside her chair a moment, and follow her pencil as she marked +the manuscript and explained what her marks were intended to mean.</p> + +<p>When Augustin had gone, she leaned back to where M. Lorman stood waiting +behind her.</p> + +<p>"Beg of your friend," she said, "to be my chevalier and to protect me +from the dreadful people while I look at the sea."</p> + +<p>Then at once, turning with a pleading glance towards Raoul, she added +with comic earnestness:</p> + +<p>"Have mercy on me, Monsieur, I beseech you."</p> + +<p>M. Lorman looked uncomfortable. There was an awkward pause. Then Raoul +stammered a fit reply and reddened, and, as he packed his violin away, +he muttered angrily: "Shall I never rid myself of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span> this childish +sensitiveness? It is a shame to me that an accident has deformed me."</p> + +<p>As Mademoiselle came from her room she whispered wickedly to M. Lorman:</p> + +<p>"You may prepare your forfeit."</p> + +<p>But he shook his head and laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said. "Not yet; there is time enough."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Along the sea front the folk stared covertly at the new actress, as she +chatted volubly of the doings of the morning.</p> + +<p>"Bah! they act badly—very badly," she said. "They should work +harder—they are too lazy. Work—work—work—that is the only cure for +them. But to-morrow they will do better, and we shall have a success."</p> + +<p>Then she became more serious and talked of her own experience, and of +the long hours that she had spent in study. "Often I used to be so +tired," she said, "that I could not even sleep."</p> + +<p>To his great astonishment Raoul found himself at his ease with her as he +discussed the necessity of steady labour and the uselessness of sitting +down and waiting for inspiration. In the heat of the argument they +reached the Rue Louise. The violin was handed in, and they turned back +again towards the sea. Madame held the door ajar to watch them.</p> + +<p>Afterwards they strolled up through the town to the Place St. Amand. +Then, because he must be tired, Mademoiselle insisted that he should +stay and rest awhile, and they sat by the window like very old friends. +Finally, she permitted him to depart, in order, she said, that he might +get to sleep early and be strong for the morrow.</p> + +<p>As she moved here and there in her room, she laughed quite quietly to +herself, and wondered what M. Lorman had meant when he had said that she +would not understand his friend.</p> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<p>Gerome Perrin, the collector, of Rouen, whose reputation as a +connoisseur in the matter of violins has never been questioned, once +offered Raoul for his violin six thousand francs. The mere record of +this offer will explain why the hunchback always carried the instrument +to and from the theatre. He held that he could only be quite sure of its +safety so long as it remained in his keeping. It was generally agreed +that the famous violin was heard at its best on the night that +Mademoiselle Elise made her appearance at the Théâtre Royal, Rocheville, +as Lisette, in "Le vrai Amant."</p> + +<p>The theatre was crowded. In the first and second scenes the new actress +justified her fame, and won outright the sympathy of the audience. In +the third scene she surpassed herself. To Rocheville it was an artistic +revelation. Even the inveterate critics praised her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> despite their +creed that, outside the Comédie Française, one should not seek +perfection.</p> + +<p>The scene was the garden of an old château. In the bright light the +costumes of the players made a mass of rich colour. Mademoiselle stood, +prettily defiant. A ripple of music burst from the orchestra, and died +away in a stately movement. With a merry laugh the revellers posed for +the dance. They bowed low in courtesy—joined hands—advanced—retired. +Then Raoul's violin alone continued the measure, as, one by one, the +others drew away and left Mademoiselle alone. It was the Bouvard +water-colour, but living and moving. Her lithe, slender body seemed +light as air. Every gesture, every pose, was full of a grave dignity. In +the dark theatre there was complete silence. All eyes were centred on +the supple, graceful form of the dancer. Music, life, and colour were in +harmony. Gradually the full orchestra took up the strain +again—Mademoiselle, panting, flung herself into the ready arms of +Augustin, and the stillness was broken by the thunder of applause.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>After the curtain had fallen, and while the folk were yet streaming out, +Jacques summoned Raoul to Mademoiselle's room. She met him with her +hands outstretched.</p> + +<p>"Chevalier, you played beautifully," she said; "and I have never danced +better. You inspired me; you are my good angel. Come to me to-morrow and +take me to mass."</p> + +<p>Is she acting still? he thought. He was not sure, but it was admirably +done. He felt her hands on his and he could only bow obedience and +escape as speedily as possible.</p> + +<p>Before he went to bed he took a candle and placed it so that he might +see himself in the mirror. He gazed long and steadily as at a picture of +a stranger. He saw a man with black hair, with a pale, earnest face, +clean shaven, and with shoulders bent. In the darkness, afterwards, when +he remembered the face of Mademoiselle, as she came to him with her arms +outstretched, he remembered also what the mirror had shown him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mademoiselle, in her room at the Hôtel St. Amand, wrote to Paris:</p> + +<p>"He is a hunchback and I have appointed him chevalier. Do not laugh, my +dear Hélène; you would not, if you could but see him. His sad eyes would +command your pity. His face is pale and stern, but handsome, and he is +kind and gentle. They say that he dislikes women; from what I have seen +of the women here I do not think he is altogether to blame. He is to +escort me to mass to-morrow. The good people will think that I am mad. +So much the better."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She laid her pen down and leaned back with her hands clasped behind her +head.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the half smile faded from her lips, and a pained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> expression +flashed across her face. She sat up and finished the letter quietly. As +she rose to seal it she said to herself: "No; he is too good. A grande +passion would kill him."</p> + +<p>For a week she gave herself up to Raoul's guidance. At the end of that +time she knew Rocheville almost as if she had lived her life there.</p> + + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<p>A month passed. Mademoiselle Elise still retained her guide. Every +afternoon they wandered together somewhere or other; either through the +town, or by the sea, or in the woods. At a loss for any logical +explanation of the strange friendship, people assumed that the two were +old acquaintances. Mademoiselle never contradicted this assumption.</p> + +<p>"He is my chevalier," she explained.</p> + +<p>During the first few days, she commanded him with a playful authority, +and talked a great deal of nonsense, much as she would have talked with +any acquaintance for whom she felt but a passing interest. But it was +impossible to continue in this strain with Raoul. He treated her as a +reasoning being, and not as a creature fit merely to be humoured and +flattered. Despite herself she began to speak from her heart and without +any constraint. But she adhered honourably to her decision not to +inspire him with a grande passion, and to this end she conducted herself +with a simple propriety which recalled to her mind the convent +discipline of the gentle Ursuline Sisters, who had taught her her first +lessons.</p> + +<p>Each day her respect for Raoul increased, as closer acquaintance +revealed his character. Finally, her respect became reverence. His +nature stood out in such strong contrast with the even, easy-going, +selfish natures of the others with whom she came into contact. He was +unlike them. He thought about life, they merely lived it. He seemed to +her to be superior to the common pains and pleasures of the world. She +could not imagine him being swayed by circumstances, by petty likes and +dislikes. She felt that it would be easy to bear any trouble with such a +friend near. His strong will attracted her. His impenetrable reserve and +the strange, stern mood that came over him at times mystified and almost +frightened her.</p> + +<p>One day, on the Boulevard, they met the troops marching with quick step +into the town. She thought that he tried, involuntarily, to straighten +his shoulders as the stalwart figures passed. She seemed to know how the +sight of them must sadden him, and her heart became filled with an +inexpressible pity. But when he spoke, there was not the least tinge of +dissatisfaction in his voice.</p> + +<p>"I admire their happy nonchalance," he said. "Unconsciously they are +very good philosophers. They take life as it comes to them and gauge it +at its true value."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said; "they are happy enough now. But it must be terrible in +war-time, to have to march straight to death."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" he replied. "I doubt whether they perceive the terror +of it. It is part of their business to die."</p> + +<p>"Do you not fear death?" she asked him afterwards.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment. Then he said slowly: "I can quite imagine +circumstances in which death would be preferable to life."</p> + +<p>"It is because life has been so unjust to him that he disdains it," she +thought.</p> + +<p>Another evening, as they sat together, looking on to the square where +the women were selling flowers, he began, casually, to talk of himself. +He spoke impassively of the time, eight years before, when he had fallen +by accident, in the winter. For months he had lain in agony; and then +slowly he had returned, almost from the grave. In three years he had +regained his strength, but deformed for the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>Her lips quivered ominously as she listened.</p> + +<p>"It makes my heart ache to think of it," she said. "I could not have +borne it."</p> + +<p>"You would have got used to it as I did," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I would have prayed to die."</p> + +<p>"There was no need. I could have died if I had chosen."</p> + +<p>He spoke simply and without the least emotion. She shuddered.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course you do not understand," he answered gently; "neither do the +angels."</p> + +<p>She made no response, but pressed her lips tightly together and +aimlessly watched the market-people.</p> + +<p>When he had gone away, she sat for a long time quite still.</p> + +<p>"If he had someone to love," she said to herself at last, "he would not +be so stern."</p> + + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<p>A fortnight later Raoul went on business to Rouen, and Mademoiselle was +left alone.</p> + +<p>The first day of his absence she busied herself as usual, going down to +rehearsal in the morning and playing in the evening. But at night, for +some indefinable reason, she felt unhappy and discontented. The next +morning she sat in her room and sewed, and the hours seemed long—very +long. In the afternoon she went out and, almost irresponsibly, bought a +little present and carried it down to the Rue Louise to Madame Martin. +She stayed there and chatted until evening. Madame was delighted to find +anyone who would listen with pleasure to praise of Monsieur Raoul. The +third morning Mademoiselle said to herself "It would be pleasant to go +to Rouen and see the shops," and she dressed ready to start. Then her +face flushed and she took off her cloak again and set it aside. After<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span> +midday Raoul returned and brought her a great bunch of roses. Her face +beamed with pleasure as she took them, but immediately she became +self-conscious and disquieted and would not let her eyes meet his. After +he had gone she sat pensive, with a smile on her lips. Suddenly the +blood mounted to her face, her expression changed, she became agitated +in every nerve. "Of what folly do I dream!" she exclaimed. She went to +dress for the theatre and took the roses and placed them in water on the +table by her bedside. When she was ready to set out, she turned round, +raised the flowers to her lips and kissed them.</p> + +<p>At the theatre she met him again and grew unaccountably nervous. It +needed all her power of will and all the prompter's aid to enable her to +retain the thread of her part. At times her mind would wander and she +would forget the words. Yet, to judge by the applause with which she was +rewarded, her acting did not suffer noticeably.</p> + +<p>When the curtain fell, she complained that her head ached, and sent for +Raoul, and begged him to take her to walk by the sea, that the cool air +might restore her.</p> + +<p>They walked down to the Rue Louise and left the violin and then strolled +on for half-an-hour by the water. Then they turned away to the Place St. +Amand. The square was deserted. A single lamp fluttered in the wind. The +stars shone brightly and the milky way stretched like a faint, pale +cloud high over the huge black mass of the cathedral.</p> + +<p>She was leaning on his arm, and she made him pause a moment while she +stood to look up.</p> + +<p>"If I were in pain," she said, after a moment, "or if a passion consumed +me, I should watch the stars all night. They are so cold and +passionless: they would teach me patience."</p> + +<p>"You are beginning to talk poetry," he answered quietly, "and that shows +that you are tired out."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I am tired out. To-morrow I shall be better, and we +will go to the woods."</p> + +<p>Then she stood in the shadow of the hotel door and watched him until his +figure disappeared in the darkness.</p> + + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<p>The morning was bright and warm. The woods above Rocheville were brown +with autumn foliage, and the brambles were heavy with long sprays of +berries, red and black. Mademoiselle gave Raoul her cloak to carry, and +wandered here and there, gathering the ripest fruit. By-and-by she cast +away all she had gathered, and came to walk soberly beside him.</p> + +<p>At St. Pierre, a little beyond the woods, they lunched merrily.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon they strolled slowly back until they came to the brow +of the hill that rises to the west of Rocheville.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span></p> + +<p>Overhead, white clouds floated in a clear blue sky. Below, the +purple-roofed houses huddled around the grey cathedral, and the distant +sea, flashing in the sunlight, broke against the yellow beach.</p> + +<p>Beside the dusty hill path were rough seats. On one of these +Mademoiselle spread her cloak and rested, bidding Raoul sit on the grass +beside. The birds stirred in the trees, and the low, long surge of the +sea sounded monotonously.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was after a long silence that Raoul looked up as if he were about to +speak. Their eyes met. He paled visibly. Her face became scarlet. With a +manifest effort he regained self-possession and stood up.</p> + +<p>"It grows late, Mademoiselle," he said; "let us go home." And his voice +sounded dry and harsh.</p> + +<p>She rose obediently. He wrapped the cloak about her, and they walked on +down the hill in silence, and entered the avenue that leads to +Rocheville. The swallows wheeled and fell in long graceful circles, and +the setting sunlight streaming through the trees made of the white road +a mosaic of light and shadow. The glow had faded from Mademoiselle's +face. Once as he moved her arm the cloak half fell. He replaced it +tenderly.</p> + +<p>At the hotel door he kissed her hand and left her.</p> + + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<p>For an hour he walked aimlessly, often baring his hair to the cold +sea-wind. Then he went back to the Place St. Amand and from under the +shrine at the corner watched her lighted window. Then he went home, and +until long past midnight sat without moving. Mademoiselle seemed to be +near him. He recalled every event of the day. The pleasant sunlight in +the woods; the merry nonsense of the lunch at St. Pierre; the homeward +walk; the distant heaving waters. The blood surged like fire through his +veins; he bowed down his face and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>Day by day he had maintained a secret battle with himself. The very +philosophy which had frightened and saddened Mademoiselle was evidence +of the bitter struggle, though she did not know this. If he had someone +to love, she had said mentally, he would not be so stern. She deceived +herself. It was because he wrestled with a passion that threatened to +overwhelm his reason that he wore so often the mask of sternness.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning he left Rocheville for Rouen. Madame, when she +found his bed undisturbed, said to her husband that Monsieur must have +had bad news.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mademoiselle woke from a fitful sleep with her head aching. She waited +anxiously, but Raoul did not come. It was past midday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span> when M. Lorman, +with a grim smile, showed to her a note he had received.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is necessary for me to go to Rouen," it ran, "and I shall +probably remain there for a few days. I beg of you to excuse me, +and to convey my compliments and good wishes to Mademoiselle Elise +when she departs for Paris."</p></div> + +<p>As Mademoiselle read she grew cold and shuddered.</p> + +<p>M. Lorman eyed the untouched food on the table and smiled slily.</p> + +<p>"You have won," he said. "I am your debtor. What is to be the forfeit?"</p> + +<p>"I am not well to-day," she answered peevishly. "Don't be stupid, +please. What was it that you came to see me about?"</p> + +<p>He looked embarrassed, and replied hastily:</p> + +<p>"Nothing—I was passing, and called in on my way to meet Augustin. I +dare not stay. He will be waiting for me. I am sorry you are ill. You +must rest. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>In the street he took out his snuff-box and excitedly inhaled two large +pinches.</p> + +<p>"Parbleu!" he muttered; "it has surprised me. I didn't think it +possible."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle went to her bedroom and locked the door, as if to shut all +the world out from her. Then she cast herself down and sobbed as if her +heart would break. "Why did he not come to me?" she moaned. "Why did he +not let me know?—I cannot live without him."</p> + +<p>At Rouen, Raoul engaged a room at the Hôtel de Bordeaux. Then he started +off to visit M. Gerome Perrin, but turned aside and went into the +country instead. The peasants saluted him as they passed, but he did not +reply. At times he talked half aloud and laughed bitterly.</p> + +<p>Once he paused abruptly. It occurred to him that perhaps, after all, his +own vanity was misleading him. No doubt Mademoiselle had already +forgotten what had happened, and was wondering what had become of him. +"I must write to her," he said. And the idea that he was acting +unaccountably strengthened itself in his mind, and gradually he regained +the mastery of himself. Was it not stupid, he thought, to suspect that +Mademoiselle had discerned his secret. He had guarded it so carefully; +he had never given the least sign—until her eyes had robbed him of his +self-control. But to think that she should for a moment dream that a +hunchback would dare.—The idea was absurd. He began to see things +clearly again.</p> + +<p>Half-an-hour later he turned and walked back to Rouen, paid his bill at +the Hôtel de Bordeaux, drove to the station, and took the train to +Rocheville. He had resolved to explain to Mademoiselle that he had been +called unexpectedly away.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span></p> + +<p>M. Lorman frowned when Jacques came to tell him that Monsieur Raoul had +been able to return.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was dark when Mademoiselle, pale and trembling, rose from her bed, +her face wet with tears. She lighted a candle and began to write. Note +after note she altered and destroyed. When at length she had written one +to her liking, she sealed it up. Then she put on her cloak and went down +towards the Rue Louise.</p> + + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<p>Outside, the rain pattered against the window; within Jacques and his +wife sat at supper. Someone tapped at the door and Madame went to open +it: "Ciel!" she cried. "But you are wet!"</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Elise spoke with quickened breath as if she had been +hurrying.</p> + +<p>"I only come to see Jacques—Jacques do you know where Monsieur Raoul is +staying at Rouen? I have a message for him."</p> + +<p>Jacques looked at his wife. It was she who answered: "Monsieur returned +unexpectedly this afternoon, Mademoiselle; he is upstairs now."</p> + +<p>The muscles of Mademoiselle's face twitched as with a sudden pain. A +look of terror came into her bright eyes. She rested her hand on the +chair beside her, as if she were faint.</p> + +<p>"Take off your cloak," said Madame, "and Jacques will tell Monsieur that +you are here."</p> + +<p>Jacques rose, but Mademoiselle stopped him. "No," she said; "I will go +to him, if I may. I have a message for him."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Elise went up. Raoul opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Did you wonder what had become of me?" he stammered. The unexpectedness +of her coming unnerved him. He forgot his planned excuse.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were at Rouen," she said mechanically, and without +raising her eyes, "or I should not have come. I have a message for you."</p> + +<p>"You are wet," he said. "Give me your cloak, and rest until Madame +Martin has dried it."</p> + +<p>He gave the cloak to Julie and closed the door.</p> + +<p>The small room was lighted by a single candle. Opposite the door the +wall was covered with books from floor to ceiling. In a corner an open +bureau was strewed with papers. The violin was laid carelessly on an old +harpsichord.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle saw these things as she walked over and stood by the +fireplace. Her dark hair, disordered by the hood of the cloak, hung +loosely over her forehead and heightened the worn expression on her +white face. She drew back her black dress slightly and rested one foot +on the edge of the fender, and watched the steam that rose from the damp +shoe.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jacques brought up a cup of coffee, with a message that Mademoiselle was +to drink it at once, lest she should catch a cold. She smiled sadly, +took the cup, raised it, touched it with her parched lips, and set it +aside.</p> + +<p>Raoul came and stood facing her. Though she did not look up she felt his +gaze upon her and became uneasy, and pressed her clasped hands nervously +together.</p> + +<p>"I came to get your address from Jacques," she said. "I thought you were +at Rouen." She paused and caught her breath. "I am going away +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>As he listened and watched her, he found himself noticing how like a +little child she seemed.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," he said, speaking with effort. "You are not well."</p> + +<p>"I have scarcely slept," she answered. "I have been thinking all +night—and all day—." Her bosom heaved. The tears sprang to her eyes. +She covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>Raoul paled, and trembled from head to foot. He clenched his teeth. His +hand that rested on the edge of the mantel-shelf grasped it as if it +would have crushed it.</p> + +<p>"Why did you go away?" she said, with plaintive vehemence. "Why did you +not come to me?"</p> + +<p>Then, as if her strength failed her, she sat down.</p> + +<p>He knelt beside her. "You have been too kind to me—Elise," he said +unsteadily. "I went away from you because I feared lest I should lose +command of myself; lest I should forget that I was—what I am."</p> + +<p>At the sound of his voice pronouncing her name a strange, sudden +happiness shone in her eyes. She looked at him. He read the truth, but +could only believe in his happiness when, the next moment, she was +clasped in his arms.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was eleven o'clock when Madame Martin knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would like to know, Monsieur," she said, "that the rain +has stopped, that it grows late, and that Mademoiselle's cloak is quite +dry."</p> + + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<p>I subjoin the following extract for the information of those who may be +sufficiently interested:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">La Lanterne</span> (<i>Journal Conservateur de Rocheville, Jeudi, +5 Février</i>).—Mariage—M. Berhault, Raoul Joseph Victor, 30 ans, et +Mlle. Lanfrey, Elise Marie, 25 ans."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span></p> +<h2>OLD CHINA.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My china makes my old room bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On table, shelf and chiffonnier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sèvres, Oriental, blue and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leeds, Worcester, Derby—all are here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Stafford figures, quaint and grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Chelsea shepherdesses, each<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has its own tale—in twilight dim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart can hear their old-world speech.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That vase came with a soldier's "loot,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Eastern cities over seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dish held golden globes of fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When oranges were rarities.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That tea-cup touched two lovers' hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Lady Betty poured the tea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That jar came from far Mongol lands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hold Dorinda's pot-pourri.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That flask of musk, still faintly smelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Mistress Coquette's toilet lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there's a tale, too long for telling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Connected with that snuffer-tray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What vows that patch-box has heard spoken!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bowl was deemed a prize to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the dark day when it got broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And someone put these rivets in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My china breathes of days, not hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of patches, powder, belle and beau,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sun-dials, secrets, yew-tree bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the romance of long ago.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It tells old stories—verse and prose—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which no one now has wit to write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet, sad tales that no one knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deathless charm of dead delight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 17052-h.htm or 17052-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/5/17052/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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