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Lawrence + +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: Sword and Gown + A Novel + +Author: George A. Lawrence + +Release Date: August 25, 2006 [EBook #19121] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWORD AND GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<hr class="pg" noshade="noshade" /> + +<div class="main"> + +<h1>SWORD AND GOWN.</h1> + +<h2 class="chap">A Novel.</h2> + +<h4 class="byline">BY THE <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: the author was George Alfred Lawrence">AUTHOR</ins> OF</h4> + +<h3 class="subhead">“GUY LIVINGSTONE.”</h3> + +<h4 class="ny">NEW YORK:</h4> +<h4 class="where"><ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,">FRANKLIN SQUARE.</ins></h4> + +<h4 class="normal">1859.</h4> + + +<samp class="pgmark">3</samp> +<h2 class="chapi">CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>“<span class="firstword">There</span> <i>is</i> something in this climate, after +all. I suppose there are not many places where +one could lie on the shore in December, and enjoy +the air as much as I have done for the last +two hours.”</p> + +<p>Harry Molyneux turned his face seaward +again as he spoke, and drank in the soft breeze +eagerly; he could scarcely help thanking it +aloud, as it stole freshly over his frame, and +played gently with his hair, and left a delicate +caress on his cheek—the cheek that was now always +so pale, save in the one round scarlet spot +where, months ago, Consumption had hung out +her flag of “No surrender.”</p> + +<p>There is enough in the scene to justify an average +amount of enthusiasm. Those steep broken +hills in the background form the frontier fortress +of the maritime Alps, the last outwork of which +is the rocky spur on which Molyneux and his +companion are lying. Fir woods feather the +sky-line; and from among these, here and there, +the tall stone pines stand up alone, like sentinels—steady, +upright, and unwearied, though their +guard has not been relieved for centuries. All +around, wild myrtle, and heath, and eglantine +curl and creep up the stems of the olives, trying, +from the contact of their fresh youth, to infuse +new life and sap into the gray, gnarled old trees, +even as a fair Jewish maiden once strove to +cherish her war-worn, decrepit king. There are +other flowers too left, though December has begun, +enough to give a faint fragrance to the air +and gay colors to the ground. Just below their +feet is a narrow strip of dark ribbed sand, and +then the tangle of weed, scarcely stirred by the +water, that all along this coast fringes like a +beard the languid lip of the Mediterranean Sea.</p> + +<p>Molyneux appreciated and admired all this, +after his simple fashion, and said so; his companion +did not answer immediately; he only +shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows, +as if he could have disputed the point if it had +not been too much trouble. An optimist in +nothing, least of all was Royston Keene grateful +or indulgent to the beauties and bounties of +inanimate creation.</p> + +<p>“Ah well!” Harry went on, resignedly, “I +know it’s useless trying to get a compliment to +Nature out of you. I ought to have given you +up that night when we showed you the Alps +from the terrace at Berne. You had never seen +the Jungfrau before, and she had got her prettiest +pink evening dress on, poor thing! and all +you would say was, ‘There’s not much the matter +with the view.’”</p> + +<p>“It was a concession to your wife’s enthusiasm,” +Keene replied; “a sudden check might +have been dangerous just then, or I should have +spoken more bitterly, after being brought out to +look at mountains, when I was dusty and travel-stained, +wanting baths, and dinners, and other +necessaries of life.”</p> + +<p>The voice was deep-toned and melodious +enough that spoke these words, but too slow and +deliberate to be quite a pleasant one, though +there was nothing like a drawl in it. One could +easily fancy such a voice ironical or sarcastic, +but hardly raised much in anger; in the imperative +mood it might be very successful, but it +seemed as if it could never have pleaded or prayed. +It matched the speaker’s exterior singularly +well. Had you seen him for the first time—couchant, +as he was then—you would have had +only an impression of great length and laziness; +but as you gazed on, the vast deep chest expanded +under your eye; the knotted muscles, without +an ounce of superfluous flesh to dull their +outline, developed themselves one by one; so +that gradually you began to realize the extent +of his surpassing bodily powers, and wondered +that you could have been deceived even for a +moment. The face guarded its secret far more +successfully. The features were bold and sharply +cut, bronzed up to the roots of the crisp light-brown +beard and hair, except where the upper +brow retained its original fairness—presenting a +startling contrast, like a wreath of snow lying +late in spring-time high up on the side of a black +fell. You would hardly say that they were devoid +of expression, any more than that a perfectly +drilled soldier is incapable of activity; but +you got puzzled in making out what their natural +expression was: it was not sternness, far +less ferocity—the face was much too impassible +for either; and yet its listlessness could never be +mistaken for languor. The thin short lips might +be very pitiless when compressed, very contemptuous +and provocative when curling; but +the enormous mustache, sweeping over them like +a wave, and ending in a clean stiff upward curve, +made even this a matter of mere conjecture. +The cold, steady, dark eyes seldom flashed or +glittered; but, when their pupils contracted, +there came into them a sort of sullen, suppressed, +inward light, like that of jet or cannel coal. +One curious thing about them was, that they +never seemed to care about following you, and +yet you felt you could not escape from them. +The first hand-gripe, however, settled the question +with most people: few, after experiencing +the involuntary pressure, when he did not in the +least mean to be cordial, doubted that there +were passions in Royston Keene—difficult perhaps +to rouse, but yet more difficult to appease +or subdue.</p> + +<p>His profession was evident. Indeed, it must +<samp class="pgmark">4</samp> +be confessed that the dragoon is not easily dissembled. +I know a very meritorious parish-priest, +of fair repute too as a preacher, who has +striven for years, hard but unavailingly, to divest +himself of the martial air he brought with him +out of the K.D.G. He strides down the village +street with a certain swagger and roll, as if the +steel scabbard were still trailing at his heel, acknowledging +rustic bows with a slight quick motion +of the finger, like troopers’ salutes; on the +smooth shaven face is shadowed forth the outline +of a beard, nurtured and trimmed in old days +with more than horticultural science; in the pulpit +and reading-desk gown and surplice hang uneasily, +like a disguise, on the erect soldierly figure, +and the effect of his ministrations is thereby +sadly marred; for apposite text, earnest exhortation, +and grave rebuke flow with a curious inconsistency +from the lips of that well-meaning +but unmitigated Plunger.</p> + +<p>Royston Keene was no exception to this rule, +though he did not like to be told so, and rather +ignored the profession than otherwise. Perhaps +he had begun it early enough to have got tired +of it; for he had now been for some time on half-pay, +and a brevet-major, after doing good service +in the Indian wars, and was not yet thirty-four. +Molyneux had served in the same light cavalry +regiment as his subaltern, and there the foundation +was laid of their close alliance. It was not +a very fair or well-balanced one, being made up +of implicit obedience, reliance, and reverence on +the one side, and a sort of protecting condescension +on the other—much like the old Roman relation +between Client and Patron; nevertheless +it had outlasted many more sympathetic and +better-looking friendships.</p> + +<p>They used to say of “The Cool Captain” (so +he was always called off parade), that “he could +bring a boy to his bearings sooner than any man +in the army.” Yet he was a favorite with them +all. There was a regular ovation among those +“Godless horsemen” whenever he came into the +Club, or into their mess-rooms; they hung upon +his simplest words with a touchingly devout attention, +and thought it was their own stupidity when +they could see nothing in them to laugh at or admire; +they wrote off all that they could remember +of his sarcasms and repartees—generally +strangely travestied and spoiled by carriage—to +unlucky comrades, martyrized on far-off detachments, +or vegetating with friends in the country; +the more ambitious, after much private practice, +strove to imitate his way of twisting his mustache +as he stood before the fire, though with some, to +whom nature had been niggard of hirsute honors, +it was grasping a shadow and fighting with the air.</p> + +<p>Certainly Molyneux never was so happy as in +that society. Fond as he was of his pretty wife, +her influence was as nothing in the scale. She +complained of this, half in earnest, soon after +they were married. The fever of post-nuptial +felicity was strong upon Harry just then, but he +did not attempt to deny the imputation. He +only said, “My pet, I have known him so much +the longest!” I wonder, now, how many brides +would have admitted that somewhat unsatisfactory +and illogical excuse? Fanny Molyneux +did; she was the best-natured little woman +alive, and wise, too, in her generation, for she +never brought matters to a crisis, or measured +her strength against the “heavy-weight.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, they got on together extremely well. +Whenever Keene happened to be with them—which +was not often—she gave up the management +of Harry’s Foreign Affairs to him, reserving +to herself the control of the Home Department, +and, between the two, they ruled their +vassal right royally. After some months’ acquaintance +they became the greatest friends; +on Royston’s side it was one of the few quite +pure and unselfish feelings he had ever cherished +toward one of her sex not nearly akin to him +in blood. He always seemed to look on her as +a very nice, but rather spoiled child, to be humored +and petted to any amount, but very seldom +to be reasoned with or gravely consulted. +Considering her numerous fascinations, and the +little practice he had had in the paternal or fraternal +line, he really did it remarkably well: be +it understood, it was only <i>en petite comité</i> that +all this went on; in general society his manner +was strictly formal and deferential. It provoked +her though, sometimes, and one day she ventured +to say, “I wish you would learn to treat +me like a grown-up woman!” Royston’s eyes +darkened strangely; and one glance flashed out +of the gloom that made her shrink away from +him then, and blush painfully when she thought +of it afterward alone. He was frowning, too, as +he answered, in a voice unusually harsh and +constrained, “It seems to me we go on very +well as it is. But women never <i>will</i> leave well +alone.” She did not like to analyze his answer +or her own feelings too closely, so she tried to +persuade herself it was a very rude speech, and +that she ought to be offended at it. There was +a coolness between those two for some days, +amounting to distant courtesy. But the dignified +style did not suit <i>ma mignonne</i> (as Harry delighted +to call her) at all, and was, indeed, a +lamentable failure; it made her look as if she +had been trying on one of her great-grandmother’s +short-waisted dresses; so they soon fell back +into their old ways, and, like the model prince +and princess, “lived very happily ever afterward.”</p> + + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Keene</span> had spent some time with the Molyneuxs +during the autumn and winter, and had +conducted himself so far with perfect propriety, +certainly keeping Harry straighter than he would +have gone alone; for he was, unluckily, of a +convivial turn of mind wholly incompatible with +delicate health and a frail constitution. Being +a favorite with the world in general, he felt +bound, I suppose, to reciprocate, so, albeit strictly +enjoined to keep the earliest hours, he would +sit up till dawn if any one encouraged him, and +then come home, perfectly sober perhaps, but +staggering from mere weakness. He did not +care for deep drinking in the least, but the number +of magnums he had assisted in flooring, +when on a regimen of “three glasses of sherry,” +would have made a double row of nails round +the coffin of a larger man. Nature, however, +being a Dame, won’t stand being slighted, or +having her admonitions disregarded, and the +way she asserted herself on the morrow was retributive +in the extreme. Harry was always so +<i>very</i> ill after one of those nights “upon the war-path.” +<samp class="pgmark">5</samp> +On such occasions, his feelings, without +being quite remorseful, were beautifully and curiously +penitent; they manifested themselves +chiefly by an extraordinary ebullition of the domestic +affections. “Bring me my children” (he +had two tiny ones), he would cry on waking, +just as another man would call for brandy and +soda; and, strange to say, the presence of those +innocents seemed to have a similarly invigorating +and refreshing effect: during all that day +he would make pilgrimages to their cribs, and +gaze upon them sleeping with the reverence of +an old <i>dévote</i> kneeling before the shrine of her +most efficacious saint. Then he would go forth, +and return with a present for his wife, bearing +an exact proportion in value to the extent and +duration of the past misdemeanor; so that her +jewel-case and writing-table soon became as +prettily suggestive as the votive chapel of Nôtre +Dame des Dunes. Very unnecessary were these +peace-offerings; for that dear little woman never +dreamt of “hitting him when he was down,” or +taking any other low advantage of his weakness. +She would make his breakfast beamingly, at all +untimely hours, and otherwise pet and caress +him, so that he might have been a knight returning +wounded from some Holy War, instead +of a discomfited scalp-hunter, bearing still evident +traces of the “war-paint.” A stern old +lady told her once that such condonation of offenses +was unprincipled and immoral. It may +be so, but I can not think the example is likely +to be dangerously contagious. Whatever happens, +there will always remain a sufficiency of +matronly Dicæarchs, over whose judgment-seats +the legend is very plainly inscribed, <i>Nescia +flecti</i>.</p> + +<p>These Ember days formed the only exceptions +to the remarkably easy way in which Molyneux +took every thing; there seemed to be no rough +places about his disposition for trouble or care to +take hold of. Hunting four days a week through +the winter; six weeks in town during the season, +with incidentals of Epsom, Goodwood, <i>saumon +à la Trafalgar</i>, bouquets, and opera-stalls; +living all the rest of the year at a mess curious +as to the quality of its dry Champagne—these +simple pleasures involve a certain expenditure +hardly “fairly warranted by our regimental rate +of pay.” To accomplish all this on about £500 +a year, and yet to steer clear of ruin, is an ingenious +process doubtless, but a sum not to be +wrought out (most soldiers will tell you) without +some anxiety and travail of mind. Now, in the +very tightest state of the money-market, Harry +was never known to disquiet himself in vain. +He would not borrow from any of his comrades, +refusing all such proffers of assistance gratefully +but consistently. No Mussulman ever equaled +his contented reliance on the resources of futurity, +and his implicit belief in the same. He +would anchor his hopes on some such improbability +as “a long shot coming off,” or “his +Aunt Agnes coming down” (a proverbially awful +widow, who had forgiven him seven times +already; and, after each fresh offense, had +sworn unrelenting enmity to him and his heirs +forever). Strong in this faith, he met condoling +friends with a pleasant, reassuring smile: with +the same demeanor he confronted threatening +creditors. He used no arts, and condescended +to no subterfuge in dealing with these last; but, +as one of them observed, retreating from the +barracks moneyless but gratified, “Mr. Molyneux +seems to <i>feel</i> for one, at all events.” So +he did. He sympathized with his tailor, not in +the least because he owed him money, but because +he was a fellow-creature in difficulties, regretting +heartily it was not in his own power to +relieve them; just as a very charitable but improvident +person might feel on reading a case +of real distress in the <i>Times</i>. Strange to say, +hitherto he had always pulled through. Either +the outsider <i>did</i> win, or the aunt, touched in the +soft place of her heart through her ruffled feathers, +was brought down by a “wild shot,” when +considered quite out of distance, and “parted” +freely.</p> + +<p>The last and hardest trial of all—long debility +and frequent illness—had failed to shake this intense +serenity. He was never cross or unreasonable, +and tried to give as little trouble as possible; +but was grateful to a degree for every +thing that was done for him: he could even +manage to thank people for their advice, whether +he took it not. So far as one could make out, +he was nearly as much interested in the state of +his own health, as one would be about that of +any pleasant casual acquaintance.</p> + +<p>It must be confessed, that poor Harry and his +like are by no means strong-minded, or large-brained, +or persevering men; they seldom or +never rise to eminence, and rarely have greatness +thrust upon them. They do not often volunteer +to lead the vanguard of any great movement, +shouting out on the slightest provocation the +war-cry of “life is earnest;” for they are the +natural subalterns of the world’s mighty battalia, +and could hardly manœuvre one of its companies, +without hopelessly entangling it, and exposing +themselves: indeed, if they are useful at all in +their generation, it is in a singularly modest and +unobtrusive way. Yet there is an attraction +about them, a power of attachment, that the +great and wise ones of the earth have appreciated +and envied, ere now. It is curious, too, to see +what an apparent contradiction to themselves +the extremes of the class—those who exaggerate +<i>nonchalance</i> into insensibility, and softness into +effeminacy—have shown, when brought face to +face with imminent peril or certain destruction. +France held few more terrible <i>ferrailleurs</i> than +the curled painted minions of her third Henry: +the sun never looked down on a more desperate +duel than that in which Quélus, Schomberg, and +Maugiron did their <i>devoir</i> manfully to the last. +Nay, though he came delicately to his doom, the +King of Amalek met it, I fancy, gallantly and +gracefully enough, when once he read his sentence +in the eyes of the pitiless Seer, who ordained +that he “should be hewn in pieces before the +Lord in Gilgal.”</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +R. I. P. +</p> + +<p>There was silence for some minutes after the +few words that opened this story; and then Royston +Keene spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Hal, do you remember that miserable impostor +in Paris being enthusiastic about Dorade +and its advantages, describing it as a sort of happy +hunting-ground, and so deciding us on choosing +it in preference to Nice?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! he <i>did</i> drivel a good deal. I think he +had been drinking,” the other answered.</p> + +<p>“No; I understand him now. He had been +<samp class="pgmark">6</samp> +bored here into a sullen, vicious misanthropy; +and he wanted to take it out <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'of'">on</ins> the human race +by getting others in the same mess. It’s just like +that jealous old Heathfield, who, when he is up +to his girths in a squire-trap, never halloos ‘’ware +bog,’ till five or six more are in it. I can fancy +the hoary-headed villain gloating hideously over +us now. I wish I had him here. I could be <i>so</i> +unkind to him! He talked about the shooting +and the society. Bah! there’s about one cock +to every thousand acres of forest; and as for +women fair to look upon, I’ve not flushed one +since we came. I don’t think I can stand it +much longer.”</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry,” Harry said; “I knew you +were being bored to death, and it’s all on my account; +but I didn’t like to ask you about it. I’m +so horribly selfish!” The shadow of an imminent +penitence began to steal over him, when +Royston broke in—</p> + +<p>“Don’t be childish. I liked to stay—never +mind why—or I should not have done so. Only +now—you are getting better, and I realize the +situation more. I hardly know where to go. +Not back to England, certainly, yet. Besides +the nuisance and chance work of picking up a +stud in the middle of the season, it isn’t pleasant +to be consoled for a blank day by, ‘you should +have been here last month. Never was such +scent; and heaps of straight-running foxes!’ +And then they indulge themselves in an imaginative +‘cracker,’ knowing you can’t contradict +them. Shall I go to Albania? I should like +to kill <i>something</i> before I turn homeward.”</p> + +<p>Harry seemed musing. Suddenly he half +started up, clapping his hands. “I knew I had +forgotten!”</p> + +<p>“Not such a singular circumstance as to warrant +all that indecent exultation,” was the reply. +“Well, out with it.”</p> + +<p>“I never told you that Fan had a letter this +morning from Cecil Tresilyan (they’re immense +friends, you know) to ask her to engage rooms +for them. They are in Paris now, and will be +here in three days.”</p> + +<p>Keene raised himself on his arm, regarding +his comrade with a sort of admiration. “You’re +a natural curiosity, <i>mon cher</i>. None of us ever +quite appreciated you. I don’t believe there’s +another man in existence, situated as we are, +who would have kept that intelligence at the +back of his head so long. <i>The</i> Tresilyan, of +course? I remember hearing about her in India. +Annesley came back from sick leave perfectly +insane on the subject. She <i>must</i> be something +extraordinary, for the recollection of her +made even him poetical—when he was sober. +I asked about her when I got to England, but +her mother was taken very ill, or did something +equally unjustifiable, so she left town before I +saw her.”</p> + +<p>“The mother really <i>was</i> ill,” Molyneux said, +apologetically; “at least she died soon after +that. Miss Tresilyan has never shown much +since. But you’ve no idea of the sensation she +made during her season and a half. They called +her The Refuser, she had such a fabulous +number of offers, and <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'would’nt'">wouldn’t</ins> look at any of +them. By-the-by, there’s rather a good story +about that. You know Margate? He’s going +to the bad very fast now, but he was the crack +puppy of that year’s entry; good-looking, long +minority, careful guardians, leases falling in, +mother one of the best Christians in England, +and all that sort of thing. Well, Tom Cary +took him in hand, and brought him out in great +form before long. They were talking over their +preparations for the moors, for they were going +to start the next day. ‘I believe that’s all,’ +Margate asked, ‘or have we forgotten any thing?’ +‘Wait a minute,’ said Tom, and reflected (provident +man, Tom; fond of his comforts, and proud +of it)—‘Ah! I thought there was something. +You haven’t proposed to The Tresilyan.’ They +say Margate’s face was a study. He never disputed +the orders of his private trainer, so he only +said, piteously, ‘But I don’t want to marry any +one,’ and looked as if he was going to cry. ‘You +<i>are</i> “ower young,”’ Cary said, encouragingly, +‘and it’s about the last thing I should press upon +you. It wouldn’t suit my book at all. But I +don’t see how that affects the question. I can +lay ten ponies to one she won’t have you. It’s +the thing to do, depend upon it. All the other +good men have had a turn, and you have no +right to be singular; it’s bad taste. Rank has +its duties, my lord. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>, and so forth. +You understand?’ Margate <i>didn’t</i> in the least, +but he went and proposed quite properly, and +was rejected rather more decidedly than his fellows. +Then he went down into Perthshire, and +missed his grouse, and lost his salmon, with a +comfortable consciousness of having discharged +his obligations to society.”</p> + +<p>Royston Keene actually groaned, “Why didn’t +she come sooner?” he said. “What a luxury, +in this God-forgotten place, to talk to a clever +handsome woman, who tramples on strawberry-leaves!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she would have come if she had +known how much we wanted her,” replied Harry. +“They say she is a model of charity, and several +other virtues too. She is coming here for the +health of some companion, or governess, who +lives with her. Yet she flirts outrageously at +times, in her own imperial way. Better late +than never. I’m certain you’ll like her, and +perhaps she’ll like you.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Qui vivra verra</i>,” Keene said, rising slowly. +“Let us go home now. Draw your plaid closer +round you, it’s getting chilly.”</p> + + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">There</span> is a terrace in Dorade, fenced in from +every wind that blows, except the south, and +even that has to creep cautiously and cunningly +round a sharp corner to make its entrance good. +Four small stunted palms grow there; they look +painfully out of place, and conscious of it; for +they are always bowing their heads in a meek +humiliation, and shiver in a strange unhealthy +way at the slightest breeze, just as you may see +Asiatics doing in our “land of mist and snow.” +But the natives regard those unhappy exotics +with a fanatical pride, pointing them out to all +comers as living witnesses to the perfection of the +climate; they would gladly stone any irreverent +stranger who should suggest a comparison between +their sacred shrubs and the giants of Indian +seas. The only inhabitant of the place who +ever attained any eminence any where (he really +<samp class="pgmark">7</samp> +<i>was</i> a good tailor), bequeathed a certain sum +for the beautifying of the renowned <i>allée</i>, instead +of endowing charitable institutions, and his +townsmen endorsed the act by erecting a little +mural tablet to commemorate his public spirit.</p> + +<p>The view is rather pretty, stretching over +vineyards, and gardens, and olive-grounds down +to the shore, with the islands in the far foreground +rearing themselves against the sky, clear +and blue, or if the weather is misty to seaward, +sleeping in an aureole of golden haze, so that +the whole effect would be cheerful if it were not +for the melancholy invalids who haunt the spot +perpetually. Faces and figures are to be seen +sometimes that would send an uncomfortable +shiver of revulsion through you if you met them +on the Boulevard des Italiens, strengthened by +your ante-prandian <i>absinthe</i>. Here, the place +belonged to them so completely, that a man in +rude health felt like an unwarrantable intruder, +in which light I am sure the hypochondriacs always +regarded him. As such a one passed, you +might see a glare, half-envious, half-resentful, +light up some hollow eyes, and thin parched lips +worked nervously, as though they were uttering +a very equivocal blessing.</p> + +<p>Does the character gain much by the extermination +of more impulsive passions, when their +place is possessed by the two devils that neither +age nor sickness can exorcise—Avarice and +Envy? It is with this last, perhaps, that we +have most to do; and the shadow of it, however +indistinct and distant, makes the landscape near +the horizon look somewhat dreary. The nature +of many of us is so faulty and ill regulated, that +it may be doubted if even advancing years will +make us much better or wiser; but, when winter +shall have closed in, and our hot blood is more +than cool, is there no chance of an “open season?” +Must it come to this—that the mere sight +of the youth, and strength, and beauty that have +left us far behind shall stir our bile, as though +it were an insolent parade—that the choicest delicacies +at our neighbor’s wedding-breakfast shall +not pique our palate like the baked meats at his +funeral? Not so; if we must give ground let us +retreat in good order, leaving no shield behind +us that our enemy may build into his trophy. +If we are rash enough to assail Lady Violet Vavasour +with petitions for a waltz, and see her +look doubtfully down her scribbled tablets, till +the “sweetest lips that ever were kissed” can +find no gentler answer than the terrible “Engaged,” +let us not gnash suicidally our few remaining +teeth, even though Brabazon Leslie—all +the handsomer for the scar on his smooth +forehead—should come up upon our traces, and +ride roughshod over those hieroglyphics, as he +did at Balaclava through Russian squadrons. +Rather let us try to sympathize with his triumph, +while he carries off his beautiful prize from under +the enemy’s guns, as Dundonald may have +cut out a frigate beneath the batteries of Vera +Cruz. <i>Non omnia corripit ævum.</i> Hath the savor +departed wholly from the Gascon wine, because +the name of no living love crowns the +draught? Shall we stay sullenly at home when +all the world is flocking to the tournament, because +our limbs have stiffened so that we may no +longer sit saddlefast, and hold our own in the +<i>mêlée</i>? A corner in the cushioned gallery is left +to us still. Come, comrade of mine—<i>nate mecum +Consule Manlio</i>—we will go up and lounge there +among the Chatelaines: some may be found +good-natured enough to listen (in the pauses of +the tilting), while we tell how, not so many years +back, plume and pennon went down before our +lance.</p> + +<p>I place no great reliance on the Pleasures of +Memory. But, if pearls and bright shells be +rarely found there, surely waifs, better than <i>echini</i> +and sting-rays, are to be gathered on the “shores +of long ago.” Ah, cynic! you are strong enough +to be merciful—just this once. Spare us the +string of examples that would overwhelm us utterly. +Does it not suffice that we confess the +truth of that saddest adage, tolled in our ears by +every passing bell,</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>Those whom the gods love well die young?</div> +</div> + +<p>Royston and his companion were crossing the +terrace on their way home when the former stopped +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Go on, Hal,” he said; “it is too late for +you to be standing about, but I must speak to +that poor Châteaumesnil. I shall see you at dinner.” +He went up to a wheeled chair that was +being drawn by at the time.</p> + +<p>Its occupant was a man of large frame, as far +as could be made out through the thick wrappings +of furs; his head was bent forward and +low, resting on his hands, that were crossed on +a crutch-handle. He appeared profoundly unconscious +of all that was passing, and never +moved till Keene addressed him. Then, very +slowly, he lifted up his face. Few of us, fortunately +for those who have strong imaginations +and weak nerves, see its like twice in a lifetime, +or there would be wild work in dreamland.</p> + +<p>It was not distorted in any way, nor deformed, +except by a ghastly, livid pallor; gaunt and drawn +as the features were, they still bore evident traces +of a rare manly beauty, that even the neglected +beard of iron-gray could not conceal. But it +was the savage face of one who has wrestled with +physical pain till it has assumed almost the visible +and tangible shape of a personal enemy—a +mocking devil, that always is ready, with fresh +ingenuity of torture, to answer and punish the +rebellious question, “Art thou come to torment +me before my time?” The lines on the forehead +were so strongly marked and dreadfully distinct, +that, like the markings of the locust, they seemed +to form characters that might be read, if it were +given to mortal cabalists to decipher the handwriting +of God.</p> + +<p>Look once more: it is worth while, if you are +curious in contrasts and comparisons. Five years +ago that bowed, blasted cripple was the most +reckless dare-devil, the most splendid Paladin, in +all the army of Algiers; the man for whom, after +an unusually brilliant exploit, St. Arnaud, +loving him as his own right hand, could find no +higher praise than to write in his dispatches, +“<i>Les 3<sup>me</sup> Chasseurs se sont conduits en héros; +leur chef-d’escadron en—Châteaumesnil.</i>” And +it was true that the annals of his house could +boast of no nobler soldier, though they had been +fighting hard since Clovis’s day. His name is +known very well in Africa. The <i>spahis</i> talk of +it still over their watch-fires, and the wild Bedouins +load it with guttural curses—their lips +white with hatred and remembered fear: they +do not forget how far and fast they fled into their +<samp class="pgmark">8</samp> +desert strong-holds, and never could shake off the +light cloud of whirling dust that told how Armand +and his stanch gaze-hounds were hard +upon their trail.</p> + +<p>Rheumatic fever, coming close on a severe +bullet wound, had brought him very near to +death; and the first thing he heard when he began +to recover, was that he would never stand +upright again.</p> + +<p>He is answering Keene’s salutation.</p> + +<p>“My friend, you failed us last night at the +Cercle, and yet we waited for you long.” A +hoarse, hollow voice—very measured and slow, +as if carefully disciplined to repress groans—yet +every now and then there will come a modulation, +that shows how rich and cheery it might +have been when trolling a <i>chanson à boire</i>—how +clear and sonorous when, over the stamping of +hoofs and the rattle of scabbards, it rang out the +one word “Charge!”—how winning and musical +when whispering into a small, pink ear laid +against his lips lovingly.</p> + +<p>The Vicomte de Châteaumesnil cares for but +one thing on earth now—play, as deep as he can +make or find it. It is not a pastime, or a distraction, +or an occasional fever-fit, but the sole +interest of his existence. A fearfully unworthy +and unsatisfactory one, you will say. Granted; +but try and realize his condition.</p> + +<p>He is not forty yet. All the passions of mature +manhood were alive within him; not one +desire or impulse had been tamed by natural or +even premature decay at the time he was struck +down, and cut off from every object and aim of +his former life, when it was too late to form or +turn to others. Imagine how eagerly his strong +fiery nature must have grasped at some of these—how +it must have appreciated the alternations +of glory, pleasure, and peril—all worse than +blanks now. You dare not speak to him of +woman’s love. Worse than all other torments +of the Titan’s bed of pain, would be wild dreams +of impossible Oceanides!</p> + +<p>Remember that his only change of scene is +from one of the waters of Marah to another, according +to his own or his physician’s fancy about +mineral springs. Remember, too, that the cleverest +or the most sanguine of them all have only +ventured to promise an abatement of his agonies: +of their cessation they say no word; nor can they +even prophesy that the end will come quickly. +He is not allowed to read much, even if his taste +lay that way, which it does not; for a literary +<i>Chasseur d’Afrique</i> is such a whim as Nature +never yet indulged herself in. So perhaps he +caught at the only resource that could have saved +him from worse things; under which, I presume, +is to be included the temptation to take laudanum +in proportions by no means prescribed or +sanctioned by the Faculty.</p> + +<p>Every day about noon his servant helped him +into the card-room at the club, and settled him +at his own table, where, with the two hours respite +of dinner, he sat till midnight, ready to give +battle to all comers at all weapons, just as the +Knights of Lyonnesse used to keep a bridge or a +pass while achieving their vows. It is needless +to say that the changes of good or bad luck affected +him not at all. Few men of his stamp indulge +in the weakness of railing at Fortune, which +is the privilege and consolation of the <i>roturier</i>. +Neither was he ever heard to reproach a partner, +or become bitter against an adversary. He +seemed to take a pleasure in disappointing those +who were always expecting from him some savage +outbreak of temper: they judged from his +appearance, and had some grounds for their anticipations; +for, winning or losing, that strange +look, half-weary, half-defiant, never was off his +face. But, with Armand de Châteaumesnil, the +<i>grand seigneur</i> had not been merged in the soldier: +the <i>brusquerie</i> of the camp had not overlaid +the manner of the courtly school in which +he and all his race had been trained; the school +of those who would stab their enemy to the heart +with sarcasm or innuendo, but scorned to stun him +with blatant abuse—of those who would never +have dreamt of listening to a woman with covered +head, though they might be deaf as the nether +millstone to her entreaties or her tears. It was +with the Revolution that the rapier went out, and +the <i>savate</i> came in.</p> + +<p>Very few men came up to his standard of +play; for he was hard to please in style as well +as in stakes. Keene did fully; and this, with a +certain similarity of tastes, accounted for his liking +the latter so well. He had little regard to +throw away, and was chary of it in proportion. +On the other hand, Royston treated the invalid +with an amount of deference very unusual with +him, in whom the bump of Veneration was probably +represented by a cavity.</p> + +<p>The two were still talking on the terrace, when +a man passed them, who lifted his hat slightly, +and then sighed audibly, looking upward with +an ostentatious contrition, as though he apologized +to heaven for such a bowing-down to Rimmon. +This was the Rev. James Fullarton, British +chaplain at Dorade. A difficult and anomalous +position—in which the unlucky divine, in +addition to his anxiety about the conscientious +discharge of his duties, has to cultivate the +friendship of a vast number of unrighteous Mammons, +if he would be allowed to perform his functions +at all. Our countrymen are popularly supposed +to take out a special license for liberty of +thought and action as soon as they cross the +Channel; and the pastor’s pulpit-cushion can +hardly be stuffed with roses when every other +member of his congregation—embracing devotees +of about a dozen different shades of High, Low, +and Broad Church—thinks it his or her daily +duty to decide, if the formula—<i>Quamdiu se bene +gesserit</i>—has been duly complied with. Perhaps +foreign air and warmer climates develop, like a +hot-bed, our innate instinct of destructiveness. +Look at portly respectable fathers of families—householders +who, at home, have accepted their +spiritual position without a murmur for a quarter +of a century, roused to revolt by no vexed +question of copes, candles, or church-rates—even +these can not escape contagion. When once the +game is afoot, they will open on the scent with +the perseverance of the steadiest “line-hunter,” +and join in the “worry” as savagely as the +youngest hound. I remember seeing a similar +case in Scotland, where a minister was preaching +before “the Men” who were appointed to +judge of his qualifications. Right in front of +him, on a low bench, sat the awful Three, silent, +stolid, and stern. His best rounded periods, his +neatest imagery, his aptest quotations, brought +no light into their vacant gray eyes: perhaps +they were looking beyond all these, straight at +<samp class="pgmark">9</samp> +the doctrine. The breeze blew freshly from the +German Ocean, over the purple hills; but it +brought no coolness to that miserable Boanerges. +How he <i>did</i> perspire! I could not wonder at it; +and though he preached for ninety-five minutes, +and wearied me even to death, I bore him no +enmity, but pitied him from my soul.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fullarton, however, had steered through +the reefs and quicksands with better skill or luck +than his fellows, and, judging from the ruddiness +of his broad, beardless face, and the amplitude +of his black waistcoat, the cares of office had not +hitherto affected his health materially. He was +a well-meaning, conscientious man, ready to +work hard for his flock and his family; indeed, +barring a certain frail leaning toward <i>gourmandise</i>, +of which a full pendulous lip told tales, and +an occasional infirmity of temper, he had as few +outward failings as could be desired. For one +of no extreme views, he could count an extraordinary +number of adherents. Without being +particularly agreeable or instructive, he possessed +a rather imposing readiness and rotundity of +speech, and had a knack of turning his arm-chair +into a pulpit somewhat oftener than was quite +in good taste. However, I suppose the best of +us will talk “shop” when we see a fair opening. +He had a large wife and several small children. +No one admired him more devotedly than this +truly excellent woman. As far as sharing in +her husband’s successes went, or partaking in +any other advantages of society, she might as +well have been the squaw of an Iowa brave; for +her time was more than taken up in tending her +offspring, and in providing for her lord the savory +meats in which he delighted; but she looked the +picture of contentment, and so nobody thought it +necessary to pity her.</p> + +<p>From the first moment of their meeting, the +chaplain had entertained a nervous dislike, approaching +to a presentiment, toward Royston +Keene. He regarded him as a brand likely to +inflame others, but itself by no means to be +plucked from the burning. The latter saw his +gesture as he passed, and smiled—not pleasantly. +“Remark the shepherd, M. le Vicomte,” he +said; “he sees the wolves prowling, and trembles +for his lambs.”</p> + +<p>“One wolf, at least, is toothless,” answered +Châteaumesnil. “What have we to do with +lambs, except <i>en suprême</i>? But the sun is down; +I must go home, or these cursed pains will avenge +themselves. Till this evening.”</p> + +<p>“I will not fail; but you will permit me to +accompany you so far,” said Keene, bending +over the invalid with the grand courteous air +that became him well; and he walked by the +other’s side till they reached his door, talking +over the varying fortunes of last night’s play.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">You</span> have found out already that you are only +looking at a chaplet of cameos, with just enough +of story to string them together. Under these +circumstances, the right thing of course to do is +to work out each character by the rules of metaphysical +mathematics, and then to reverse the +process and “prove” the result. But I never tried +to extract the square root out of <i>any thing</i> +without failing miserably, and one can only speak, +and act, and write according to one’s light. +After all, it seems a more uncertain science than +astronomy. Comets <i>will</i> appear, now and then, +at abnormal times, and in places where they +have no heavenly business; and people are still +to be found, so very ill-regulated as to go right +or wrong in opposition to all rules and precedents. +Where the variations are so infinite, it is difficult +to argue safely from one singular example +to another, and, if you miss one step, your whole +deduction is apt to come to grief. Some one +said, that “there were corners in the nature of +the simplest peasant-girl to which the cleverest +man alive could never find a key.” Perhaps, +too, those who fancy, rightly or wrongly, that +they have mesmerized the heart even of one fellow-creature +so completely that the poor thing +could not, if it would, keep back a single secret, +think it hardly fair to give the world in general +the full benefit of their discoveries. Practically, +does all this help one much? It is possible that +some who have passed for the deepest observers +of human nature, owed their renown more to an +acute observation of the phenomena of feeling, +an intuitive knowledge of what people like and +dislike, a retentive memory, and a happy knack +of making all these available at the right moment, +than to any profound reasoning on abstract +principles. Like some untaught arithmeticians, +their calculations came out correct, but +they could not have gone through the steps of +the process.</p> + +<p>There lives, even now, a sublime theorist, who +professes to have made feminine physiology his +peculiar study. Sitting at his desk, or in his +arm-chair, he will trace the motives, impulses, +and sensations which a woman must <i>necessarily</i> +have experienced under any given circumstances, +as lucidly as a skillful pathologist, scalpel in +hand, may lecture on the material mysteries of +the blood or brain: he will analyze for you the +waters of the <i>Fons Lacrymarum</i>, just as Letheby +or Taylor might do those of a new chalybeate +spring. A fearful power, is it not, and fatal, if +used tyrannously? Well, I remember hearing +a very beautiful and charming person speak of +an evening she had spent in the society of The +Adept, during which she was conscious of being +subjected to the action of his microscope, stethoscope, +and other engines of science. She said +“It did not hurt her much,” and, on the whole, +seemed by no means so impressed with awe and +admiration as could be wished. Indeed, before +they parted, if any one was disquieted, discomfited, +or otherwise damaged, I fancy it was—<i>not</i> +the loveliest Margaret. From my slight acquaintance +with that tremendous philosopher, +supposing that he were turned loose among a bevy +of perfectly well-educated women, and meant +mischief, I should be disposed to lay longer odds +against his chances than I would against those +of many men who have never read one word of +Balzac, Michelet, or Kant.</p> + +<p>Still, as was aforesaid, in the days of high art +and high farming, high physiology is clearly the +thing to go for. So, for my shortcomings, to +all critics—ethic, dialectic, æsthetic, and ascetic—I +cry <i>mea culpa</i>, thus audibly.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, while they are waiting for her +at Dorade, we will try to sketch Cecil Tresilyan.</p> + +<p>Her father died when she was too young to +<samp class="pgmark">10</samp> +remember him, and the first fourteen years of her +life were spent almost entirely in the old Cornish +manor-house from which her family took its +name. That great, rambling pile stood at the +head of a glen, terraced at first into gardens, and +then thickly wooded, and stretching down to the +shore. There was a small bay just here, the +mouth of which curved inward very abruptly. +It seemed as if the black cliffs had caught the +sea in a trap, and stood forward to keep the outlet +fast forever: the waves were free to come and +go for a certain distance, but never to rave or +rebel any more: when their brethren of the open +main went out to war, the captives inside might +hear the din, but not break out to join them; +they could only leap up weakly against their +prison bars. There was nothing at all remarkable +in the house itself, except its furniture and +panelings of black oak, and two pictures, to which +was attached a story bearing on the hereditary +failing which had made the family proverbial. +The first was the likeness of a lovely girl, in the +court dress of James the Second’s time, with +beautiful hazel eyes, half timid, half trusting, +like a pet doe’s. The second represented a woman, +perhaps of middle age: in this the hood of a +dark gray dress was drawn far forward, and under +it the eyes shone out of the colorless face with +a fixed expression of helpless, agonized terror, as +of one fascinated by some ghostly apparition. +You were sorry when you realized that they were +portraits of the same person.</p> + +<p>Sir Ewes Tresilyan was a man of strong passions +and rather weak brain—of few words and +fewer sympathies; he never made a companion +of Mabel, his daughter, though his love for her +was the feeling next his heart, after his almost +insane pride; but he trusted her implicitly—less +because he had faith in her truth and goodness, +than because he held it as impossible for a Tresilyan +to disgrace herself or otherwise derogate, +as for the moon to fall from heaven. He was +no classic, you see, and had never read of Endymion.</p> + +<p>In her solitary rides Mabel met the son of a +neighboring squire, and they soon began to love +each other after the good old fashion. Neither +had one thought that was not honest and pure; +but they were so afraid of her father that they +dared not ask his consent to their marriage as +yet. They were prudent, but not prudent or patient +enough. So there came about meetings—first +at noon in the woods, then at twilight in the +park, then at midnight in the garden; and at +last Sir Ewes Tresilyan heard of it all; and +heard, too, that his daughter’s name was abroad +in the country-side, and more than lightly spoken +of. That day, as the sun was setting, two men +stood foot to foot, with their doublets off, on the +very spot of smooth turf where the lovers parted +last; and Arthur Bampfylde had to hold his own +as best he might with the deadliest rapier in the +western shires. Poor boy! he would scarcely +have had the heart to do his uttermost against +Mabel’s father; but better will and skill would +have availed little against the thirsty point that +came creeping along his blade and leaping over +his guard like a viper’s tongue. At the sixth +pass his enemy shook him heavily off his sword, +wounded to the death. He had tried explanation +before, utterly in vain; but the true heart +would make one effort more to get justice done, +before it ceased to beat. He gasped out these +words through the rush of blood that was choking +him, “Mabel—I swear, she is as pure as the +Mother of God; and I—what had I done?”</p> + +<p>Sir Ewes knelt down and lifted Arthur’s head +upon his knee—not in pity, but that he might hear +the more distinctly—“I will tell you,” he said; +“you have wooed a Tresilyan like a yeoman’s +daughter.” The homicide wrote in his confession +of all this that, as he laid the head gently +down, a smile came upon the lips before they set. +Was it that the parting spirit—standing on the +threshold of Eternity, and almost within the light +of the grand secret—fathomed the earth-worm’s +miserable vanity, and could not refrain its scorn?</p> + +<p>Mabel was sitting alone when her father returned. +She had no idea that any thing had +been discovered; but the instant she saw his +face, she cast herself on her knees, crying—“I +am innocent; indeed I have done no wrong!”</p> + +<p>He griped her arm and raised her up, gazing +straight and steadfastly at her for some moments: +then he gave his verdict—“Guilty of +having brought shame on your house; not guilty +of sin, I know, or <i>this</i> should only half atone,” +and he drew out the blade that had never been +wiped since it drank her lover’s blood.</p> + +<p>She slid slowly down out of his grasp, never +speaking, but bearing in her eyes the awful look +of horror that became frozen there forever. +The second picture might have been taken then, +though it was not painted till long afterward. +She never thenceforth, while her father lived, +left the wing of the manor-house in which her +rooms lay; neither did he, nor any one else, except +the two servants who attended her, look +upon her face. People pitied her very much at +first, and then forgot her entirely. Once the +superior of a Belgian convent, a relation of the +family, offered to admit Mabel, if she chose to +take the vows. Perhaps Sir Ewes Tresilyan was +more gratified than he liked to show, for the best +blood in Europe was to be found in that sisterhood; +but his reply was not a gracious one:</p> + +<p>“I thank the abbess,” he wrote; “but <i>we</i> +are used to choose for our gifts the most precious +thing we have—not the most worthless. I will +not lighten my house from a heavy burden, by +offering it to God.”</p> + +<p>He relented, however, when he was dying, and +sent for his daughter. Very reluctantly she +came. He had prepared, I believe, a pompous +and proper oration, wherein he was to pardon +her and even bestow a sort of qualified blessing; +but the wan face and wild, hollow eyes, not seen +for twelve years, frightened all his grandeur out +of his head; and the obstinate, narrow-minded +tyrant collapsed all at once into a foolish, fond +old man. Something too late (that’s one comfort) +to avail him much. In Mabel’s nature, +soft and yielding as it appeared, there was the +black spot that nothing but harshness and cruelty +could have brought out—the utter incapacity of +relenting, which had given rise to the rude +rhyme known through three counties—</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>In Tresilyan’s face</div> +<div>Fault finds no grace.</div> +</div> + +<p>So, when the sick man cried out to her, +through his sobs, to kiss him and forgive him, +the dreary, monotonous voice only answered, “I +can kiss you, father;” and when she had laid +her icicles of lips on his forehead, she glided +<samp class="pgmark">11</samp> +out of the room like a ghost that has accomplished +its mission and hastens away to its own +place. Sir Ewes never tried to call her back; +he scarcely spoke at all intelligibly after that; +but lay, for the few remaining hours of life, +moaning to himself, his face turned to the wall.</p> + +<p>For a very short time after her father’s death, +Mabel seemed to take a pleasure in roaming +about the gardens and woods from which she +had been debarred so long; but the walks grew +gradually shorter, and she soon shut herself up +in the house entirely, seeing only a few of her +near relatives. It was one of these who, at her +own request, painted the second portrait—a rude +performance, but it must have been a likeness. +She seemed to feel an odd sort of satisfaction in +looking at the two and comparing them. Her +brain was somewhat clouded and unsteady; but +I fancy she was counting up all the harm and +wrong the hard world had done to her, and calculating +what amends would be made in the +next. I doubt not they were kind and pitiful +and indulgent enough there; but on earth she +found no source of comfort strong enough to +banish from her eyes that terrible look which +haunted them within five minutes of her end.</p> + +<p>When spirits assemble from the four corners +of heaven, how many thousand companions, +think you, will greet the Gileadite’s daughter?</p> + +<p>Before you saw Cecil Tresilyan’s face, the +curve of her neck, and the way her head was +set on it, told you that she was by no means exempt +from the family failing which had laid its +hand so heavily on her ancestors. Yet it was +not a hard or habitually haughty, or even a very +decided face. There was nothing alarmingly +severe about the slight aquiline of the nose; the +chin did not look as if it were “carved in marble,” +or “clasped in steel,” or as if it were made +of any thing but soft flesh prettily dimpled; the +delicate scarlet lip, when it curled, rarely went +beyond sauciness; though the splendid violet +eyes could well express disdain, this was not +their favorite expression—and they had many. +The head would certainly have been too small +had it not been for the glossy masses of dark +chestnut hair sweeping down low all round it, +smooth and unbroken as a deep river in its first +curl over a cataract. Candid friends said her +complexion was not bright enough; perhaps they +were right; but the color had not forgotten how +to come and go there at fitting seasons; at any +rate, the grand clear white could never be mistaken +for an unhealthy pallor. An extraordinarily +good constitution was ever part of a Tresilyan’s +inheritance; and if you doubted whether +her blood circulated freely you had only to compare +her cheek on a bitter March day with some +red-and-white ones, when a sharp east wind had +forced those last to mount <i>all</i> the stripes of the +tricolor. By the way, are not the “roses dipped +in milk” going out of fashion just now? A +humble but stanch adherent of the house of +York, I like to think—how many battle-fields, +since Towton, our Flower has won!</p> + +<p>But if Cecil’s face was not faultless, her figure +<i>was</i>. Had one single proportion been exaggerated +or deficient, she could never have carried +off her height so lithely and gracefully. She +might take twenty <i>poses</i> in a morning, and people +always thought they would choose the last +one to have her painted in. Here, she was quite +inimitable. For instance, women, I believe, used +to practice in their own room for hours to catch +her peculiar way of half-reclining in an armchair; +but the most painstaking of them all +never achieved any thing beyond a caricature. +Yet no one could accuse her of studying stage-effects. +If a trifle of the <i>Incedo Regina</i> marked +her walk and carriage, it was à l’Eugénie, not à +la Statira.</p> + +<p>Indeed, she was thoroughly natural all over; +cleverer and more fascinating, certainly, than +ninety-nine women out of every hundred; but +not one bit more strong-minded, or heroic, or +self-denying. She had been very well brought +up, and had undeniably good principles; but she +would yield to occasional small temptations with +perfect grace and facility. Great ones she had +never yet encountered; for Cecil, if not quite +fancy-free, had only read and perhaps dreamed +of passions. She had known one remorse, of +which you may hear hereafter (not a heavy allowance, +considering her opportunities), and one +grief—the death of her mother. She entertained +a remarkable reverence for all ministers of the Established +Church; yet she was about the last woman +alive to have married a clergyman, and would +have considered the charge of the old women and +schools of a country parish as a lingering and +unsatisfactory martyrdom. There never was a +more constant attendant at all sorts of divine +service; though perhaps the most casual of worshipers +had never been more bored than she +was by some of the discourses to which she listened +so patiently. She would confess this to you +at luncheon, and then start for the same church +in the afternoon, with an edifying but rather +comic expression of resignation. I am sure she +would not deliberately have vexed the smallest +child; and yet the number of athletic men who +ascribed the loss of their peace of mind to her, +was, as the Yankees have it, “a caution.” Some +of the “regulars,” wary adventuresses of three +seasons’ standing, had brought off several pretty +good things by following her, and picking up the +victims fluttering about helpless in their first despair, +just as the keepers after a battue go round +the covers with the retrievers.</p> + +<p>If there were any more antitheses in her character, +they had better speak for themselves hereafter; +nor is there much that need be told about +her companions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Danvers, or “Bessie,” as she liked to be +called, had been Cecil’s last governess, and was +retired on full-pay, which, she flattered herself, +she earned in the capacity of traveling chaperone +and censor; but, inasmuch as when she really +held some tutelar authority, her pupil had never +taken the slightest notice of her prohibitions, she +could hardly be expected now to exercise any +very salutary influence or control.</p> + +<p>Dick Tresilyan was absurdly proud and fond +of his sister, and performed all her behests with +a blind obedience; but when he heard that he +was to attend her during a whole winter’s residence +abroad, he did think that it was stretching +her prerogative to the verge of tyranny. No +wonder. A dragoon who has lost his horse, a +goose on a turnpike-road, or any other popular +type of helplessness, does not present so lamentable +a picture as a Briton in a foreign land, +without resources in himself, and with a rooted +aversion to the use of any language except his +<samp class="pgmark">12</samp> +own. In this case, the victim actually attempted +some feeble remonstrance and argument on +the subject. Cecil was almost as much astonished +as the Prophet was under similar circumstances; +but she considered that habits of discussion +in beasts of burden and the lower order +of animals generally were inconvenient, and +rather to be discouraged; so she cut it short, +now, somewhat imperiously. Thereupon, Dick +Tresilyan slid into a slough of despond, in which +he had been wallowing ever since. A faint +gleam of sunshine broke in when one of his intimates, +hearing he was going to France, suggested +“that’s where the brandy comes from;” +but it was instantly overclouded by the remark +which followed. “I suppose, though, you won’t +be able to drink much more of it than you do +here:” on realizing which crushing fact, his +melancholy became, if possible, more profound +than ever. Indeed, since he crossed the Channel, +he had spent most of his leisure moments in +a sort of chronic blasphemy, which, it is to be +hoped, afforded him some slight relief and consolation, +as it was wholly unintelligible to his +audience; for, to do Dick justice, in his sister’s +presence the door of his lips was always strictly +guarded.</p> + +<p>However, to Dorade they came—hours after +their time, of course, but perfectly safe: no accident +ever does happen in France to any thing +properly booked, except to luggage sent by <i>roulage</i>, +to which there attaches the romantic uncertainty +of Vanderdecken’s correspondence. Cecil +rather liked traveling; it never tired her; so, by +midnight she had seen Mrs. Danvers, weary and +querulous, to bed—gone through a variety of +gymnastics in the way of <i>accolades</i>, with Fanny +Molyneux—taken some trouble in inquiring +about shooting and other amusements likely to +divert her brother from his sorrows—and yet did +not feel very sleepy.</p> + +<p>They ignore shutters in these climes; and her +reflection was still flitting backward and forward +across the white window-blinds as Royston Keene +came home from the Cercle. He knew the room, +or guessed who the shadow belonged to; and as +he moved away, after pausing a minute or two, +he waved his hand toward it, with a gesture so +unwarrantably like a salute that, were <i>silhouettes</i> +sensitive or prudish, it might have proved an offense +not easily forgiven.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">The</span> next morning was so soft and sunny that +it tempted Miss Tresilyan out on the terrace of +their hotel very soon after breakfast. She was +waiting for her brother on the top of the steps +leading down into the road, when Major Keene +passed by again. If he had never heard of her +before, the smooth sweeping outline of her magnificent +form, and the careless grace of her attitude, +as she stood leaning against the stone balustrade, +were not likely to escape an eye that was +wont to light on every point of feminine perfection, +as a poacher’s does on a sitting hare. But +he never got so far as her face then; and hardly +had time to criticise her figure; for at that moment +a brisk gust of the <i>mistral</i> swept round the +corner, and revealed a foot and ankle so marvelously +exquisite, that they attracted his eyes, as +long as he dared to fix them without risking a +stare; and kept his thoughts busy till he saw +her again. “<i>Caramba!</i>” he muttered, half +aloud. “I don’t wonder at any one who has +seen <i>that</i> not looking at a nautch-girl afterward.” +And he quickened his pace toward Mr. Molyneux’s +house. He met them before he reached +their door.</p> + +<p>“I am going to Miss Tresilyan,” Fanny said. +“Isn’t it lucky, her first morning here being such +a delicious one?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! I thought that was your point,” answered +Keene. “There must be a tremendous +amount of ‘gushing’ to be got through still: the +accumulation of—how many months? I suppose +you only took the rough edge off last night. +Don’t hurt her, please, that’s all. And, Hal, you +were actually going to preside over the meeting +of two young hearts, and gloat over their emotions, +and spoil their innocent amusements? I +wonder at you. Means well, Mrs. Molyneux; +but he’s <i>so</i> thoughtless.”</p> + +<p>Fanny laughed. “I think I could do without +him. But we mean to walk this afternoon, +and he may come then; and you too, Major +Keene, if you are good.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll enter into all sorts of recognizances to +keep the peace,” was the reply; “but I should +have thought you might trust me by this time. +It’s that excitable husband of yours that wants +disciplining. I’ll give him some soda-water by +way of a precaution. Then, when you have sacrificed +to friendship sufficiently, you will lionize +Miss Tresilyan? The Castle first, of course. +Shall we meet you there at two?”</p> + +<p>Harry did not quite see the thing in this light, +and looked slightly disappointed; but he yielded +the point, as he always did, and went away dutifully +with his superior officer.</p> + +<p>“Describe the brother,” the latter said, abruptly, +when they had gone a few steps.</p> + +<p>“Well, I believe he’s the most ignorant man +in Great Britain,” answered Molyneux: “that’s +his <i>spécialité</i>. He never had much education; +and he has been trying to forget that little, ‘hard +all,’ ever since he was eighteen. You remember +how our fellows used to laugh at me about my +epistles? I could give him 21lb., and a beating +any day. They say, two men have to stand over +him whenever he tries to write a letter, for no +<i>one</i> is strong enough to keep him straight in his +spelling and grammar. If he tries it on alone, +he gets bewildered in the second sentence, and +wanders up and down, knocking his head against +particles and parts of speech, like the man in the +Maze; and throws up the sponge at last, utterly +beat. Helplessly devoted to his sister, but rather +obstinate with other people, and apt to be sulky +sometimes; but good-natured on the whole; and +drinks <i>very</i> fair.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he drinks fair, does he?” Royston said, +meditatively. “Has that any thing to do with +his brotherly affection? Every body who is fond +of Miss Tresilyan seems to take to liquor. Annesley +was pretty sober till he knew her. It’s +rather odd. I don’t suppose she encourages +them?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not; at least, I know she has tried +to stint Dick in his brandy very often. It’s the +only point she has never been able to carry.”</p> + +<p>“A man must be firm about some one thing,” +<samp class="pgmark">13</samp> +the other remarked, “or there’s an end of free-agency +altogether. He has no intellects to be +affected by it apparently; and I dare say his +health does not suffer much yet. It’s a question +of constitution, after all.”</p> + +<p>He dropped the subject then, and was very +silent all the rest of the morning, till they came +to the place of meeting. Somehow or another, +it did not occur to him to mention to Harry what +he had seen on the terrace.</p> + +<p>They had not waited long before the three +women came slowly up the zigzags of the path +that wound round the Castle-hill. Dick Tresilyan +had “got his pass signed” for the day, +and had started off, with his courier, to make +the lives of several natives a burden to them, on +the subject of <i>bécasses</i> and <i>bécassines</i>.</p> + +<p>Cecil might have been known by her walk +among ten thousand. She seemed to float along +without any visible exertion, as if her dress were +buoyant, and bore her up in some mysterious +fashion; but, looking closer, and marking how +straight and firmly and lightly every footfall was +planted, you gave the narrow arched instep, and +the slender rounded ankle, the credit they well +deserved; marveling only that so delicate a +symmetry could conceal so much sinewy power. +Upon this occasion, she was evidently accommodating +her pace to that of Mrs. Danvers; and +no racing man could have seen the two, without +thinking of one of the Flyers of the turf walking +down by the side of the trainer’s pony.</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan’s hat, of a soft black felt, shaded +by a black cock’s feather, was decidedly in advance +of her age: for that very provocative +head-gear, with the many-colored <i>panaches</i>, had +not then become so common; and even the Passionate +Pilgrim might hope (with luck) to walk +along a pier or a parade, without meeting a succession +of Red Rovers—each capable of boarding +him at a minute’s notice, and making all his affections +walk the plank. Her tunic of iron-gray +velvet, without fitting tightly to her figure, still +did it fair justice; and, from the tie of her neck-ribbon, +down to the wonderful boots that slid in +and out from under the striped scarlet kirtle over +which her dress was looped up, there was not the +minutest detail that might not have challenged +and baffled criticism.</p> + +<p>Royston Keene appreciated all this thoroughly. +No man alive held the stale old adage of +“Beauty when unadorned,” etc., in profounder +scorn. A pair of badly-fitting gloves, a soiled +<i>collerette</i>, or a tumbled dress, had cured more +than one of the fever fits of his younger days; +and he was ten times as fastidious now.</p> + +<p>He drew a long, slow breath of intense enjoyment, +as a thirsty cricketer may do after the +first deep draught of claret-cup that rewards a +two hours’ innings. “It’s very refreshing, after +weeks of total abstinence, to see a woman who +goes in for dress, and does it thoroughly well.” +He had no time for more, for the others were +almost within hearing.</p> + +<p>When the introductions were over, Mrs. Danvers +said she was tired, and must rest a little. +Very few words will do justice to her personal +appearance. Brevity, and breadth, and bluntness +were her chief characteristics, which applied +equally to her figure, her face, and her extremities, +and, not unfrequently, to her speech too. +Her health was really infirm, but she never could +attain the object of many an invalid’s harmless +ambition—looking interesting. Illness made her +cheeks look pasty, but not pale; it could not +fine down the coarsely moulded features, or purify +their ignoble outline. Her voice was against +her, certainly; perhaps this was the reason why, +when she bemoaned herself, so many irreverent +and hard-hearted reprobates called it “whining.” +It was very unfortunate; for few could be found, +even in the somewhat exacting class to which +she belonged, more anxious and active in enlisting +sympathy. She was looking especially ill-tempered +just then, but Major Keene was not +easily daunted, and he went in at her straight +and gallantly—about the weather, it is needless +to say, both being English. While Mrs. Danvers +was disagreeing with him, Cecil took her +turn at inspection. Royston’s name was familiar +to her, of course, for no one ever talked to +Mrs. Molyneux for ten minutes without hearing +it. Though she had scarcely glanced at him in +the morning, she had decided that the tall, erect +figure and the enormous mustache, with its +<i>crocs à la mousquetaire</i>, could only belong to +Fanny’s Household Word. It was very odd—she +had not a shade of a reason for it—but +neither had <i>she</i> mentioned that rencontre to her +friend. Perhaps they had so many other things +to talk about. She could scan him now more +narrowly, for his face was turned away from her. +The result was satisfactory: when Major Keene +stood up on his feet, not even his habitual laziness +could disguise the fair proportions and trained +vigor of a stalwart man-at-arms; and be it +known that Cecil’s eye, though not so professional +as that of Good Queen Bess, loved to light +upon such dearly.</p> + +<p>“Harry,” Mrs. Molyneux observed, “Mr. +Fullarton called while I was at the <i>Lion d’Or</i> +this morning, and staid half an hour. He is so +very anxious to get Cecil to lead the singing in +church.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he has been, so to speak, throwing his +hat up ever since he heard you were coming, +Miss Tresilyan,” was the reply. “I suppose he +calculated on your vocal talents; there’s the +nuisance of having an European reputation, you +are always expected to do something for somebody’s +benefit. I hope you’ll indulge him, in +charity to us. You have no idea what it has +been. Two Sundays ago, for instance, a Mr. +Rolleston and his wife volunteered to give us a +lead. He didn’t look like a racing man; and +yet he must have been. I never saw any thing +more artistically done. He went off at score, +and made the pace so strong that he cut them +all down in the first two verses; and then the +wife, who had waited very patiently, came and +won as she liked—nothing else near her.”</p> + +<p>Cecil thought the illustration rather irreverent, +and did not smile. Keene saw this as he turned +round.</p> + +<p>“The turf slang has got into your constitution, +I think, since you won that Garrison Cup. +It’s very wrong of you not to cure yourself, when +you know how it annoys Mrs. Molyneux. He +is right, though, Miss Tresilyan; it is a case of +real distress: our vocal destitution is pitiable; +so, if you have any benevolence to spare, do bestow +it upon us, and your petitioners will ever +pray, etc.”</p> + +<p>Now it so happened that Fanny valued that same +<samp class="pgmark">14</samp> +cup above all her earthly possessions, as a mark +of her husband’s prowess. No testimonial ever +gave so much satisfaction to a popular rector’s +wife as that little ugly mug afforded her, albeit +it was the very wooden-spoon of racing plate. +So she first smiled consolingly at the culprit, +who was already contrite, and then looked up at +the last speaker with amusement and wonder +glittering in her pretty brown eyes. She did not +see what interest the subject could have for +Keene, who had only darkened the chapel doors +once since they came. Mr. Fullarton, indeed, +was supposed to have alluded to him several +times—his discourses were apt to take a personal +and individualizing turn—but he had never had +the satisfaction of a “shot in the open” at that +stout-hearted sinner.</p> + +<p>Royston caught <i>la mignonne’s</i> glance, and understood +it perfectly, but not a line of his face +moved. He was waiting for Cecil’s reply very +anxiously: he had not heard her speak yet.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Fullarton is rather rash,” she said, +“for our acquaintance is slight, and I don’t +think he ever heard me sing. But I shall do +my best next Sunday. Every one ought to help +in such a case as much as they can.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and you will do it so beautifully, dearest!” +Cecil bit her lip, and colored angrily. +Nothing annoyed her like Mrs. Danvers’ obtrusive +partisanship and uncouth flattery.</p> + +<p>The gleam of pleasure that shone out on +Keene’s dark face for a moment, only Harry interpreted +rightly. He had scarcely listened to +the words, but he thought, “I knew I was right; +I knew the voice would match the rest!” When +they moved on again, he walked by Miss Tresilyan’s +side, and “still their speech was song.”</p> + +<p>His first remark was, “I hope you condescend +to ballads sometimes? I confess to not deriving +much pleasure from those elaborate performances +where the voice tries dangerous feats of strength +and agility: even at the Opera they make one +rather uncomfortable. Some of the very scientific +pieces suggest ideas of homicide or suicide, +as the case may be, according to my temper at +the moment. Of course, I know less than nothing +about music; but I don’t think this quite accounts +for it. I really believe that unsophisticated +human nature revolts at the <i>bravura</i>.”</p> + +<p>It was rare good fortune, so early in their acquaintance, +to tempt forth the brilliant smile +that always betrayed when Cecil was well +pleased.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Molyneux has told you what my tastes +are?” she said. “I have never tried <i>bravuras</i> +since I left off masters, and even then I only attempted +them under protest. But there are some +quiet songs I like so much that I sing them to +myself when I am out of spirits, and it does me +good. Don’t you like the old-fashioned ones +best? I fancy, in those days, people felt more +what they wrote, and did not consider only how +the words would suit the composer.”</p> + +<p>“Probably,” Keene replied. “If Charles +Edward was of no other use, some good strong +lines were written about him. I do not think +he lived in vain. There are no partisans now. +The only songs of the sort that I ever saw with +any <i>verve</i> in them were some seditious Irish ones: +rather spirited—only they had not grammar +enough to ballast them. The writer either was, +or wanted to be, transported. We are <i>all</i> very +fond of the Guelphs—at least every body in decent +society is—and that is just the reason why +we are not enthusiastic. We are all ready to +‘die for the throne,’ etc., but we don’t see any +immediate probability of our devotion being tested. +So the laureate only rhymes loyally, and he +at stated seasons, and in a temperate, professional +style.”</p> + +<p>“Please don’t laugh at Tennyson,” she interrupted; +“I suppose it is very easy to do so, for +so many people try it; but I never listen to them +if I can help it.”</p> + +<p>“A premature warning,” was the grave reply; +“I had no such idea. I admire Tennyson fully +as much as you can do, and read him, I dare +say, much oftener. I was only speaking of his +performances in the <i>manège</i>; indeed, there is not +enough of these to make a fair illustration, so I +was wrong to bring them in. When he settles +to his <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'strid '">stride,</ins> few of the ‘cracks’ of last century +seem able to live with him. They have not set +all his best things to music. A clever composer +might do great things, I fancy, with ‘The Sisters,’ +and the <i>refrain</i> of ‘the wind in turret and +tree.’”</p> + +<p>“It would never be a very general favorite,” +Miss Tresilyan observed. “It seems hardly +right to set to music even an imaginary story +of great sin and sorrow. I saw a sketch of it +some time ago. The murderess was sitting on +a cushion close to the earl’s body, with her head +bent so low that one of her black tresses almost +touched his smooth golden curls; you could just +see the hilt of the dagger under her left hand. +That, and the corpse’s quiet, pale face were the +only two objects that stood out in relief; for the +storm outside was stirring the window-curtains, +and making the one lamp flare irregularly. Her +features were in the shadow, and you had to fancy +how hard, and rigid, and dreary they must +be. It was the merest sketch, but if it had been +worked out, it would have made a very terrible +picture.”</p> + +<p>“A good conception,” Royston said; “well, +perhaps it would not be a pleasant song to sing, +but better, I should think, than some of those +dreadful sentimental ones. They are not much +worse than the Strephon and the Chloe class, in +which our ancestors delighted; still, they are indefensible. +If our Lauras find Petrarchs now, +they are usually very beardless ones, and the green +morocco cover, with its golden lock, covers their +indiscretions. Those who write love ditties for +the piano <i>must</i> celebrate a shadow who can’t be +critical. Imagine any man insulting a real woman +of average intellect with ‘Will you love me +then as now!’”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she assented, “they are too absurd as +a rule. They make our cheeks burn, as if we +were performing some very ridiculous part in +low comedy; but they do not warm one’s heart, +like ‘Annie Laurie.’”</p> + +<p>“Ah! it’s curious how that always suggests itself +as the standard to compare others with: not +fair, though, for it makes most of them sound +so feeble and effeminate. Douglas of Finland +wrote it, you know, in the campaign which finished +him. Long before that the charming Annie +had given her promise true to Craigdarroch; +and she had to keep it, <i>tant bien que mal</i>, for it +was pronounced in the Tron Church, instead of +on the braes of Maxwellton. I wonder if she +<samp class="pgmark">15</samp> +inscribed those verses in her scrap-book? I dare +say she did, and sang them to her grandchildren, +in a cracked treble.”</p> + +<p>“I am so sorry you told me that,” Cecil exclaimed; +“my romance was quite a different +one, and not nearly so sad. I always fancied +the man who wrote those lines must have ended +so happily! One would despise her thoroughly +if she could ever have forgiven herself, or forgotten +him.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes brightened, and her cheeks flushed +as she spoke. The momentary excitement made +her look so handsome that Keene’s glance could +not withhold admiration; but there was no sympathy +in it, any more than in his cold, quiet +tones.</p> + +<p>“No, don’t despise her,” he said. “She +could scarcely be expected to wait for a corporal +in the Scottish regiment. When the cavaliers +sailed from home they knew they were leaving +every thing but honor behind them; of course, +their mistresses went with the other luxuries. +They had not many of these in the brigade, if +we can believe history. Fortunately for us (or +we should have missed the song) Finland never +knew of the ‘fresh fere’ who dried the bright +blue eyes so soon. He would not have carried +his pike so cheerily either, if his eyes had been +good enough to see across the German Ocean. +Well, perhaps the story isn’t true; very few +melodramatic legends are.”</p> + +<p>“I shall try not to believe it; but I am afraid +you have destroyed an illusion.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say so?” was the reply. “I regret +it extremely. If I had but known you carried +such things about with you! Indeed, I will +be more careful for the future. We are out-walking +the main-guard, I see. Shall we wait +for them here? It is a good point of view. +One forgets that there are two invalids to be +considered.”</p> + +<p>Did Royston Keene speak thus purposely, on +the principle of those practiced periodical writers, +who always leave their hero in extreme +peril, or their heroine on the verge of a moral +precipice, in order to keep our curiosity tense +till the next number? If not, chance favored +him by producing the very effect he would have +desired.</p> + +<p>His companion’s fair cheek flashed again, and +this time a little vexation had something to say +to it. It was incontestably correct to wait for +the rest of the party, but she would have preferred +originating the suggestion. Besides, the +conversation had begun to interest her; and she +liked being amused too well not to be sorry for +its being cut short abruptly. She thought Major +Keene talked epigrammatically; and the undercurrent +of irony that ran through all he said was +not so obtrusive as to seriously offend her.</p> + +<p>It was no light ordeal he had just passed +through. First impressions are not made on +women of Cecil Tresilyan’s class so easily as +they are upon guileless <i>débutantes</i>; but they are +far more important and lasting. It is useless attempting +to pass off counterfeit coin on those expert +money-changers; but they value the pure +gold all the more when it rings sharp and true. +It is always so with those who have once been +Queens of Beauty. A certain imperial dignity +attaches to them long after they have ceased to +reign: over the brows that have worn worthily +the diadem there still hangs the phantasm of a +shadowy crown. There need be nothing of repellent +haughtiness, or, what is worse, of evident +condescension; but, though they are perfectly +gentle and good-natured, we risk our little sallies +and sarcasms with timidity, or at least diffidence; +feeling especially that a commonplace +compliment would be an inexcusable profanation. +Our sword may be ready and keen enough +against others, but before <i>them</i> we lower its point, +as the robber did to Queen Margaret in the lonely +wood. We are conscious of treading on +ground where stronger, and wiser, and better +men have knelt before us; and own that the +altar on which things so rare and precious have +been laid has a right to be fastidious as to the +quality of incense.</p> + +<p>Not the less did such glory of past royalty surround +the Tresilyan because she had abdicated, +and never been dethroned.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">There</span> is something singularly refreshing in +the enthusiasm that one pretty and fascinating +woman will display when speaking of another +highly gifted as herself—perhaps even more so. +It seems to me there is more honesty here, and +less stage-trick and conventionality, than is to be +found in most manifestations of sentiment that +take place in polite society. A perfectly plain +and unattractive female may, of course, be sincerely +attached to her beautiful friend, but her +partisanship must be somewhat theoretical; it +has not the <i>esprit de corps</i> which characterizes +the other class. These last can count victories +enough of their own to be able to sympathize +heartily with the triumphs of their fellows without +envying or grudging them one. What does +it matter if Rose has slain her thousands and +Lilian her tens of thousands? It is always “so +much scored up to our side.”</p> + +<p>Would you like to assist, invisibly, at one of +those two-handed “free-and-easies,” where notes +are compared and confidences exchanged, where +the fair warriors “shoulder their <i>fans</i>, and show +how fields were won?” Perhaps our vanity +would suffer though our curiosity were gratified. +The proverb about listeners has come in since +the time of Gyges, it is true; but his luck was +exceptional, and would not often follow his Ring. +Campaspe <i>en déshabille</i> is not invariably kind. +It is a popular superstition that men are apt, at +certain seasons, to speak rather lightly, if not +superciliously, of the beings whom they ought to +delight to honor. If so, be sure the medal has +its reverse. When you secured that gardenia +from Amy’s bouquet, or that ribbon from Helen’s +glove trimming, you went home with a placid +sense of self-gratulation, flattering yourself you +had done it rather diplomatically, without compromising +your boasted freedom by word or sign. +Perhaps, two hours later, you figured conspicuously +in a train of shadowy captives adorning +the conqueror’s ideal ovation. A change of color +of which you were unconscious, a tremulous +pressure of fingers that you risked involuntarily—a +sentence that was meant to be careless and +indifferent, but ended by being earnest and imploring—all +these were commented upon in the +<samp class="pgmark">16</samp> +select committee, and estimated at their proper +value.</p> + +<p>Very keen-sighted are those soft almond eyes +ambushed behind their trailing lashes, and from +them the sternest stoic may not long conceal his +wound. The Knight of Persia never groaned, +or shrank, or drooped his crest when the quarrel +struck him; but Amala needed only to look +down to see his blood red upon the waters of +the ford. Some penalty must attach itself to +unauthorized intruders, even in thought, upon +the <i>Cerealia</i>. I don’t wish to be disagreeable, +or to suggest unpleasant misgivings to the masculine +mind, but—do you think we are always +compassionated as much as we deserve? I own +to a horrible suspicion that our betrayals of weakness +form matter of exultation, and that our tenderest +emotions are not unfrequently derided.</p> + +<p>Clearly this delightful sympathy can only exist +where fancies, and ambitions, and interests do +not clash. They seldom need do so: there is +room enough for all. So much disposable devotion +is abroad in this world, that no one woman +can monopolize it. It is a tolerably fair +handicap, on the whole; and even the second +horse may land a very satisfactory stake. Never +was night when the moon shone so dazzlingly as +to blind us to the brilliancy of “a star or two beside.” +Bothwell, and Châtelet, and Rizzio were +not the only love-stricken ones in Holyrood. Had +the Queen of Scots been thrice as charming, +glances, and sighs, and words enough would still +have been found to satisfy the most exacting of +her Maries.</p> + +<p>Fanny Molyneux was a capital specimen of +the thorough-paced partisan. She was terribly +indignant at dinner on that first day of their +meeting, when Major Keene would not endorse +<i>all</i> her raptures about her favorite. He assented +to every thing, certainly; but though his approbation +was decided it was perfectly calm. +He intrenched himself behind his natural and +acquired <i>sang-froid</i>, and the fair assailant could +not force those lines.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be unreasonable,” Royston said at last. +“As Macdonough always says when he has lost +the first two rubbers, ‘the night is young and +drink is plenty.’ Admiration will develop itself +if you only give it time. I have serious thoughts +already of adding another to the many little +poems that must have been written about Miss +Tresilyan. Shall I send it to the ‘United Service +Gazette?’ It would be a great credit to our +branch of the profession. No dragoon has published +a rhyme since Lovelace, I believe. I’ve +got as far as the first line:</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>Ah, Cecil! hide those eyes of blue.”</div> +</div> + +<p>“I think I’ve heard something very like that +before,” Fanny answered, laughing. “She deserves +a prettier compliment than a <i>réchauffé</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Have you heard it before? Well, I shouldn’t +wonder. You don’t expect one to be original +and enthusiastic at the same moment, when both +are out of one’s line? I own it, though. Your +princess merits all the vassalage she has found—better +than she will meet with here—if only +for the perfection of her costume. That <i>is</i> a +triumph. Honor to the artist who built her hat. +I drink to him now, and I wish the Burgundy +were worthier of the toast. (Hal, this Corton +does not improve.) I should advise you to secure +the address of her <i>bottier</i>. You know her +well enough to ask for it, perhaps? It must be +a secret.”</p> + +<p>“Then you have not found out how very clever +she is?”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me,” was the reply; “I can imagine +Miss Tresilyan perfectly well educated; so +well, that she might dispense with carrying about +a living voucher in the shape of that dreadful <i>ex-institutrice</i>. +I never knew what makes very nice +women cling so to very disagreeable governesses. +Perhaps there is a satisfaction in patronizing +where you have been ruled, and in conferring +favors where you have only received ‘impositions’—a +pleasant consciousness of returning +good for evil. There is no other rational way +of accounting for it.”</p> + +<p><i>La mignonne</i> was not indignant now, as might +have been expected; but she gazed at the speaker +long and more searchingly than was her wont, +with something very like pity in her kind, earnest +eyes.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you would not sneer so at every +thing if you could help it,” she said. “I am +not wise enough to do so; but I don’t envy you.”</p> + +<p>Royston’s hard cold face changed for an instant, +and the faintest flush lingered there, about +as long as your breath would upon polished steel. +It was not the first time that one of her random +shafts had struck him home. All the sarcasm +had died out of his voice as he answered slowly—</p> + +<p>“Don’t you envy me? You are right there. +And you think you are not wise enough to be +cynical? If there was any school to teach us +how to turn our talents to the best account, I +know which of us two would have most to learn.” +When he spoke again it was in his usual manner, +but upon another and perfectly indifferent +subject.</p> + +<p>Harry had taken no part in the discussion. +Always languid, toward night he generally felt +especially disinclined to any bodily or mental +exertion. At such times there was nothing he +liked so well as to lie on his sofa and assist at a +passage-of-arms between his wife and Keene, encouraging +either party occasionally with an approving +smile, but preserving a cautious and +complete neutrality. On the present occasion +he had his own reasons for not being disappointed +about the latter’s appreciation of Miss Tresilyan. +Had he felt any such misgivings, they +would have vanished later in the evening.</p> + +<p>The doctor was a stern man; but he must +have been more than human to have stood fast +against the entreaties and cajolement with which +his patient backed up the petition, “to be allowed +just one cigar before going to roost.” The +prospect of this compensating weed had supported +poor Harry through the dullness and privations +of many monotonous days. As the appointed +time drew nigh, he would freshen up +visibly, just like the camels when, staggering fetlock +deep through the sand-wastes, they scent +the water or sight the clump of palms. Was +there more in all this than could be traced to +the mere soothing influence of the nicotine and +flavor of the tobacco? Might not this one old +habit still indulged have been the only link that +sensibly connected the invalid with those pleasant +days, when he enjoyed life so heartily, with +so many cheery comrades to keep him in countenance—when +he would have laughed at the +idea of any thing short of a sabre-cut, a shot-wound, +<samp class="pgmark">17</samp> +or a rattling fall over an “oxer,” bringing +him down to that state of helpless dependence, +when our conception of womankind resolves +itself into the ministering angel? Harry +certainly could not have told you if this were so; +for an inquiry into the precise nature of his sensations +would have posed him at any time quite +as completely as a question in hydrostatics or +plane trigonometry. At any rate, the consumption +of The Cigar was a very important ceremony +with him; not conducted in the thoughtless and +improvident spirit of men who smoke a dozen or +so a day, but partaking rather of the character +of a sacrifice, at once festal and solemn. There +were times, as we have said before, when he +would break out of bounds recklessly; but upon +such occasions he gave himself no time to reflect; +so there was nothing then of calm and deliberate +enjoyment; and these escapades grew +more and more rare as the warnings of his constitution +spoke more imperiously.</p> + +<p>Among the very few traits of amiability that +Major Keene had ever displayed, were the sacrifices +of personal convenience he would make for +Harry Molyneux. He had given up a good +many engagements to see his comrade through +that especial hour; and, if the day had left any +available geniality in him, it was sure to come +out then. Upon this occasion, however, he was +remarkably silent, and answered several times at +random as if his thoughts were roving elsewhere: +they were not unpleasant ones, apparently, for he +smiled twice or thrice to himself, much less icily +than usual. At last he spoke abruptly, after a +long pause—Miss Tresilyan’s name had not once +been mentioned—“Hal, you know that old hackneyed +phrase, about ‘a woman to die for?’ I +think we have seen one to-day who is worth living +for; which is saying a good deal more.”</p> + +<p>“You like her, then?” Molyneux asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes—I—like—her.” The words came out +as if each one had been weighed to a grain; and +his lip put on that curious smile once more.</p> + +<p>Harry did not feel quite satisfied. He would +have preferred hearing more, and inferring less; +but acting upon his invariable rose-colored principle, +he would not admit any disagreeable surmises, +and went to bed under the impression +that “it was all right,” and that Royston was in +a fair way toward being repaid for the sacrifices +he had made to friendship.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">The</span> Saturday night is waning, but Molyneux +shows no signs of moving yet from Keene’s apartments. +He has been a model of prudence though +so far, as to his drinks, and, in good truth, their +companion is not amusing, or instructive, or convivial +enough, to tempt or to excuse transgression.</p> + +<p>Dick Tresilyan looks about twenty-five, strongly +and somewhat heavily built; rather over the +middle height, even with the decided stoop of his +broad, round shoulders. He carries far too +much flesh to please a professional eye, and by +the time he is fifty will be very unwieldy; but +there is more activity in him than might be supposed, +and he walks strongly and well, as you +would find if you tried to keep pace with him +through the turnips on a sultry September day. +His face, without a pretension to beauty in itself, +suggests it—just the face that makes you +say, “that man must have a handsome sister;” +indeed, it bears an absurdly strong family likeness +to Cecil’s, amounting to a parody. But the +outline of feature which in her is so fine and +clear, is dull and filled out even to coarseness. +It reminded one of looking at the same landscape, +first through the medium of a bright blue +sky, and then through driving mist, when crag, +and cliff, and wood still show themselves, but +blurred and dimly. His hair and eyes are, by +several shades, the lighter of the two. The great +difference is in the mouth. Cecil’s is so delicately +chiseled, so apt at all expressions, from tender +to provocative, that many consider it one of her +best points; her brother’s is so weak and undecided +in its character (or rather want of character), +that it would make a more intellectual face +vacuous and inane.</p> + +<p>The “Tresilyan constitution” holds its own +gallantly against the inroads of hardish living, +and Dick looks the picture of rude health. Men +endowed with an invincible obtuseness of intellect +and feeling, have no mental wear and tear, +and if the machine starts in good order, it seems +as if it might last out indefinitely; so it would, +I dare say, if it were not for a propensity to drink, +and otherwise to abuse their bodily advantages, +peculiar to this class. But for this neutralizing +element in their composition perhaps they would +live as long as crows or elephants, and we should +be visited by a succession of stupid Old Parrs; +which would be a very dreadful dispensation indeed. +The present subject takes a good deal of +exercise, to be sure, and naturally, few cares +have ever troubled him; he has always had +more money than he knew what to do with, and—as +for serious annoyances, a certain train of +thought is necessary to form them, while our +poor Dick’s brain is utterly incapable of holding +more than one idea at a time. Whatever may +happen to be the dominant thought, reigns with +an undivided empire, and will not endure a rival +even near its throne, till it is violently thrust out +and annihilated by its successor, on the principle +of</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>The priest that slays the slayer,</div> +<div class="i1">And shall himself be slain.</div> +</div> + +<p>He never originates a conception, of course, +but is always open to a fair offer in the way of +a suggestion from any body, and adopts it with +the blind zeal of a proselyte. It follows that +chance occurrences may bother him for the moment, +but he is saved an infinity of trouble by +being independent of foresight and memory. To +this last defect there is one exception. If he is +crossed, or vexed, or injured, he cherishes against +the offender a dull, misty, purposeless sort of resentment, +scarcely amounting to animosity, but +can not explain, either to you or to himself, <i>why</i> +he does so. Fortunately he is tolerably harmless +and unsuspicious, for to reconcile him would +be simply impossible.</p> + +<p>Not one <i>mésalliance</i> could be detected in the +main line of the Tresilyans; but there must have +been a blot somewhere, a link of base metal in +the golden chain, of which an adulteress and her +confessor could have told. Perhaps the son of +the transgressor bore no stigma on his forehead, +and ruffled it among his peers as bravely as the +<samp class="pgmark">18</samp> +best of them, never witting of his mother’s dishonor; +but the stain had come out in this generation. +Even the faults and vices of that +strong, stubborn race were curiously distorted +and caricatured in their representative. His +pride, for instance, chiefly displayed itself in a +taste for low company, where he could safely +lord it over his inferiors. He did this whenever +he had a chance, but, to do him justice, by no +means in an ill-natured or bullying way. He had +resided almost entirely on his own estates; and, +during his rare visits to London, had not extended +his knowledge of the world beyond the experience +that may be picked up by frequenting divers +equivocal places of public resort, and from +occasional forays on the extreme frontier of the +<i>demi-monde</i>. The result was, that in general +society he felt himself in a false position, and +was evidently anxious to escape into a more congenial +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Can you guess why I have lingered so long +over a portrait that might well have been dispatched +in three lines? It is because, in the +eyes of those who knew Cecil Tresilyan, some +interest must attach itself to the basest thing +that bears her name; it is because there are +men alive who think that the broidery of her +skirt, or the trimming of her mantle, deserve describing +better than the shield of Pelides; who +hold that one of her dark chestnut tresses is +worthier of a place among the stars than imperial +Berenicè’s hair. A lame excuse, I admit, +to the many that never saw her—even in their +dreams.</p> + +<p>On this particular evening Dick was supremely +happy. Keene had got him upon shooting—the +only subject on which that unlucky man +could talk without committing himself; and, by +the time he was well into his fourth tumbler of +iced Cogniac and water, he was achieving a rare +conversational triumph; for he had left off answering +monosyllabically, had volunteered an observation +or two, and even ventured to banter +his companions about their not availing themselves +sufficiently of the sporting resources in the +neighborhood.</p> + +<p>“There are several boars near here,” he was +saying; “they shoot them sometimes, and you +can go if you manage properly. I wonder you +men never found that out.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! they <i>did</i> talk a good deal about pigs,” +Royston remarked indifferently. “But, you +see, we used to stick them in the Deccan. The +first time I heard of their way of doing it here, +I felt very like Deering when they asked him to +shoot a fox in Scotland. Tom Deering, you +know, the old boy that has hunted with the +Warwickshire and Atherstone for thirty seasons, +and could tell you the names, ages, and colors +of the hounds better than he could those of his +own small family—pedigrees, too, I shouldn’t +wonder.”</p> + +<p>Dick tried to look as if he had known the +man from his childhood, and succeeded but very +moderately.</p> + +<p>“Well,” the other went on, “they were beating +a cover for roe, and the gillie suggested a +particular pass, as the most likely to get a shot +at what he called a ‘tod.’ It was some time before +Tom realized the full horror of the proposition: +when he did, he shut his eyes like a bull +that is going to charge, and literally <i>fell</i> upon +the duinhe-wassel, bellowing savagely. He had +no more idea of using his hands than a fractious +baby; but it is rather a serious thing when sixteen +stone of solid flesh becomes possessed by a +devil. Robin Oig was overborne by the onset, +and did not forget the effects of it that season.”</p> + +<p>Tresilyan laughed applaudingly, as he always +did when he could understand more than half a +story.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it’s pretty good fun hunting them +out there?” he said, going off at score, as usual, +on the fresh theme.</p> + +<p>“Not bad,” Keene replied; “sharp going +while it lasts, and a little knack wanted to stick +them scientifically. Some say it’s more exciting +than fox-hunting, but that’s childish; I never +heard a man assert it whose liver was not on +the wane. It’s more dangerous, certainly. A +header into the Smite or the Whissendine is +nothing to a fall backward into a nullah, with a +beaten horse on the top of you.”</p> + +<p>Molyneux woke up from a reverie. The familiar +word stirred his blood like a trumpet, and +it flashed up brightly in his pale cheek as he +spoke. “Ah! we have had a brushing gallop +or two in the gay old times, before we got married, +and invalided, and all that sort of thing. +Dick, I should like to tell you how I got my first +spear.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you would,” the major said, resignedly; +“it’s my fault for starting the subject. +Get over it quickly then, please.” He did not +stop him, though, as he would have done on another +occasion—<i>pour cause</i>.</p> + +<p>“I had been entered some time at boar,” Harry +began, “before I had any luck at all. Ride as +hard as I would at the start, the old hands <i>would</i> +creep up at the finish, just in time to get ‘first +blood.’ I gave long prices for my Arabs, too, +and didn’t spare them. I own I got discouraged, +and thought the whole thing a robbery, a delusion, +and a snare. One day, however, we had +a good deal of deep, marshy ground at first, and +a quick gallop afterward, which served my light +weight well. I had it all to myself when he +came to bay; so I went in, full of confidence, +and gave point, as I thought, well behind the +shoulder-blade. I did not calculate on the pace +we were going, and I was just three inches too +forward. My horse was as young and hot as I +was, and though he had no idea of flinching, +didn’t know how to take care of himself. The +instant the brute felt the steel he wheeled short +round, and cut The Emperor’s forelegs clean +from under him. We all came down in a heap; +my spear flew yards away; and there I was on +my face, clear of my horse, with my right wrist +badly sprained. Would you have fancied the +position? <i>I</i> didn’t. The devil was too blown +to begin offensive operations at once, for we had +burst him along pretty sharply, but he stood +right over me, champing and rasping his tusks, +and getting his wind for a good vicious rip. I +felt his boiling foam dropping upon me as I lay +quite still. I thought that was the best thing to +do. All at once hoofs came up at a hard gallop; +something swept above me with a rush; +there was a short, smothered sound like a tap +on a padded door, and then the beast stretched +himself slowly out across my legs, and shivered, +and died. That man opposite to you had leapt +his horse over us both, and, while he was in the +<samp class="pgmark">19</samp> +air, speared the boar through the spinal marrow. +If he had been struck any where else he might +still have torn me badly before the life was out +of him. Neatly done, wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Harry drank off the remains of his sherry and +seltzer rather excitedly, and then sighed. He +was thinking how often, in other days, when +health and nerves were to the fore, he had +drained a stronger and deeper draught to “Snaffle, +spur, and spear!”</p> + +<p>“A mere stage trick,” Keene remarked; +“effective, but not in the least dangerous, with +a horse under you as steady as poor old Mahmoud. +May his rest be glorious! Gilbert killed +a tiger that had got loose in the same way, +which <i>was</i> something to talk about, for even +clean-bred Arabs don’t like facing tigers. You +made rather better time than usual over that +story to-night, Hal; it’s practice, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>Tresilyan’s eyes fastened on the speaker, full +of a heavy, pertinacious admiration. You might +have told him of the noblest action of generosity +or self-denial that ever constituted the stock in +trade of a moral hero, and he would have listened +patiently, but without one responsive emotion. +Bodily prowess and daring he could appreciate. +Keene’s physical <i>prestige</i> was just the +thing to captivate his limited imagination; besides +which the ground was prepared for the +seed-time. He had some soldier friends, and +dining with these at the “Swashing Buckler,” +he had heard some of those club chronicles in +which the Cool Captain’s name figured prominently.</p> + +<p>The latter interpreted perfectly well the gaze +that was riveted upon him, without being in the +least flattered by it. He felt, perhaps, the same +sort of satisfaction that one experiences when, +fighting for the odd trick, the first card in our +hand is a heavy trump. Dick’s thorough and +undivided allegiance once secured, was a good +card in the game he was playing at the moment. +Whatever his thoughts might have been, his face +told no tales. He had been flooring glass for +glass with his guest till the liquor began to work +its way into the cracks even of such a seasoned +vessel; but, for any outward or visible sign in +feature, speech, or manner, he might have been +assisting at a teetotaller’s <i>soirée</i>.</p> + +<p>Very often—late on guest-nights, or other +tournaments of deep drinking, where Trojan and +Tyrian met to do battle for the credit of their respective +corps—the calm, rigid face, never flushing +beyond a clear swarthy brown, and the cold, +bright, inevitable eyes, had stricken terror into +the hearts of bacchanalian Heavies, and given +consolation, if not confidence, to the Hussars, +who were failing fast: these knew that though +their own brains might be reeling and their legs +rebelliously independent, their single champion +was invincible. As the last of the Enōmotæ +went down, he saw Othryades standing steadfastly, +with never a trace of wound or weakness, +still able and willing to write ΝΙΚΗ on his +shield.</p> + +<p>When our poor Dick was once thoroughly impressed, +for the first time, with awe or admiration, +either for man or woman, he generally fell +into a species of trance, from which it was exceedingly +difficult to bring him round. He would +have sat there, staring stupidly, till morning, with +perfect satisfaction to himself, if Molyneux had +not attacked him with a direct question, “How +long do you think of staying at Dorade? And +have you made any plans afterward?”</p> + +<p><i>Le mouton qui rêvait</i> roused himself with an +effort, and searched the bottom of his empty +glass narrowly for a reply. Eventually he succeeded +in finding one:</p> + +<p>“Cecil talks about two months; then we are +to go on by Nice, Genoa, Florence, Rome, and +Naples, and so come back by—Italy.” He had +got up the first names by rote, and run them off +glibly enough, but was evidently at fault about +the last one. I fancy he had some vague idea +of Austrian troops being quartered in these regions, +and looked upon Hesperia in the light of +an obscure state or moderate-sized town somewhere +in the north of Europe.</p> + +<p>Harry was balked in his inclination to laugh; +the rising smile was checked upon his lip, just +in time, by a glance from his chief, severely authoritative.</p> + +<p>“Italy?” the latter said, without a muscle +moving; “well, I shouldn’t advise you to stay +long there. It’s rather a small place, and very +stupid; no society whatever. The others will +amuse you, as you have never seen them.”</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke the last words. Perhaps +he thought he had done that night “enough for +profit and more than enough for glory.” The +Cool Captain seldom suffered himself to be bored +without an adequate object very clearly in view.</p> + +<p>“Hal, I am going to turn you out. It is far +too late for you to be sitting up, and we have a +good deal to do to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Molyneux did not quite comprehend what extraordinary +labors were before any of them, but +he rose without making an objection, and Tresilyan +prepared to accompany him. Dick considered +that individually he had been remarkably +brilliant, and had left a favorable impression behind +him. But all this newly-acquired confidence, +and much strong drink were not sufficient +to embolden him to risk, as yet, a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with +Royston Keene.</p> + +<p>Long after they had departed the major sat +gazing steadfastly at the logs burning on the +hearth. If he had gone straight to bed, the +enormous dullness of one of the party would +have weighed him down like a nightmare.</p> + +<p>Is there one of us who can not remember having +seen prettier pictures in a flame-colored setting +than the Royal Academy has ever shown +him? What earthly painter could emulate or +imitate the coquettish caprice of light and shadow, +that enhances the charms, and dissembles +all possible defects in those fair, fleeting Fiamminas? +Something like this effect was to be +found in the miniatures that were in fashion a +dozen years ago; where part only of a sweet +face and a dangerously eloquent eye looked at +you out of a wreath of dusky cloud, that shrouded +all the rest and gave your imagination play. +Truly it was not so utterly wrong, the ancient +legend that wedded Hephæstus to Aphroditè. +The Minnesingers and their coevals spoke fairly +enough about Love, and probably had studied +their subject; but, rely upon it, passionate Romance +died in Germany when once the close +stoves prevailed. Don’t you envy the imagination +of the dreamer who could trace a shape of +loveliness in those dreadful glazed tiles?</p> + +<p>Being rather a <i>Guebre</i> myself, I once got +<samp class="pgmark">20</samp> +enthusiastic on the subject in the company of an +eccentric character, who very soon made me repent +my expansiveness. If he had committed +any atrocious crime (he was a small sandy-haired +creature, and wore colored spectacles), +no one knew of it, and he never hinted at its +nature; but his whole ideas seemed tinged with +a vague gloomy remorse that made him a sadder, +but scarcely a wiser or better man. Perhaps +it was a monomania; let us hope so. On +that occasion he heard me out quite patiently; +then the blue glasses raised themselves to the +level of my eyes, and I felt convinced their owner +was staring spectrally behind them. Considering +that he measured about thirty-four inches +round the chest, his voice was extraordinarily +deep and solemn: it sounded preternaturally so +as he said very slowly, “There is one face that +does not often leave me alone here, and will follow +me, I think, when I go to my appointed +place: I see it now, as I shall see it throughout +all ages—always <i>by firelight</i>.”</p> + +<p>I felt very wroth, for surely to suggest a new +and unpleasant train of ideas is an infamous +abuse of a <i>tête-à-tête</i>. I told my friend so; and, +as he declined to retract or apologize, or in any +wise explain himself, departed with the conviction +that, though a clever man and an original +thinker, he was by no means an exhilarating or +instructive companion. I should have borne +him a grudge to this day, but as I was walking +home, decidedly disconsolate (there’s no such +bore as having a pet fancy spoiled, it is like having +your favorite hunter sent home with two +broken knees), it suddenly occurred to me that +if the penitent was in the habit of looking at the +fire through those blue barnacles, it was not +likely there would be much rose-color in his +visions. In great triumph I retraced my steps, +and knocked the culprit up to put in this “demurrer.” +I flatter myself it floored him. He +did attempt some lame excuse about “taking +his spectacles off at such times,” but I refused +to listen to a word, and marched out of the place +with drums beating and colors flying, first exasperating +him by the assurance of my complete +forgiveness. Since then, if sitting alone, <i>ligna +super foco largè reponens</i>, I involuntarily recur to +that ill-favored conception, it suffices to contrast +with it the grotesque appearance of its originator, +and the pale phantom evanisheth.</p> + +<p>I have no excuse to offer for this long and +egotistical anecdote, except the pendant which +Maloney used to attach to his ultra-<i>marine</i> stories—“The +point of it is, that—it’s strictly true.”</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Another</span> and a much more reputable Council +of Three sat that night in Miss Tresilyan’s +apartments. Mr. Fullarton represented the male +element there, and was in great force. The late +accession to his flock had decidedly raised his +spirits: he knew how materially it would strengthen +his hands; but, independently of all politic +consideration, Cecil’s grace and beauty exercised +a powerful influence over him. Do not misconstrue +this. I believe a thought had never crossed +his mind relating to any living woman that +his own wife might not have known and +approved; nevertheless was it true, that Mr. Fullarton +liked his penitents to be fair: not a very +eccentric or unaccountable taste either. It is a +necessity of our nature to take more delight in +the welfare and training of a beautiful and refined +being, than in that of one who is coarse +and awkward and ugly. Even with the merely +animal creation we should experience this; and +not above one divine in fifty is <i>more</i> than human, +after all.</p> + +<p>So, gazing on the fair face and queenly figure +that were then before him, and feeling a sort of +vested interest in their possessor, the heart of the +pastor was merry within him; and he, so to +speak, caroused over the profusely-sugared tea +and well-buttered <i>galette</i> with a decorous and +regulated joviality; ever as he drank casting +down the wreaths of his florid eloquence at the +feet of his entertainers. In any atmosphere +whatsoever, no matter how uncongenial, those +garlands were sure to bloom. His zeal was such +a hardy perennial that the most chilling reception +could not damage its vitality. Principle and intention +were both all right, of course, but they +were clumsily carried out, and the whole effect +was to remind one unpleasantly of the clockmaker +puffing his wares. At the most unseasonable +times and in the most incongruous places, +Mr. Fullarton always had an eye to business, introducing +and inculcating his tenets with an assurance +and complacency peculiar to himself. +Sometimes he would adopt the familiarly conversational, +sometimes the theatrically effective +style; but it never seemed to cross his mind +that either could appear ridiculous or grotesque. +Some absurd stories were told of his performances +in this line. On one occasion, they say, +he addressed his neighbor at dinner, to whom he +had just been introduced, abruptly thus: “You +see, what we want is—more faith,” in precisely +the manner and tone of a <i>gourmet</i> suggesting +that “the soup would be all the better for a +little more seasoning;” or of Mr. Chouler asserting, +“the farmers must be protected, sir.” +On another, meeting for the first time a very +pious and wealthy old man (I believe a joint-stock +bank director), he proceeded to sound him +as to his “experiences.” The unsuspecting elder, +rather flattered by the interest taken in his +welfare, and never dreaming that such communications +could be any thing but privileged +and confidential, parted with his information +pretty freely. Mr. Fullarton was so delighted +at what he had heard that he turned suddenly +round to the mixed assembly and cried out. +“Why, here’s a blessed old Barzillai!” His +face was beaming like that of an enthusiastic +numismatist who stumbles upon a rare Commodus +or an authentic Domitian. There were +several people present of his own way of thinking; +but some, even among those, felt very ill +afterward from their efforts to repress their laughter. +The miserable individual thus endued with +the “robe of honor” would have infinitely preferred +the most scandalously abusive epithet to +that fervid compliment. He would have parted +with half his bank shares at a discount (they +were paying about 14 per cent. then—you can +get them tolerably cheap now) to have been able +to sink into his shoes on the spot; indeed these +were almost large enough to form convenient +places of refuge. It had a very bad effect on +<samp class="pgmark">21</samp> +him: he never again unbosomed himself on any +subject to man, woman, or child. Even in his +last illness—though he must have had one or +two troublesome things on his mind, unless he +had peculiar ideas, as to the propriety of ruining +widows and orphans—he declined to commit +himself,</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>But locked the secret in his breast,</div> +<div>And died in silence, unconfessed.</div> +</div> + +<p>On that Saturday night, to one of the party +at all events, Mr. Fullarton’s presence was very +welcome. Mrs. Danvers was somewhat of a +hard drinker in theology, and, like other intemperate +people, was not over particular as to the +quality of the liquors set before her, provided +only that they were hot and strong, and unstinted. +The succulent and highly-flavored eloquence +to which she was listening suited her palate exactly, +besides which, the chaplain’s peculiar opinions +happened to coincide perfectly with her own. +As the evening progressed she got more and +more exhilarated; and at length could not forbear +intimating “how sincerely she valued the +privilege of sitting under so eminent a divine.”</p> + +<p>The latter made a scientific little bow, elaborated +evidently by long practice, expressive at +once of gratification and humility.</p> + +<p>“A privilege, if such it be, dear Mrs. Danvers, +that some of my congregation estimate but +very lightly. You would hardly believe how +many members of my flock I scarcely know, except +by name. It is a sore temptation to discouragement. +I fear that Major Keene’s pernicious +example is indeed contagious, and that +his evil communications have corrupted many—alas! +too many.” He rounded off the period +with a ponderous professional sigh.</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan was leaning back in her armchair: +as the wood-fire sprang up brightly and +sank again suddenly, her great deep eyes seemed +to flash back the fitful gleams. It was long +since she had spoken. In truth, she had been +drawing largely upon her piety at first, to make +herself feel interested, and, when this failed, upon +her courtesy, to appear so; but she was conscious +of relapses more and more frequent into +the dreary regions of Boredom. Every body +<i>would</i> agree with every body else so completely! +A bold contradiction, a stinging sarcasm, or a +caustic retort, would have been worth any thing +just then to take off the cloying taste of the everlasting +honey. She roused herself at these last +words enough to ask languidly, “What has he +done?”</p> + +<p>There could not be a simpler question, nor one +put more carelessly; but it was rather a “facer” +to Mr. Fullarton, who dealt in generalities as a +rule, and objected to being brought to book +about particulars—considering, indeed, such a +line of argument as indicative of a caviling and +narrow-minded disposition in his interlocutor.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, not without hesitation, +“Major Keene has only once been to church; +and, I believe, has spoken scoffingly since of the +discourse he heard delivered there. Yet I may +say I was more than usually ‘supported’ on that +occasion.” The man’s thorough air of conviction +softened somewhat the absurd effect of his +childish vanity.</p> + +<p>Cecil would have been sorry to confess how +much excuse she felt inclined to admit just then +for the sins both of commission and omission—sins +that, at another time, when her faculties +were fresh and her judgment unbiassed, she +might have looked upon as any thing but venial. +Ah! Mr. Fullarton, the seed you have scattered +so profusely to-night is beginning to bear fruit +already you never dreamed of. Beet-root and +turnips will not succeed on <i>every</i> soil. It must +be long before a remunerative crop of these can +be gathered from the breezy upland which for +centuries, till the heather was burned, has worn +a robe of uncommercial but imperial purple.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Miss Tresilyan frowned perceptibly. +It looked very much as if Keene had been +amusing himself at her expense when he affected +an interest in her leading the choir. Unwittingly +to “make sport for the men of war in +Gath” by no means suited the fancy of that +haughty <ins class="transcriber" title="sic">ladye</ins>.</p> + +<p>“It is very wrong of him not to come to +church,” she observed after a pause (for the sin +of sarcasm disapproval was not so ready, and she +made the most of scanty means of condemnation). +“Yet I scarcely think he can be actively +hostile. You know he almost lives with the +Molyneuxs, and has great influence with them. +Do they not attend regularly?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Fullarton admitted that they did. “But,” +said he, “constant intercourse with such a man +must ere long have its injurious effect. Indeed, +I felt it my bounden duty to warn Mrs. Molyneux +on the subject. I grieve to say she treated +my admonition with a very unwarrantable levity.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Danvers’s sympathetic groan was promptly +at the service of the speaker; fortunately, +turning to thank her for it by a look, he missed +detecting her pupil’s smile. She could fancy so +well Fanny’s little <i>moue</i>, combining amusement, +vexation, and impertinence, while undergoing +the ecclesiastical censure.</p> + +<p>“You must be merciful to Mrs. Molyneux,” +she remarked, with a demure gravity that did +her credit under the circumstances. “She is +my greatest friend, you know. When a wife is +so very fond of her husband, surely there is some +excuse for her adopting his prejudices for and +against people?”</p> + +<p>The pastor brightened up suddenly: he had +just recollected another fact to fire off against +the <i>bête noir</i>.</p> + +<p>“I forgot to tell you that Major Keene is +much addicted to play, and, besides, is intimate +with the Vicomte de Châteaumesnil. <i>Noscitur +a sociis.</i>” The reverend man was an indifferent +classic, but he had a way of flashing scraps out +of grammars and <i>Analecta Minora</i> before women +and others unlikely to be down upon him, as if +they were quotations from some recondite author.</p> + +<p>“You can not mean that cripple who is drawn +about in a wheel-chair?” Cecil asked. “We +saw him to-day, only for a moment, for he drew +his cloak over his face as we passed. I never +saw such a melancholy wreck, and I pitied him +so much that I fear he will haunt me.”</p> + +<p>Far deeper would have been the compassion +had she guessed at the pang that shot straight +to Armand’s heart as he veiled his blasted features +and haggard eyes, feeling bitterly that such +as he were not worthy to look upon her in the +glory of her brilliant beauty.</p> + +<p>“A notorious atheist and profligate,” was the +<samp class="pgmark">22</samp> +reply. “We can not regard his sore affliction +in any other light than a judgment—a manifest +judgment, dear Miss Tresilyan.”</p> + +<p>There was grave disapproval and just a shade +of contempt in the face of one of his hearers as +she said, “The hand of God is laid so heavily +there that man may surely forbear him.” But +Mrs. Danvers struck in to her favorite’s rescue, +rejoicing in an opportunity of displaying her partisanship.</p> + +<p>“A judgment, of course. It would be sinful +to doubt it. Besides, do not <i>others</i> suffer?” +(She cast up her eyes here pointedly, as though +she said, “There may be more perfect saints, +but if you want a fair specimen of the fine old +English martyr—<i>me voici</i>.”) “Cecil, my love, +I wonder you did not perceive Major Keene’s +true character at once. You were talking to +him a good deal the other day.”</p> + +<p>“He did not favor me with any remarkably +heretical opinions,” Miss Tresilyan replied, carelessly. +“Perhaps they have been exaggerated. +At all events, he is not likely to do us much +harm. Don’t you think <i>we</i> are safe, Bessie? +Dick does not care much for play; and his ideas +on religious subjects are so very simple that it +would be hard to unsettle them.”</p> + +<p>Clearly she thought the topic was exhausted, +but it had a strange fascination for Mr. Fullarton. +One of the many good-natured people, +who especially abound in those semi-English +Continental towns, had been kind enough to +quote or misquote to him a remark of Royston’s +about that sermon; and on this topic the chaplain +was very vulnerable. He would have forgiven +a real substantial injury far sooner than a +depreciation of his discourses.</p> + +<p>Was he one whit weaker or more susceptible +than his fellows? I think not. All the philosophy +on earth will not teach us to endure without +wincing a mosquito’s bite. The hardiest +hero bears about him one spot where an ivy-leaf +clinging intercepted the petrifying water—a tiny +out-of-the-way spot, not very near the head or +heart, but palpable enough to be stricken by +Paris’s arrow or Hagen’s spear. Cæsar is very +sensitive about that bald crown of his, and fears +lest even the laurel wreath should cover it but +meagrely. Many wars, since that which brought +Ilium to the dust, might have been traced to +slighted vanity, and many excellent Christians +have waxed quite as wroth as the queen of heathenish +heaven about the <i>spretæ injuria formæ</i>. +(Do you think this is a peculiarly feminine failing? +I have seen a first-class man and Ireland +scholar look massacres at the child of his bosom +friend, when the unconscious innocent made disagreeable +remarks on his personal appearance, +alluding particularly to the shape of his nose, +which was <i>not</i> Phidian. He has since been +heard to speak of that terrible deed in Bethlehem +as a painful but justifiable measure of political +expediency; and is inclined, on many grounds, +to excuse and sympathize with the stem Idumean.) +The insult offered to the embassador in +Tarentum was only the outbreak of a single +drunkard’s brutality, but all the wealth of the +fair city of Phalanthus did not suffice to pay the +account for washing the soiled robe white again; +and blood enough ran down her streets to have +quenched some blazing temples before the Romans +would give her a receipt in full.</p> + +<p>Arguing from these <i>data</i>, we may conclude +that Mr. Fullarton was laboring under a slight +delusion in believing (which he did sincerely) +that only a pure and disinterested zeal for the +welfare of his flock impelled him to say, “I shall +make it my business to inquire more fully into +Major Keene’s antecedents. I am convinced +there is something discreditable in the background, +and it may be well to be armed with +proofs in case of need.”</p> + +<p>Though <i>he</i> may have deceived himself completely +as to the nature of the spirit that possessed +him, Cecil Tresilyan was more clear-sighted. +She had not failed to remark a certain vicious +twinkle in the speaker’s eye and a deeper flush +on his ruddy countenance, betokening rather a +mundane resentment. Her lip began to curl.</p> + +<p>“How very disagreeable some of your duties +must be. No doubt you interpret them correctly, +but in this case perhaps it would be well to +be <i>quite</i> sure before acting on the offensive. If +I were a man—even a clergyman—I don’t think +I should like to have Major Keene for my declared +enemy.”</p> + +<p>The text with which the chaplain enforced his +reply—expressive of a determination to keep his +own line at all hazards, strong in the rectitude +of his cause—had better not be quoted here, especially +as it was not apposite enough to “lay” +the contradictory spirit that was alive in his fair +opponent. (How very angry Cecil would have +been if she had been told ten minutes ago that +such an expression would apply to her!) The +temptation to answer sharply was so powerful +that she took refuge in distant coldness.</p> + +<p>“You quite misunderstand me, Mr. Fullarton. +I never dreamed of offering advice; it would +have been excessively presumptuous in me, especially +as I have not the faintest interest in the +subject we have been talking about. Need we +discuss it any longer? I think Major Keene has +been too highly honored already.”</p> + +<p>That weary look was so manifest now on the +beautiful face that even the chaplain, albeit tenacious +of his position as a sea-anemone, felt +that, for once, he had overstaid his time and +was periling his popularity. So, after an expansive +benediction, and an entreaty that they would +be early at church on the morrow, he went “to +his own place.”</p> + +<p>With a sigh of admiration—“What an excellent +man, and how well he talks!” said Bessie +Danvers.</p> + +<p>With a sigh of relief—“He talks a great deal, +and it is very late,” said Cecil Tresilyan.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">From</span> his “coign of vantage” in the reading-desk +the next morning, Mr. Fullarton surveyed a +crowded congregation, serenely complacent and +hopeful, as a farmer in August looking down +from the hill-side on golden billows of waving +grain. Visitors had been pouring in rather fast +during the week; and there was a vague, general +impression, which no individual would have +owned, that they were to hear something unusually +good. For once expectation was not +to be disappointed—a remarkable fact, when one +considers how much dissatisfaction is created, as +<samp class="pgmark">23</samp> +a rule, in the popular mind, by the shortcomings +of eclipses, processions, Vesuvian eruptions, new +operas, and other advertised attractions, natural +and artificial. The singing was really a success. +Miss Tresilyan’s magnificent voice did its duty +nobly, and did no more. Without overpowering +or singling itself out from the others, it lured +them on to follow where they could never have +gone alone: the choir was kept in perfect order +without even knowing that it was disciplined.</p> + +<p>There was an elderly Englishman who had resided +at Dorade ever since he had a slight difference +of opinion with the Bankruptcy Court a +quarter of a century back. Drifting helplessly +and aimlessly about Europe in search of employment, +he had taken root where he came ashore, +and vegetated, as floating weeds will do. He +picked up rather a precarious livelihood by acting +as a species of factotum to his countrymen +in the season, ministering, not injudiciously, to +their myriad whims and necessities. Among +his multifarious functions, perhaps the most respectable +and permanent was that of clerk to the +English chapel. He was by no means a very +religious man, nor were his morals quite unexceptionable, +but he had completely identified +himself with the fortunes and interests of that +modest building. A sneer at its capabilities or +a doubt as to its prospects would exasperate him +at any time far more than a direct insult to himself +(to be sure there was little self-respect left to +be offended). When disguised in drink, which +was the case tolerably often, he generally proposed +to settle the question by the ordeal of battle, +and was only to be appeased by an apology +or a great deal more liquor.</p> + +<p>On this occasion the success and the singing +combined—for excess and hardship had not quite +deadened a good ear for music—moved the old +castaway strangely. His thoughts wandered +back to the misused days when he had friends, +and a position, and character; when he was a +householder and vestryman, and even dreamt +ambitiously of a churchwardenship. He could +see distinctly his own pew, with the gray, worm-eaten +panels, where he had sat many and many +a warm afternoon, resisting sternly, as became +a man of mark in the parish, treacherous inclinations +to slumber. He saw the ponderous +brown gallery—eyesore to archæologists—which +held the village choir: there they were, with the +sun streaming in on their heads through the +western window, till even the faded red cushion +in front deepened into rich crimson, chanting +their quaint old anthems with right good courage, +though every one got lost in the second line, +and, after much independent exertion of the +lungs, just came up in time to join in the grand +final rally. He saw the mild-faced, gray-haired +parson mounting slowly the pulpit stairs, adjusting +and manœuvring the refractory gown that +<i>would</i> come off his shoulders with the nervous +gesture which, beginning in timidity, had grown +into a habit that was part of the man. More +plainly than all—he saw a low, green mound, +just beyond the chancel walls, where one was +sleeping who had lavished on him all the treasures +of a rare, unselfish, trusting love; the dear, +meek, little wife, who was so proud of her husband’s +few poor talents, so indulgent to his many +failings, who ever had an excuse ready to answer +his self-reproaches, whose weak, thin hand +was always strong enough to pluck him back +from ruin and dishonor, till it grew stiff and cold. +She knew it, too, for he remembered the wail +that burst from her lips when she thought she +was alone, the night before she died—“Ah! who +will save him now that I am gone?” How miserable +and lonely he was long after they buried +her! How incessantly he used to repeat those +last words, meant to be comforting, that she +spoke, with her arm wound round his neck, +“Darling, you have been so very, very kind to +me!” So it went on, till the devil of drink, +choosing his time cunningly, entered into him, +and battled with and drove out the angel. A +strange resurrection! Memories that had died +years ago, withering from very shame, began to +curl and twine themselves round the hard, battered +heart as tenderly as ever. These pictures +of the past were still vivid and clear, when he +became aware of a dimness in his eyes that +blinded them to all real surrounding objects; he +felt so surprised that it broke the spell; tears +had almost forgotten the way to his eyes.</p> + +<p>Not very probable, is it, that a prosaic elderly +clerk should dream of all this during the three +last verses of a hymn? Well, the steadiest imagination +is apt to disregard sometimes the proprieties +of place; and as for space—of course the +visions of the night are quicker on the wing than +their rivals of the day; yet there must be some +analogy, and, they say, we pass through the +vicissitudes of half a lifetime in the few seconds +before we wake.</p> + +<p>Cecil was really pleased with the result of the +singing. She would have been even more so +had it not been for the marked expression of approval +on the face of Royston Keene. It was +evident she had been on her trial. The cool, +tranquil, appreciative smile was very provoking. +It made her feel for the moment like a <i>prima +donna</i> on her first appearance at a new theatre.</p> + +<p>Unusually eloquent and verbose was the sermon +that day, for not only was the preacher +aware that bright eyes looked upon his deeds, +but he saw his enemies in the front of the battle. +Surely all extemporaneous speakers, in court, +pulpit, or senate, must be accessible to such external +influences. It ought not to be so, of +course, but I fancy it <i>is</i>. Would John Knox +have been so fiery in denunciation if those wicked +maids of honor had not derided him? I doubt +if a discourse delivered in a Union would ever +soar to sublimity, even if the excellent paupers +could be supposed to understand it. So, with +every sentence more plaintive grew Mr. Fullarton’s +lamentations over worldlings and their vanities, +more bitter his invectives against those +who, having themselves broken out of the fold, +seek to lead others astray. An occasional gesture—something +too expressive—was not needed +to point his animadversions. The object of +them sat with his head slightly bent, neither by +frown nor smile betraying that a single allusion +had gone home. The simple truth was, that he +scarcely caught one word. The last cadence of +sweeter tones was still lingering in his ears, and +had locked them fast against all other sounds. +The energetic divine might have poured out upon +his guilty head yet stormier vials, and he would +never have heard one roll of the thunder. However, +the dearest friends must part, and all orations +must come to an end, except those of the +<samp class="pgmark">24</samp> +much-desiderated Chisholm Anstey, of whom an +old-world parliament was not worthy; so, after +“a burst of forty-five minutes without a check,” +the chaplain dismissed his beloved hearers to +their digestion.</p> + +<p>The stream, as it flowed out, divided, and +broke up into small pools of conversation. Miss +Tresilyan and her chaperone joined the Molyneux +party, just as Fanny was saying to Keene +that “she hoped he would profit by much in the +sermon that was evidently meant for him.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Was</i> he personal?” the latter asked, so indifferently; +“I didn’t notice it. Well, I suppose +it amuses him, and it certainly does not hurt +me.” (Mrs. Danvers sniffed indignantly—a form +of protest to which her nose, from its construction, +was eminently adapted; but he went on +before she could speak) “Miss Tresilyan, will +you allow perhaps the unworthiest member of +the congregation to express an opinion that the +singing went off superbly?”</p> + +<p>Her beautiful eyes glittered somewhat disdainfully. +“Thank you, you are very good. But +I think you have hardly a right to be critical. +I should like to have some one’s opinion who is +<i>really</i> interested in the chapel. It was scarcely +worth taking so much trouble to appear so the +other day. You know what Liston said about +the penny? ‘It is not the value of the thing, +but one hates to be imposed upon.’ Delusions +are not so agreeable as illusions, Major Keene.”</p> + +<p>Royston was very much pleased. He liked +above all things to see a woman stand up to him +defiantly; indeed, if they were worth “setting to +with,” he always tried to get them to spar as soon +as possible, to find out if they had any idea of +hitting straight. He did not betray his satisfaction, +though, as he answered quite calmly, “Pardon +me, I could not be so impertinent as to attempt +a ‘delusion’ on so short an acquaintance. +I deny the charge distinctly. I believe that residence +in Dorade, and a certain amount of subscription, +constitute a member of Mr. Fullarton’s +congregation, and give one a franchise. He has +not thought fit to excommunicate me publicly as +yet. I really was interested in the subject, for I +fully meant to go to church this morning, and I +mean to go again.”</p> + +<p>Insensibly they had walked on in advance of +the others. She shook her head with a saucy +incredulity—“I am no believer in sudden conversions.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I; I was not speaking of such; but I +am very fond of good singing, and I would go +any where to hear it. Did our chaplain include +hypocrisy among my other disqualifications for +decent society last night? I understand he is +good enough to furnish a catalogue of them to all +new comers.”</p> + +<p>Cecil certainly had not abused him then; so +there was not the slightest necessity for her looking +guilty and conscious, both of which she felt +she was doing as she replied—“I am sure Mr. +Fullarton would not asperse any one’s character +knowingly. He could only speak from a sense +of duty, perhaps not a pleasant one.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said Royston; “I don’t quarrel +with him for any fair professional move. If he +thinks it necessary or expedient to prejudice indifferent +people against me, he is clearly right to +do so. Ah! I see, you think I dislike him. I +don’t, indeed. Morally and physically, he seems +a little too unctuous, that’s all. Capital clergyman +for a cold climate! Fancy how useful he +would be in an Arctic expedition. They might +save his salary in Arnott’s stoves: I’m certain +he <i>radiates</i>.”</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan knew that it was wrong to +smile. But she had an unfortunately quick perception +of the ridiculous, and the struggles of +principle against a sense of humor were not always +successful. She would not give up her +point, though. “I can not think that you +judge him fairly,” she persisted.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not; but there is a large class who +would scarcely be much moved by stronger and +abler words than, I suppose, we heard to-day—spoken +as they were spoken. These preachers +won’t study the fitness of things; that’s the worst +of it. I have known a garrison chaplain deliver +a discourse that, I am convinced, was composed +for a visitation. It seems absurd to hear a man +warning us against a particular sin, and threatening +us with all sorts of penalties if we indulge +in it, when it is impossible that he himself should +ever have felt the temptation. We want some +one who can find out the harmless side of our +character, as well as the diseased part, and work +upon it. Such a person may be as strict and +harsh as he pleases, but he is listened to.” He +paused for a moment, and went on in a graver +tone—“I think it might have done even <i>me</i> some +good, when I was younger, to have talked for +half an hour with the man who wrote ‘How +Amyas threw his sword away.’”</p> + +<p>Cecil could not disagree with him now, nor did +she wish to do so. She liked those last words +of his better than any he had spoken. Remember, +she was born and bred in the honest west +country, where one, at least, of their own prophets +hath honor. If you want to indulge your enthusiasm +for the Rector of Eversley, let your +next walking-tour turn thitherward; for on all +the sea-board from Portsmouth to Penzance, +there is never a woman—maid, wife, or widow—that +will say you nay.</p> + +<p>Keene saw his advantage, but was far too wise +to follow it up then. The weaker sex, as a rule, +are acute but not very close reasoners; they mix +up their majors and minors with a charming +recklessness; and, if innocent of nothing else, +are generally guiltless of a syllogism. It follows +that, in the course of an argument, it is easy +enough to entangle them in their talk. When +such a chance occurs, don’t come down on your +pretty antagonist with “I thought you said so +and so,” but be politic as well as generous, and +pass it by. They will do more justice to your +self-denial than they would have done to your +dialectic talents. Corinna loves to be contradicted, +but hates to be convinced, and dreads no +monster so much as a short-horned—dilemma. +She may forgive the first offense as inadvertent, +but “one more such victory and you are lost.” +Think how often clemency has succeeded where +severity would have failed. What did that discreet +Eastern emir, when he found his fair young +wife sleeping in a garden, where she had no +earthly business to be? He laid his drawn +sabre softly across her neck, and retired without +breaking her slumbers. The cold blade was the +first thing Zuleika felt when she woke; I can +not guess what her sensations were; but when +she gave the weapon back to her solemn lord, +<samp class="pgmark">25</samp> +she pressed her rosy lips thrice on the blue steel, +and made a vow that she most probably kept; +and Hussein Bey never was happier, than when +he drew her back to his broad breast, looking +into her face silently with his calm, grave smile.</p> + +<p>I fancy our sisters enter into an argument with +more simple good faith and eagerness than we +are wont to indulge in; so that it is probably +easier to tease and exasperate them, which is +amusing enough while it lasts. But no doubt +it hurts them sometimes more than we are aware +of; and, after all, breaking a butterfly on the +wheel is poor pastime, and not a very athletic +sport. The glory, too, to be won is so small +that it scarcely compensates for the pain we inflict, +and may, perchance, eventually <i>feel</i>. Is +Achilles inclined to be proud of the strength of +his arm, or the keenness of his falchion, as he +grovels in the dust at the slain Amazon’s side? +Nay, he would give half his laurels to be able to +close that awful gaping wound—to see the proud +lips soften for a moment from their immutable +scorn—to detect the faintest tremor in the long +white limbs that never will stir again.</p> + +<p>The solemnity of these illustrations, in which +battles, murders, and sudden deaths are mingled, +will prove that I regard the subject as by no +means trivial, but am sincerely anxious to warn +my comrades against yielding to a temptation +which assails us daily.</p> + +<p>On these principles the Cool Captain acted, +then. His gay laugh opened a bridge to the retreating +enemy as he said, “How my poor character +must have been worried last night! I wish +Mrs. Molyneux had been there. She is good +enough to stand up for her old friend sometimes. +I could hardly expect <i>you</i> to take so much trouble +for a very recent acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” replied Cecil. “I was not +in a position to contradict any thing, even if I +had wished to do so. But, I remember, I thought +I would speak to you about my brother. You +know enough of him already to guess why I am +nervous about him. I almost forced him to take +me abroad; and he is exposed to so many more +dangers here than at home. Please, don’t encourage +him to play, or tempt him into any thing +wrong. Indeed, I don’t mean to speak harshly +or uncourteously, so you need not be angry.”</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes to her companion’s with a +pretty pleading. He met them fairly. Whatever +his intentions might be, no one could say +that the major ever shrank from looking friend +or foe in the face.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry that you should think the warning +necessary. Supposing that it were so—on +my honor, he is safe from me. I should like to +alter your opinion of me, if it were possible. +Will you give me a chance?” The others joined +them before she could reply; but more than +once that day Cecil wondered whether, even during +their short acquaintance, she had not sometimes +dealt scanty justice to Royston Keene.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">There</span> is a pleasant theory—that every woman +may be loved, once at least in her life, if she +so wills it. It must be true: how, otherwise, +can you account for the number of hard-featured +visages—lighted up by no redeeming ray of intellect—that +preside at “good men’s feasts,” and +confront them at their firesides? How do the +husbands manage? Do they, from constantly +contemplating an inferior type of creation, lose +their comparing and discriminating powers, so +that, like the Australian and Pacific aborigines, +they come to regard as points of beauty peculiarities +that a more advanced civilization shrinks +from? Or do their visual organs actually become +impaired, like those of captives who can +see clearly only in their own dungeon’s twilight, +and flinch before the full glare of day? If neither +of these is the case, they must sometimes +sympathize with that dreary dilemma of Bias +which the adust Aldrich quotes in grim irony—<i title="[Greek: +Ei men kalên, exeis koinên, ei d' aischran, poinên]">Εἴ +μὲν κάλην, +ἕξεις κοίνην, +εἰ δ᾽ αἰσχρὰν, +ποίνην</i>. +(Whether of the two horns impaled the sage of +Priēne?) Some, of course, are fully alive to the +outward defects of their partners; but few are so +candid as the old Berkshire squire, who, looking +after his spouse as she left the room, said, pensively, +“Excellent creature, that! I’ve liked +her better every day for twenty years, but I’ve +always thought she’s the plainest-headed woman +in England!” Fewer still would wish to emulate +the sturdy plain-speaking of the “gudeman” +in the Scottish ballad, who, when his witch-wife +boasted how she bloomed into beauty after drinking +the “wild-flower wine,” replied, undauntedly,</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>“Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill womyn,</div> +<div class="i1">Sae loud I hear ye lee;</div> +<div>The ill-faured’st wife i’ the kingdom of Fife</div> +<div class="i1">Is comely compared wi’ thee.”</div> +</div> + +<p class="runon">He could stand all the other marvels of the Sabbat, +but <i>that</i> was too much for his credulity.</p> + +<p>No doubt many of these Ugly Princesses are +endowed with excellent sterling qualities. The +old Border legend says there never was a happier +match than that of “Muckle-mou’ed Meg,” +though her husband married her reluctantly with +a halter tightening round his neck. But such +advantages lie below the surface, and take some +time in being appreciated. The first process of +captivation is what I don’t understand—unless, +indeed, there are sparkles in the quartz, invisible +to common eyes, that tell the experienced gold-seeker +of a rich vein near.</p> + +<p>Well, we will allow the proposition with which +we started; but do you suppose its converse +would hold equally good—that every woman +could <i>love</i> once if she wished it? Nine out of +ten of them would, I dare say, answer boldly in +the affirmative; but in a few rather sad and +weary faces you might read something more than +a doubt about this; and lips, not so red and full +as they once were, on which the wintry smile +comes but rarely, could tell perhaps a different +story. The precise mould that will fit <i>some</i> fancies +is as hard to find as the slipper of Cendrillon; +and so, in default of the fairy <i>chaussure</i>, the +small white foot goes on its road unshod, and the +stones and briers gall it cruelly.</p> + +<p>With men it does not so much matter. They +have always the counteracting resources of bodily +and mental exertion, against which the affections +can make but little head. Indeed, some +of the most distinguished in arts, in arms, if not +in song, seem to have gone down to their graves +without ever giving themselves time to indulge +in any one of these. Perhaps they never missed +<samp class="pgmark">26</samp> +a sentiment which would have been very much +in their way if they had felt it. If all tales are +true, mathematics are a very effectual Nénuphar. +But with women it is different. <i>They</i> can’t be +always clambering up unexplored peaks, or inventing +improvements in gunnery, or commanding +irregular corps, or bringing in faultless reform +bills, or finding out constellations, or shooting +big game, or resorting to any of <i>our</i> thousand-and-one +safety-valves to superfluous excitement. +Are crochet, or crossed letters, or charity-schools, +or even Cochins and <i>Crève-cœurs</i>, so +entirely engrossing as to drown forever the reproaches +of nature, that will make herself heard? +If not, surely the most phlegmatically proper of +her sex does sometimes feel sad and dissatisfied +when she thinks that she has never been able to +care for any one more than for her own brother. +It must seem hard that, when the frost of old age +comes on, she shall not have even a memory to +look upon to warm her. But in the world here, +such temptations to discontent abound; but the +most guileless votary of the <i>Sacré Cœur</i> might +confess regrets and misgivings like these without +meriting any extra allowance of fast and scourge.</p> + +<p>If we were to reckon up the cases we have +heard of women who have “gone wrong,” and +made, if not <i>mésalliances</i>, at least marriages inexplicable +on any rational grounds, it would fill +up a long summer’s day, even without drawing +on darker recollections of post-nuptial transgression. +In these last cases, perhaps, the altar and +absolute indifference was a more dangerous element +than Mrs. Malaprop’s “little aversion,” +which is, at all events, a <i>positive</i>, thing to work +upon. Lethargies are harder to cure, they say, +than fevers. Certainly they have the warning +examples of others who have so erred, and paid +for it by a life-long repentance; but that never +has stopped them yet, and never will. Remember +the reply of the <i>débutante</i> to her austere parent +when the latter refused to take her to a ball, +saying that “<i>she</i> had seen the folly of such +things.” “I want to see the folly of them too.” +Few of us men can realize the feeling that, with +our sisters, may account for, though not excuse, +much folly and sin. They see others happy all +around them: it is hard to fast when so many are +feasting. So there comes a shameful sense of +ignorance—a vague, eager desire for knowledge—a +terror of an isolation deepening and darkening +upon them, and a determination, at any +risks, to balk at least <i>that</i> enemy—and so, like +the poor lady of Shalott, they grow restless, and +reckless, and rebellious at last. They are safe +where they are, but the days have so much of +dull sameness that there is a sore temptation in +the unknown peril. “Better,” they say, “than +the close atmosphere of the guarded castle and +the phantasms of fairy-land, one draught of the +fresh outer air—one glimpse of real life and nature—one +taste of substantial joys and sorrows +that shall wake all the pulses of womanhood, +even though the experience be brief and dearly +bought, though the web woven while we sat +dreaming must surely be rent in twain—ay, even +though the curse, too, may follow very swiftly, +and the swans be waiting at the gate that shall +bear us down to our <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original lacks closing quote mark">burying.”</ins></p> + +<p>If staid and cold-blooded virgins and matrons +are not exempt from these disagreeable self-reproaches, +how did it fare with Cecil Tresilyan, +in whom the energy of a strong temperament +was stirring like the spring-sap in a young oak-tree? +Should she die conscious of the possession +of such a wealth of love, with none to share +or inherit it? She had seen such numbers of +her friends and acquaintance “pair off,” that +she began to envy at last the facility of attachment +that she had been wont to hold in scorn. +Very many reflections of “lovers lately wed” had +been cast upon her mirror, and yet the One +knightly shadow was long in coming. Can it be +that yonder gleam through the trees is the flash +of his distant armor?</p> + +<p>I hope this illustrated edition of rather an old +theory has not bored you much; because it +would have been just as simple to have said at +once that, as the days went on in Dorade, and +they were thrown constantly into each other’s society, +Major Keene began to monopolize much +more of Cecil Tresilyan’s thoughts than she +would have allowed if she could have helped it; +for, though she considered Mr. Fullarton’s testimony +unfairly biased by prejudice, she could +not doubt that Royston was by no means the +most eligible object to centre her young affections +upon. He carefully avoided discussion or +display of any of his peculiar opinions in her +presence, and on such occasions seemed inclined +to soften his habitually sardonic and depreciatory +tone. Once or twice, when they did disagree, +she observed that he contrived to make +some one else take her side, and then argued +the point, as long as he thought it worth while, +with the last opponent. Beyond the courtesy +which invariably marked his demeanor toward +her sex, this was the only sign of especial deference +that he had shown. She never could detect +the faintest approach to the adulation that +hundreds had paid her, and which she had wearied +of long ago. Nevertheless, she knew perfectly +that on many subjects, generally considered +all-important, they differed as widely as the +poles.</p> + +<p>Perpetual struggles between the spirit and the +flesh made Cecil’s heart an odd sort of debatable +land; if she could not always insure success +and supremacy to the right side, she certainly +did endeavor to preserve the balance of power. +Personally she rather disliked Mr. Fullarton, but +she seemed to look upon him as the embodiment +of a principle, and the symbol of an abstraction. +He represented there the Establishment which +she had always been taught to venerate; and so +she felt bound, as far as possible, to favor and +support him; just as Goring and Wilmot, and +many more wild cavaliers, fearing neither God +nor devil, mingled in their war-cry church as +well as king. (Rather a rough comparison to +apply to a well-intentioned demoiselle of the +nineteenth century, but, I fancy, a correct one.) +Thus, if she indulged herself in a long <i>tête-à-tête</i> +with Keene, she was sure to be extraordinarily +civil to the chaplain soon after; and if she devoted +herself for a whole evening to the society +of the priest and his family, the soldier was likely +to benefit by it on the morrow. Unluckily, +the sacrifice of inclination was all on <i>one</i> side.</p> + +<p>The antagonists had never, as yet, come into +open collision. It was not respect or fear that +made them shy of the conflict, but rather a feeling, +which neither could have explained to himself, +resembling that of leaders of parties in the +<samp class="pgmark">27</samp> +House, who decline measuring their strength +against each other on questions of minor importance, +reserving themselves for the final crisis, +when the want-of-confidence vote shall come +on. Once only there was a chance of a skirmish—the +merest affair of outposts.</p> + +<p>Keene had been calling on the Tresilyans one +evening, in the official capacity of bearer of a +verbal message from Mrs. Molyneux. It was +the simplest one imaginable; but as graver embassadors +have done before him, liking his quarters +he dallied over his mission. (If Geneva, instead +of Paris, were chosen for the meeting of a +Congress, would not several knotty points be decided +much more speedily?) When, at last, all +was settled, it seemed very natural that he +should petition Cecil for “just one song;” and +you know what that always comes to. Royston +never would “turn over” if he could possibly +avoid it; he considered it a willful waste of advantages, +for the strain on his attention, slight +as it might be, quite spoiled his appreciation of +the melody. Perhaps he was right. As a rule, +if one wanted to discover the one person about +whose approval the fair <i>cantatrice</i> is most solicitous, +it would be well to look <i>not</i> immediately behind +her ivory shoulder. At all events, he had +made his peace with Miss Tresilyan on this point +long ago. So he drew his arm-chair up near +the piano, but out of her sight as she sang, and +sat watching her intently through his half-closed +eyelids.</p> + +<p>I marvel not that in so many legends of +witchery and seduction since the <i>Odyssey</i> the +<i title="[Greek: thespesiê aoidê]">θεσπεσίη +ἀοίδη</i> has borne its part. “But,” the +Wanderer might say, replying against Circè’s +warning, “have we not learned prudence and +self-command from Athenè, the chaste Tritonid? +Have not ten years under shield before Troy, +and a thousand leagues of seafaring, made our +hearts as hard as our hands, and our ears deaf +to the charms of song? Thus much of wisdom, +at least, hath come with grizzled hair, that we +may mock at temptations that might have won +us when our cheeks were in their down. O +most divinely fair of goddesses! have we not resisted +your own enchantments? Shall we go +forth scathless from Ææa to perish on the Isle +of the Sirens?” But the low, green hills are +already on the weather beam, and we are aware +of a sweet weird chant that steals over the water +like a living thing, and smooths the ripple where +it passes. How fares it with our philosophic +Laertiades? Those signs look strangely unlike +incitements to greater speed; and what mean +those struggles to get loose? Well, perhaps, for +the hero that the good hemp holds firm, and +that Peribates and Eurylochus spring up to +strengthen his bonds; well, that the wax seals +fast the ears of those sturdy old sea-dogs who +stretch to their oars till Ocean grows hoary behind +the blades; or nobler bones might soon be +added to the myriads that lie bleaching in the +meadow, half hidden by its flowers. It was not, +then, so very trivial, the counsel that she gave in +parting kindness—</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div><i title="[Greek: Kirkê euplokamos, deinê theos audêessa.]" +>Κίρκη +ἐϋπλόκαμος, +δεινὴ θεὸς +αὐδήεσσα</i>.</div> +</div> + +<p>Are we in our generation wiser than the “man +of many wiles?” Dinner is over, and every one +is going out into the pleasance, to listen to the +nightingales.</p> + +<p>“It will be delicious; there is nothing I should +like so much; but I—I sprained my ankle in +jumping that gate; and Amy” (that’s “my +cousin who happens to sing”), “I heard you +cough three times this morning. <i>You</i> won’t be +so imprudent as to risk the night air? Ah! +they are gone at last; and now, Amy dear—good, +kindest Amy!—open the especial crimson +book quickly, and give me first your own pet +song, and then mine, and then ‘The Three +Fishers,’ and then ‘Maud,’ and then, I suppose, +they will be coming back again; but by that +time, they may be as enthusiastic as they please, +we shall be able to meet them fairly.”</p> + +<p>Things have changed since David’s day; spirits +are raised sometimes now, as well as laid, by +harp and song. In good truth, they are not always +evil ones.</p> + +<p>On that night, Royston Keene listened to the +sweet voice that seemed to knock at the gates of +his heart—gates shut so long that the bars had +rusted in their staples—not loudly or imperiously, +but powerful in its plaintive appeal, like that +of those one dearly loved, standing without in +the bitter cold, and pleading—“Ah! let me +in!” He listened till a pleasant, dreamy feeling +of <i>domesticity</i> began to creep over him that he +had never known before. He could realize, +then, that there were circumstances under which +a man might easily dispense with high play, and +hard riding, and hard flirting (to give it a mild +name), and hard drinking, and other excitements +which habit had almost turned into necessities, +without missing any one of them. There +were two words which ought to have put all these +fancies to flight, as the writing on the wall scattered +the guests of Belshazzar—“Too Late.” +But he turned his head away, and would not +read them. He had actually succeeded in ignoring +another disenchanting reality—the presence +of Mrs. Danvers. That estimable person +seemed more than usually fidgetty, and disposed +to make herself, as well as others, uncomfortable. +There was evidently something on her +mind from her glancing so often and so nervously +at the door. It opened at last softly, just as +Cecil had finished “The Swallow,” and revealed +Mr. Fullarton standing on the threshold. The +latter was not well pleased with the scene before +him. There was an air of comfort about it +which, under the circumstances, he thought decidedly +wrong; besides which he could not get +rid of a vague misgiving (the rarest thing with +him!) that his visit was scarcely welcome or well +timed.</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan rose instantly to greet the intruder +(yes, that’s the right word) with her usual +calm courtesy. Very few words had been exchanged +for the last hour, but she was perfectly +aware—what woman is not?—of the influence she +had exercised over her listener. That consciousness +had made her strangely happy. So, <i>she</i> certainly +could have survived the chaplain’s absence. +Royston Keene rose too, quite slowly. There +are compounds, you know, that always remain +soft and ductile in a certain temperature, but +harden into stone at the first contact with the +outer air. It was just so with him. Even as he +moved, all gentle feelings were struck dead in +his heart, and he stood up a harder man than +ever, with no kinder emotion left than bitter anger +at the interruption. He could not always +<samp class="pgmark">28</samp> +command his eyes, he knew; and, if he had not +passed his hand quickly over his face just then, +their expression might have thrilled through the +new-comer disagreeably.</p> + +<p>“Cecil, dearest,” Mrs. Danvers said, with +rather an awkward assumption of being perfectly +at her ease, “Mr. Fullarton was good enough +to say he would come and read to us this evening, +and explain some passages. I don’t know +why I forgot to tell you. I meant to do so, +but—” Her look finished the sentence. Royston, +like the others, guessed what she meant, +and <i>you</i> may guess how he thanked her.</p> + +<p>Cecil colored with vexation. She was so anxious +to prevent Mrs. Danvers from feeling dependent +that she allowed her to take all sorts of +liberties, and the amiable woman was not disposed +to let the privilege fall into disuse. On +the present occasion there was such an absurd +incongruity of time and place that she might +possibly have tried to evade the “exposition,” +but she happened just then to meet Keene’s eye. +The sarcasm there was not so carefully veiled as +it usually was in her presence. Never yet was +born Tresilyan who blenched from a challenge; +so she answered at once to express “her sense +of Mr. Fullarton’s kindness, and her regret that +he had not come earlier in the evening.” If +Royston had known how bitterly she despised +herself for disingenuousness he would have been +amply avenged.</p> + +<p>Even while she was speaking he closed the piano +very slowly and softly. It did not take him +long to put on his impenetrable face, for when +he turned round there was not a trace of anger +left; the scarce suppressed taunt in Cecil’s last +words moved him apparently no more than Mrs. +Danvers’s glance of triumph.</p> + +<p>“I owe you a thousand apologies,” he said, +“for staying such an unwarrantable time, and +quite as many thanks for the pleasantest two +hours I have spent in Dorade. Don’t think I +would detain you one moment from Mr. Fullarton +and your devotional exercises. You know—no, +you <i>don’t</i> know—the verse in the ballad:</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>‘Amundeville may be lord by day,</div> +<div class="i1"> But the monk is lord by night;</div> +<div>Nor wine nor wassail would stir a vassal</div> +<div class="i1"> To question that friar’s right.’”</div> +</div> + +<p class="runon">He went away then without another word beyond +the ordinary adieu. Royston had a way of +repeating poetry peculiar to himself—rather monotonous, +perhaps, but effective from the depth +and volume of his voice. You gained in rhythm +what you lost in rhyme. The sound seemed to +linger in their ears after he had closed the door.</p> + +<p>As the echo of the firm, strong footstep died +away, a virtuous indignation possessed the broad +visage of the divine.</p> + +<p>“It is like Major Keene,” said he, “to select +as his text-book the most godless work of the +satanic school; but I should have thought that +even he would have paused before venturing, in +this presence, on a quotation from <i>Don Juan</i>.”</p> + +<p>At that awful word Mrs. Danvers gave a little +shriek as if “a bee had stung her newly.” Had +she been a Catholic she would have crossed herself +an indefinite number of times: will you be +good enough to imagine her protracted look of +holy horror? Cecil’s eyes were glittering with +scornful humor as she answered, very demurely, +“What an advantage it is to be a large, general +reader! It enables one to impart so much information. +Now Bessie and I should never +have guessed where those lines came from if you +had not enlightened us. They seemed harmless +enough in themselves, and Major Keene was +considerate enough to leave us in our ignorance. +So Byron comes within the scope of your studies, +Mr. Fullarton. I thought you seldom indulged +in such secular authors?” The chaplain +was quite right in making his reply inaudible: +it would have been difficult to find a perfectly +satisfactory one. However, the hour was late +enough to excuse his beginning the reading +without farther delay. It was not a success. +There was a stoppage somewhere in the current +of his mellifluous eloquence; and the exposition +was concluded so soon, and indeed abruptly, that +Mrs. Danvers retired to rest with a feeling of +disappointment and inanition, such as one may +have experienced when, expecting a “sit-down” +supper, we are obliged to content ourselves with +a meagrely-furnished <i>buffet</i>. For some minutes +after Mr. Fullarton had departed Miss Tresilyan +sat silent, leaning her head upon her hand. At +last she said, “Bessie, dear, you know I would +not interfere with your comforts or your arrangements +for the world; but, the next time you wish +to have a repetition of this, would you be so very +good as to tell me beforehand? I think I shall +spend that evening with Fanny Molyneux. I +do not quite like it, and I am sure it does me no +real good.”</p> + +<p>She spoke so gently that Mrs. Danvers was +going to attempt one of her querulous remonstrances, +but she happened to look at the face of +her patroness. It wore an expression not often +seen there; but she was wise enough to interpret +it aright, and to guess that she had gone far +enough. It was ever a dangerous experiment to +trifle with the Tresilyans when their brows were +bent. So she launched into some of her affectionate +platitudes and profuse excuses, and under +cover of these retreated to her rest. It is a +comfort to reflect that she slept very soundly, +though she monopolized all the slumber that +night that ought to have fallen to Cecil’s share.</p> + +<p>What did Royston Keene think of the events +of the evening? As he went down the stairs I +am afraid he cursed the chaplain once heartily, +but on the whole he was not dissatisfied. At all +events, the short walk down to the club completely +restored his <i>sang-froid</i>, and the last trace +of vexation vanished as he entered the card-room +and saw the “light of battle” gleam on the +haggard face of Armand de Châteaumesnil.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">There</span> was in Dorade a stout and meritorious +elderly widow, who formed a sort of connecting +link between the natives and the settlers. English +by birth, she had married a Frenchman of +fair family and fortune, so that her habits and +sympathies attached themselves about equally to +the two countries. You do not often find so +good a specimen of the hybrid. She gave frequent +little <i>soirées</i>, which were as pleasant and +exciting as such assemblages of heterogeneous +elements usually are—that is to say, very moderately +so. The two streams flowed on in the +<samp class="pgmark">29</samp> +same channel, without mingling or losing their +characteristics. I fancy the fault was most on +our side.</p> + +<p>We no longer, perhaps, parade Europe with +“pride in our port, defiance in our eye;” but +still, in our travels, we lose no opportunity of +maintaining and asserting our well-beloved dignity, +which, if rather a myth and vestige of the +past, at home, abroad, is a very stern reality. +Have you not seen, at a crowded <i>table d’hôte</i>, +the British mother encompass her daughters +with the double bulwark of herself and their +staid governess on either flank, so as to avert +the contamination which must otherwise have +certainly ensued from the close proximity of a +courteous white-bearded Graf, or a <i>fringante</i> vicomtesse +whose eyes outshone her diamonds? +May it ever remain so! Each nation has its +vanity and its own peculiar glory, as it has its +especial produce. O cotton mills of Manchester! +envy not nor emulate the velvet looms of +Genoa or Lyons; you are ten times as useful, +and a hundredfold more remunerating. What +matters it if Damascus guard jealously the secret +of her fragrant clouded steel, when Sheffield can +turn out efficient sword-blades at the rate of a +thousand per hour? <i>Suum cuique tribuito.</i> Let +others aspire to be popular: be it ours to remain +irreproachably and unapproachably respectable.</p> + +<p>So poor Mdme. de Verzenay’s efforts to promote +an <i>entente cordiale</i> were lamentably foiled. +When the English mustered strong, they +would immediately form themselves into a hollow +square, the weakest in the centre, and so defy +the assaults of the enemy. Now and then a daring +Gaul would attempt the adventure of the +Enchanted Castle, determined, if not to deliver +the imprisoned maidens, at least to enliven their +solitude. See how gayly and gallantly he starts, +glancing a saucy adieu to Adolphe and Eugène, +who admire his audacity, but augur ill for its +success. <i>Allons, je me risque. Montjoie St. +Denis! France à la rescousse!</i> He winds, as it +were, the bugle at the gate, with a well-turned +compliment or a brilliant bit of <i>badinage</i>. Slowly +the jealous valves unclose; he stands within +the magic precinct—an eerie silence all around. +Suppose that one of the Seven condescends to +parley with him; she does so nervously and under +protest, glancing ever over her shoulder, as +if she expected the austere Fairy momentarily to +appear; while her companions sit without winking +or moving, cowering together like a covey +of birds when the hawk is circling over the turnip-field. +How can you expect a man to make +himself agreeable under such appalling circumstances? +The heart of the adventurer sinks +within him. Lo! there is a rustling of robes +near; what if Calyba or Urganda were at hand? +<i>Fuyons!</i> And the knight-errant retreats, with +drooping crest and smirched armor—a melancholy +contrast to the <i>preux chevalier</i> who went +forth but now chanting his war-song, conquering +and to conquer. The remarks of the discomfited +one, after such a failure, were, I fear, +the reverse of complimentary; and the unpleasant +word <i>bégueule</i> figured in them a great deal +too often.</p> + +<p>Cecil and Fanny Molyneux were certainly exceptions +to the rule of unsociability, but the general +dullness of those <i>réunions</i> infected them, and +made the atmosphere oppressive; it required a +vast amount of leaven to make such a large, +heavy lump light or palatable. Besides, it is +not pleasant to carry on a conversation with +twenty or thirty people looking on and listening, +as if it were some theatrical performance that +they had paid money to see, and consequently +had a right to criticise. The fair friends had +held counsel together as to the expediency of +gratifying others at a great expense to themselves +on the present occasion, and had made +their election—not to go.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning Miss Tresilyan encountered +Keene; their conversation was very +brief; but, just as he was quitting her, the latter +remarked, in a matter-of-course way, “We shall +meet this evening at Madame de Verzenay’s?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him in some surprise, for she +knew he must have heard from Mrs. Molyneux +of their intention to absent themselves. She told +him as much.</p> + +<p>“Ah! last night she did not mean to go,” replied +Royston; “but she changed her mind this +morning while I was with them. When I left +them, ten minutes ago, there was a consultation +going on with Harry as to what she should wear. +I don’t think it will last more than half an hour; +and then she was coming to try to persuade you +to keep her fickleness in countenance.”</p> + +<p>Now the one point upon which Cecil had been +most severe on <i>la mignonne</i> was the way in which +the latter suffered herself to be guided by her +husband’s friend. It is strange how prone is the +unconverted and unmated feminine nature to instigate +revolt against the Old Dominion—never +more so than when the beautiful <i>Carbonara</i> feels +that its shadow is creeping fast over the frontier +of her own freedom. Nay, suppose the conquest +achieved, and that they themselves are reduced +to the veriest serfdom, none the less will they +strive to goad other hereditary bondswomen into +striking the blow. Is it not known that steady +old “machiners,” broken for years to double +harness, will encourage and countenance their +“flippant” progeny in kicking over the traces? +How otherwise could the name of mother-in-law, +on the stage and in divers domestic circles, +have become a synonym for firebrand? Look at +your wife’s maid, for instance. She will spend +two thirds of her wages and the product of many +silk dresses (“scarcely soiled”) in furnishing that +objectionable and disreputable suitor of hers with +funds for his extravagance. He has beggared +two or three of her acquaintance already, under +the same flimsy pretense of intended marriage, +that scarcely deludes poor Abigail; she has sore +misgivings as to her own fate. Alternately he +bullies and cajoles, but all the while she knows +that he is lying, deliberately and incessantly, yet +she never remonstrates or complains. It is true +that, if you pass the door of her little room late +into the night, you will probably go to bed haunted +by the sound of low, dreary weeping; but it +would be worse than useless to argue with her +about her folly; she cherishes her noisome and +ill-favored weed as if it were the fairest of fragrant +flowers, and will not be persuaded to throw +it aside. Well, if you could listen to that same +long-suffering and soft-hearted young female, in +her place in the subterranean Upper House, when +the conduct of “Master” (especially as regards +Foreign Affairs) is being canvassed; the fluency +and virulence of her anathemas would almost +<samp class="pgmark">30</samp> +take your breath away. Even that dear old +housekeeper—who nursed you, and loves you +better than any of her own children—when she +would suggest an excuse or denial of the alleged +peccadilloes, is borne away and overwhelmed by +the abusive torrent, and can at last only grumble +her dissent. Very few women, of good birth +and education, make <i>confidantes</i> nowadays of +their personal attendants; and the race of +“Miggs” is chiefly confined to the class in +which Dickens has placed it, if it is not extinct +utterly. But there is a season—while the brush +passes lightly and lingeringly over the long trailing +“back hair”—when a hint, an allusion, or +an insinuation, cleverly placed, may go far toward +fanning into flame the embers of matrimonial +rebellion. I know no case where such +serious consequences may be produced, with so +little danger of implication to the prime mover +of the discontent, except it be the system of the +patriotic and intrepid Mazzini. Many outbreaks, +perhaps—quelled after much loss on both +sides, in which the monarchy was only saved by +the judicious expenditure of much <i>mitraille</i>—might +have been traced to the covert influence +of that mild-eyed, melancholy <i>camériste</i>.</p> + +<p>Cecil, who was not exempt from these revolutionary +tendencies, any more than from other +weaknesses of her sex, was especially provoked +by this fresh instance of Fanny’s subordination.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Molyneux is perfectly at liberty to form +her own plans,” she said, very haughtily. “Beyond +a certain point, I should no more dream +of interfering with them than she would with +mine. She is quite right to change her mind as +often as she thinks proper, only in this instance +I should have thought it was hardly worth +while.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” Keene answered, in his cool, slow +way, “Mrs. Molyneux has got that unfortunate +habit of consulting other people’s wishes and convenience +in preference to her own; it’s very foolish +and weak; but it is so confirmed, that I +doubt even <i>your</i> being able to break her of it. +This time I am sure you won’t. It is a pity you +are so determined on disappointing the public. +I know of more than one person who has put off +other engagements in anticipation of hearing you +sing.”</p> + +<p>He was perfectly careless about provoking her +now, or he would have been more cautious. +That particular card was the very last in his +hand to have played. Miss Tresilyan was good-nature +itself in placing her talents at the service +of any man, woman, or child who could appreciate +them. She would go through half her <i>repertoire</i> +to amuse a sick friend any day; neither +was she averse to displaying them before the +world in general at proper seasons, but she liked +the “boards” to be worthy of the prima donna, +and had no idea of “starring it in the provinces.” +All the pride of her race gathered on +her brow just then, like a thunder-cloud, and her +eyes flashed no summer lightning.</p> + +<p>“Madame de Verzenay was wrong to advertise +a performer who does not belong to her +<i>troupe</i>. I hope the audience will be patient under +their disappointment, and not break up the +benches. If not, she must excuse herself as best +she may. I have signed no engagement, so my +conscience is clear. I certainly shall not go.”</p> + +<p>The bolt struck the granite fairly, but it did +not shiver off one splinter, nor even leave a stain. +Royston only remarked, “Then for to-day it is +useless to say <i>au revoir</i>;” and so, raising his cap, +passed on.</p> + +<p>The poor <i>mignonne</i> had a very rough time of +it soon afterward. Cecil was morally and physically +incapable of scolding any one; but she was +very severe on the sin of vacillation and yielding +to unauthorized interference. The culprit did +not attempt to justify herself; she only said, +“They both wanted me to go so much, and I +did not like to vex Harry.” Then she began to +coax and pet her monitress in the pretty, childish +way which interfered so much with matronly +dignity, till the latter was brought to think that +she had been cruelly harsh and stern; at last she +got so penitent that she offered to accompany her +friend, and lend the light of her countenance to +Madame de Verzenay. For this infirmity of +purpose many female Dracos would have ordered +her off to instant execution—very justly. +That silly little Fanny only kissed her, and said, +“She was a dear, kind darling.” What can +you expect of such irreclaimably weak-minded +offenders? They ought to be sentenced to six +months’ hard labor, supervised by Miss Martineau; +perhaps even this would not work a permanent +cure. Still, on The Tresilyan’s part, it +was an immense effort of self-denial. She was +well aware how she laid herself open to Royston +Keene’s satire, and how unlikely he was this +time to spare her. Only perfect trust or perfect +indifference can make one careless about giving +such a chance to a known bitter tongue.</p> + +<p>However, having made up her mind to the +self-immolation, she proceeded to consider how +best she should adorn herself for the sacrifice. +Others have done so in sadder seriousness. +Doubtless, Curtius rode at his last leap without +a speck on his burnished mail: purple, and gold, +and gems flamed all round Sardanapalus when +he fired the holocaust in Nineveh: even that +miserable, dastardly Nero was solicitous about +the marble fragments that were to line his felon’s +grave. So it befell that, on this particular evening, +Cecil went through a very careful toilet, +though it was as simple as usual; for the ultra-gorgeous +style she utterly eschewed. The lilac +trimmings of her dress broke the dead white sufficiently, +but not glaringly, with the subdued effect +of color that you may see in a campanula. +The <i>coiffure</i> was not decided on till several had +been rejected. She chose at last a chaplet of +those soft, silvery Venetian shells—such as her +bridesmaids may have woven into the night of +Amphitritè’s hair when they crowned her Queen +of the Mediterranean.</p> + +<p>It was a very artistic picture. So Madame de +Verzenay said, in the midst of a rather too rapturous +greeting; so the Frenchmen thought, as +a low murmur of admiration ran through their +circle when she entered. Fanny, too, had her +modest success. There were not wanting eyes +that turned for a moment from the brilliant beauty +of her companion to repose themselves on the +sweet girlish face shaded by silky brown tresses, +and on the perfect little figure floating so lightly +and gracefully along amid its draperies of pale +cloudy blue.</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan felt that there might be <i>one</i> +glance that it would be a trial to meet unconcernedly, +and she had been schooling herself +<samp class="pgmark">31</samp> +sedulously for the encounter. She might have +spared herself some trouble; for Royston Keene +was not there when they arrived. She knew +that Mrs. Molyneux had told him of the change +in their plans; but the latter did not choose to +confess how she had been puzzled by the very +peculiar smile with which the major greeted the +intelligence: it was the only notice he took of it. +So the evening went on, with nothing to raise it +above the dead level of average <i>soirées</i>. Cecil +delayed going to the piano till she was ashamed +of making more excuses, and was obliged to +“execute herself” with the best grace she could +manage. Even while she was singing, her glance +turned more than once toward the door; but the +stalwart figure, beside which all others seemed +dwarfed and insignificant, never showed itself. +It was clear <i>he</i> was not among those who had +given up other engagements to hear her songs. +If we have been at some trouble and mental expense +in getting ourselves into any one frame of +mind—whether it be enthusiasm, or self-control, +or fortitude, or heroism—it is an undeniable nuisance +to find out suddenly that there is to be no +scope for its exercise. Take a very practical +instance. Here is Lieutenant Colonel Asahel +ready on the ground, looking, as his conscience +and his backers tell him, “as fine as a star, and +fit to run for his life;” at the last moment his +opponent pays forfeit. Just ascertain the sentiments +of that gallant fusileer. Does the result +at all recompense him for the futile privations +and wasted asceticism of those long weary months +of training—when pastry was, as it were, an +abomination unto him—when his lips kept themselves +undefiled from dryest Champagne or soundest +claret—when he fled, fast as Cinderella, from +the pleasantest company at the stroke of the midnight +chimes? Of course he feels deeply injured, +and would have forgiven the absentee far +more easily if the latter had beaten him fairly, +on his merits, breasting the handkerchief first by +half a dozen yards.</p> + +<p>On this principle, Miss Tresilyan labored all +that evening under an impression that Keene +had treated her very ill, and was prepared to resent +it accordingly. Another there besides herself +felt puzzled and uncomfortable. Harry +Molyneux could not understand it at all. Royston +had seemed so very anxious in the morning +to induce Fanny to go—a proceeding which +would probably involve the presence of her “inseparable;” +and disinterested persuasion was by +no means in the Cool Captain’s line. So Harry +went wandering about in a purposeless, disconsolate +fashion for some time, till he found himself +near Cecil. I fancy he had an indistinct +idea that some apology was owing to <i>her</i> for his +chief’s unaccountable absence; at all events, he +began to confide his misgivings on the subject as +soon as the men who surrounded her moved +away. They soon did so; for The Tresilyan had +a way, quite peculiar to herself, of conveying to +those whom she wished to get rid of that their +audience was ended, without speaking one word. +There was a very unusual element of impatient +pettishness in her reply.</p> + +<p>“What a curious fascination Major Keene appears +to exercise over his friends! I suppose +you would think it quite wrong to be amused +any where unless he were present to sanction it. +Do you become a free agent again when you are +given up entirely to your own devices? And do +<i>all</i> subalterns keep up that veneration for their +senior officers after they have left the service? +It seems to be carrying the <i>esprit du corps</i> rather +far.”</p> + +<p>Harry laughed out his own musical laugh; +even the imputation of dependency and helplessness +which is apt to ruffle most people fell back +harmlessly from his impenetrable good-humor. +“I dare say it does look very absurd. But you +ought to have lived with him as long as I have +done to understand how naturally Royston gains +his influence, and makes us do what he chooses.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly I can not understand it. The +<i>poco-curante</i> style is so very common just now +that one gets rather tired of it. I do not like the +affectation at all, but I dislike the reality still +more. I believe it <i>is</i> a reality with Major Keene. +I can not fancy him betraying any unrestrained +excitement, however strong the passion that +moved him might be. You have never known +him do so, now? Confess it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes I have, once,” he answered, gravely, +“and I never wish to see it again.”</p> + +<p>Cecil always liked talking to Harry Molyneux. +On the present occasion the mere sound +of his voice seemed to go far toward soothing her +irritation: many others had experienced the +same effect from those kindly gentle tones. Perhaps, +too, the subject had an interest for her that +she would not own. “Would it tire you to tell +me about it? I am not particularly curious, but +I have been so much bored to-night that a very +little would amuse me.”</p> + +<p>He hesitated for an instant. “It is not <i>that</i>; +but I don’t know if <i>I</i> am right in telling you. +Perhaps you would not like him the better for it, +though he could not help it. Shall I? Well, it +was in the second of our Indian battles, and the +first time we had really been under fire; before it +was only nominal. We had been sitting idle for +two hours or more, watching the infantry and +the gunners do their work; and right well they +did it. The Sikhs were giving ground in all directions; +but they began to gather again on our +right, and at last we were told to send out three +squadrons and break them at three different +points. Keene was in command of mine. I +never saw him look so enchanted as he did when +the orders came down. I heard the chief warning +him to be cautious, not to go too far (for +there was a good deal of broken ground ahead), +but to wheel about as soon as we had got through +their lines, and to fall back immediately on our +position. Royston listened and saluted, but I +know he didn’t catch one word; he kept looking +over his shoulder all the time the colonel was +speaking, as if he grudged every second. We +were very soon off; and almost before I realized +the situation we were closing in on the enemy, +wrapped up in our own dust and in their smoke, +for the firing became heavy directly we got within +range. Now I don’t think I ought to be telling +you all this: it is not quite a woman’s +story.”</p> + +<p>“Please go on. I like it.” How grandly it +flashed up in her cheek as she spoke—the fiery +Tresilyan blood that had boiled in the veins of +so many brilliant soldiers, but through twenty +generations had never cooled down enough to +breed one statesman!</p> + +<p>He had taken breath by this time. “I won’t +<samp class="pgmark">32</samp> +make it longer than I can help, but it is difficult +to tell some things very briefly. It was my first +real charge, you know; I suppose every man’s +sensations are rather peculiar under such circumstances. +I did not feel much alarmed—there +wasn’t time for that—but the smoke, and the +noise, and the excitement made me so dizzy that +I could hardly sit straight in my saddle. When +we got within a hundred and fifty yards of the +Sikhs their fire began to tell. I heard a bubbling, +smothered sort of cry close behind me, and +I looked back just in time to see a trooper fall +forward over his horse’s shoulder shot through +the throat. Several more were hit, and our fellows +began to waver a little—not much. Just +then Royston’s voice broke in: it was so clear +and strong that it set my nerves right directly, +and the dizzy, stifling feeling went away, as it +might have done before a draught of fresh pure +air. ‘Close up there, the rear rank. Keep +cool, men! Steady with your bridle-hands, and +strike fairly with the edge. <i>Now!</i>’</p> + +<p>“He was three lengths ahead of his squadron, +and well in among the enemy, when that last +word came out. It was sharp work while it +lasted, for the Sikhs fought like wounded wildcats: +one fixed his teeth in my boot, and was +dragged there till my covering-sergeant cut him +loose; but we were soon through them. When +we had wheeled, and were dressing into line, I +caught sight of Keene’s face. It was so changed +that I should hardly have known it: every fibre +was quivering with passion; and his eyes—I’ve +not forgotten them yet. We ought to have fallen +back immediately on our old ground, but it +was so evident he did not mean this, that I ventured +to suggest to him what our orders had +been. I was not second in command; but of +my two seniors one was helpless (the stupidest +man you ever saw), and the other hard hit. +Royston faced round on me with a savage oath, +‘How dare you interfere, sir! Are you in command +of this squadron?’ Then he turned to the +troopers, ‘Have you had half enough yet, men? +<i>I haven’t.</i>’ I am very sure he had lost his head, +or he would never have spoken to me so, still +less have made that last appeal, for he was the +strictest disciplinarian, and looked upon his men +as the merest machines. It seemed as if the +devil that possessed him had gone out into the +others too, for they all shouted in reply—not a +cheery honest hurra! but a hoarse, hungry roar, +such as you hear in wild beasts’ dens before feeding-time. +An old troop-sergeant, a rigid pious +Presbyterian, spoke for the rest, grinding and +gnashing his teeth: ‘We’ll follow the captain any +where—follow him to hell!’” (Harry’s voice +had all along been subdued, but it was almost a +whisper now:) “I do hope those words were not +reckoned against poor Donald Macpherson, for +when we got back his was one of the thirteen +empty saddles. So we broke up, and went in +again at the Sikhs, who were collecting in black-looking +knots and irregular squares all round. +It was an indescribable sort of a <i>mêlée</i>, every +man for himself, and—I dare not say—God for +us all. I suppose I was as bad as the rest when +once fairly launched, and we all thought we +were doing our duty; but I should not like to +have so many lives on my head and hand as +Royston could count that night. Remember <i>we</i> +suffered rather severely.</p> + +<p>“As we took up our position again I saw the +colonel was not well pleased. He had little of +the romance of war about him, and did not understand +his officers acting much on their own +discretion. Without hearing the words, I could +guess, from the expression of his hard old face, +that he came down on the squadron-leader heavily. +When I ranged up by Keene’s side soon +afterward, he looked up at me absently. ‘I +was thinking,’ he said (now one naturally expected +a sentiment about the scene we had just +gone through, or a reflection on the injustice of +chiefs in general)—‘I was thinking what rubbish +those army-cutlers sell, and call it a sword-blade.’ +He held up a sort of apology for a sabre, all +notched, and bent, and blunted; then he began +to inquire if I had been hit at all. I had escaped +with hardly a scratch; but I saw an ugly +cut above his knee, and blood stealing down his +bridle-arm. ‘Bah! it’s nothing,’ Royston observed, +answering the direction of my eyes; ‘but—if +the tulwar and the reprimand had both been +sharper—confess, Hal, that this time, <i>Le jeu valait +bien la chandelle?</i>’</p> + +<p>“We never had a real rattling charge after +that day, at least none exciting enough to warm +him thoroughly. Now I am very sorry I have +told you all this: it is not a nice story; but it is +your own fault if I have bored you. Besides, +Madame de Verzenay will never forgive me for +monopolizing you so long. I do think she does +me the honor to believe in a flirtation.”</p> + +<p>Cecil’s heightened color and sparkling eyes +might have justified such a suspicion in a distant +and unprejudiced observer. Does not this show +us how very cautious we ought to be in forming +hasty conclusions from appearances which are +proverbially deceptive? I protest I am filled +with remorse and contrition while I reflect how +often, in thought, I may have wronged and misjudged +the innocent. I dare say, in many outwardly +flagrant cases, the offenders were only expatiating +on the merits or demerits of absent +friends. Such a subject is quite engrossing +enough to excuse a certain amount of “sitting +out,” and some people <i>always</i> blush when they +are at all interested. The selection of the staircase, +the balcony, or the conservatory for the +discussion is the merest atmospheric question. +I subscribe to Mr. Weller’s idea—only “turnips” +are incredulous. <i>Vive la charité!</i></p> + +<p>After a minute or two Miss Tresilyan spoke: +“No, I don’t think worse of Major Keene. As +you say, I suppose he could not help it; but it +must be terrible, when passions that are habitually +restrained do break loose. No wonder that +you do not wish to see such a sight again. It +is very different, reading of battles and hearing +of them from one who was an actor. Do you +know, I think you have an undeveloped talent +for narration. There, that ought to console you, +even if Madame de Verzenay should asperse +your character.”</p> + +<p>At this moment Harry was contemplating the +proceedings of his pretty little wife at the opposite +side of the room with an intense satisfaction +and pride.</p> + +<p>“If I <i>had</i> yielded to temptation,” he said, “I +am sure Fan could not reproach me. She would +keep a much greater sinner in countenance. +Miss Myrtle is a thousand times worse since she +married. Just remark that by-play with the +<samp class="pgmark">33</samp> +handkerchief. You don’t suppose M. de Riberac +cares one straw about Valenciennes lace? +It makes one feel <i>Moorish</i> all over. You need +not be surprised if she is found smothered or +strangled in the morning. I am ‘not easily +moved to jealousy, but being moved—’”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too murderous,” laughed Cecil; +“you are certain to regret it afterward. We +will reproach her as she deserves on our way +home. Is it not very late?”</p> + +<p>She wanted to be alone to think over what +she had heard; and in good truth, waking or +sleeping, the watches of that night were crowded +with dreams.</p> + +<p>All this time where was Royston Keene? He +had been really anxious to induce Miss Tresilyan +to present herself at Madame de Verzenay’s, for +he liked her well enough already to feel a personal +interest in her triumphs; but, after their +interview in the morning (though he thought it +probable that Fanny’s persuasive powers might +prevail), he had determined himself not to go, +and he did not change his resolutions lightly. +Still he could not resist the temptation of getting +one glimpse at her in “review order.” If Cecil +had been very observant when she went down to +her carriage, she must have noticed a tall figure +standing back, half masked by a pillar, whose eyes +literally flashed in the darkness as they fastened +on her in her passage through the lighted hall, and +drank in every item of her loveliness. He stood +still for some moments after she was gone, and +then walked slowly down to the Cercle. While +they were talking about him at Madame de Verzenay’s, +Royston was holding his own gallantly +at <i>écarté</i> with Armand de Châteaumesnil, for the +honor of England and—ten Napoleons a side. +As was his wont, he played superbly; but he +spoke seldom, and hardly seemed to hear the +comments of the crowded <i>galèrie</i>. In truth, at +some most critical points—when the game was +in abeyance at <i>quatre à</i>—a delicate proud face, +and a shell wreath glistening in velvet hair, +<i>would</i> rise before him, and dethrone in his +thoughts the painted kings and queens. His +adversary did not fail to observe this; but he +said nothing till the play was ended and most +of the others had left the room. Then he laid +his hand on Keene’s arm, and drew his head +down to the level of his own lips, and spoke +low:</p> + +<p>“Mon camarade, je me rappelle, d’avoir vu, +il y a quelques ans, au Café de la Régence, un +homme qui tenait tête, aux échecs, à quatre +concurrens. Les habitués en disaient des merveilles. +Mais ce n’était qu’un bon bourgeois +après tout; et, nous autres, nous sommes plus +forts que les bourgeois. Vouz avez joué ce soir +les deux parties que, dit le proverbe, c’est presque +impossible de remporter simultanément; et je ne +me tiens pas pour le seul perdant.”</p> + +<p>Royston did not seem in the least inclined to +smile; had he done so Armand would have been +bitterly disappointed. As it was, he answered +very coldly, without a shade of consciousness on +his face.</p> + +<p>“Un compliment mérite toujours des remercimens, +M. le Vicomte, même quand on ne le +comprend pas. Pardon, si je vous engage, de +ne pas expliquer plus clairement <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'vôtre'">votre</ins> allégorie.”</p> + +<p>The other looked up at him with an expression +that might almost have been mistaken for +sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Parbleu!” he muttered, “si beau joueur +merite bien de gagner!”</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Sometimes,</span> lying on the cliffs of Kerry or +Clare, on a cloudless autumn day, when not a +breath of wind is stirring, you may see rank after +rank of heavy purple billows rolling sullenly in +from the offing: these are messengers coming to +tell us of battles fought a thousand leagues to the +westward, in which they, too, have borne their +part. Before the mail comes in we are prepared +to hear of a storm that has worked its wicked +will for nights and days, thundering among the +granite boulders of Labrador, or tearing through +the fog-banks of Newfoundland. This is perhaps +the most commonplace of all ancient comparisons; +but where will you find so apt a parallel +for the vagaries of the human heart as the +phases of the deep, false, beautiful sea?</p> + +<p>On the morning after Madame de Verzenay’s +party, Cecil rose in a very troubled frame of +mind. She had no feeling of irritation left +against Royston Keene; but she was uneasy, +and uncomfortable, and loth to meet him. What +she had felt and what she had heard had moved +her too deeply for her to resume at once her +wonted composure. So it was that she accepted +very readily an invitation from Mrs. Fullarton to +accompany herself and children on a mild botanizing +excursion among the hills. These small +<i>fêtes</i> went a long way with that hard-working +and meritorious woman; what with anticipation +and retrospect, each lasted her about two months. +Miss Tresilyan was prevented from starting with +the rest of the party; but the chaplain himself +was to escort her to the place of rendezvous, his +little daughter Katie being retained to be invested +with the temporary and “local” rank of +chaperone—a formality which, in these days of +scanty faith, even married divines are not allowed +to dispense with. The quartette was completed +by the mule-driver—one of those remarkable +boys who converse invariably in a tongue +which the beasts of burden seem to understand +and sympathize with, but which, to any other +creature whatsoever, is absolutely destitute of +meaning. They had some way to go; so Cecil +had taken up Katie before her on her mule; the +pastor walked by her side, glozing (for the road +was not very steep) on all sorts of subjects, gravely +and smoothly, as was his wont. They had +crossed the first line of hills, and were descending +into the valley beyond, when, turning a sharp +corner where a projecting rock almost barred the +path, they came suddenly on Royston Keene. +He was lying at full length, his head resting +against the knotted root of an olive, with eyes +half closed, and the cigar between his lips, that +seldom left them when he was alone. It <i>was</i> +odd that he should have selected that especial +spot for the scene of his <i>siesta</i>. Cecil did her +very utmost to look unconcerned: it was too provoking +that she could not help blushing! Mr. +Fullarton evidently looked upon it in the light +of an ambush. Had he ventured to give his +thoughts utterance, certainly the ready text +<samp class="pgmark">34</samp> +would have sprung to his lips, “Hast thou found +me, O mine enemy?” If there was “malice +prepense” there, the “enemy” deserved some +credit for the perfectly natural air of surprise +with which he rose and greeted them.</p> + +<p>“Are you recruiting after last night’s triumphs, +or escaping from popular enthusiasm, +Miss Tresilyan? I have met several Frenchmen +already who are quite childish about your +singing. I should not advise you to venture on +the Terrace to-day. There might be temptations +to vanity, which Mr. Fullarton will tell you +are dangerous.”</p> + +<p>She had so completely made up her mind to +some allusion to her change of purpose, or to +his own absence, that it was rather aggravating +to find him ignore both utterly. But she rallied +well.</p> + +<p>“Nothing half so imaginative, Major Keene. +It was a very stupid party, and I only sang once, +as, I dare say, you have heard. We are only +going to help Mrs. Fullarton to find some wild-flowers. +I hope you have not anticipated us?”</p> + +<p>He <i>fixed</i> her with the cool, appreciative look +that was harder to meet than even his sneer.</p> + +<p>“No; the flowers are safe from me. I don’t +care enough about them to keep them; and it is +a pity to pick them and throw them away to +wither. But I would have asked to be allowed +to help you in your search, only—I don’t like to +spoil a picture. You brought a very good one to +my mind as you turned the corner, a ‘Descent +into Egypt,’ that I saw long ago. The blot <i>there</i>, +I remember, was a very stout, rubicund Joseph, +not at all worthy of the imperial Madonna.”</p> + +<p>While he was speaking he drew back, and +leaned lazily against the stem of the olive, with +the evident intention of resuming his original +posture as soon as courtesy would allow. Miss +Tresilyan could not restrain a quick gesture of +impatience.</p> + +<p>“As we did not come out to <i>poser</i>, Mr. Fullarton, +don’t you think we had better not delay +any longer? We are so late already, that I am +sure the rest of the party will be tired of waiting.”</p> + +<p>Guess if her companion was loth to obey her.</p> + +<p>They moved on for some time almost in silence. +Cecil’s thoughts were busy with a picture +too—not the less vivid because only her own imagination +had painted it. Her deep, dreamy +eyes passed over the landscape actually before +them without catching one of its details: they +were looking on a desolate stony plain, cracked +and calcined by a fierce Indian sun—a few plumy +palms in the background, and the rocky bed of +a river half dried up—in the foreground a crowd +of wild barbaric soldiery, with savage, swarthy +features, bareheaded or white-turbaned; mingled +with these were horsemen in the uniform +of our light dragoons, sabring right and left +mercilessly. In the very centre of the <i>mêlée</i> was +one figure, round which all the others seemed to +group themselves as mere accessories. She saw, +very distinctly, the dark, determined face, set, +every line of it, in an unspeakable ferocity, with +a world of murderous meaning in the gleaming +eyes—so distinctly that it drove out the remembrance +of the same man’s face, expressive of +nothing but passionless indifference, though she +looked upon it but a few minutes since under the +gray branches of the olive. She almost heard +his clear, imperious tones cheering on and rallying +his troopers, when a ruder voice broke her +reverie.</p> + +<p>“<i>Halte là!</i>”</p> + +<p>If there was one thing that miserable muleteer-boy +ought to have known better than another, +it was the insuperable objection entertained +by the Provençal peasant to any thing like trespass +on his territory (the touchiness of the <i><ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'propriètaire'">propriétaire</ins></i> +bears generally an inverse ratio to the +extent of his possessions); yet, to make a short +cut of about two hundred yards, he had led his +party through a gap in the low stone wall over a +strip of ground belonging to the very man who +was least likely to overlook the intrusion. Jean +Duchesne had a bad name in the neighborhood, +and deserved it thoroughly; he was surly enough +when sober (which was the exception), but when +drunk there were no bounds to his blind, brutish +ferocity, and his great personal strength made +him a formidable antagonist. He was not an +agreeable object to contemplate, that gaunt giant, +as he stood there in his squalid, tattered +dress, with rough, matted hair, and face flushed +by recent intemperance, and flecked with livid +stains of past debauches. You may see many +such crowding round the guillotine or the tumbrel +in pictures of the French Revolution.</p> + +<p>It is very odd that one can not write or read +those two words without a boiling of the blood, +a tingling at the fingers’ ends, and a tightening +of the muscles of the forearm—ineffably absurd +when excited by a recollection seventy years +old! Yet so it is. You may talk of oppression +till you are tired; you may catalogue all the +wrongs that <i>Jacques Bonhomme</i> endured before +his day of retaliation came; you may bring in +your pet illustration of “the storm that was necessary +to clear the atmosphere;” but you will +never make some of us feel that the guilt of an +Order—had it been blacker by a hundred shades—palliated +the Massacre of its Innocents. If the +<i>Marquis</i> and <i>Mousquetaire</i> only had suffered, +they might have laid down their lives cheerfully, +as they would have done the stake of any other +lost game; and as for the priests, it was their +privilege to be martyrs. But think of those fair +matrons, and gentle girls, and delicate <i>mignonnes</i>, +that had been petted from their childhood, cooped +up in the foul courts of the Abbaye and La +Force, with even the necessaries of life begrudged +them, till the light died in their eyes and the +gloss faded from their tresses; and then brought +out to die in the chill, misty <i>Brumaire</i> morning, +howled at and derided by the swarm of bloodsuckers, +till they cowered down, not in fear, but +sickening horror, welcoming Samson and his +satellites as friends and saviors. Remember, +too, that there was scarcely an exception to the +rule of patient courage, calm self-sacrifice, and +pride of birth that never belied itself. Dubarry +might shriek on the scaffold, but the Rohans +died mute.</p> + +<p>Of all the digressions we have indulged in, +this is perhaps the most unwarrantable; and, +though it has relieved me unspeakably, I hereby +tender a certain amount of contrition for the +same. <i>Revenons à nos moutons</i>—though there +was very little of the sheep in the appearance of +Jean Duchesne, whose demeanor (when we left +him) you will recollect was decidedly aggressive. +It was evident that the mule-boy thought mischief +<samp class="pgmark">35</samp> +was brewing, for he twisted his features—irregular +and <i>tumbled</i> enough already—into divers +remarkable contortions expressive of remorse +and terror.</p> + +<p>“Who, then, dares to trespass on my lands? +Do you think we sow our crops for your cursed +mules to trample on?”</p> + +<p>He spoke in a hoarse, thick voice (suggestive +of spirituous liquors), and in the disagreeable +Provençal dialect, which must have altered +strangely since the time of the <i>troubadours</i>: +brief as his speech was, it found room for more +than one of those expletives which are nowhere +so horribly blasphemous as in the south of +France.</p> + +<p>Cecil had started slightly at the first interjection, +which broke her day-dream, but she was +not otherwise alarmed or discomposed: she +seemed to regard the <i>propriétaire</i> simply as an +unpleasant obstacle to their progress, and glanced +at Mr. Fullarton as if she expected him to clear +it away. The latter was not good at French, +but he did manage to express their sorrow if +they had done any harm unconsciously, and their +wish to retire instantly. “Not before paying,” +was the reply. “<i>Quinze francs de dedommagemens; +et puis, filez aux tous les diables!</i>”</p> + +<p>Women are not expected to carry purses or +any other objects of simple utility; but why Mr. +Fullarton should have left his at home on this +particular day is between himself and his own +conscience. The party very soon realized the +fact that they could muster about a hundred and +fifty centimes among them.</p> + +<p>Even kings and kaisers, when <i>incogniti</i>, have +ere this been reduced to the extremest straits of +ignominy from the want of a few available pieces +of silver; and, in ordinary life, five shillings +ready at the moment are frequently of more importance +than as many hundreds in expectancy. +There lives even now a man who missed the +most charming rendezvous with which fortune +ever favored him, because he rode a mile round +to avoid a turnpike, not having wherewithal to +pay it. Since that disastrous day he is ever furnished +with such a weight of small change that, +had Cola Pesce carried it, the strong swimmer +must have sunk like a stone—in penance, probably, +even as James of Scotland wore the iron +belt. At a pause in the conversation you may +hear him rattling the coppers in his pocket moodily, +as the spectres in old romances rattle their +chains; but his remorse is unavailing. A fair +chance once lost, Whist and Erycina never forgive. +The beautiful bird that might <i>then</i> have +been limed and tamed shook her wings and flew +away exultingly: far up in air the unlucky fowler +may still sometimes hear her clear mocking +carol, but she is too near heaven for his arts to +reach, and has escaped the toils forever.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion Katie Fullarton +“flashed” her one half-franc with great courage +and confidence, but the display of all that small +capitalist’s worldly wealth did not mollify Jean +Duchesne. He had been lashing himself up all +along into such a state of brutal ferocity, that he +would have been disappointed if his extortion +had been immediately satisfied; so he broke in +savagely on the chaplain’s confused excuses and +promises to settle everything at a fitting season: +“Tais toi, blagueur! On ne me floue pas ainsi +avec des promesses; je m’en fiche pas mal. Au +moins, on me laissera un gage.” His blood-shot +eyes roved from one object to another till they +lighted on the parasol that Miss Tresilyan carried: +it was of plain dark-gray silk, with a slight +black lace trimming, but the carvings of the ivory +handle made it of some real value. Before +any one could divine his intention he had plucked +it rudely from her hand.</p> + +<p>Almost with the same motion Cecil set Katie +down, and sprang herself from the saddle. In +her eyes there was such intensity of anger that +the drunken savage recoiled a pace or two, and +for the first time in his life felt something like +self-contempt: to have saved her soul she could +not have spoken one word, but her silence was +expressive enough as she turned to Mr. Fullarton. +It is difficult to say what line she expected +him to take—not the <i>voie de fait</i> certainly; at +least, if the hypothesis had been put to her when +she was cool enough to consider it, she would utterly +have repudiated such an idea. Perhaps +she had a right to look for moral support, if not +for active championship.</p> + +<p>We will not enter into the vexed question of +physical courage and cowardice: it is a truism +to say that the latter may co-exist with great +moral firmness, which is, of course, far the superior +quality. They will tell you that, when confronted +with mere personal peril, a butcher or +grenadier may match the best of us. Possibly; +I am not going to dispute it. Only remember +that there are occasions (very few in these civilized +days) when the most refined of <i>bas-bleus</i> +would rather see a strong, brave, honest man at +her side, than an abstruse philosopher, a clever +conversationalist—ay, even than a perfect Christian—whose +nerves are not to be depended on; +when Parson Adams would be worth a bench of +bishops. We can not all be athletes; and, with +the best intentions, some of us at such times are +liable to defeat and discomfiture. The most utterly +fearless man I ever knew had a <i>biceps</i> that +his own small fingers could have spanned. No +woman, however—keeping the attributes of her +sex—would think the worse of her champion for +being trampled under foot when he had done his +best to defend her. You know their province is +to console, and even pet the vanquished; they +make up lint for the wounded as readily as they +weave laurels for the conquerors. But when +they have once seen a man play the coward, the +silver tongue, with all its eloquent explanation +and honeyed pleadings, will hardly banish from +their eyes the peculiar expression wavering betwixt +compassion and contempt. They may forgive +cruelty, or insolence, or even treachery—in +time; but they can find no palliation, and little +sympathy, for that one unpardonable sin. Truly, +transgression in this line, beyond a certain +point, may scarcely be excused; for weakness +may be controlled, if not cured: if we can not be +dashingly courageous, we may at least be decently +collected: not all may aspire to the cross +of valor, but it is not difficult to steer clear of +courts-martial.</p> + +<p>A man is not pleasant to contemplate when +terror has driven out all self-command; so we +will not draw Mr. Fullarton’s picture: he could +scarcely stammer out words enough to suggest +an immediate retreat. It was painful—<i>not</i> ludicrous—to +see how justly his own child appreciated +the position: the little thing left her father’s +<samp class="pgmark">36</samp> +side instinctively, and clung for protection to Cecil +Tresilyan. The latter saw instantly how +matters stood; and if the glance she cast on the +aggressor was not pleasant to meet, far more unendurable +was that which fell upon her unlucky +companion: it was piercing enough to penetrate +the strong armor of his wonderful self-complacency, +and to rankle for many a day. She +struck her small foot on the ground with a gesture +of imperial disdain. Even so the Scythian +Amazon might have spurned the livid head of +Cyrus the Great King.</p> + +<p>“I will not stir till I see if no one will come +who can take my part. Ah! I would give—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be rash, Miss Tresilyan. You might +be taken at your word.”</p> + +<p>Cecil turned quickly, with a delicious sense of +confidence and triumph thrilling through every +fibre of her frame: on the top of the rock that +rose ten feet high, like a wall, on their right, +stood Royston Keene. A more pacific character +would have dared a greater danger for the +reward and the promise of her eyes.</p> + +<p>He took in the whole scene at a glance (perhaps +he had heard more than he chose to own), +and, swinging himself lightly down, strode right +across the <i>potager</i> with a disregard of the proprietor’s +interests and feelings refreshing to +see.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me that the ancient positions +have been reversed. You have been spoiled by +the Egyptians, Miss Tresilyan. Shall we try the +secular arm? You have scarcely been safe under +the protection of the church—<i>militant</i>.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause before the last word, and +it was unpleasantly emphasized. Then he advanced +a step or two toward the Frenchman, +without waiting for a reply, and spoke in a totally +different tone—brief and imperative—“<i>Tu vas me rendre ça?</i>”</p> + +<p>Duchesne had been rather startled by the apparition +of the new-comer, and, if he had been +cool enough to reflect, would not have fancied +him as an antagonist; but his passion blinded +him, and strong drink had heated his brutal +blood above boiling point; he ground his teeth, +as he answered, till the foam ran down—</p> + +<p>“Le rendre—à toi—chien d’Anglais? je m’en +garderai bien. Si la belle demoiselle veut le ravoir, +elle viendra demain, me prier bien gentiment; +et elle viendra—seule.”</p> + +<p>Now Royston Keene was thoroughly impregnated +with the bitterest of aristocratic prejudices: +no man alive more utterly ignored the +doctrines of liberty, equality, and fraternity; besides +this, he had acquired, to an unusual extent, +the overbearing tone and demeanor which +the habit of having soldiers under them is supposed +to bring, too commonly, to modern centurions. +He actually experienced a “fresh sensation” +as he heard the insult leveled by those +coarse plebeian lips at the woman “he delighted +to honor.” His swarthy face grew white down +to the lips, whose quivering the heavy mustache +could not quite conceal, and he shivered from +head to foot where he stood. Jean Duchesne +thought he detected the familiar signs of a terror +he had often inspired. “Tu as peur donc? +Tu tressailles <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'dejà'">déjà</ins>, blanc-bec! Tonnerre de +Dì! tu as raison.” Not a trace of passion lingered +in the major’s clear, cold voice, that fell +upon the ear with the ring of steel. “On ne +tressaille pas, quand on est <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'sur'">sûr</ins> de gagner. Regarde +donc en arrière.”</p> + +<p>Involuntarily the Frenchman looked behind +him, expecting a fresh adversary from that quarter. +As he turned his head Keene sprang forward, +and plucked the parasol from his grasp: +in one second he had laid it lightly in its owner’s +hand; in the next he had returned to his +position, and stood, ready for the onset, motionless +as the marble Creugas.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait. Even a “well-conditioned” +Gaul does not like being outwitted, +and the successful <i>ruse</i> exasperated Duchesne +into insanity. Roaring like a wild beast that +has missed its spring, he rushed in to grapple. +Royston never moved a finger till the enemy was +well within distance; then, slinging his left hand +straight out from the hip, he “let him have it” +fairly between the eyes.</p> + +<p>One blow—only one—but a blow that, had it +been stricken in the days of Olympian and Nemean +contests—where Pindar and his peers were +“reporters”—might well have earned a dithyramb; +a blow that would have gladdened the +sullen spirit of the old gladiator who trained the +Cool Captain, if the prophet had lived to see his +auguries fulfilled, or if sights and sounds from +upper earth could penetrate to the limbo of defunct +athletæ. Nothing born of woman could +have stood before it, and it was small blame to +Jean Duchesne that he dropped like a log in his +tracks. In another instant his conqueror had +one knee on the chest of the fallen man, and +both hands were griping his throat.</p> + +<p>His own face was fearfully changed. It wore +an expression that has been very often seen in +the sixty centuries that have passed since Cain +struck his brother down, but has very seldom +been described; for the dead tell no tales beyond +what their features, stiffened in hopeless terror, +may betray. It has been seen on lost battle-fields—in +the streets of cities given up to pillage, +when the storming is just over and the +carnage begun—on desolate hill-sides—in dark +forest-glades—in chambers of lonely houses, +strongly but vainly barred—in every place +where men in the death agony have “cried and +there was none to help them.” It was full time +for <i>some one</i> to interfere when the devil had entered +into Royston Keene.</p> + +<p>From the moment that affairs had assumed +such a different aspect Mr. Fullarton had gradually +been recovering his composure, and by this +time was quite himself again. He advanced +confidently, and, laying his hand on the major’s +shoulder with an imposing air, and with his best +pulpit manner, enunciated, “Thou shalt do no +murder!” The latter, as we have already said, +was utterly beside himself; but even this can not +excuse the abrupt, impatient movement that sent +such an eminent divine reeling three paces back. +The rigid lips only twisted themselves into an +evil sneer, and the cruel fingers tightened their +gripe till the features of the prostrate wretch +grew convulsed and black.</p> + +<p>The whole scene had passed so quickly, though +it takes so long to describe (some of us never +<i>can</i> succeed in stenography), that Cecil felt perfectly +lost in a whirl of conflicting emotions, till +she saw the face in life before her that she had +been fancying ever since last night. A great +fear came over her, but she overcame it, and +<samp class="pgmark">37</samp> +her woman’s instinct told her what to do. She +laid her little hand upon Keene’s arm before he +was aware that she was near, and whispered so +that only he could hear, “For <i>my</i> sake.” Only +these three simple words; but the exorcism was +complete.</p> + +<p>Again a shiver ran all through the hardy +frame, and for once Love was more powerful +than Hate. He loosed his hold—slowly though, +and reluctantly—and rose to his feet, passing +his hand over his eyes in a strange, bewildered +way; but in five seconds his wonderful self-command +asserted itself, and he spoke as coolly as +ever. “A thousand pardons. One does forget +one’s self sometimes when the <i>canaille</i> are provoking, +but I ought to have remembered what +was due to <i>you</i>.”</p> + +<p>Though she could not speak, she tried to +smile; but strong reaction had come on. In +the pale woman that trembled so painfully it +was hard to recognize proud Cecil Tresilyan. +Royston was watching her narrowly, and his +tone softened till it made his simple words a caress. +“Don’t make me more angry with myself +than I deserve. Indeed, there is nothing +more to alarm or distress you. If you would +only forgive me!” He helped her into the saddle +as he spoke, and she submitted passively. +But the happy feeling of perfect trust in him +was coming back fast.</p> + +<p>Jean Duchesne had somewhat recovered from +his stupor, and was leaning on one arm, panting +heavily, still in great pain; but he was inured +to all sorts of broils, and evidently he would +soon recover from the effects of this one, though +he had never been so roughly handled. It was +sheer terror that made him lie so still: he dared +move no more than a whipped hound while in +the presence of his late opponent.</p> + +<p>The others turned slowly homeward, for it is +needless to say the wild-flowers and the rendezvous +were forgotten. As they turned the corner +which cut off the view of Duchesne’s ground, +Royston looked back once, longingly. It was +well for Cecil’s nerves, in their disturbed state, +that she did not catch that Parthian glance. +Ah, those ungovernable eyes! They were +gleaming with the expression that Kirkpatrick’s +may have worn when he turned into the chapel +where the Red Comyn lay, growling, “<i>I</i> mak +sicker.”</p> + +<p>None of the party were much disposed for +conversation; for even Mr. Fullarton did not +feel equal to “improving the occasion” just then. +Cecil broke the silence at last: it was where the +road was so narrow that only two could walk +abreast: Royston never left her bridle-rein. +“You must fancy that I have thanked you; I +can not do so properly now. It is strange, +though, that you should have come up so very +opportunely. Was it a presentiment that made +you follow us?”</p> + +<p>The answer was so low that she had almost to +guess at it from the motion of his lips, “Have +you forgotten Napoleon’s last rallying-cry, ‘<i>Qui +m’aime me suit?</i>’” No wonder that his pulse +would throb exultantly as he saw the bright, +beautiful blush that swept over his companion’s +cheek and brow! They had almost reached +home when he spoke again, “You would have +been liberal in your promises twenty minutes +ago if I had not stopped you, Miss Tresilyan. I +<i>should</i> like to have some memorial of to-day. +Very childish, is it not? Will you give me <i>this</i>? +I deserve something for saving that pretty parasol.” +He touched the glove she had just drawn +off—a light riding-gauntlet, fancifully cut, and +embroidered with silk. Cecil hesitated, though +she would have been loth to refuse him any +thing just then. She felt, as most proud, sensitive +women feel the first time they are asked for +what may be interpreted into a <i>gage d’amour</i>. +The tribute may be nominal, and the suzerain +may be lenient indeed, but none the less does it +establish vassalage.</p> + +<p>Royston interpreted her reluctance aright, and +went on with an earnestness very unusual with +him: for once it was honest and true. “Pray +trust me. The moment I cease to value that +<i>souvenir</i> as it deserves, on my honor I will return +it.”</p> + +<p>He was fated to triumph all through that day. +When Cecil was alone she put something away +with a very unnecessary carefulness, for surely +nothing can be more valueless than a glove that +has lost its mate.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">I am</span> almost ashamed to confess how deeply +the scene she had witnessed affected Cecil Tresilyan. +The exhibition of Keene’s fierce temper +ought certainly to have warned, if it did not disgust +her. She could only think—“It was for +my sake that he was so angry, and he yielded to +my first word.”</p> + +<p>There is rather a heavy run just now against the +“physical force” doctrine. It seems to me that +some of its opponents are somewhat hypercritical. +For many, many years romancists persisted in +attributing to their principal heroes every point +of bodily perfection and accomplishment; no one +thought then of caviling at such a well-understood +and established type. That most fertile +and meritorious of writers, for instance, Mr. G. +P. R. James, invariably makes his <i>jeun premier</i> +at least moderately athletic; so much so, that +when he has the villain of the tale at his sword’s +point we feel a comfortable confidence that virtue +will triumph as it deserves. As such a contingency +is certain to occur twice or thrice in the +course of the narrative, a nervous reader is spared +much anxiety and trouble of mind by this satisfactory +arrangement. <i>Nous avons changé tout +cela.</i> Modern refinement requires that the chief +character shall be made interesting in spite of +his being dwarfish, plain-featured, and a victim +to pulmonary or some more prosaic disease. +Clearly we are right. What is the use of advancing +civilization if it does not correct our +taste? What have we to do with the “manners +and customs of the English” in the eighteenth +century, or with the fictions that beguiled our +boyhood? Let our motto still be “Forward;” +we have pleasures of which our grandsires never +dreamed, and inventions that they were inexcusable +in ignoring. We are so great that we can +afford to be generous. Let them sleep well, +those honest but benighted ancients, who went +down to their graves unconscious of “Aunt Sally,” +and perhaps never properly appreciated <i>caviare</i>! +<samp class="pgmark">38</samp></p> + +<p>It is true that there are some writers—not the +weakest—who still cling to the old-fashioned +mould. Putting Lancelot and Amyas out of +the question, I think I would sooner have “stood +up” to most heroes of romance than to sturdy +Adam Bede. It can’t be a question of religion +or morality, for “muscular <i>Christianity</i>” is the +stock-sarcasm of the opposite party: it must be +a question of good taste. Well, ancient Greece +is supposed to have had some floating ideas on +<i>that</i> subject, and she deified Strength. It is perfectly +true, that to thrash a prize-fighter unnecessarily +is not a virtuous or glorious action, but +I contend that the <i>capability</i> of doing so is an +admirable and enviable attribute. There are +grades of physical as well as of moral perfection; +and, after all, the same Hand created both.</p> + +<p>Have I been replying against the critics? +<i>Absit omen!</i> They are more often right, I fear, +than authors are willing to allow; for it <i>is</i> aggravating +to have one’s pet bits of pathos put +between inverted commas for the world in general +to make a mock at (we could hardly write +them down without tears in our eyes), and to +have our story condensed into a few clever, pithy +sentences (all in the present tense), till its weakness +becomes painfully apparent. More than +this, our candid friends are impalpable. Real +life can furnish us with enough substantial opponents +for us not to trouble ourselves about Junius. +Neither in war nor love is it expedient to +grasp at shadows. Ah! Mr. Reade, why were +you not warned by Ixion?</p> + +<p>One thing is certain: however sound your arguments +in depreciation of personal prowess may +be, you will never gain a unanimous feminine +verdict. It must be an extraordinary exhibition +of mental excellence that will really interest the +generality of our sisters for the moment as deeply +as a very ordinary feat of strength or skill. +It is not that they can not thoroughly appreciate +rectitude of feeling, brilliancy of conversation, +and distinguished talent; but remember the +hackneyed quotation:</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>Segnius irritant animum demissa per aures,</div> +<div>Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.</div> +</div> + +<p>If you want a proof of the correctness of Horace’s +opinion, go up to “Lord’s” this month, and +watch the flutter among the fair spectators, just +after a “forward drive” over the Pavilion; or, +better still, the next time the “Grand Military” +comes off at Warwick, mark the reception that +the man who rides a winner will meet with in +the stand. Conventionality has done a good +deal, but it has not refined away all the frank, +impulsive woman-nature yet. The knights are +dust, and their good swords rust; but dame and +demoiselle are very much the same as they were +in the old days, when the Queen of Scots could +sing</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>How they reveled through the summer night,</div> +<div class="i1"> And by day made lanceshafts flee,</div> +<div>For Mary Beatoun, and Mary Seatoun,</div> +<div class="i1"> And Mary Fleming, and me.</div> +</div> + +<p>Will this long and rather rash <i>tirade</i> in the +least excuse Cecil Tresilyan? Of course not. +My poor heroine! It was very unnecessary—that +advertisement that she was not superior to +the weaknesses of her sex; for it seems to me, +with every chapter, she has been growing more +fallible and frail. She was utterly incapable of +being at all demonstrative or “gushing;” but +her preference for Royston Keene was now quite +undisguised.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Danvers was bitterly exasperated. It +would be unjust to deny that she was greatly +actuated by a sincere interest in her <i>ci-devant</i> +pupil’s welfare; but other feelings were at work.</p> + +<p>It is very remarkable how a perfectly well-principled +woman will connive at what she can +not approve so long as she is taken unreservedly +into confidence; but when once one secret is +kept back the danger of her antagonism begins; +the magic draught that has lulled the vigilant +Gryphon to sleep loses its potency; the guardian +of the treasure awakes—more savage because +conscious of a dereliction in duty—and woe to +the Arimaspian! The cold, pale, chaste moon +comes forth from behind the cloud, determined +to reveal every iota of transgression: no farther +chance of concealment here—<i>Reparat sua cornua +Phœbe</i>.</p> + +<p>So, to the utmost of her small powers, Bessie +did endeavor to thwart and counteract the adversary. +Her line was consistently plaintive. +In season and out of season she whined and wept +profusely. This was the last resource of her +simple strategy: when the enemy was getting +too strong to be met in open field, she adopted +the Dutch plan of opening the sluices and trying +to drown him. It is painful to be obliged to +state that the inundation did not greatly avail. +As she had done from the first, Cecil declined to +make any confidences, or indeed to discuss the +question at all.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fullarton, too, felt keenly the defection +of a promising proselyte. Since that unfortunate +afternoon Miss Tresilyan had been perfectly civil, +but always very cold; and he could not but be +aware that he had lost ground then that he never +could hope to regain. The divine must have +been very desperate when he ventured to attack +that impracticable brother. It was not a judicious +move; nor would any one have tried it +who knew Dick Tresilyan. It was not only that +he liked and admired Royston Keene, but he +had a blind confidence in his sister that nothing +on earth could disturb: the evidence of his own +senses would not have affected it in the least. +“Whatever <i>she</i> does is right,” he thought; and +he clung to that idea, as many other true believers +will do to a creed that they can not understand. +So when the question was broached +he was not very angry (for he did <i>more</i> than justice +to the chaplain’s sense of duty), but he stubbornly +declined to enter upon it at all. Mr. +Fullarton was so provoked that he was goaded +into a taunt that he ought to have been ashamed +of.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you are right,” he said; “Major +Keene is so formidable an adversary, that it is +hardly safe to interfere with him.” (These +“men of peace”—<i>quand ils s’y prennent</i>! I believe +the most exasperating man in England, at +this moment, to be an influential Quaker.)</p> + +<p>Dick Tresilyan took a long time (as was his +wont) in finding out what was meant; when he +did, even his limited intellect appreciated its bad +taste and absurdity. A hundred sarcasms would +not have disconcerted the pastor so completely +as his honest, hearty laugh.</p> + +<p>“Ah! you think I’m afraid of him? No—they +don’t breed cowards where I come from. I +never heard that idea but once before; that was +<samp class="pgmark">39</samp> +at the Truro fair. I wasn’t in very good company, +and they ‘planted’ a big miner on me at +last. He wanted me to wrestle, and when I +wouldn’t, he said—just what you did. But I +remember all the others laughed at him. They +know <i>us</i> in those parts, you see. He’d better +have kept quiet; for though he puzzled me at +first with a ‘back trick’ he had, I knew more +than he did, and he got an awkward fall; I don’t +think he’ll ever do a good day’s work again.” +He paused, and his brow darkened strangely, +and all his face changed, till it resembled more +closely than it had often done the portraits of +come of the “bitter, bad Tresilyans.” “I suppose +you mean well, Mr. Fullarton, but I’m not +going to thank you. We can manage our affairs +without your meddling; and if you’re wise +you’ll leave us alone.” It will be seen that the +chaplain did not take much by his motion.</p> + +<p>Neither was Fanny Molyneux well satisfied +with the turn affairs had taken lately. That +poor little “white witch” was really alarmed by +the unruly character of the spirit that she had +been anxious to raise; she did not know the +proper formula for sending it back to its own +place; and, if she had, the stubborn demon would +only have mocked at her simple incantations. +Though she loved Cecil dearly, she was too +much in awe of her to venture upon remonstrance +or warning; indeed, the few mild hints +that she <i>did</i> throw out had not met with such +success as to tempt her to follow them up. So +she was, perforce, reduced to an unarmed neutrality.</p> + +<p>Her husband was perhaps the most thoroughly +uncomfortable of the party. He knew the circumstances +and bearings of the question better +than any one else, and would have sacrificed a +good deal (“his right hand,” I believe, is the +proper phrase) to have averted the probable result. +But he had not sufficient strength of mind to +take the decided measures that might have been +of some avail; in fact, he had a vague idea that +to act on the offensive against his old comrade +would be unpardonable treachery. Arguing +with the latter was simply absurd; for this reason, +if for no other, that from the moment his +feelings became really interested, no amount of +diplomacy would have induced him to enter upon +the subject. Harry went about with a miserable, +helpless sense of complicity weighing him +down, which was much aggravated by a few +words which dropped one morning from Dick +Tresilyan.</p> + +<p>Dick had been dining <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Keene +on the previous evening after a hard day’s snipe +shooting, and bore evident traces about him of a +heavy night—a fact which he lost no time in alluding +to, not without a certain pride, like the +man in Congreve’s play, who exults in having +“been drunk in excellent company.” “We had +a very big drink,” he said, confidentially, “and +the major got more than his allowance. He +didn’t know what he was talking about at last, +and he told me more of his affairs than most +people know, I think; of course, I’m as safe as +a church;” and Dick made a gallant but abortive +attempt to wink with one of his swollen eyelids.</p> + +<p>Molyneux shrank away from the speaker with +something very like a suppressed groan—he had +heard <i>that</i> said before, and remembered what +came of it. Credulity was as dangerous when +men thought Royston Keene had lost his head as +when women flattered themselves he had lost his +heart.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">If</span> you will be good enough to look back on +the one romance in which, like the rest of the +world, you probably indulged yourself, you will +remember, perhaps more distinctly than any other +feature, the <i>presentiment</i> which haunted you +from the very beginning. We were absurdly +sanguine and hopeful in those days—full of chivalrous +resolves and unlimited aspirations; but +still the feeling would come back—if, indeed, it +ever left us—that in the dim background there +was difficulty and danger. We were not surprised +when the small white speck rose out of +the sea, and it needed no prophet to tell us then +that the heavens would soon be black with clouds, +and that there would be a great rain (which, indeed, +was the case, for there ensued a long continuance +of wet weather; it was a very tearful +season). Oddly enough, that same presentiment +did not make us particularly melancholy or uncomfortable, +but seemed rather to give a zest to +our simple pleasures, relieving them from any +tinge of sameness or insipidity. When the <i>dénouement</i> +came we did not exactly see things in +the same light certainly, and it took some time +to settle thoroughly down into our present theory, +that “it was all for the best.”</p> + +<p>It is the old story of Thomas the Rhymer over +and over again (we were all rhymers once). The +lover knows that there is peril in the path, but +not the less joyously he strides on by the side of +the beautiful queen. How sweetly they ring, +the silver bells on the neck of the milk-white +palfrey; not so sweetly, though, as her low, musical +tones. So on they fare, till the world of +realities is left far behind, and they find themselves +at their journey’s end. It is very happy, +that year spent in her kingdom; but so like a +dream that he does not appreciate its pleasures +so well at the moment as he will in the weary +after-years. Yet the waking came too soon. +The sojourner had not half grown tired of his +resting-place; the bloom has not faded on the +wondrous fruits and flowers: the strangely sweet +wine has not lost its savor, when it is time for +him to be gone, for a dreadful whisper runs +through the company that to-morrow the teind +to hell must be paid. Well, the black tax-gatherer +is balked by a day, and the wanderer is +back at Ercildoune again. Very dreary looks +the gray, bare moorland. Do they call that +foliage on the stunted fir-trees? It is only the +ghost of a forest. The trim parterres have no +beauty or fragrance for one that has lingered in +more glorious gardens and plucked redder roses. +Tabret and viol jangle harshly in the ears that +have rioted in melodies made by fairy harpers. +The village maidens may be comely, but they are +somewhat clumsy withal; the earthen floor trembles +under their feet when they lead their simple +dances; very different from the steps that kept +time to a wild, weird music, stirring but scarcely +bending the grass-blades. There is no color +in their flaxen locks, and little light in their +<samp class="pgmark">40</samp> +pale-blue eyes; these will not bear comparison +with the smooth, braided tresses that glistened +like blue-black serpents, or the glances that rained +down liquid fire through the twilight of the +forests of Elf-land. Slowly the discontented +dreamer realizes the fact that the spell is still +upon him—riveted when he stole that first fatal +kiss in despite of his mistress’s warning. Nothing +is left for him now but to expiate his folly in +the loneliness of the gray old tower, and to look +forth, hoping to see the grass-green robe gleam +again against the setting sun, and to hear the +silver bells chime once more in the still evening +air. Vain—worse than vain. With stiffened +limbs and grizzled hair, we are not worth beguiling.</p> + +<p>This is essentially a masculine illustration, and +only applies to Cecil Tresilyan thus far. She +was sensible of the influence that strengthened +its hold upon her every day, and did not now +wish or try to resist it, but she grew proportionately +doubtful and uneasy about the event. A +feeling, very strange and new to one of a temperament +like hers, began to creep over her +now and then. At such times she owned that +her eyes were the more eagerly and steadfastly +fixed on the Present, because they did not dare +to look into the Future. Yet, as far as she +knew, there was no ground for much apprehension.</p> + +<p>It is always so. Only when we are carrying +something rare and precious do we appreciate +the possible perils of the road. How much steeper +the hills are now, how much deeper and darker +the ravines, how much more frequent the +crags that might so easily conceal a marauder, +than when we passed them some months ago +chanting the reckless roundel of the <i>vacuus viator</i>.</p> + +<p>We said, you remember, before, that Miss +Tresilyan had one subject of self-reproach, for +which she had never gained her own absolution. +The whispers that had never been quite silenced +began to make themselves heard unpleasantly +often, and now they just hinted at Retribution. +As our poor Cecil must come to confession some +time or another, it seems to me this is a convenient +season.</p> + +<p>At the country-house where she was spending +Christmas, three years before the date of our +story, she met Mark Waring. She knew his antecedents: +how, when sudden troubles came upon +his family, he gave up diplomacy, which he had +entered upon, and took up the law—hating it +cordially—simply because a fair opening was +given him there of securing to his mother and +sisters something better than bread. He never +pretended to feel the slightest interest in his profession, +but went on slaving at it resolutely and +successfully. He made no merit of it either, +but always spoke, and I believe thought of it, as +the merest matter of course—the right thing to +do under the circumstance. There was a hardihood +of principle about all this which Cecil +rather admired; and his frank, bold bearing, and +simple, straightforward way of putting thoughts +that were worth listening to into terse, strong +language, aided the first favorable impression. +She determined to make Mark like her; and +when she had a fancy of this kind, she was apt +to carry it out without much consideration for +the comfort or convenience of the person destined +to the experiment. She had no deliberate intention +of doing any body any harm; but those +innocent little whims and projects of amusement +do more mischief sometimes than the most systematic +machinations of devil-craft. Why, when +you begin even to <i>write</i> a chapter, it is very difficult +to say where it will end; when you begin +to talk it or act it, it is harder still to prophesy +aright. A character, or a sentence, or an idea, +which looked quite insignificant at first, assumes +perfectly portentous dimensions and importance +before we have done with it; so that the alternate +effect is nearly as startling when realized as +that produced by Alice’s conjuration:</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;</div> +<div class="i1"> He rose beneath her hand,</div> +<div>The fairest knight on Scottish mould,</div> +<div class="i1"> Her brother, Ethert Brand.</div> +</div> + +<p>So while Cecil was drawing on Mark Waring +to talk about his daily life—sympathizing with +him about his hard, distasteful work, and pitying +his loneliness, she never guessed how her +words were being branded, one by one, on the +earnest, steadfast heart, that her own lofty nature +was not worthy to understand. In a week +after their first meeting she had drawn from him +all the love he had to give; and men of Mark +Waring’s mould can only find room for one love +in a lifetime. Such characters are exceptional, +fortunately; for they are very impracticable and +difficult to get on with, and their antiquated notions +are perpetually contrasting and conflicting +with the established prejudices of polite and +well-organized society—sometimes even checking +the same for an instant in its easy, conventional +flow. They <i>won’t</i> see that of all ways of +spending time and thought, the most absurdly +unprofitable is to waste them on a memory. +Yet—O mine excellent friend and cynical preceptor! +to whom, for sage instruction, I owe a +debt of gratitude that I never mean to repay—I +beseech you, consort not too much with these +misguided men. They are not likely to infect +you with their pestilent doctrines and principles; +but they may, in an unguarded moment, make +you do violence to your favorite maxim—<i>Nil +admirari</i>.</p> + +<p>With all his strong common sense, Mark was +lamentably deficient in worldly wisdom. He +never saw the obstacles that would have daunted +others. Could any thing be more improbable +than that the most triumphant beauty of the season +should seriously incline to share the long up-hill +struggle of a rising barrister? Those dull +Temple-chambers are lucky enough if the sun +condescends to visit them at rare intervals in his +journey westward. But Waring’s own singleness +of purpose beguiled him more effectually +than the most inordinate vanity could have done. +Putting character out of the question, he thought +a woman could only derogate by allying herself +to one of inferior birth; and he knew his own +blood to be nearly equal to Miss Tresilyan’s. +He was right so far—if she had only loved him +she would have subscribed readily to every article +of his simple, knightly creed. The last idea +that entered his mind was, that she could have +stooped so low as to trifle with him. It was the +old mistake. We measure other people’s feelings +by the intensity of our own, and think it +hard when we meet with disappointment. Yet +a certain misgiving, that he did not like to +<samp class="pgmark">41</samp> +analyze, kept him from bringing the question to an +issue till the day before his departure. Then he +told her frankly what his prospects were, and +asked her to share them.</p> + +<p>Now “the Refuser” was so used to seeing men +commit themselves in this way on the very shortest +notice, and without the faintest encouragement, +that the situation had ceased to afford her +much excitement: a proposal no more made her +nervous than file-firing does a thoroughly-broken +charger. For once, however, she felt uncomfortable +and vexed with herself, though she did +not guess the extent of the harm she had done. +Nothing could be kinder or gentler than her answer, +but nothing could be more decisive. On +the cold, smooth rock there was not a cleft or a +trailing weed for despair to cling to in its drowning +agony. So the hope of Mark Waring’s life +went down there without a cry or a struggle—as +it is fitting the hope of a strong heart should +die—into the depths of the great sea that never +will give up its dead.</p> + +<p>The lover of the present day is rather a curious +study immediately after he has encountered +a defeat or disappointment. Sometimes the +phase is a mild melancholy. I remember a +case of this sort not very long ago. The reflections +on things in general that flowed constantly +from that man’s lips for the space of about a +fortnight were incredible to those who knew him +well. They were so calmly philosophic—so +pleasantly ironical, without a tinge of bitterness—so +frequently relieved by the flashes of keen +humor—that to listen to them (the weather being +intensely hot) was soothing and refreshing in +the extreme. Every body was sorry when he +was consoled; for, since that time he has never +made an observation worth recording. She was +a very clever woman who reduced our friend to +this abnormal state, though she grossly maltreated +him; and, from close association, some of her +conversational talent, perhaps insensibly, had +got into his constitution; but it could not thrive +in such an uncongenial soil, where there was +nothing to nourish it. Some men, again, take +the reckless and boisterous line, plunging for a +while into all sorts of demoralization, with an +evident contentment in having a fair excuse for +the same in their disappointment. Certainly it +is rather a luxurious state of things—to satisfy +one’s vengeance while gratifying one’s appetites—and +to know that people are saying all the +time, “Poor Charlie! He’s very much to be +pitied. It’s entirely Fanny Grey’s fault. He is +dreadfully altered since she behaved to him so +shamefully.” Others—probably the majority—go +for complete indifference, and succeed creditably +on the whole. A few, <i>very</i> few, know that +their happiness has got its death-wound, and are +able to take it bravely and silently. It is of one +of these last we are speaking.</p> + +<p>Mark Waring was too honest to affect insensibility; +he was not of the stuff out of which accomplished +actors are made. He walked quickly +to the window, that his face might not betray +him, and did not turn round till he thought he +had disciplined it thoroughly. It was but a half +victory after all; for when Cecil met his eyes +her cheek became the paler of the two. She +read there enough to make her wish that she +could give up all her former triumphs, and undo +this last success. She tried to tell him that she +was deeply grieved and repentant; but the +words would not come. Mark forgot his own +sorrow when he saw large drops hanging ready +to fall on the dark, long eyelashes.</p> + +<p>“Pray do not distress yourself,” he said, quite +steadily; “such presumption as mine deserves +harsher treatment than it has met with from you. +You are not answerable for my extravagant self-delusions. +I would ask you to forgive me for +having been so precipitate—only I know, now, +that if I had waited seven years your answer +would have been the same. Let us part in +kindness; it will be very long before we meet +again; but I do not think I shall forget you; +and I hope you will remember me if you ever +want a hand or head to carry out any one of +your wishes or whims. It would make me very +happy if I could so serve you. Now, good-by. +It is only going this afternoon instead of to-morrow. +I must try and make up for lost time, +too, by working a little harder.”</p> + +<p>The smile that accompanied those last words +haunted Cecil for many, many days. She knew +already enough of Waring to be certain that +he would never sink into maudlin sentimentality; +it saddened her inexpressibly to fancy him +alone in his gloomy chambers, when the night +was waning, chained to those crabbed law-papers +from a dreary sense of duty, but without a +hope or an interest to cheer him on; he had +given up ambition long ago. (There are many +clocks that keep time to a second, when their +striking part is ruined utterly.) She felt angry, +then and afterward, that she could find no +words to say the least appropriate or expressive; +she held out her hand timidly, pleading for forgiveness +with her eyes. He just touched it +with his lips before he let it go. That kiss of +peace was a more precious tribute than any of +her hundred vassals had offered to the proud +Tresilyan. So they parted.</p> + +<p>Cecil’s conscience was disagreeably uncompromising, +and for a long time, declined to admit +any valid excuse for the mischief she had +done; but time and change are efficient anodynes; +and her penance was nearly completed +when she came to Dorade. Of late, however, +the reproachful vision had presented itself oftener +than ever. She realized more completely the +pain that Mark Waring must have endured, as +she guessed what would be the bitterness of her +own feelings, if it should prove that she had mistaken +Royston Keene. That sorrowful memory +seemed to rise before her like a warning spectre, +waving her back from the path she had begun +to tread. Truly, Cecil Tresilyan <i>was</i> different +from the generality of her sex; or, when her +own heart was sorely imperiled, she would never +have found time to think so often, and so regretfully, +of one that she had broken. But, when a +woman has once determined to set her whole fortunes +on the turn of a die, where is the monitor +that will teach her prudence or self-restraint? +She will hardly be persuaded “though one rose +from the dead.”</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Royston</span> Keene had indeed good reason to +augur ill of the ending of his love-dream; but +<samp class="pgmark">42</samp> +it was in his nature always to walk straight on +to the accomplishment of his purpose, overlooking +the obstacles that lay between and the dangers +that lay beyond. This partly accounted for +his utter insensibility to ordinary inconveniences +and annoyances. His own words to Molyneux +one day, when the latter remarked on this peculiarity, +though somewhat allegorical, expressed +his theory and practice fairly: “Hal, when +we are traveling, we always remember where we +change our large notes; but life is not long +enough to recollect how the thalers and piastres +go.” His companion thought this rather a brilliant +illustration, especially as it squared with his +own ideas of existence. But in reality, between +the two men there was a marked distinction. A +genial kindliness in the one, and a hard unscrupulous +determination in the other, worked out +nearly the same results.</p> + +<p>Royston liked Cecil Tresilyan better than any +woman he had ever seen, and he made up his +mind to win her. It is more than doubtful if +he took the probable consequences to either into +consideration at all. Foot by foot he was gaining +ground till he felt almost sure of success; +but this confidence never made him for an instant +less vigilant in watching the chances, less +careful in scoring every point of the game. He +had played it long enough to know these right +well.</p> + +<p>Yet to him, too, the Past brought its warning. +He was rarely troubled or favored with dreams; +but one night was an exception to the rule. To +understand it you must look back once more, +and bear with me while we moralize yet again. +<i>Excusez du peu.</i></p> + +<p>There is a regret that has power to move and +torment the coldest Stoic that vegetates on earth; +it comes when our own hand or act has slain the +one living thing that loved us best of all. We +may have done the deed unwittingly or unwillingly; +we may have been unconscious of the +love that was borne us till it was too late for +acknowledgment; we may never in thought or +word or act have injured our victim before that +last wrong of the death-blow; well for those who +can plead so fair an excuse; yet even this, with +all the rest, the inexorable Nemesis laughs to +scorn. I wonder that poets and dramatists have +not oftener selected this saddest theme. It may +be true that the last murmur from the lips of the +Llewellyn, when his life was ebbing away in the +Pass of the Ambush, syllabled the name, not of +wife or child or friend, but of a stanch wolfhound; +and perhaps tears less bitter have been +shed over the graves of many exemplary Christians +than those that sprinkled the turf under +the birch-trees where Gelert was sleeping. It +could not free the Ancient Mariner from the remorse +that clung to him like a poisoned garment +till it made him a “world’s wonder,” because, +when he shot the albatross, he thought he was +benefiting his fellows. Not less accusingly did +the voices of the sea wail in the ears of the desolate +Viking, because, when the bitter arrow +went aside, he was fighting hard to save Oriana. +Nothing could be more correct than the conduct +of Virginius, or more creditable to a Roman +father; but when he harangued in the Forum +in after days, I doubt if the commons thronged +so densely as to shut out from the demagogue +a vision of fair hair dabbled in blood, gleaming +awfully in the sunlight, and of dark-blue eyes +turned upon him in a wondering horror till that +look froze in them forevermore. I doubt if the +cheers of his partisans were so noisy as to +drown the memory of a certain choked shivering +moan; in the long, lonely winter nights at least, +be sure those sights and sounds visited the tribune’s +hearth, often enough to satisfy the savage +spirit of the doomed decemvir.</p> + +<p>It was this remorse which had stricken Royston +Keene sorely, even through his armor of +proof, as he knelt, not very long ago, by the side +of a death-bed. A woman lay there, scarcely +past girlhood, and fair enough to have been the +pride of any English household, as daughter or +sister or wife. You shall not read unnecessarily +an episode of sin and bitter sorrow, and of +shame that was not less heavy to bear because +the eyes of the world were blinded and saw it +not. It is enough to say that the blood of Emily +Carlyle was as certainly on her tempter’s +head as that of any one of those whom he had +slain in open fight with shot or steel. This is +what she answered when he asked her to forgive +him: “My own, I have forgiven you long ago! +I could not help it if I would. I can not reproach +you either, for though I have tried hard +to repent, I fear, if all were to come over again, +I should not act more coldly or wisely. But +listen! I know you will be able, if you choose +it, to make others love you nearly as well as I +have done—and you <i>will</i> choose it. Darling, +promise me that, for my sake, you will spare <i>one</i>. +I could die easier if I thought my intercession +had saved another’s soul, though I was so weak +in guarding my own. It might help me too, +perhaps—if any thing can help me—where I am +going.” Even Royston Keene shivered at the +low terror-stricken whisper in which these last +words were spoken. He gave the promise +though, and remembered it occasionally till—the +time for keeping it came.</p> + +<p>The major had been spending the evening +with Cecil Tresilyan, making arrangements for +a pic-nic that was to take place two days later. +He had had a passage-of-arms or two with Mrs. +Danvers, wherein that strong-principled but +weak-minded enthusiast had been utterly discomfited +and routed with great slaughter. Altogether +it was very pleasant entertainment; and +he went to his rest in a state of great contentment +and satisfaction. He woke (or seemed to +wake) with a sudden start and shudder, for he +was aware of the presence of something in the +room that was not there when he lay down.</p> + +<p>Out of the black darkness a face slowly defined +itself, bending over the pillow and creeping +close to his own—only a face—he could not distinguish +even the outline of a figure. He knew +it very well, and the eyes, too—but there was an +upbraiding there that, while she lived, he had +never seen in those of gentle Emily Carlyle; and +a reproach came from the white lips, though +they did not move to give it passage. “All forgotten! +I—the promise, too. And yet—I suffer—I +suffer always.” The sad, pleading expression +of the face and eyes vanished then; and +a strange, pale glare, not like the moonlight, +that seemed to come from within, lighted them +up—fixed and rigid, yet eloquent, of unutterable +agony: there was written plainly the self-abhorrence +of a heart conscious of the coils of +<samp class="pgmark">43</samp> +the undying worm—the despair of a soul looking +far into Futurity, yet seeing no end to the +wrath to come. Then the darkness swallowed +up all; and, before Keene thoroughly roused +himself—with a smothered cry—he knew that +he was alone again.</p> + +<p>A cold dew lingered on the dreamer’s forehead, +as if a breath from beyond the grave had +lately passed over it; but terror was not the predominating +feeling. He had ruled that timid, +trusting girl too long and too imperiously to +quail before her disembodied spirit. But a +strange sadness overcame him as he pondered +upon all that she had endured—and might still +be enduring—for his sake: a glimmer of something +like generosity and compassion flickered +for a brief space over the surface of the cast-steel +heart. He rose, and leaned out into the steady, +outer moonlight, musing for several minutes, +and then began muttering aloud. “It would +be as well to clear off one debt at least. I did +pass my word. She deserves this sacrifice, if it +were only for never complaining: let her have +her way. By G—d, I’ll go off to-morrow evening, +and I’ll tell Cecil so as soon as I can see +her. Bah! what is a man worth if he can not +forget? Besides, I don’t know—” The rest of +his doubts and scruples he confessed—not even +to the stars.</p> + +<p>Climate has a great deal to answer for. A +sudden tempest or an opportune mist has turned +the scale of more battles than some of the most +successful generals would have liked to own. +If the next morning had broken sullenly, things +might have gone far otherwise. But it was one +of those brilliant days that make even the invalids +not regret, for the moment, that they have +given up all English comforts and home-pleasures +for the off-chance of wringing another +month or two of life out of the wreck of their +constitution. Every thing looked bright and in +holiday guise, from the wreaths of ivy glistening +on the brows of the shattered old castle, down to +the <i title="[Greek: anêrithmong elasma]" +>ἀνηρίθμονγ +ελάσμα</i> of the turquoise-sea. Under +the circumstances, it was very unlikely that +Royston would keep to his virtuous resolutions. +The first half of them he carried out perfectly: +he did go straight to Cecil Tresilyan, and tell +her of his intentions to depart. She did not betray +much of her disappointment or surprise, but +she argued with so fascinating a casuistry against +the necessity of such a sudden step, that it was +no wonder if she soon convinced her hearer of +the propriety of at least delaying it. In a case +like this an excuse of “urgent private affairs” +that would suffice for the most rigid martinet +that ever tyrannized over a district or a division +sounds absurdly trivial and insincere. When a +proud beauty does condescend to plead, a man +who really cares for her must be very peculiarly +constituted if he remains constant in denial.</p> + +<p>The vision of the night had faded away already. +Those poor ghosts! They have no +chance—the mystics say—against embodied +spirits, if the latter only keep up their courage, +and choose to assert their supremacy. Besides, +they must, perforce, fly before the dawn. And +what dawn was ever so bright as the Tresilyan’s +smile when she guessed from Royston’s face, +without his speaking, that she had won the day?</p> + +<p>So the pic-nic came off according to the arrangement. +The weather and every thing else +looked so promising that even the vinegar in +Bessie Danvers’s composition was acidulated; +and, when Keene greeted her at the place of +<i>rendezvous</i>, she favored him with just such a +smile as one of the grim Puritan dames, in a +rare interval of courtesy, may have granted to +Claverhouse or Montrose—the right of reprobation +being reserved. It is greatly to be feared +that the Malignant did not appreciate the condescension, +his attention was so entirely taken +up in another quarter.</p> + +<p>Cecil Tresilyan was perfectly dazzling in the +splendor and insolence of her beauty: the calm +self-possession that usually distinguished her +seemed changed into almost reckless high spirits: +even her dress betrayed a certain intention +of coquetry; and her splendid violet eyes flashed +ever and anon with a mischievously mutinous +expression that made their glance a challenge. +Such a frame of mind the Scotch describe when +they speak of a person being “fey,” holding it +to be a sure presage of impending disaster.</p> + +<p>Oh, guileless maidens! be warned, and trust +not to attractive appearances. Lo! there is not +a cloud in the sky that smiles over the Nysian +vale; all round the roses and lilies are blooming, +till the air is faint with their perfume; merry +and musical rings the laugh of Persephone, as +she goes forth with her comrades a-Maying; but +worse things than serpents lurk beneath the waving +grass. We, who have read the ancient legend, +listen already for the roll of the nether +thunder: we know that, in another minute, the +earth will disgorge Aïdoneus, the smart ravisher, +with his iron chariot: then will come a struggle +of the dove in the clutch of the falcon—a cry +for help drowned in a hoarse growl of triumph—shrieks +and wild disorder among the flying +nymphs; but the loveliest of the land will rejoin +them never any more. Demēter (like other careful +chaperones), when she is most wanted, is far +away, tending her corn-lands or reveling in the +odors of sacrifice. Finding her after long-baffled +search, she will hardly recognize her innocent +child in the pale Queen of Shades, that +seems worthy of her awful throne far-gleaming +through the leaden twilight: the little hand that +used to weave garlands so deftly sways the golden +sceptre right royally; but the deep, solemn +eyes have forgotten how to smile. She who +once wept bitterly over her pet bird when it died +listens, unmoved, to the clank of Megæra’s +scourge, and to the wail of a million spirits in +torment. Her beauty is more magnificent than +ever, but it is tinged with the austere and dreary +majesty that befits the consort of the King of +Hell. Ah, woeful mother! desist from intercession, +and dry those unavailing tears: it is too +late now to tempt her to follow you, even if +Hades will let its empress depart for a season: +the pure, natural fruits of your upper earth have +lost all savor for the lips that once have tasted +the fatal pomegranate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fullarton and his family completed the +party, which was confined to the Molyneux’s +set. The chaplain was strangely nervous, fussy, +and important: it seemed as if the possession +of some weighty secret that he was eager, yet +afraid to divulge, had disturbed his phlegmatic +complacency. He took the first opportunity of +beseeching Miss Tresilyan to be allowed to act +as her escort: it was customary on all these +<samp class="pgmark">44</samp> +expeditions that each dame and demoiselle, besides +the professional muleteer, should be attended by +at least one “dismounted skirmisher.” Cecil +was rather puzzled by the petition, and by the +earnest way in which it was preferred; but she +was too happy to deny any body any thing just +then; besides which she felt conscious of having +visited her pastor of late with a certain amount +of neglect, not to say contumely. So she consented, +graciously; but the sidelong glance at +Keene, asking for his sympathy, did not escape +her reverend cavalier.</p> + +<p>It was evident that Mr. Fullarton had something +on his mind that he intended to impart to +his companion; but it was equally clear that he +did not see his way to the confidence. The path +turned abruptly across the line of hills; and +while he was hesitating and looking about for a +fair opening, it got so steep and rugged that it +soon left him no breath for the disclosure. Before +they had gone half a league the divine was +decidedly in difficulties; he rolled hither and +thither, panting painfully, like one who has already +endured all the burden and heat of the +day. Still he clung obstinately to Cecil’s bridle-rein, +rather assisted than assisting, till they reached +a point where the road resembled greatly a +flight of garret stairs, without any regularity in +the steps thereof. The mule and its leader +stumbled together; the former recovered itself +cleverly after the fashion of its kind; but such a +<i>tour de force</i> far exceeded the exhausted energies +of the pursy pastor. He was fairly “down upon +his head.”</p> + +<p>Since the cavalcade started, Major Keene had +not attempted to disturb the order of march; at +first he walked by the side of Fanny Molyneux, +and did his best to amuse her; when the path +became too narrow for three abreast, he resigned +the charge to Harry (who never, willingly, +when <i>en voyage</i>, abdicated the charge of his <i>mignonne</i>), +and went on by himself, just in the rear +of Miss Tresilyan and her clerical escort. He +presented, in truth, a striking contrast to that +over-tasked pedestrian—going easily, within +himself, without a quickened breath, or a bead +of moisture on his forehead. <i>Shikari</i> of the Upper +Himalayas, gillies of Perthshire and the +Western Highlands, chamois-hunters of the Tyrol, +and guides of Chamounix or Courmayeur, +could all have told tales of that long, slashing +stride, to which hill or dale, rough or smooth, +never came amiss; before which even the weary +German miles were swallowed up like furlongs. +He sprang quickly forward when he saw the mishap +of his front rank; Miss Tresilyan was quite +safe, so he only gave her a smile in passing, and +then raised the fallen ecclesiastic, with a studied +and ostentatious tenderness that would have aggravated +a saint.</p> + +<p>“I hope you are not severely hurt, Mr. Fullarton? +You really should be less rash in over-exciting +yourself. The spirit is willing, but the +flesh is—somewhat ‘short of work.’ May I relieve +you of your responsibility till you have recovered +your wind?”</p> + +<p>In spite of his own sacred character, and the +proprieties of time and place, had Keene been +weak and of small stature, it is within the bounds +of possibility that the pastor might have assaulted +him, there and then.</p> + +<p>If it had not been for that unfortunate sense +of the ridiculous which was perpetually offering +temptations to Miss Tresilyan, she would have +undoubtedly on this occasion espoused the losing +side; but she exhausted all her powers of self-control +in expressing (with decent gravity) her +sorrow, that her guide should have come to grief +in her service. She had none left wherewith to +concoct a rebuke for the Cool Captain. Considering +the circumstances, Mr. Fullarton’s laugh, +and attempt at a jest on his own discomfiture, +did him infinite credit. With the smothered +expression that half escaped his lips as he fell to +the rear, the chronicler has no earthly concern.</p> + +<p>As the other two moved onward, Royston +spoke, his dark eyes glittering scornfully—</p> + +<p>“I wonder if women will ever get tired of deriding +us, or we of ministering to their amusement? +It must have been a great satisfaction +to Anne of Austria to see Richelieu dance that +saraband. (But Mazarin paid her off for it. I +am very glad that the cardinal was avenged by +the <i>charlatan</i>.) Now, how could you allow the +shepherd to be so rash? Consider that he has +a large and increasing family totally dependent +on him for support. If I were Mrs. Fullarton, +I would bring an action against you. It is a +necessity that his successor should quote <i>something</i>; +and he really did bring to my mind the +description of the White Bull of Duncraggan, +who started up-hill so vigorously—</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>But steep and flinty was the road,</div> +<div>And sharp the hurrying <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: probable typo for 'pikeman’s'">pikemen’s</ins> goad,</div> +<div>And when we came to Dennan’s Row,</div> +<div>A child might <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: probable typo for 'scathless'">scatheless</ins> stroke his brow.</div> +</div> + +<p class="runon">I shouldn’t like to be the child, though,” he added, +meditatively, with a backward glance at the +object of his remarks, who indeed did present a +very “dissolving view.”</p> + +<p>The tone and manner of his speaking showed +how much, within the last few weeks, the relations +of the two had altered: the scale was already +wavering, and ere long might be foretold +a change in the balance of power.</p> + +<p>His beautiful companion shook her head till +the soft curling plumes that nestled round her +hat danced again; but the effect of the reproving +gesture was quite spoilt by the laugh that +followed it, suppressed though clear as a silver +bell.</p> + +<p>“I will not be made an accomplice in your irreverent +comparisons; I don’t admit the resemblance; +if there were one, it was too bad of ‘the +pikemen’ not to be more considerate. You always +try to impute malicious motives to the most +innocent. How could I guess that Mr. Fullarton +would suffer so for his devotion to my interests? +I will give you back your quotation in +kind. See! if I were as mischievous as you insinuate—</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>My loss may pay my folly’s tax;</div> +<div>I’ve broke my trusty battle-axe.”</div> +</div> + +<p>The ivory handle of her parasol (the same that +had been rescued from Duchesne) chanced to be +entangled in the bridle when the mule stumbled, +and the jerk snapped the frail shaft in two. +Keene took the fragment from her, and looked +at it for an instant.</p> + +<p>“Poor thing!” he said compassionately; “so +it was fated to be short-lived? It was hardly +worth while saving it from the wrath of the sinner, +if it was to be sacrificed so soon to the awkwardness +of the saint.” +<samp class="pgmark">45</samp></p> + +<p>“Not at all,” Cecil replied. “It was my +fault, for being so heedless. But I can not afford +another misadventure to-day. Will you +take great care of me?”</p> + +<p>Her soft, caressing tones thrilled through Royston’s +veins till the blood mounted to his forehead; +but he made no answer in words, only +looking up earnestly into her face with his rare +smile.</p> + +<p>I have tried throughout to avoid inflicting on +you a dialogue that does not bear in some way +on the incidents of our tale; on this principle we +will not record the conversation that occupied +those two till they reached the crown of the pass. +It was probably interesting to <i>them</i>, for it was +long before either forgot a word that was spoken. +But the imagination or the memory of the reader +will doubtless fill up a better fancy-sketch than +the one omitted here.</p> + +<p>There was a general halt on the brow of the +hill. Indeed the view was worth a pause. From +below their feet the tract of low woodland rolled +right down to the edge of the sea, like a broad +tossing river, swelling into great billows of gray +or dark green, where the taller olives or fir-trees +grew, and broken here and there with islets of +many-colored stone. With the rest came up +the chaplain, who had recovered by this time his +breath, and, to a certain extent, his equanimity. +While the others stood silent, he saw one of those +openings for improving the occasion professionally +of which he was ever so ready to avail himself. +So, casting his hand abroad theatrically, +he declaimed,</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>How glorious are thy works, Parent of Good!</div> +</div> + +<p>The words came oozing out in the oiliest of +his unctuous tones; and the elocutionist’s expansive +glance fell first on the landscape patronizingly, +then on the by-standers encouragingly. +It was as though he said, “You may fall to, +and admire now. I have asked a blessing.” +Nothing more occurred worthy of note till they +reached their destination in safety.</p> + +<p>Of course, “there never was such a place for +a picnic;” but, as that has been said of about +three hundred different spots in every civilized +country of Europe, it is certainly not worth while +describing this particular one. The luncheon +went on very much as such things always do +when the arrangements are perfect, the commissariat +unexceptionable, and the guests hungry +and happy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fullarton, however, applied himself so +assiduously to Champagne-cup that his sober-minded +helpmate (the only person who took +much notice of his proceedings) was filled with +an uncomfortable wonder. At last, during a +pause in the general conversation, he addressed +Royston abruptly—there was a strange huskiness +in his voice, and his lower lip kept trembling—</p> + +<p>“I heard from Naples this morning. My +friend mentions having met Mrs. Keene there.”</p> + +<p>The major looked up at the speaker with the +cool, indifferent glance that had often irritated +him. “Indeed! I was not aware that my +mother had got so far south yet. She wrote last +from Rome.” The other tossed off his glass +with an unsteady hand, and set it down sharply. +“I never heard of your mother, sir,” he said; +“I was speaking of—<i>your wife</i>.”</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">To</span> quarrel with a man over his cups, or in +any wise to molest him in his drink, is an offense +against the proprieties that even the good-natured +Epicurean can not find it in his easy +heart to palliate or pardon. On this point he +speaks mildly, but very firmly:</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>Natis in usum lætitiæ scyphis</div> +<div>Pugnare, Thracum est. Tollite barbarum</div> +<div>Morem: verecundumque Bacchum</div> +<div>Sanguineis prohibete rixis.</div> +</div> + +<p class="runon">The ghost of Banquo was an uncivilized spectre, +or—strong as was the provocation—it would have +confronted Macbeth in any other place sooner +than the banqueting-hall. The worst deed in +the life of a cruel, false king was the setting on +of the black bull’s head before the doomed Douglases; +and perhaps Pope Alexander, though singularly +exempt from all vulgar prejudice, found +it hard to obtain his own pontifical absolution +for the poisoned wine in which he pledged the +Orsini and Colonna. In these, and a hundred +like instances, there was certainly the shadowy +excuse of political expediency or necessity; but +what shall we say of that individual who interrupts +the harmony of a meeting solely to gratify +his own private pique or pleasure? Truly, with +such enormities Heaven “heads the count of +crimes.” I consider the most abominable act of +which Eris was ever guilty was the selection of +that particular moment for the production of the +golden apple. If she was bound to make herself +obnoxious, she might have waited till the Olympians +were sitting in conclave, or at least at home +again. It was infamous to disturb them while +doing justice to the talents of Peleus’s <i>cordon-bleu</i>. +I wish very much that injured and querulous +[OE]none had met her somewhere on the +slopes of Ida, and “given her a piece of her +mind.”</p> + +<p>On these grounds I venture to hope that all +well-regulated readers will concur with me in +pronouncing Mr. Fullarton’s conduct totally indefensible. +It would have been so easy to have +communicated his intelligence to any that it +might concern, discreetly, at a fitting place and +time, instead of casting it into the midst of a convivial +assembly like a fulminating ball. Under +other circumstances, he would probably have +taken the quieter course; but he had been smarting +for some time under a succession of provocations, +real and fancied, from Royston Keene, and +his own misadventure that morning had filled the +cup of irritation brimful. It was the old exasperating +feeling—</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>Earl Percy sees my fall.</div> +</div> + +<p class="runon">Whatever might be the cost, he could not make +up his mind to let slip so fair a chance of embarrassing +his imperturbable enemy. There is no +saying what he would have given to see that marvelous +self-command for once thoroughly break +down. It is unfortunate that the best-laid plans +can not always insure a triumph. The chaplain +certainly did succeed in producing a “situation,” +and in reducing most of the party to that uncomfortable +frame of mind which is popularly described +as “wishing one’s self any where;” but +the person who seemed most completely unconcerned +was the man at whom the blow was leveled.</p> + +<p>The major shook his head with a quick gesture +<samp class="pgmark">46</samp> +of impatience, just as if some insect had +lighted on his forehead; beyond this, for any +evidence of his being annoyed by it, Mr. Fullarton’s +last remark might have related to <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'missionery'">missionary</ins> +prospects or Chinese politics. The steady +color on his swarthy face neither lost nor gained +a shade. There was not a sign of anger, or +shame, or confusion in his clear, bold eyes; and, +when he answered, there was not one fresh furrow +on the brow that, at lighter provocation, was +so apt to frown.</p> + +<p>“I give you credit for being utterly ignorant +of what you are talking about, Mr. Fullarton. +You could not possibly guess how disagreeable +the subject would be to me. As it can’t be in +the least interesting to any one else, suppose we +change it?”</p> + +<p>Just the same cold, measured voice as ever, +with only a slight sarcastic inflection to vary the +deep, grave tones; but a very close observer +might have seen his fingers clench the handle +of a knife while he was speaking, as if their gripe +would have dinted the ivory.</p> + +<p>It was hardly to be expected that the rest of +the party would emulate the <i>sang-froid</i> of the +Cool Captain. Sailing under false colors is a +convenient practice enough, and productive sometimes +of many prizes; but divers penalties attach +to its detection, on land as well as on sea. Indeed, +it involves the necessity of <i>somebody’s</i> appearing +as a convicted impostor. On the present +occasion—as the actor for whom the character +was cast utterly declined to play it—the part +fell to poor Harry Molyneux, who certainly looked +it to perfection. In all his little difficulties +and troubles, when hard pressed, he was wont to +fall back upon the reserve of <i>la mignonne</i>, sure +of meeting there with sympathy, if not with succor. +He dared not do so now. He dared not +encounter the reproach of the beautiful, gentle +eyes that had never looked into his own otherwise +than trustfully since they first told the secret +that she loved him dearly. The half-smothered +cry that broke from Fanny’s lips when the chaplain +made his disclosure went straight to the +heart of her treacherous husband. He felt as if +he deserved that those pretty lips should never +smile upon him again.</p> + +<p>Oh, all my readers!—masculine especially—whose +patience has carried you thus far, remark, +I beseech you, the dangers that attend any dereliction +from the duty of matrimonial confidence. +What right have we to lock up the secrets of our +most intimate friends, far less our own, instead +of pouring them into the bosom of the <i title="[Greek: bathukolpos +akoitis]">βαθύκολπος +ἄκοιτις</i>, which is capacious enough to hold +them all, were they tenfold more numerous and +weighty? Such reticence is rife with awful peril. +In our folly and blindness, we fancy ourselves +secure, while the ground is mined under +our guilty feet, and the explosion is even now +preparing, from which only our <i>disjecta membra</i> +will emerge. Of course, some cold-hearted caviler +will begin to quote instances of carefully-planned +and promising conspiracies, which miscarried +solely because the details reached a feminine +ear. It may have been so; but I don’t see +what business conspiracies have to succeed at all. +Long live the Constitution! Truly, such delightful +confidences must be something one-sided, for +the mildest Griselda of them all would be led as +a “Martha to the Stakes” sooner than concede +to her husband the unrestricted supervision of +her correspondence. I have indeed a dim recollection +of having heard of <i>one</i> bride of seventeen, +who, during the honeymoon, was weak and +(<i>selon les dames</i>) wicked enough to submit to profane +male eyes epistles received from the friends +of her youth, in their simple entirety, instead of +reading out an expurgated edition of the same. +She had been brought up in a very dungeon of +decorum by a terrible grandmother, a rigid moralist, +whom no man ever yet beheld without a +shiver; and during those first few weeks after +her escape she was probably intoxicated by the +novel sense of freedom, besides which, she was +perfectly infatuated about “Reginald;” but all +this could not exculpate her when arraigned before +her peers. She lived long enough to repent +and to reassert, to some extent, her lost matronly +dignity, but she died very young—let us hope in +fair course of nature. She had violated the first +law of a guild more numerous and influential +than that of the Freemasons. Examples are +necessary from time to time, and, though the +<i>Vehme-gericht</i> may pity the offender, it may not +therefore linger in its vengeance. Nevertheless, +my brethren, our course is clear. Let us resign +to the chatelaine the key of the letter-bag and +the censorship thereof. If, after due warning, +our light-minded friends <i>will</i> write to us in terms +that mislike that excellent and punctilious inspectress, +they must aby it in the cold looks and +bitter innuendoes which will be their portion when +they come to us in the next hunting season. Our +conscience, at least, will be pure and undefiled, +and we shall pass to the end of our pilgrimage +<i>sans peur</i>, though perchance, even then, not <i>sans +reproche</i>. “Servitudes,” as Miggs, the veteran +vestal remarked, “is no inheritance,” but there +are natures who thrive rarely in this tranquil and +inglorious condition. Such men live, as a rule, +pretty contentedly to a great old age, and die in +the odor of intense respectability. Salubrious, it +seems, as well as creditable to the patient, is a +<i>régime</i> of moderate hen-pecking, only it is necessary +that he should be of the intermediate species +between Socrates and Georges Dandin.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Danvers would certainly have indulged +openly in that immoderate exultation to which +all minor prophets are prone when their predictions +chance to be verified, but this was checked +by her constitutional timidity. She was horribly +afraid of the effect that the revelation might have +on her patroness; therefore what precise meaning +was implied by the complicated contortions +of her countenance no mortal can guess or +know. Her sensations probably resolved themselves +into an excess of admiration for the pastor +in his new character of a denouncer of detected +guilt and champion of imperiled innocence, added +to which was a vague desire to lanch her own +anathema maranatha at Royston Keene.</p> + +<p>Dick Tresilyan took the whole thing with remarkable +coolness, not to say complacency. He +nodded his head, and smiled, and winked cunningly +aside at Molyneux, as if to intimate that +he had known all about it long ago, and, indeed, +so far he had been admitted into the major’s +confidence on the night when the latter was +supposed to have “lost his head.” By what +sophistries Royston had succeeded in masking +his purpose and making his case good, even to +such an unsuspicious mind and easy morality, +<samp class="pgmark">47</samp> +the devil could best tell, who in such schemes +had rarely failed him.</p> + +<p>We have left Cecil to the last. My proud, +beautiful Cecil—was she not born for better +things than to be made the prize of all those +plottings and counter-plottings—to surrender the +key of her heart’s treasures to one who was unworthy +to kiss the hem of her robe—and now to +have her self-command tried so cruelly to gratify +the wounded vanity of a weak, shallow enthusiast?</p> + +<p>She did not flinch or start when Mr. Fullarton’s +words caught her ear, but a heavy, chill +faintness stole over her, till she felt all her limbs +benumbed, and every thing before her eyes grew +misty and dim. The numbness passed away +almost immediately, but still the figures around +her appeared distorted and fantastically exaggerated; +they seemed to be tossing and whirling +round one steadfast centre, as the dead leaves in +winter eddy round the marble head of a statue; +that single centre-object remained, throughout, +distinct and unaltered in its aspect, while all +else was confused and uncertain—the face of +Royston Keene. The sight of that face—not +defiant or even stern, but immutable in its cold +tranquillity—acted on Cecil as a magical restorative; +it seemed as though he were able, by some +mesmeric influence, to impart to her a portion +of his own miraculous self-control. Before his +reply to the chaplain was ended, she threw back +her proud head with the old imperial gesture, as +if scorning her own momentary weakness; no +mist or shadow clouded the brilliant violet eyes; +she might speak safely now, without risking a +false note in the music. It was no light peril +that she escaped; the betrayal of emotion under +such circumstances would have weighed down a +meeker spirit than The Tresilyan’s with a sense +of ineffaceable shame; for remember—however +marked her partiality for Keene might have been—there +had been no suspicion of an engagement +between them. Had she broken down then, she +would not have forgiven Royston to her dying +day: she never <i>did</i> forgive the chaplain. As it +was—by a strange anomaly—at the very moment +when she became aware of having been +deluded and misled, in intention if not by actually +spoken words—when she had most reason to +hate or despise the “enemy who had done her +this dishonor”—she felt his hold upon her heart +strengthened, as though he had justified his right +to command it. Not to women alone, but to all +beautiful, wild creatures, the ancient aphorism +applies: the harder they are to discipline, the +better they love their tamer. Cecil thought, +“there is not another man alive whose eyes +could meet mine so daringly:” and the haughty +spirit bowed itself, and did obeisance to its suzerain. +Different in many respects as good can +be from evil—in one, those two were as fairly +matched as Thiodolf and Isolde. Who can tell +what wealth of happiness might have been stored +up for both, if they had only not met—too late?</p> + +<p>These two words seem to me the most of any +that are written or spoken. They strike the +key-note of so many human agonies, that they +might form a motto, apter than Dante’s, for the +gates of hell. Very few may hear them without +a melancholy thrill; well—if they do not bring +a bitter pang. Like those awful conjurations +that blanched in utterance the lips of the boldest +magi, they have a fearful power to wake the +dead. Lo! they are scarcely syllabled when +there is a stir in the grave-yard where sad or +guilty memories lie buried; the air is alive with +phantoms; the watcher may close his eyes if he +will: not the less is he sensible of the presence +of those pale ghosts that come trooping to their +vengeance. Many, many hours must pass before +the spell is learned that will send them back +to their tombs again.</p> + +<p>Not long ago I heard a story that bears upon +this. The man of whom it was told lost his love +after he had fairly wooed and won her. It matters +not what suspicion, or misconception, or +treachery parted them; but parted they were for +eight miserable years. Then the lady repented +or relented, and came to her lover to make her +confession. When she had done speaking, she +looked up into his face: she saw no light of +gladness or welcome there—only a deepening and +darkening of the weary look of pain: the arms +whose last tender clasp she had not forgotten yet, +never opened to draw her to his breast. He bent +his head down upon his shaking hands, and the +heavy drops that are sometimes wrung from +strong men in their agony began to trickle +through his fingers. In old days he could never +bear to see her sad for a moment; now, he +sat as though he heard her not, while she lay at +his feet, wailing to be forgiven. When he could +perfectly control his voice he said,</p> + +<p>“More than once, in my dreams, I have seen +you so, and I have heard you say what you have +said to-day. I answered then as I answer now—I +never can forgive you. I do not know that +you would not regain your old ascendency; I +believe you are as dangerous, and I as weak, as +ever. But I do know that, the more fascinating +I found you, the harder it would be to bear. +Thinking of what I had missed through that accursed +time of famine would drive me mad soon. +I have got used to my present burden: I won’t +give you the chance of making it heavier. Those +tears of mine were selfish as well as childish; +they were given to the happiness and hope that +you killed eight years ago. Stay—we parted +with a show of kindness then; we will not part +in anger now.”</p> + +<p>He laid his lips on her forehead as he raised +her up—a grave, cold, passionless kiss, such as +is pressed on the brow of a dear friend lying in +his shroud. They never met alone again.</p> + +<p>It is exasperating to think how long I have +taken to describe events and emotions that passed +in the space of a few minutes; but to place all +the <i>dramatis personæ</i> in their proper positions +does take time, unless the stage-manager is very +experienced. Will you be good enough to imagine +the picnic broken up (<i>not</i> in confusion), +and the “strayed revelers” on their way to Dorade? +Nothing worthy of note occurred on the +spot; a commonplace conversation having been +started and maintained in a way equally creditable +to all parties concerned.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">All</span> the inquiries that the chaplain had “felt +it his duty” to make respecting the antecedents +of Royston Keene had failed to elicit any thing +<samp class="pgmark">48</samp> +more discreditable than may be said of the generality +of men who have spent a dozen years in +rather a fast regiment, keeping up to the standard +of the corps. Doubtless graver charges might +have been imputed to him, if the whole truth +had been known; but the living witnesses who +could have proved them had good reasons for +their silence. Whether successful or defeated, +the Cool Captain was not wont to take the world +into his confidence. As for betraying his own +or another’s secrets—his lips were about as likely +to do <i>that</i> as those of an effigy on a tomb-stone.</p> + +<p>Naples was a cover that the reverend investigator +had not drawn; so he was considerably +startled by the following words in a letter from +thence, received that morning: “I meet a lady +constantly in society here, of whose history I am +curious to know more. She is the wife of Major +Keene, the famous Indian <i>sabreur</i>; but has been +separated from him for several years. She never +makes an allusion to his existence; it was by +the merest chance that I heard this, and also +that her husband is spending the winter at Dorade. +Perhaps you can throw some light on the +cause of the ‘separate maintenance?’ People +are not particular here, and have no right to be; +still, one would like to know. I fancy it can not +be her fault; she is perfectly gentle in her manner, +but rather cold—very beautiful too, in a +placid, statuesque style.” It is not worth transcribing +the writer’s farther speculations. If a +silent, but ultra-fervent benediction can at all +profit the person for whom it is intended, very +few people have been so well paid for epistolary +labor, as was, then, Mr. Fullarton’s correspondent. +The reason why has already been explained.</p> + +<p>Well, he had made his great <i>coup</i> without +carefully counting the cost—that financial pleasure +was still to come. He could not help feeling +that it had been rather <i>fiasco</i>. The man whom +he had purposed utterly to discomfit had throughout +been provokingly at his ease; the best that +could be made of it was, a drawn battle. A +disagreeable consciousness crept over the chaplain +of having made himself generally obnoxious, +without reaping any equivalent advantage or +even satisfaction. No one seemed to look kindly +or admiringly at him since the disclosure, except +Mrs. Danvers; and, glutton as he was of such +dainties, the adulation of that exemplary but +unattractive female began rather to pall on his +palate. He was clear-sighted enough to be +aware that Miss Tresilyan was probably offended +with him beyond hope of reconciliation, but +this did not greatly trouble him. He had been +sensible for some time of the decay of his influence +in that quarter. Last of all rose on his +mind, with unpleasant distinctness, Cecil’s warning, +“If I were a man, I should not like to have +Major Keene as my enemy.” He had thrown +the lance over that enemy’s frontier, and it was +now too late to talk of truce. A dread of the +consequences overcame him as he thought of the +reprisals that might be exacted by the merciless +and unscrupulous guerilla. True, it was not +very evident what harm the latter could do him; +nevertheless, he could not shake off a vague, depressing +apprehension. More and more, as he +strolled on, moodily musing, far in the rear of +the rest, he felt inclined to appreciate the wisdom +of the ancient proverb, “Let sleeping dogs lie.” +Years afterward he remembered with what a +startled thrill, raising his eyes at a sharp angle +of the path, he found himself face to face with +Royston Keene.</p> + +<p>For some seconds they contemplated each other +silently—the priest and the soldier. A striking +contrast they made. The one, heated, and +excited, and nervous, both in appearance and +manner, looking more like a culprit brought up +for judgment than a pillar of the Established +Church; the other, outwardly as undemonstrative +as the rock against which he leaned—just a shade +of paleness telling of the sharp mental struggle +from which he had come out victorious—his +whole bearing and demeanor precisely what might +have been expected if he had been sitting on a +court-martial.</p> + +<p>The absurdity of the position struck the chaplain +as soon as he collected himself from his first +surprise. It never would do for <i>him</i> to look as +if he had any thing to be ashamed of; so, summoning +to his aid all the dignity of his office and +his own self-importance, with a great effort, he +spoke steadily:</p> + +<p>“I presume you wish to talk to me, Major +Keene? I shall be glad to hear any thing that +you may have to communicate or explain. It is +my duty as well as my desire to be useful to any +member of my congregation, however little disposed +they may be to avail themselves of their +privileges. Interested, as I must be in the welfare +of all committed to my charge, I need hardly +say that the course you have chosen to pursue +here has caused me great pain and anxiety—I +own, not so much for your sake as that of others, +to whom your influence was likely to be pernicious. +What I heard this morning makes matters +look still worse. I wish I could anticipate +any satisfactory explanation.”</p> + +<p>The old <i>ex cathedrâ</i> feeling came back upon +him while he was speaking; his tone, gradually +becoming rounder and more sonorous, showed +this. Was he so besotted by sacerdotal confidence +as to fancy that he could win that grim penitent +to come to him to be confessed or absolved?</p> + +<p>Since the chaplain first saw him Royston had +never changed his attitude. He was leaning +with his shoulder against the corner of rock round +which the path turned, standing half across it, so +that no one could pass him easily. The dense +blue cloudlets of smoke kept rolling out from his +lips rapidly, but regularly, and his right hand +twined itself perpetually in the coils of his heavy +brown mustache. That gesture, to those who +knew his temper well, was ever ominous of foul +and stormy weather. He did not reply immediately, +but, taking the cigar from his mouth, began +twisting up the loose leaf in a slow, deliberative +way. At last he said,</p> + +<p>“You did that rather well this morning. How +much did you expect to get for it? My wife is +liberal enough in her promises sometimes, when +she wants to make herself disagreeable, but she +don’t pay well. You might have driven a better +bargain by coming to me. I would have given +you more to have held your tongue.” His tone +was such as the other had never heard him use—such +as most people would be loth to employ toward +the meanest dependent. No description +can do justice to the intensity of its insolence; it +made even Mr. Fullarton’s torpid blood boil resentfully. +<samp class="pgmark">49</samp></p> + +<p>“How dare you address such words to me?” +he cried out, trembling with rage. “If it were +not for my profession—”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” the other broke in, rudely; “you +need not trouble yourself to repeat that stale clap-trap. +You mean to say that, if I were not safe +from your profession, I should not have said so +much. It isn’t worth while lying to yourself, +and I have no time to trifle. The converse is +the truer way of putting it. You know better +than I can tell you that, if you had been unfrocked, +you would never have ventured half what you +have done to day. You don’t stir from hence +till this is settled. Do you suppose I’ll allow my +private affairs to be made, again, an occasion for +indulging your taste for theatricals?”</p> + +<p>The chaplain flushed apoplectically. He just +managed to stammer out,</p> + +<p>“I will not remain another instant to listen to +your blasphemous insults. If you mean to prevent +me from passing, I will return another way.”</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div class="i4"> Scornfully</div> +<div>He turned; but thrilled with priestly wrath, to feel</div> +<div>His sacred arm locked in a grasp of steel.</div> +</div> + +<p>A bolder man might have got nervous, finding +himself on a lonely hill-side, face to face with +such an adversary, reading, too, the savage meaning +of those murderous eyes. Remember that +Mr. Fullarton held Royston capable of any earthly +crime. His own short-lived anger was instantly +annihilated; the sweat of mortal terror broke +out over all his livid face; his lips could hardly +gasp out an unintelligible prayer for mercy.</p> + +<p>The soldier’s stern face settled into an expression +of contempt: in his gentlest moods he could +find little sympathy for purely physical fear.</p> + +<p>“Don’t faint,” he said; “there is no occasion +for it. Do you think I shall ‘slay you as I slew +the Egyptian yesterday?’ Well, I have scanty +respect for your office, especially when its privileges +are abused. If it were not for good reasons, +I would serve you worse than I did that drunken +scoundrel who frightened you almost to death +down there among the vines; but that don’t suit +my purpose. Listen: if you dare to interfere +again, by word, or deed, or sign, in the affairs +of me and mine, I know a better way of making +you repent it.”</p> + +<p>As soon as he saw that there was no real danger +to life or limb, the chaplain’s composure began +to return. He launched forth immediately +into a gallant though incoherent defiance. Royston’s +features never for an instant changed or +softened in their scorn.</p> + +<p>“Fair words,” he retorted; “but I’ll make +your bubbles burst. You don’t monopolize <i>all</i> +the resources of the Private Inquiry Office;” and, +stooping down, he whispered a dozen words in +the other’s ear. They related to a charge +brought against Mr. Fullarton years ago, so circumstantial +and difficult to disprove that, with all +the advantages of counter-evidence at hand, it +had well-nigh borne him down. He knew right +well that, if it were once revived here abroad, +where the lightest suspicion is caught up and +used so readily, the consequences would be nothing +short of utter ruin. He was a poor man, +with a large family. No wonder if he quailed.</p> + +<p>“You know—you know,” he gasped, “that +it is a vile, cruel falsehood.”</p> + +<p>To do him justice, he spoke the simple truth +there.</p> + +<p>With a cold, tranquil satisfaction, the major +contemplated his victim’s agony.</p> + +<p>“I choose to know nothing about it, except +that it carries more probability than most stories +one hears. The world in general is, fortunately, +not incredulous, and I have seen a man +‘broke’ on lighter evidence. Well, you will take +your own course, and I shall take mine. I fancy +we understand each other—at last.”</p> + +<p>By a superhuman effort the unlucky ecclesiastic +did contrive to mutter something about his +“determination to do his duty.” Royston listened +to him with his worst smile.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take my chance about that,” he said. +“I feel tolerably safe. Now I’ll leave you to +settle the affair between your interest and your +conscience.”</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel, and strode away without +another word. Long after he was out of +sight the chaplain stood fixed in the same attitude +of panic-stricken, helpless despondency. +By my faith! even in these degenerate days, we +have petrifying influences left that may match +the head of the Gorgon.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the others were wending slowly +homeward, truly in a very different mood from +that in which they had gone forth that morning. +Even as no man can be pronounced happy till +the hour of his death, so can no excursion or entertainment +be called successful till night has +fairly closed in. Caprice of climate is only one +of the many sources of disappointment, and the +event justifies so seldom our sanguine predictions +that we have little right to complain of +false and fallible barometers. It is worthy of +remark how often these trifles illustrate that trite +and time-honored simile of Life. The vessel +starts gayly enough, heeling over gracefully to +the land-wind in the old, approved fashion—“Youth +at the prow, and pleasure at the helm”—there +is not a misgiving in the heart of any of +the passengers; they can not help pitying those +left behind on the shore. What a cheery adieu +they wave to the friends who come down to wish +them “good-speed!” After a voyage more or +less prolonged the same ship drifts in slowly +shoreward, over the harbor-bar, under the calm +of the solemn sunset. Even the deepening twilight +can not disguise the evidences of a terrible +“sea-change.” Not a trace of paint or gilding +remains on the wave-worn, shattered timbers. +Sails rent and cordage strained tell tales of many +storm-gusts, or, perchance, of one tornado; and +see! her flag is flying half-mast high: the corpse +of the Pilot is on board. Let us stand aside, +lest we meet the passengers as they land. It +were worse than mockery to ask how the yachting +trip has sped.</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan rode somewhat in advance of +the rest, under her brother’s escort. Dick was +a model in his own line, and other brothers-of-beauties +might well imitate his moderation and +discretion. He never thrust himself into the +conversation, or into her presence, when there +was a chance of his intrusion being ill-timed, but +was always at hand when he was wanted: the +slightest sign, or even a glance, from Cecil, +brought him to her side, and there he would +march for hours in silent but perfect satisfaction. +On the present occasion he seemed disposed to +be unwontedly talkative, and to indulge in certain +speculations relative to the intelligence they +<samp class="pgmark">50</samp> +had just heard. It was true, he knew it before, +but nothing had been disclosed to him beyond +the simple fact that Royston was married, and +married unhappily. Cecil checked him gently, +but very decidedly.</p> + +<p>“I had rather not hear or say one word on +the subject. It ought not to interest either of +us. In good time, I suppose, we shall be told all +that it is fitting we should know. Meanwhile, +it would be very wrong to make conjectures. +No one has any right to pry into Major Keene’s +affairs if he chooses to keep them secret. I do +not believe any one ever did so, even in thought, +without repenting it. I dare say Mr. Fullarton +will find this out soon, and I shall not pity him +in the least. A person <i>ought</i> to be punished who +tries to startle people in that disagreeable way. +Did you hear Fanny’s little shriek? I have not +had time to laugh at her about it yet. The path +is too narrow for two to ride abreast.”</p> + +<p>The light tone and manner of her last words +might have deceived a closer observer than honest +Dick Tresilyan. He lapsed into silence; +but, after some time, his meditations assumed a +cheerfully-roseate hue, as they resolved themselves +into the fixed idea that Royston was lingering +behind “to have it out with the parson.”</p> + +<p>Some distance in the rear walked Harry +Molyneux, holding dutifully his wife’s bridle-rein. +It was very touching to see the diffidence +and humility with which he proffered his little +attentions, which were accepted, as it were, under +protest. The truth was that <i>la mignonne</i> had +forgiven him already, and it was with great difficulty +she refrained from telling him so, by word +or smile. Her soft heart melted within her at +the sight of the criminal’s contrition, and decided +that he had done penance enough during +the last half hour to atone for a graver misdemeanor; +but she deferred asking for explanations +till a more convenient season, when there +should be no chance of interruption; and meanwhile, +on grounds of stern political necessity, +<i>elle le boudait</i>. (If any elegant scholar will translate +that Gallicism for me literally, I shall feel +obliged to him.)</p> + +<p>Fancy the sensations of a man fighting his +frigate desperately against overwhelming odds, +when he sees the outline of a huge “liner,” +with English colors at the main, looming dimly +through the smoke, close on the enemy’s quarter; +or those of the commander of an untenable +post when the first bayonets of the relieving force +glitter over the crest of the hill, and you will +have a fair idea of Harry’s relief as he looked +back and saw Keene rapidly gaining on them +with his swift, slashing stride. As he fell back +and yielded his post to Royston, this was written +so plainly on his face that the latter could not +repress a smile; but there was little mirth in +his voice when he addressed Fanny—she had +never heard him speak so gently and gravely: +“I know that you are angry with your husband, +as well as with me, for keeping you in the dark +so long. I must make his peace with you, even +if I fail in making my own. He could not tell +you one word without breaking a promise given +years ago. If he had done so, in spite of the +excuse of the strong temptation, I would never +have trusted him again. Ah! I see you have +done him justice already: that is good of you. +Now for my own part. Why I did not choose +to let you into the secret as soon as I began to +know you well I can hardly say. Hal will tell +you all about it, and you will see that, for once, +I was more sinned against than sinning; so I +was not afraid of your thinking worse of me for +it. Perhaps the last thing that a man likes to +confess is his one arch piece of folly, especially +if he has paid for it as heavy a price as attaches +to most crimes. I think I am not sorry that you +were kept in the dark till now. The past has +given me some pleasant hours with you that +might have been darkened if you had known all. +I wish you would forgive me. We have always +been such good friends, and, in your sex at least, +I can reckon so few.”</p> + +<p>If he had spoken with his ordinary accent, +Fanny would scarcely have yielded so readily, +but the strange sadness of his tone moved her +deeply. A mist gathered in her gentle eyes as +she looked at him for some moments in silence, +and then held out a timid little tremulous hand.</p> + +<p>“I should not have liked you worse for knowing +that you had been unhappy once,” she whispered; +“but I ought never to have been vexed +at not being taken into confidence. I don’t +think I am wise or steady enough to keep secrets; +only I wish—I do wish—that you had told +Cecil Tresilyan.”</p> + +<p>He answered her in his old cool, provoking +way, “I know what you mean to imply, but you +do Miss Tresilyan less than justice, and me too +much honor. What right have you to infer that +I look upon her in any other light than a very +charming acquaintance, or that she feels any +deeper interest in to-day’s revelation than if she +had heard unexpectedly that any one of her +friends was married? Surprises are seldom +agreeable, especially when they are so clumsily +brought about. I am sure she has not told you +any thing to justify your suspicions.”</p> + +<p>Fanny was the worst casuist out. She was +seldom certain about her facts, and when she +happened to be so, had not sufficient pertinacity +or confidence to push her advantage. Her favorite +argument was ever <i>ad misericordiam</i>. “I +wish I could quite believe you,” she said, plaintively; +“but I can’t, and it makes me very unhappy. +You must see that you ought to go.”</p> + +<p>Her evident fear of him touched Royston more +sharply than the most venomous reproach or the +most elaborate sarcasm could have done; but he +would not betray how it galled him. “Three +days ago,” he replied, “I had almost decided +on departure; now it does not altogether depend +on me. But you need not be afraid. I shall +not worry you long; and while I stay I have no +wish, and, I believe, no power, to do any one +any harm.” She looked at him long and earnestly, +but failed to extract any farther confession +from the impenetrable face. Keene would +not give her the chance of pursuing the subject, +but called up Harry to help him in turning the +conversation into a different channel and keeping +it there. Between the two they held the +anxieties and curiosities of the oppressed <i>mignonne</i> +at bay till they entered Dorade.</p> + +<p>They were obliged to pass the Terrasse on their +way home: there, alone, under the shadow of the +palms, sat Armand de Châteaumesnil. The invalid’s +great haggard eyes fixed themselves observantly +on Cecil Tresilyan as she went by. He +<samp class="pgmark">51</samp> +laid his hand on the major’s sleeve when he +came to his side, and said, in a hoarse whisper, +“Qu’as tu fait donc, pour l’atterrer ainsi?” The +other met the searching gaze without flinching, +“Je n’en sais rien; seulement—on dit que je +suis marié.” If the Algerian had been told on +indisputable authority that Paris and its inhabitants +had just been swallowed up by an earthquake, +he would only have raised his shaggy +brows in a faint expression of surprise, exactly +as he did now. “Tu es marié?” he growled +out. “A laquelle donc des deux doit on compâtir—Madame +ou Mademoiselle?” Yet he did +not like Keene the worse for the impatient gesture +with which the latter shook himself loose, +muttering, “Je vous croyais trop sage, M. le Vicomte, +pour vous amuser avec ces balivernes de +romancier.”</p> + +<p>Fanny Molyneux and Cecil passed the evening +together <i>tête-à-tête.</i> That kind little creature +had a way of taking other people’s turn of duty +in the line of penitence and apology. On the +present occasion she was remarkably gushing in +her contrition, though her own guilt was infinitesimal; +but she met with scanty encouragement. +She had found time to extract from Harry all +the details of the matrimonial misadventure, and +wished to give her friend the benefit of them. +Miss Tresilyan would not listen to a word. She +did not attempt to disguise the interest she felt +in the subject, but said that she preferred hearing +the circumstances from Royston’s own lips. +With all this her manner had never been more +gentle and caressing: she succeeded at last in +deluding Fanny into the belief that every body +was perfectly heart-whole, and that no harm had +been done, so that that night <i>la mignonne</i> slept +the sleep of the innocent, no misgivings or forebodings +troubling her dreams. Those brave +women!—when I think of the pangs that they +suffer uncomplainingly, the agonies that they +dissemble, I am inclined to esteem lightly our +own claims to the Cross of Valor. How many +of them there are who, covering with their white +hand the dagger’s hilt, utter with a sweet, calm +smile, and lips that never tremble, the falsehood +holier than most outspoken truths—<i>P[oe]tus non +angit</i>!</p> + +<p>When Cecil returned home Mrs. Danvers was +waiting for her, ready with any amount of condolence +and indignation. She checked all this, +as she well knew how to do; and at last was +alone in her own chamber. Then the reaction +came on; with natures such as hers, it is a torture +not to be forgotten while life shall endure.</p> + +<p>There were not wanting in Dorade admirers +and sentimentalists, who were wont to watch the +windows of The Tresilyan as long as light lingered +there. How those patient, unrequited astronomers +would have been startled if their +eyes had been sharp enough to penetrate the +dark recess where she lay writhing and prone, +her stricken face veiled by the masses of her +loosened hair, her slender hands clenched till +the blood stood still in their veins, in an agony +of stormy self-reproach, and fiery longing, and +injured pride; or if their ears had caught the +sound of the low, bitter wail that went up to +heaven like the cry from Gehenna of some fair, +lost spirit, “My shame—my shame!”</p> + +<p>Under favor of the audience, we will drop the +curtain here. One of our puppets shall appear +to-night no more. When a heroine is once on +the stage, the public has a right to be indulged +with the spectacle of her faults and follies, as +well as of her virtues and excellences; yet I +love the phantasm of my queenly Cecil too well +to parade her discrowned and in abasement.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Other</span> eyes besides Cecil’s kept watch through +the night that followed that eventful day. Royston’s +never closed till the dawning. Sometimes +sitting motionless, sunk in his gloomy meditations, +sometimes walking restlessly to and fro, +and cooling his hot forehead in the current of +the fresh night air, he kept his mind on a perpetual +strain, calculating all probable and improbable +chances; and the dull red light was +never quenched, that told of perpetually-renewed +cigars.</p> + +<p>I fancy I hear an objection, springing from +lips that are wont to be irresistible, leveled +against such an atrocious want of sentiment. +Fairest critic! we will not now discuss the merits +or demerits of nicotine, considered as an aid +to contemplation, or an anodyne; but do you allow +enough for the force of habit? Putting +aside the case of those Indian captives, who are +allowed a pipe in the intervals of torment (for +these poor creatures have had no advantages +of education, and are beyond the pale of civilized +examples), do you not know that men have +finished their last weed while submitting to the +toilette of the guillotine? We are told that a +Spaniard has begged of his confessor a light for +his <i>papelito</i> within sight of a freshly dug grave, +when the firing-party was awaiting him one +hundred paces off with grounded arms.</p> + +<p>Only when the sky was gray did Royston lie +down to rest; but he slept heavily late into the +morning. His first act, when he rose, was to +send a note to Cecil Tresilyan, begging her to +meet him at a named place and time: she did +not answer it, nevertheless he felt certain she +would come. Assignations were no novelties to +him, but he had gone forth to bear his part in +more than one stricken field, where the chances +of life and death were evenly poised, without any +such despondency or uncertainty as clung to him +then on his way to the appointed spot. He arrived +there first, but he had not waited long +when Cecil came slowly along the path that led +into the heart of the woodland. As she drew +near, Keene could not help thinking of the first +time his eyes had lighted on her, mounting the +zigzags of the Castle-hill. There was still the +same elasticity of step, the same imperial carriage +of the graceful head; but a less observant +eye would have detected the change in her demeanor. +The pretty petulance and provocative +manner which, contrasting with the royalty of +her form and feature, contributed so much to her +marvelous fascinations, had departed, he feared, +never to return.</p> + +<p>Many instances occur daily where the same +painfully unnatural gravity exasperates us, when +its cause can not be traced up to either guilt or +sorrow. Ah! Lilla, there are many who think +that your wild-flower wreath was a more becoming +ornament than that diamond circlet—bridal +<samp class="pgmark">52</samp> +gift of the powerful baron. Sweet Eugenia! +faces that were never absent from your <i>levées</i> in +old times you have missed at your court since +you wedded Cæsar.</p> + +<p>Both were outwardly quite calm, but who can +guess which of those two strong hearts was most +conscious of tremor or weakness when Royston +and Cecil met? His hand at least was the steadier, +for her slight fingers quivered nervously in his +grasp. He did not let them go till he began to +speak.</p> + +<p>“Whatever your decision may be after hearing +me, I shall always thank you for coming +here. It was like you—to give me the chance +of speaking for myself. At least no falsehood or +misconception shall stand between us. Will you +listen to my story?”</p> + +<p>“I came for no other purpose,” Cecil said, +and she sat down on the trunk of a fallen olive: +she knew there would be need to husband all her +strength. Thinking of these things, in after +days, she never forgot how carefully he arranged +his plaid on the branches behind her, so as to +keep off the gusts of wind that ever and anon +blew sharply. At that very instant, as if there +were some strange sympathy in the elements, the +sun plunged into the bosom of a dull leaden +cloud, and there came a growl of distant thunder.</p> + +<p>“I shall not tax your patience long,” Royston +went on. “It shall only be the briefest outline. +But do not interrupt me till I have ended; it is +hard enough to have to begin and go through +with it. I can not tell you why I married. +Many people asked me the question at the time, +and I have asked it of myself often since, but I +never could find any satisfactory answer. The +woman I chose was then very beautiful, and it +was not a disadvantageous match, but I had +seen fairer faces and fortunes go by without coveting +them. I think a certain obstinacy of purpose, +and an absurd pleasure in carrying off a +prize (such a prize!) from many rivals was at +the bottom of it all. In six months I began to +appreciate the inconveniences of living with a +statue; but I can say it truly, I never dreamed +of betraying her. Yet I had temptations. Remember +I was not yet twenty-two, and one does +not bear disappointments well at that age. We +had not been married quite a year when an officer +in a native regiment died, up in the Hills, of +<i>delirium tremens</i>. Do you know that, under such +circumstances, there is always a commission appointed +to examine the dead man’s papers. I +could not help seeing that, for some days past, +my wife’s manner had been strangely sullen and +cold, but I had no suspicion of the truth. I +don’t think I have ever been so surprised as when +the president of the commission brought me a +bundle of her letters. I never saw her paramour: +he must have been more fool than scoundrel to +have kept what he ought to have burned. I did +not thank the man who gave me those papers, +and I never spoke to him again. I only read +one of them: it was written soon after our marriage. +I went to my wife with <i>this</i> in my hand. +She listened to me in her own icy way, not denying +or confessing any thing; but she defied +me to prove actual infidelity either before or after +my authority began. I could not do it, whatever +I might think. I could only prove a course +of lies and <i>chicanerie</i>, worked out by her and all +her family, that would have sickened the most +unscrupulous schemer alive. I told her I would +never sleep under the same roof with her again. +She laughed—if you could hear her laugh, you +would excuse me for more than I have done—and +said, ‘You can’t get a divorce.’ She was +right there. So it was settled that we were to +live apart without any public scandal. But her +people would not accept this position. They +sent a brother to bully me. It was an unwise +move. My temper was wilder in those days, +and I had strong provocation; yet I repent that +I did not keep my hands off the throat of that +wretched, blustering civilian. It was all arranged +peacefully at last, and I have not seen her since, +though I hear of her from time to time, as I did +yesterday. This happened eleven long years +ago, and she has never given me a chance of ridding +myself of her since. She is always carefully +circumspect, and so works out a patient revenge, +though I believe I did her no wrong. +You have heard all I dare to tell you, and all the +truth. Judge me now.”</p> + +<p>For the last few minutes a great battle had +been waging in Cecil Tresilyan’s heart. Can +the wisest of us, before the armies meet, prophesy +aright as to the issue of such an Armageddon?</p> + +<p>Twice she tried to speak, and found her voice +rebellious; at last she answered, in a faint, broken +tone, “I can not say how I pity you.”</p> + +<p>He threw back his lofty head in anger or disdain.</p> + +<p>“I will not accept groundless compassion, +even from you. Do not deceive yourself. I +have learned how to bear my burden; it scarcely +cumbers me now. It has fretted me more in +the last three weeks than it has done for years. +I only wish you to decide whether I did very +wrong in keeping back the knowledge of all this +from you; and, if I have offended unpardonably, +what my punishment shall be.”</p> + +<p>There was something more than reproach in +the glance that flashed upon him out of the violet +eyes; for an instant they glittered almost +scornfully; her lip, too, had ceased to tremble, +and the silver in her voice rang clear and true—</p> + +<p>“You are not afraid to ask that question—remembering +many words addressed to me, each +one of which was an insult—from you? You dare +not yet dishonor me in your thoughts so far as to +doubt how I should have acted <i>at first</i>, if I had +known your true position. Or are you amusing +yourself still at my expense? I had thought +you more generous.”</p> + +<p>The gloom on Royston’s face deepened sullenly: +though he had schooled himself up to a certain +point of humility, even from her he could ill +brook reproof.</p> + +<p>“Those insults were not premeditated, at +least,” he retorted. “Have you not got accustomed +yet to men’s losing their heads in your +presence, and then talking as the spirit moved +them? And you think I am amusing myself +now. <i>Merci!</i> there runs something in my veins +warmer than ice-water.”</p> + +<p>His accent was abrupt, even to rudeness, yet +Cecil felt a thrill of guilty triumph as she heard +it, and marked the shiver of passion that shot +through the colossal frame from brow to heel. +A more perfect specimen of immaculate womanhood +might not have been insensible to that +<samp class="pgmark">53</samp> +acknowledgment of her power. But she shook her +head in sorrowful incredulity.</p> + +<p>“You do less than justice to your self-control. +But it is too late for reproaches. I forgive you +for any wrong that you may have done me, even +in thought or intention. I wish the past could +be buried. For the future, I can say only this—we +must part, and that instantly; it is more than +time.”</p> + +<p>Keene had expected some such answer, and it +did not greatly disconcert him. After pausing +a second or two he said,</p> + +<p>“I did not ask you for your decision without +meaning to abide by it. But it would be well to +pause before you make it final. Remember—we +shall not part for days, or months, if you +send me away now. At least, you need not fear +persecution. Yet it is difficult to reconcile one’s +self to banishment. Will you not give me a +chance of making amends for the folly you complain +of? I can not promise that my words +shall always be guarded, and my manner artificial; +but I think I would rather keep your friendship +than win the love of any living woman, and I +would try hard never to offend you. Let us finish +this at once. You have only to say ‘leave +me,’ and I swear that you shall be obeyed to the +letter.”</p> + +<p>On that last card hung all the issue of the +game that he would have sold his soul to win; +yet he spoke not eagerly, though very earnestly, +and waited quietly for her reply, with a face as +calm as death.</p> + +<p>Cecil ought not to have hesitated for an instant: +we all know that. But steady resolve +and stoical self-denial, easy enough in theory, +are often bitterly hard in practice. It is very +well to preach to the wayfarer that his duty is +to go forward and not tarry. But fresh and +green grow the grasses round the Diamond of +the Desert; pleasantly over its bright waters +droop the feathery palms. How drearily the +gray arid sand stretches away to the sky-line! +Who knows how far it may be to the next oasis? +Let us rest yet another hour by the fountain.</p> + +<p>From any deliberate intention to do wrong +Cecil was as pure as any canonized saint in the +roll of virgins and martyrs; but if she had been +a voluptuary as elaborate as La Pompadour, she +could not have felt more keenly that her love +had increased tenfold in intensity since it became +a crime to indulge it. The passionate energy +that had slumbered so long in her temperament +was thoroughly roused at last, and would make +itself heard clamorously enough to drown the +still small voice, that said “beware and forbear.” +Her principles were good, but they were not +strong enough to hold their own. O pride of +the Tresilyans! that had tempted to sin so many +of that haughty house, when you might have +saved its fairest descendant, was it the time to +falter and fail? She looked up piteously in her +great extremity; there was a prayer for help in +her eyes, but between them and heaven was interposed +a stern bronze face, not a line of it +softening.</p> + +<p>At length the faint, broken whisper came—“God +help me! I <i>can not</i> say it.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause, but not a stillness, for the +beating of her companion’s heart was distinctly +audible. Then Cecil spoke again in her own +natural caressing tones:</p> + +<p>“You will be good and generous, I know. +See how I trust you!”</p> + +<p>The thought of how their continued intimacy +might touch her fair fame never seemed to suggest +itself for an instant. Yet, remember, The +Tresilyan was no longer a guileless, romantic +girl, believing and hoping all things; she knew +right well what scandals and jealousies lurk under +the smooth surface of the society in which +she had borne so prominent a part; she knew +that there were women alive who would have +given half their diamonds to have her at their +mercy, and torment her at their will. Was it +likely that such would let even a slander sleep? +Let the <i>Rosière</i> of last season lay this reflection +to her heart to temper the immoderation of triumph—“For +every one of my victories I have +made one mortal enemy.” Not only while in +supremacy is the potentate obnoxious to conspiracies; +the dagger is most to be dreaded when +the dignity is laid down. All dethroned and abdicating +dictators have not the luck of Sylla.</p> + +<p>Silently and unreservedly to accept such a sacrifice, +while the offerer was resolved not to count +the cost, transcended even the cynicism of Royston +Keene. He grasped her arm as though to +arrest her attention, and almost involuntarily +broke from his lips words of solemn warning.</p> + +<p>“Let me go on my way alone, while there is +time. It is hard to touch pitch and keep undefiled. +Child, you are too pure to estimate your +danger. If you remained as innocent as one of +God’s angels, the world would still condemn you.”</p> + +<p>Her slender fingers twined themselves round +his wrist, so tenderly!—and she bent down her +soft cheek till its blush was hidden on his hand. +Then she looked up in his face with a bright, +trustful smile.</p> + +<p>“Great happiness can not be bought without +a price. I fear no reproach so much as that of +my own conscience. Do not think I delude myself +as to the risk I am incurring. But if I am +innocent, I shall never hear or heed what the +world may say; if I am guilty, I have no right +to complain of its scorn.”</p> + +<p>Hardened unbeliever as he was, Royston could +have bowed himself there, and worshiped at her +feet. But he would not confess his admiration, +still less betray his triumph. He raised the little +white hand that was free gently to his lips. +Not with more reverent courtesy could he have +done homage to an anointed queen.</p> + +<p>“I wish I were worthier of you,” he murmured, +and no more was said then.</p> + +<p>As they walked slowly homeward, the sullen +clouds broke away from the face of the sun; but +a weatherwise observer could have told that the +truce was only treacherous. The tempest bided +its time.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">It</span> is not pleasant to stand by and assist at +each step of an incantation that draws down a +star from heaven, or darkens the face of the moon. +Let us be content to accept the result, when it is +forced upon us, without inquiring too minutely +into the process. Not with impunity can even +the Adepts gain and keep the secrets of their +evil Abracadabra. The beard of Merlin is gray +before its time; premature wrinkles furrow the +<samp class="pgmark">54</samp> +brow of Canidia; though the terror of his stony +eyes may keep the fiends at bay, the death-sleep +of Michael Scott is not untroubled; the pillars +of Melrose shake ever and anon as though an +earthquake passed by, and the monks cross themselves +in fear and pity, for they know that the +awful wizard is turning restlessly in his grave.</p> + +<p>As we are not writing a three-volume novel, +we have a right, perhaps, not to linger over this +part of our story. For any one who likes to indulge +a somewhat morbid taste, or who happens +to be keen about physiology, there is daily food +sufficient in those ingenious romances <i>d’Outre-mer</i>.</p> + +<p>It is hardly worth while speculating how far +Cecil deluded herself when she thought that she +was safe in trusting to her own strength of principle +and to the generosity of Royston Keene. +All this seems to me not to affect the main question +materially. Does it help us—after we have +yielded to temptation—that our resolves, when it +first assailed us, should have been prudent and +sincere, if such a plea can not avert the consequences +or extenuate the guilt? The grim old +proverb tells us how a certain curiously tesselated +pavement is laid down. Millions of feet have +trodden those stones for sixty ages, yet they may +well last till the Day of Judgment, they are so +constantly and unsparingly renewed.</p> + +<p>It is more than rashness for any mortal to say +to the strong, treacherous ocean, “Thus far shalt +thou go, and no farther;” it is trenching on the +privilege of Omnipotence. The dikes may be +wisely planned and skillfully built; but one night +a wilder wind arises than any that they have +withstood; the legions of the besieging army are +mustering to storm. At one spot in the seawall, +where patient miners have long been working +unseen, a narrow breach is made, widening +every instant; it is too late now to fly; the wolfish +waves are within the intrenchments, mad for +sack and pillage. On the morrow, where trim +gardens bloomed, and stately palaces shone, there +is nothing but a waste of waters strewn with +wrecks and blue, swollen corpses. The Zuyder +Zee rolls, ten fathoms deep, over the ruins of +drowned Stavoren.</p> + +<p>So we will not enter minutely into the details +of poor Cecil’s demoralization—gradual, but fearfully +rapid. It was not by words that she was +corrupted; for Royston was still as careful as +ever to abstain from uttering one cynicism in her +presence; but none the less was it true that daily +and hourly some fresh scruple was washed away, +some holy principle withered and died. The +recklessness which ever carried him on straight +to the attainment of a purpose or the indulgence +of a fancy, trampling down the barriers that divide +good from evil, seemed to communicate itself +to Cecil contagiously. She seldom ventured +on reflection now—still less on self-examination; +but she could not help being herself sensible of +the change: thoughts that she would have shrunk +back from in horror not so long ago (if she could +have comprehended them fully) had ceased now +to startle or repel her as she looked them in the +face. Do not suppose for an instant that there +was a corresponding alteration in her outward +demeanor, or that it displayed any wildness or +eccentricity. Melodrama, etc., may be very successful +at a trans-pontine theatre, but it is unpardonably +out of place in our <i>salons</i>. The +Tresilyan understood the duties of her social, if not +of her moral position (so long as the first was not +forfeited) as well as the strictest duenna alive. +Though she might choose to defy the world’s +censure, she never dreamed of giving an opening +to its ridicule; she was less capable of <i>gaucherie</i> +than of a crime. In her bearing toward others +she was just the same as ever; if any thing, rather +more brilliant and fascinating, and, if crossed +or interfered with, perhaps a shade more haughtily +independent.</p> + +<p>Only when alone with Royston did she betray +herself. It was sad to see how completely the +stronger and worse nature had absorbed the weaker +and better one till all power of volition and +free agency vanished, and even individuality was +lost. She was not sentimental or demonstrative +in his presence (on the contrary, at such times, +that loveliest face was very apt to put on the delicious +<i>mine mutine</i>, which made it perfectly irresistible), +but the idea seemed never to enter her +mind that it would be possible to resist or controvert +any seriously-expressed wish of her—<i>lover</i>. +There! the word is written; and woe is me! that +I dare not erase it. It must have come sooner +or later, and it is as well to have got it over.</p> + +<p>According to all rules for such cases laid down +and provided, Cecil’s life ought to have been spent +in alternations between feverish excitement and +poignant remorse. But the truth must be told—she +was unaccountably happy. The simple fact +was that she had no time to be otherwise. Even +when entirely alone her conscience could find no +opportunity of asserting itself. Her thoughts +were amply occupied with recalling every word +that Royston had said, and with anticipating +what he would say at their next meeting. It is +idle to suppose that remorse can not be kept at +arm’s length for a certain time; but the debt +recklessly incurred must generally be paid to the +uttermost farthing. Life, if sufficiently prolonged, +will always afford leisure for reflection and +retrospect, and at such seasons we appreciate in +full force the tortures of “solitary confinement.” +The criminal may go on pilgrimage to a hundred +shrines, and never light on the purification +that will scare the Erinnyes.</p> + +<p>In this instance the victor certainly did not +abuse his advantage, and was any thing but +exacting in his requirements. It was strange +how his whole manner and nature altered when +alone with his beautiful captive. The more evident +became her subjugation, the more he seemed +anxious to treat her with a delicate deference. +They talked, as a rule, on any subject rather +than their own feelings; and he spoke on all +such indifferent topics honestly, if not wisely. +For the rest of the world his sarcasm and irony +were ready as ever; he kept all his sincerity and +confidence for Cecil Tresilyan. This is the secret +of the influence exercised by many men, at +whose successes we all have marveled. Sweet, +as well as disenchanting experiences are sometimes +gained behind the scenes. None but those +who have tried it can appreciate the delight of +finding, in a manner that the uninitiate call cold +and repellent, an ever-ready loving caress. But +in Royston’s case there was no acting: it was +only that he allowed Cecil to see one phase of +hid character that was seldom displayed.</p> + +<p>The subordinates in the drama betrayed much +more outward concern and disquietude than the +<samp class="pgmark">55</samp> +principals. When Fanny Molyneux found that +Royston did not intend to evacuate his position, +she tried the effect of a vigorous remonstrance on +her friend. The latter heard her patiently, but +quite impassively, declining to admit any probability +of danger or necessity to caution. <i>La +mignonne</i> was not convinced, but she yielded. +She wound her arm round Cecil’s waist, as they +sat and whispered, nestling close to her side—“Dearest, +remember this: if any thing should +happen, I shall always think that some blame +belongs to me, and I will never give you up—never.”</p> + +<p>The Tresilyan bent her beautiful swan-neck, +as though she were caressing a dove nestling in +her bosom, and pressed her lips on her companion’s +cheek long and tenderly.</p> + +<p>“I could not do <i>that</i>,” she said, “if I were +guilty.”</p> + +<p>Neither had Harry refrained from lifting up +his testimony against what he saw and suspected. +The major would take more from him than +from any man alive; he was not at all incensed +at the interference.</p> + +<p>“My dear Hal,” he said, “don’t make an +old woman of yourself by giving credit to scandal, +or inventing it for yourself. If you choose +to be worried before your time, I can’t help +it; but it is more than unnecessary. Una can +take care of herself perfectly well, without your +playing the lion. Besides—what is the brother +there for? You know there are some subjects I +never talk about to you, and you don’t deserve +that I should be communicative now. But listen—you +shall not think of Cecil worse than she +is: up to this time, I swear, even her lips are +pure from me. Now I hope you are satisfied; +you have made me break my rule, for once; +drop the subject, in the devil’s name.”</p> + +<p>Though fully aware of his friend’s unscrupulous +character, Harry was satisfied that nothing +<i>very</i> wrong had occurred so far. Royston never +lied.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad that you can say so much,” he replied; +“the worst of it is, people will talk. I +wonder that obnoxious parson has not made +himself more disagreeable already. I didn’t go +to church last Sunday afternoon, because I felt +a conviction that he was going to be personal in +his sermon.”</p> + +<p>The major laughed his hard, unpleasant laugh. +“Don’t let that idea disturb your devotions another +time. He is not likely to bite or even to +bark very loud: he don’t get my muzzle off in a +hurry.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, it was profoundly true that since the +disclosure the chaplain’s reticence had become +remarkable. When his own wife questioned +him on the subject (very naturally), he checked +her with some asperity, and read her a lecture +on feminine curiosity that moved the poor woman, +even to weeping. Mrs. Danvers was greatly +surprised and disconcerted by the decision +with which Mr. Fullarton rejected her suggestion, +that he should aid and abet in thwarting +Keene’s supposed designs. “He had thought it +right,” he said, “to make Miss Tresilyan and +others aware of the real state of the case; but +he did not conceive that farther interference lay +within the sphere of his duty.” It was odd how +that same once arbitrarily elastic sphere had +contracted since the prophet met the lion in the +pathway! Dick Tresilyan—the only other person +much interested in the progress of affairs—did +not seem to trouble himself much about +them. He was perpetually absent on shooting +expeditions; but, when at home, it was observed +that he drank harder than ever, getting sulky +sometimes without apparent reason, and disagreeably +quarrelsome.</p> + +<p>Royston had only stated the simple fact when +he said that Cecil was free from any stain of actual +guilt or dishonor. Whether the credit of +having borne her harmless was most due to her +own prudence and remains of principle, or to her +tempter’s self-restraint, we will not, if you please, +inquire. It is as well to be charitable now and +then. Her escape was little less than miraculous, +considering how often she had trusted herself +unreservedly to the mercy of one who was +wont to be as unsparing in his love as in his anger. +Let not this immunity be made an excuse +for credulous confidence, or induce others to emulate +her rashness. The Millenium will not +come in our time, I fancy; and, till it arrives, +neither child nor maiden may safely lay their +hand on the cockatrice’s den. The ballad tells +us that Lady Janet was happy at last; but she +paid dearly through months of sorrow and shame +for those three red roses plucked in the Elfin +Bower. The precise cause of Keene’s forbearance +it would be very difficult to explain: more +than one feeling probably had to do with it.</p> + +<p>If memory has any pleasures worth speaking +of (which many grave and learned doctors take +leave to doubt), certainly among the purest is +the recollection of having once been endowed +with the whole love of a rare and beautiful being +which we did not abuse or betray. This is +the only sort of lost riches on which we can look +back with comfort out of the depths of present +and pressing poverty; the pearl is so very precious +that it confers on its possessor a certain +dignity which does not entirely pass away, even +when the jewel has slipped from his grasp, following +the ring of Polycrates. Alas! alas! less +generous than the blue Ægæan are the sullen +waters of the deep. <i>Mare mortuum.</i> Only on +these grounds can that wonderful self-possession +be accounted for, which enables men, seemingly +ill-fitted for the situation, to confront the +world in all its phases with so grand a calmness. +It is refreshing to see how even coquetry recoils +from that armor of proof, and to fancy how the +dead beauty might triumph over the defeat of +her living rivals, laughing the seductions of their +loveliness to scorn. Even in crises of graver +difficulty, where sterner assailants are to be encountered +than Helen’s magical smile or Florence’s +magnetic eyes, the invisible presence +seems to inspire her lover with supernatural valiance. +Remember the story of Aslauga’s Knight; +when once through the cloud of battle-dust +gleamed the golden tresses, horse and man went +down before him.</p> + +<p>Royston was not half good enough to appreciate +all this; yet some shadowy and undefined +feeling, allied to it, may have helped to hold +him back from pushing his advantage to the uttermost. +Another and more selfish presentiment +worked probably more powerfully. There +was one phantom from which the Cool Captain +never could escape; for years it had followed +close on the consummation of all his crimes, and +<samp class="pgmark">56</samp> +was, in truth, their best avenger: his Nemesis +was satiety. He knew too well how the sweetest +flowers lost their color and fragrance, so soon +as they were plucked and fairly in his grasp, not +to shrink before the prospect of a certain disenchantment. +This curse attaches to many of his +kind: the instant the prize is won there arise +misgivings as to its value; and defects develop +themselves hourly in what seemed faultless perfection +before. It is boys’ play to simulate being +<i>blasé</i>; but the reality makes mature manhood +disbelieve any thing sooner than inevitable retribution. +Very often the thought forced itself +upon Keene’s mind, “If I were to weary of <i>her</i> +too?” and made him pause before he urged Cecil +to the step that must have linked him to her +fate forever.</p> + +<p>Under other circumstances his patience might +have held out still longer; but there were numberless +difficulties and obstacles in the way of +their meeting, and the perpetual constraint fretted +Royston sorely. His principle always had +been not openly to violate conventionalities without +gaining an adequate equivalent; so he was +more careful of Cecil’s reputation than she was +inclined to be, and, among worse lessons, taught +her prudence. They met very seldom alone. +When Mrs. Danvers was present she made it her +business to be as much as possible in the way; +and her awkward attempts at interference were +sometimes inexpressibly provoking. On one +particular evening she had been unusually pertinacious +and obtrusive. The major stood it tolerably +well up to a certain point, but his savage +temper gradually got the better of him; his face +grew darker and darker, till it was black as midnight +when he rose to go, and his lips were rigid +as steel. It was evident he had come to some +resolution that he meant to keep. When he was +wishing Bessie “good-night,” he held her hand +imprisoned for a moment without pressing it. +“You are so good a theologian,” he said, “that +perhaps you can tell me where a text comes from +that has haunted me for the last hour. It speaks +of some one who ‘loosed the bands of Orion.’” +His manner and the sudden address disconcerted +Mrs. Danvers so completely as to incapacitate +her from reply: she suffered “judgment to go +by default;” and left Royston under the impression +that she had never read the Book of Job.</p> + +<p>The next day he asked Cecil to elope with +him.</p> + +<p>She listened without betraying either terror, +or anger, or disdain; but she raised her beautiful +eyes to his with a sad, searching inquiry, +before which many men would have quailed. +“Have you counted the cost to yourself and to +me?”</p> + +<p>“I have done both,” replied Keene, gravely. +“I can not say that you will never repent it; +but I know that I shall never regret it.”</p> + +<p>There were no promises or vows exchanged; +but a silence for two long minutes; and, when +these were passed, the sweet, pure lips had lost +their virginity.</p> + +<p>So with few more words it was finally arranged; +and the next day Royston left Dorade +to make preparations all along the road of their +intended flight. Their plan was to take boat at +Marseilles for the East, making their first permanent +resting-place one of the islands of the +Grecian Archipelago. Both were most anxious +to evade any possibility of interception, more especially +of collision with Dick Tresilyan.</p> + +<p>On that evening Cecil was alone in her own +room (Mrs. Danvers had gone out to a sort of +love-feast at the Fullartons’, where the company +were to be entertained with weak tea and strong +doctrine <i>à discretion</i>). She had rejected the offer +of Fanny’s companionship on the plea, not +altogether false, of a tormenting headache. <i>La +mignonne</i> was too innocent to suspect the reason +that made her friend shudder in their parting +embrace, half averting her cheek, though Cecil’s +arms clung round her as though they would never +let her go. The saddest feeling of the many +that were busy then in the guilty, troubled heart, +was a consciousness that in a few hours the gulf +between them would be deep and impassable as +the chasm dividing Abraham from Dives.</p> + +<p>Miss Tresilyan had taken unconsciously an attitude +in which you saw her once before, half-reclined, +and gazing into the fire; outwardly +still remained the same pensive, languid grace; +but very different was the careless reverie that +had stolen over her then, from the wild chaos of +conflicting thoughts that involved her now.</p> + +<p>Her whole being was so bound up in Royston +Keene’s, that she felt without him there would +be nothing worth living for; neither had she +the faintest misgiving as to the chances of his +inconstancy. There had descended to her some +of the stability and determination of purpose +which had made many of her race so powerful +for good or evil; in the pursuit of either they +would never admit a doubt, or listen to a compromise. +When Cecil believed, she believed implicitly, +and, not even with her own conscience, +made conditions of surrender. So long as <i>his</i> +strong arm was round her, she felt that she could +defy shame, and even remorse; but how would +it be if that support should fail? He had not +been away yet twenty hours, and already there +came creeping over her a chilling sense of helplessness +and desolation. She knew her lover’s +violent passions and haughty temper, impatient +of the most distant approach to insolence or even +contradiction from others, too well not to be +aware that such a man walked ever on the frontier-ground +between life and death. Suppose +that he were taken from her?—her spirit, dauntless +as it was, quailed before the ghastly terrors +of imagined loneliness. An evil voice that had +whispered perhaps in the ear of more than one +of the “bitter, bad Tresilyans,” seemed to murmur, +“You, too, can die:” but Cecil was not yet +so lost as to listen to the suggestion of the subtle +fiend. She wasted no regrets on the past, and +the wreck of all its brilliant promises: she was +resolute to meet the perils of the future; nevertheless, +her heart was heavy with apprehension. +Remember the answer that the stout Catholic +made to Des Adrets, when the savage baron +taunted him with cowardice for shrinking twice +from the death-leap on the tower, “<i>Je vous le +donne, en dix</i>.” So it is not in womanhood—however +ruined in principle or reckless of the +consequences, to venture deliberately, without a +shudder, on the fatal plunge from which no fair +fame has ever risen unshattered again. Even +prejudices may not be torn up by the roots without +stirring the earth around them.</p> + +<p>She might have sat musing thus for about an +hour; so deep in thought that she never heard +<samp class="pgmark">57</samp> +the <i>portière</i> slowly drawn aside that divided the +room from an ante-chamber. The Tresilyan +had her emotions under tolerable control, and at +least was not given to screaming; but she could +hardly repress the startled cry that sprang to her +lips when she raised her eyes.</p> + +<p>The reproachful spectre that had haunted her +for years—till very lately, when a stronger influence +chased it away—assumed substance of form +and feature, as the dark doorway framed the +haggard, pain-stricken face of Mark Waring.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">It</span> is not very easy to confront, with decorous +composure, the sudden apparition of the person +on earth that one would have least liked to see. +All things considered Cecil carried it off creditably, +and greeted her unexpected visitor with +sufficient cordiality. Mark took her offered hand +gravely, without eagerness, not holding it an instant +longer than was necessary. Then he +spoke—</p> + +<p>“They told me I should find you alone. I +was so anxious to do so as soon as possible, that +I ventured to break in upon you even at this unseasonable +hour. You will guess that I had +powerful reasons.”</p> + +<p>The Tresilyan threw back her haughty head, +as a war-horse might do at the first blast of the +trumpet: she scented battle in the wind.</p> + +<p>“Will you be good enough to explain yourself?” +she said, as she took her own seat again, +and motioned him into another; “I am sure +you would not trifle with me, or vex me unnecessarily.”</p> + +<p>Waring did not avail himself of the chair indicated, +but crossed his arms over the back of it, +and stood so, regarding her intently.</p> + +<p>“You only do me justice there,” he replied; +“I will speak briefly, and plainly too. I came +here from Nice to ask you how much truth there +is in the reports that couple your name with Major +Keene’s?”</p> + +<p>No one likes to give the death-blow to the loyalty +of a faithful adherent, be he ever so humble; +and Cecil was bitterly pained that she could not +speak truly, and satisfy him. Her face sank +lower and lower, till it was buried in her hands. +Nothing more was needed to convince Waring +that his worst fears were realized; for a moment +or two he felt sick and faint. No wonder; he +had given up hope long ago, but not trust and +faith; now, these were blasted utterly. In any +religion, whether true or false, the fanatic is happier, +if not wiser, than the infidel; if you can +not replace it with a better, it is cruel to shake +the foundation of the simplest creed. Mark’s +voice—hollow, and hoarse, and changed—could +not but betray his agony.</p> + +<p>“God help us both! Has it come to this—that +you have no words to answer me, when I +dare to hint at your dishonor?”</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly, flushing to her white +brow, rose-red with anger.</p> + +<p>“I will not endure this, even from you. Understand +at once—I deny your right to question +me.” The clear blue eyes met the violet ones +with a steady, judicial calmness, undazzled by +their ominous lightning.</p> + +<p>“Listen to me quietly—two minutes longer,” +he said, “and then resent my presumption as +much as you will. Three years ago it pleased +you to make me the subject of an experiment. +How far you acted heedlessly, and in ignorance +of the consequences, I have never stopped to inquire—it +would be wasting time; the sophistries +of coquetry are too subtle for me. I only know +what the result has been. Before I met you I +could have offered to any woman, who thought +it worth her acceptance, a healthy, honest love; +now—even if I could conquer my present infatuation—I +could only offer a feeling something +warmer than friendship; to promise more would +be base treachery. Do you think I would stand +by God’s altar with a worse lie than Ananias’s on +my lips? Is it nothing that, to gratify your vanity +or your whims, you should have condemned +a man, whose blood is not frozen yet, to something +worse than widowhood for life? My religion +may be a false and vain idolatry; but it is +all I have to trust to. I will not stand patiently +by and see the image that I have bowed down to +worship pilloried for the world to scorn. Now—do +you deny my right to interfere?”</p> + +<p>His words had a rude energy, though little eloquence; +but they came so evidently from the +depths of a strong, troubled heart, that they +caused a revulsion in Cecil’s feelings; returning +remorse bore down her stubborn pride. Very +low and plaintive was the whisper—“Ah! have +mercy—have mercy; you make me so unhappy;” +but there came a more piteous appeal from her +eyes. In Mark’s stout manhood was an element +of more than womanish compassion and tenderness; +he never could bear to see even a child +in tears; no wonder if his anger vanished before +the contrition of the one being whom he +loved far better than life. He lost sight of his +own wrongs instantly, but <i>not</i> of the object he +had in view.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me for speaking so roughly; I +ought to have declined your challenge. I behaved +better once, you remember. But be patient +while I plead for the right, though, if you +would but listen to them, prudence and your own +conscience could do that better than I. When +infatuation exists, it is worse than useless to prove +the object of it unworthy, so I will not attempt +to blacken Major Keene’s character; besides, it +is not to my taste to attack men in their absence. +I fear there are few capitals in Europe where his +name is not too well known. From what I have +heard, I believe his wife was most in fault when +they separated, but the life he has led since deprives +him of all right to complain of her, or condemn +her. Recollect you have only heard one +side. But it is not a question of his eligibility +as an acquaintance. There is the simple fact—he +is married, and your name being connected +with his involves disgrace. You can not have +fallen yet so far as to be reckless about such an +imputation. In my turn I say, ‘Have mercy!’ +Do not force me henceforth to disbelieve in the +purity of any created thing.”</p> + +<p>Cecil could only murmur, “It is too late—too +late!” The ghastly look of horror that swept +over Waring’s face showed that his thoughts had +gone beyond the truth. “I mean,” she went on, +blushing painfully, “that I have promised.”</p> + +<p>“Promised!” Mark repeated in high disdain; +“I have lived too long when I hear such devil’s +<samp class="pgmark">58</samp> +logic from your lips. You know full well there +is more sin in keeping than in breaking such engagements. +I will try to save you in spite of +yourself. Listen. I do not threaten; I know +you well enough to be certain that such an argument +would be the strongest temptation to you +to persevere in taking your own course. I simply +tell you what I will do. I shall speak to +your brother first; if he can not understand his +duty, or shrinks from it, I will carry out what I +believe to be mine. I utterly disapprove of and +despise the practice of dueling, but, at any risk, +I <i>will</i> stand between you and Major Keene. He +shall not gain possession of you while I am alive. +When I am dead, if you touch his hand, you +shall know that my blood is upon it, and the +guilt shall be on your own head. I believe that +in keeping you apart I should act kindly toward +both. I do him this justice—it would make him +miserable to see you pining away. There are +limits to human endurance, and you are too +proud to bear dishonor.”</p> + +<p>Cecil felt that every word he had spoken was +good and true, and that he would not waver in +his purpose for an instant. She remembered +how, when they were returning together four +days ago, the sidelong glance of a matronly +Pharisee had lighted on her in a spiteful triumph, +and how, though neither of them alluded +to it afterward, the dark-red flash of anger had +mounted to Royston’s forehead. She had ceased +to care for herself, but could she not save <i>him</i> +while yet there was time? And more—had she +not wrought wrong enough to Mark Waring +without having his murder on her soul? for she +never doubted as to the result if those two should +meet as foes.</p> + +<p>They talk of hair that has grown gray in the +briefest space of mental anguish. It is all a delusion +and an old wife’s fable. When Cecil rose +the next morning there was not a silver line in +her tresses. Outward signs of the mortal struggle, +while it lasted, there were none, for her +clasped hands veiled her face jealously; when +she raised it, her cheek was paler than death and +wet with an awful dew, and when she spoke her +voice retained not one cadence of its wonted +melody.</p> + +<p>“You have prevailed, as the truth always +ought to prevail. Now tell me what to do.”</p> + +<p>Mark Waring would have drained his heart’s +blood drop by drop to have lightened one throb +of her agony, but he never thought of flinching +from his purpose.</p> + +<p>“There are perils where the only safety lies in +flight. You must leave this before Major Keene +returns, and he returns to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps I have failed in making you understand +one hereditary peculiarity of the Tresilyans. +When their hand was fairly laid to the plow +they were incapable of looking back. Had Mark +come ten hours later, when Cecil’s purpose was +absolutely fixed, all his arguments would have +been futile. As it was, once having decided finally +on the line she was to take, it never occurred +to her to make farther objections. “Yes, I will +go,” she said; “but I must write to him.”</p> + +<p>“I think you ought to do so,” answered Waring, +“and if you will give me the letter I will +deliver it myself.”</p> + +<p>Every vestige of the returning color faded from +Cecil’s cheek. “You do not know him: I dare +not trust you.” He misinterpreted the cause of +her terror. “I promise you that, however angry +Major Keene may be, I will bear it patiently, +and never dream of resenting it. He is safe +from me now.”</p> + +<p>She smiled very sadly, yet not without a dreary +pride; she could have seen Royston pitted against +any mortal antagonist, and never would have +feared for <i>him</i>. “You scarcely understand me; +I was not anxious for his safety, but for yours.”</p> + +<p>Mark was too brave and single-hearted to suspect +a taunt, even had such been intended. +“Then there is nothing more to be settled,” he +said, quietly, “but the time and manner of your +departure. I will leave you now; I shall see +you before you go.”</p> + +<p>Cecil Tresilyan rose and laid her hand on his +arm, her beautiful face fixed in its firm resolve +like that of one of those fair Norse Valas, from +whose rigid lips flowed the bode of defeat or victory, +when the Vikings went forth to the Feast of +the Ravens.</p> + +<p>“I am not angry with one word you have said +to-night; you have only expressed what my own +cowardly conscience ought to have uttered; nevertheless, +to-morrow sees our last meeting. All +your account against me is fairly balanced now. +I do not know what I may have to suffer, but I +do know that I <i>will</i> be alone till I die. Perhaps +some day I may thank you in my thoughts for +what you have done; I can not—now.”</p> + +<p>With a heavy heart Waring owned to himself +that her words were bitterly true. In curing +such diseases, the physician must work without +hope of reward or fee; it will be long before the +patient can touch without a shudder the hand +that inflicted the saving cautery.</p> + +<p>Her tone changed, and she went on murmuring, +low and plaintively, as if in soliloquy and +unconscious of another’s presence.</p> + +<p>“I could not help loving him, though I knew +it was sin; if there is shame in confessing it, I +can not feel it yet. I wish I had told him—<i>once</i>—how +dearly I loved him; I shall never be +able to whisper it to him now, and I dare not +write it. No, he will not forget me as he has forgotten +others; but he will hate me, and call me +false, and fickle, and cold. Cold—if he could +only read my heart! I never read it myself till +now, when we must be parted forever.”</p> + +<p>Is it pleasant, think you, to listen to such words +as these, uttered by the woman that you have +worshiped, even if it be hopelessly, for years? +Men have gone mad under lighter tortures than +those that Mark Waring was then forced to endure. +But he knew that it was the extremity +of her anguish that had hardened for a season +Cecil’s gentle, generous, nature, and made her +heedless of the pain she inflicted. So he answered +in a slow, steady voice, such as we employ +when trying to calm the ravings of a fever-fit:</p> + +<p>“Hush! you speak wildly. My presence +here does you no good. You may think of me +as hardly as you will; perhaps time will soften +your judgment; if not—I shall still not repent +to-night’s work. I will come for your letter at +the moment of your departure. Good-night; I +pray that God may help you now, and guard you +always.” He raised her hand and just touched +it with his lips, with the same grave courtesy that +had marked his manner when they parted last, +<samp class="pgmark">59</samp> +three years ago, and in another second Cecil was +alone again.</p> + +<p>She was not long in recovering from her bewilderment; +and when Mrs. Danvers returned +she was perfectly collected and calm. It is not +worth while recording Bessie’s noisy expressions +of astonishment and delight, nor describing Dick +Tresilyan’s way of receiving notice of the sudden +change in their plans. His stolid composure was +not greatly disturbed thereby; he muttered, under +his breath, some sulky anathemas on “women +who never knew their own minds;” but this +was only because he considered a growl to be +the form of protest suitable to the circumstances +and due to his masculine dignity. On the whole, +he was rather glad to go. It had become evident, +even to his dull comprehension, that great +mischief was brewing somewhere, and for days +he had been in a state of hazy apprehension—as +he expressed it, “not seeing his way out of it at +all.” So he set about his part of the preparations +for their exodus with a right good will. +Neither will we give the details of Cecil’s parting +with <i>la mignonne</i>. The latter was so rejoiced at +the idea of her friend’s being out of harm’s way +that she did not question her much as to the +reasons for such an abrupt departure: it was not +till afterward that she learned that it had been +brought about by the influence of Waring. It is +unnecessary to mention that the adieus were not +accomplished without a certain amount of tears; +but they were all shed by Fanny Molyneux. Cecil +dared not yet trust herself to weep. She took +a far more formal farewell of Mr. Fullarton, and +the chaplain did not even venture a parting benediction.</p> + +<p>The heavy traveling-chariot, with its hundred +cunning contrivances, is packed at last, and +Karl, the accomplished courier, wiping from his +blonde mustache the drops of the stirrup-cup, +touches his cap with his accustomed formula, +“Zi ces dames zont brêtes?” Mark Waring +leans over the carriage door to say “Good-by:” +the hand he presses lies in his grasp, unresponsive +and unsympathetic as a splinter from an iceberg. +His sad, earnest look pleads in vain, for +there is no softening or kindness in Cecil’s desolate, +dreamy eyes. The road on which they are +to travel is the same for some leagues as that +along which Royston Keene must return, and +she is thinking, divided between hope and fear, +if there may not be a possibility of their meeting. +The wheels move, and hasty farewells are waved, +and Mark stands there half stupefied, unconscious +of any thing but a sense of lonely wretchedness. +The one solitary link that still binds +him to Cecil Tresilyan will be severed when the +letter is delivered that he holds in his hand.</p> + +<p>As the carriage swept round the corner of the +terrace, it passed close to the spot where Armand +de Châteaumesnil sat basking in the sunshine. +The invalid lifted his cap in courteous adieu, but +his face grew dark, and his shaggy brows were +knit savagely.</p> + +<p>“On l’a triché donc, après tout,” he muttered; +“Sang Dieu! les absens ont diablement tort.” +Sunk as she was at that moment in gloomy meditations, +Cecil never forgot that the last object on +which her eyes lighted in Dorade was the blasted +wreck of the crippled Algerian.</p> + +<p>Molyneux and his wife stood silent till their +friends were quite out of sight, then Harry turned +slowly round and gazed at his <i>mignonne</i>. He +knew that the same thought was in both their +minds, for her sweet face was paler than his own. +(Neither of them guessed at the truth, and they +saw in Mark Waring nothing more than an old +acquaintance of the Tresilyans.)</p> + +<p>“Royston will be here in four hours,” he said, +“and who will tell him this? <i>I</i> dare not.”</p> + +<p>Fanny feigned a carelessness that she was far +from feeling.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how that is to be managed, +but I believe it is all for the best. He can’t kill +either of us; that is some comfort.”</p> + +<p>Harry did not smile; his countenance wore +an expression of grave anxiety, such as had seldom +appeared there.</p> + +<p>“No, he will not hurt us, but I fear he will +have <i>some one’s</i> blood before all is done.”</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">It</span> was past nightfall when Major Keene returned +to Dorade. As he drove past the hotel +where the Tresilyans lodged he looked up at the +windows of their apartments, and was somewhat +surprised to <i>see</i> no light there; but no suspicion +of the truth crossed his mind. He had made all +preparations for the intended flight with his habitual +skill and foresight. The Levantine steamer +left Marseilles early on the third morning from +this, and relays were so ordered along the road +as to prevent the possibility of being overtaken, +and just to hit the hour of the vessel’s sailing. +So far every thing seemed to promise favorably +for the accomplishment of his purposes, and +Royston could not have explained even to himself +the reason of his feeling so moody and discontented. +He went straight to his own rooms, +without looking in at the Molyneuxs’; for he +was heated and travel-stained; and, under such +circumstances, was wont to postpone the greeting +of friends to the exigencies of the toilet. This +was scarcely concluded when his servant brought +him Mark Waring’s card, with a request penciled +on it for an immediate interview.</p> + +<p>Even the Cool Captain started perceptibly +when he read the name. He was well acquainted +with the episode connected with it; for Cecil +had kept back none of her secrets from him, and +this was among the earliest confidences. <i>Then</i> +he had felt no inclination to sneer; but now his +lip began to curl cynically.</p> + +<p>“<i>Coramba!</i>” he muttered; “the plot begins +to thicken. What brings the old lover <i>en scène?</i> +I hope he does not mean to make himself disagreeable. +I haven’t time to quarrel just now; +and, besides, it would worry Cecil. Well, we’ll +find out what he wants. Tell Mr. Waring that +I am disengaged, and shall be happy to see him.”</p> + +<p>The major advanced to meet his visitor with a +manner that was perfectly courteous, though it +retained a tinge of haughty surprise.</p> + +<p>“I can not guess to what I am indebted for +this pleasure,” he said. “Pardon me, if I ask +you to explain your object as briefly as possible. +I have much to do this evening, and my time is +hardly my own.”</p> + +<p>Waring gazed fixedly at the speaker for a few +seconds before he replied. Like most of his profession, +he was an acute physiognomist, and in +<samp class="pgmark">60</samp> +that brief space he fathomed much of the character +of the man who had rivaled him successfully. +He confessed honestly to himself that +there were grounds, if not excuse, for Cecil’s infatuation; +but he shrank from thinking of the +danger which she had escaped so narrowly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will be as brief as possible,” Mark answered +at length. “Neither of us will be tempted +to prolong this interview unnecessarily. I +have promised to deliver a letter to you, and +when you have read it I shall have but very few +words to say.”</p> + +<p>A stronger proof than Keene had ever yet +given of superhuman control over his emotions +was the fact that, neither by quivering of eyelid, +change of color, or motion of muscle, did he betray +the faintest astonishment or concern as he +took the letter from Waring, and recognized +Cecil’s hand on the cover. It was not a long +epistle, for it scarcely extended beyond two sides +of a note-sheet. The writing was hurried, and +in places almost illegible: it had entirely lost +the firm, even character which usually distinguished +it, from which a very moderate graphiologist +might have drawn successful auguries. +Perhaps this was the reason that Royston read +it through twice slowly. As he did so his countenance +altered fearfully; the deadly white look +of dangerous passion overspread it all, and his +eyes began to gleam. Yet still he spoke calmly—“You +knew of this being written?”</p> + +<p>“I am happy to say I was more than passively +conscious of it,” Mark replied. “I did all in +my power to bring about the result that you are +now made aware of, and I thank God that I did +not fail.”</p> + +<p>While the other was speaking Royston was +tearing up the paper he held into the smallest +shreds, and dropping them one by one. The +act might have been involuntary, but seemed to +have a savage viciousness about it, as if a living +thing were being tortured by those cruel fingers. +(The poor letter! whatever its faults might have +been, it surely deserved a better fate: it was +doubtless not a model of composition, but some +of the epistles which have moved us most in our +time, either for joy or sorrow, might not in this +respect emulate Montague or Chapone.) Still he +controlled himself, with a mighty effort, enough +to ask, steadily, “Were you weary of your life, +to have done all this, and then come here to tell +me so?”</p> + +<p>Waring laughed drearily.</p> + +<p>“Weary? So weary that, if it had not been +for scruples you can not understand, I would +have got rid of it long ago. But I need not inflict +my confidences on you, and I don’t choose +to see the drift of your question.”</p> + +<p>The devil had so thoroughly by this time possessed +Royston Keene, that even his voice was +changed into a hoarse, guttural whisper. “I +asked, because I mean to kill you.”</p> + +<p>Mark’s gaze met the savage eyes that gleamed +like a famished panther’s, with an expression too +calm for defiance, though there might have been +perhaps a shade of contempt.</p> + +<p>“Of course I shall guard my own life as best +I may, either here or elsewhere, but I do not apprehend +it is in great danger. There is an old +proverb about ‘threatened men;’ they are not +killed so easily as women are betrayed. Beyond +the simplest self-defense, I warn you that I shall +not resent any insult or attack. I will not meet +you in the field; and as for any personal struggle, +I don’t think that even you would like to +make Cecil Tresilyan the occasion for a broil +that might suit two drunken peasants.”</p> + +<p>Though shorter by half a head, and altogether +cast in a less colossal mould, as he stood there, +with his square, well-knit frame, and bold Saxon +face, he looked no contemptible antagonist to +confront the swarthy giant. In utter insensibility +to fear and carelessness of consequences (so +far as they could affect a steady resolve), the +Cool Captain had met his match at last. Even +then, in the crisis of his stormy passion, he was +able to appreciate a hardihood so congenial to +his own character; pondering upon these things +afterward, he always confessed that at this juncture, +and indeed all throughout, his opponent +had very much the best of it. Ferocity and violence +seemed puerile and out of place when contrasted +with that tranquil audacity. He covered +his eyes with his hand for a moment or so, +and when he raised his face it had recovered its +natural impassibility, though the ghastly pallor +still remained. Besides, the truth of Waring’s +last words struck him forcibly. He muttered +under his breath, “By G—d, he’s right <i>there</i>, +at all events;” then he said aloud, “Well, it appears +you won’t fight, so there is little more to +be said between us. You think you can thwart +my purposes or mould them as you like. We’ll +try it. I told you I had many things to do to-night: +I have one more than I dreamed of on +hand. I wish to be alone.”</p> + +<p>Mark gazed wistfully at the speaker without +stirring from his seat. “I know what your intention +is perfectly well. You mean to follow +her. I believe it would be quite in vain; you +have misjudged Cecil Tresilyan, if you fancy that +she would alter her determination twice. But +you might give her great pain, and compromise +her more cruelly than you have done already. +There are obstacles now in your way that you +could not encounter without causing open scandal. +Her brother’s suspicions are fairly roused +by this time, and he can not help doing his duty: +he may be weak and credulous, but he is no coward. +There is no fear of farther interference +from me: my part is played. But I do beseech +you to pause. Supposing the very worst—that +you could still succeed in persuading Cecil to her +ruin—are you prepared deliberately to accept the +consequences of the crime? You are far more +experienced in such matters than I: do you +know a single instance of such guilt being accomplished +where <i>both</i>, before the year was ended, +did not wish it undone? I do not pretend +to be interested about your future; but I believe +I am speaking now as your dearest friend might +speak. You both delude yourselves miserably +if you think that Cecil could live under disgrace. +I do you so much justice. You would find it +unendurable to see her withering away day by +day, with no prospect before her but a hopeless +death. In God’s name, draw back while there +is time. It is only a sharp struggle, and self-command +and self-denial will come. Loneliness +is bitter to bear: <i>I</i> know that; but what is manhood +worth if it can not bear its burdens? I +have put every thing on the lowest grounds, and +I will ask you one question more—you might +guard her from some suffering by hiding her +<samp class="pgmark">61</samp> +from the world’s scorn—could you guard yourself +against satiety?”</p> + +<p>He spoke without a trace of anger or animosity, +and the grave, kind tones made some way in +the winding avenues leading to Royston’s heart. +Besides this, the last word struck the chord of +the misgiving that had haunted him ever since +he proposed the flight, and had already made +him half repent it. But the fortress did not yet +surrender.</p> + +<p>“All this while you have had some idea of +improving your own position with Cecil. It is +natural enough: yet I fancy you will find yourself +mistaken there.”</p> + +<p>Instead of flushing at the taunt, Waring’s face +grew paler, and there shot across it a sharp +spasm of pain.</p> + +<p>“So you can not understand disinterestedness,” +he said. “Before I ventured on interference, +I was aware of the certain consequences, +and weighed them all. Miss Tresilyan thought +she had done me some wrong; and I trusted to +her generosity to help me when I spoke for the +right. But I knew that the spell could only be +used once, and that the canceled debt could not +be revived. I shall never speak to her—perhaps +never see her—on earth again. Do you imagine +I love her less for that? Hear this: I suppose +I have as much pride as most men; but I +would kneel down here and set your foot on my +neck if I thought the humiliation would save her +one iota of shame or sorrow.”</p> + +<p>Keene was fairly vanquished. He was filled +with a great contempt for his own guilty passion, +compared with the pure self-sacrifice of Mark’s +simple chivalry. He raised his eyes from the +ground, on which they had been bent gloomily +while the other was speaking, and answered +without hesitation, “I owe you some amends +for much that has been said to-night; and I +will not keep you in suspense a moment unnecessarily. +I shall leave Dorade to-morrow; but +it will not be to follow Cecil Tresilyan. More +than this: if there is any chance of our meeting +hereafter, on my honor, I will avoid it. I wish +many things could be unsaid and undone; but +nothing has occurred that is past remedy. As +far as any future intentions of mine are concerned, +I swear she is as safe as if she were my +sister.”</p> + +<p>Waring drew a long breath, as if a ponderous +weight had been lifted from his chest. “I believe +you,” he said simply: then he rose to go. +He had almost reached the door, when he turned +suddenly and stretched out his hand. It was a +perfectly unaccountable and perhaps involuntary +impulse; for he still could not absolve the other +from dark and heavy guilt. The major held it +for a few seconds in a gripe that would have +paralyzed weaker fingers: even Mark’s tough +joints and muscles were long in forgetting it. +He muttered these words between his teeth as +he let it go—“<i>You</i> were worthy of her.” So +the interview ended—in peace. Nevertheless, +there was little peace that night for Royston +Keene; he passed it alone—how, no mortal can +know; but the next morning his appearance +fully bore out the truth of the ancient aphorism, +“There is no rest for the wicked.” His face +was set in the stoniest calmness, but the features +were haggard and drawn, and fresh lines and +furrows were there deeper than should have been +engraved by half a score of years. A violent, +passionate nature does not lightly resign the one +object of its aims and desires. Larches and firs +will bear moving cautiously, for they are well-regulated +plants, and natives of a frigid zone; +but transplanting rarely succeeds in the tropics.</p> + +<p>Harry Molyneux came to his friend’s apartments +early on the following day, in a very uncomfortable +and perplexed frame of mind. In +the first place, he was sensible of that depression +of spirits which is always the portion of those +who are left behind when any social circle is +broken up by the removal of its principal elements. +There is no such nuisance as having to +stay and put the lights out. Besides this, he +was quite uncertain in what temper Royston +would be found; and apprehended some desperate +outbreak from the latter, which would +bring things, already sufficiently complicated, +into a more perilous coil.</p> + +<p>Keene’s first abrupt words in part reassured +him.</p> + +<p>“Well, it is all over; and I am going straight +back to England.”</p> + +<p>Harry felt so relieved that he forgot to be considerate: +he could not repress his exultation.</p> + +<p>“Is it really all over? I am so very glad!”</p> + +<p>“And I am not sorry,” was the reply. The +speaker probably persuaded himself that he was +uttering the truth; but the dreary, hopeless expression +of his stricken face gave his words the +lie. It cut deep into Molyneux’s kind heart; +he felt more painfully than he had ever done the +difficulty of reconciling his evident duty with the +demand of an ancient friendship; on the whole, +a guilty consciousness of treachery predominated. +He was discreet enough to forbear all questions, +and it was not till long afterward that he heard +an outline of part of what had happened in the +past night; it was told in a letter from Miss +Tresilyan to his wife. Had he been more inquisitive, +his curiosity would scarcely have been +gratified. To do Keene justice, he guarded the +secrets of others more jealously than he kept his +own: and he would have despised himself for +revealing one of Cecil’s, even to his old comrade, +without her knowledge and leave. If the feeling +which prompted such reticence was not a high +and delicate sense of honor, it was at least a +very efficient substitute for a profitable virtue.</p> + +<p>“You go to England?” Molyneux went on, +after a brief pause. “When do you start? and +what do you mean to do?”</p> + +<p>Royston looked up, and saw his own discontent +reflected in the countenance of his faithful +subaltern; he knew he had found there the sympathy +that he was too proud to ask of any living +man.</p> + +<p>“I start to-night,” he replied; “so you see I +have no time to lose. I can hardly tell you what +I mean to do, Hal. Do you remember what we +said about the best way of spending our resources? +Well—I have broken into my last +large note; and I suppose I must get rid somehow +of the change.”</p> + +<p>Harry’s answer was not very ready, nor very +distinct when it came. “I wish—I wish, I +could help you!”</p> + +<p>For one moment, there returned to Keene’s +disciplined face a good, natural expression, which +had been a stranger there since the days of his +hot youth; when he first went forth to buckle +<samp class="pgmark">62</samp> +with the world—frank, and honest, and fearless; +his voice, too, had softened almost to tenderness. +“Old friend, the time has come to say good-by. +Our roads have been the same—for longer than +I like to think of: but henceforth they must lie +so far apart, that I doubt if they will ever cross +again. You will see me off, I know; but I may +not be able to say then a dozen words that I +should be sorry to leave unsaid. I’ll do you this +justice—in no one instance have I ever seen you +flinch when I wanted your help; though often +you had no object of your own to serve. I believe +no man ever had a cheerier comrade, or a +better backer. I don’t like you the worse for +standing aloof during the last five weeks. I +never had one unpleasant word from you; but +if any of mine have vexed or offended you—see +now—I ask your forgiveness from the bottom of +my heart.”</p> + +<p>It is no shame to Harry’s manhood that he +could not answer intelligibly; but ten sentences +of elaborate sentiment would hardly have been +so eloquent as the pressure of his honest hand.</p> + +<p>Later in the day, Keene went to take leave of +<i>la mignonne</i>. He did so with pain and reluctance. +Men, utterly hard and merciless toward +their own species, have been very fond of their +pets; even when these last belonged to an inferior +order of creation. Couthon would fondle +his spaniel while he was signing a sheaf of death-warrants; +and the Prophet, who could contemplate +placidly a dozen cities in flames, and watch +human hecatombs falling under the sword of +Omar or Ali, cut off the sleeve of his robe rather +than disturb a favorite cat in her slumbers.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when two people agree to ignore +carefully the one subject that is uppermost in +the thoughts of both, the result must be an uncomfortable +constraint and reserve. So the +adieus, up to a certain point, were rather formal. +But just as he was going, the same impulse +overcame Royston which had affected him in his +interview with Harry Molyneux. Considering +that the age of miracles is past, it was remarkable +that twice in one day the Cool Captain should +have approached so near to the verge of sentimentalism.</p> + +<p>“I hope that I shall see you again before +long,” he said, “but nothing seems certain—not +even the meeting of friends. I should like +to thank you now for some pleasant days and +evenings. You have brought a good deal of +sunshine into my life, since I knew you first. I +like to think that, neither in deed nor intention, +I have ever deliberately done you or Harry any +harm. I hope you will go on taking as much +care of him, and making him as perfectly happy +as you have done. Perhaps I have vexed you +both, lately; but all that is over, and I fancy +the punishment will be proportionate to the offense +before it is ended. Farewell. Don’t forget +me sooner than you can help; and while +you do remember me, think of me as kindly as +you can.”</p> + +<p>He leaned over her as he finished speaking, +and his lips just brushed her smooth forehead. +When Charles the martyr embraced his children +an hour before his death, they received no purer +or more sinless kiss. A sob choked Fanny’s +voice when she would have replied; and the +beautiful brown eyes were so dim with rushing +tears, that they never saw him go.</p> + +<p>Keene’s last visit in Dorade was to the Vicomte +de Châteaumesnil. The latter manifested no +surprise at the sudden departure, and expressed +his regrets with a perfectly calm courtesy. But, +at the moment of leave-taking, he detained the +other’s hand for a second or so and said, looking +wistfully in his face, “Ainsi, vous <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'partez-seul'">partez seul</ins>? +je ne l’aurais pas cru; et, je l’avoue franchement, +ça me contrarie. N’importe; je connois +votre jeu; et je ne vous tiens pas pour battu, +quand c’est manche à. Ce serait une <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'betise'">bêtise</ins>, de +dire—‘au revoir.’ Adieu; amusez vous bien.”</p> + +<p>Royston shook his head impatiently; he was +too proud to save his credit by dissembling a defeat; +and his reply was quick and decisive.</p> + +<p>“Vous me flattez, M. le Vicomte. Quand on +perd, on doit, au moins l’avouer loyalement, et +payer l’en jeu. Cette fois j’ai tant perdu, que je +ne prendrai pas la revanche.”</p> + +<p>Not another word was exchanged between +them; but Armand had accepted repulses in his +time with more equanimity than he could muster +when ruminating afterward on the discomfiture +of Royston Keene.</p> + +<p>Some days later the subject was discussed at +the Cercle, and one of the <i>habitués</i> hazarded several +cunning conjectures, and more than cynical +surmises. (Did you ever hear a thoroughly profligate +Frenchman sneer a woman’s character +away? It is almost worth while overcoming +your disgust to listen to the diabolical ingenuity +of his innuendoes. The scandal of our bitterest +dowagers sounds charitable by comparison.) The +savage outbreak of the Algerian’s temper, that +every one had long been expecting, came at last +with a <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original has 'vegeance'">vengeance</ins>.</p> + +<p>“Tu mens, canaille! C’est le meilleur éloge +de M. Keene, que les marans comme toi, ne puissent +le comprendre. Quand à Mademoiselle—elle +vaut mille fois tes sœurs, et ta mère. Si tu +as le cœur de pousser l’affaire, je te donnerai +raison sur mes béquilles. Pour le pistolet, ma +main n’est pas encore percluse.” He held it out, +as steady and strong as it was in the old days +when it could sway the sabre from dawn to twilight +and never know weariness.</p> + +<p>If the other persuaded himself that consideration +for the invalid’s infirmities made him patient +under the insult, his friends were less romantically +credulous: the stigma of that night +cleaves to him still. Brazen it out as he may, +the hang-dog look remains, telling us that the +barriers have been at least once broken down +which separate the man from the serf. There +would be, perhaps, less mischief abroad if slander +were always so promptly and amply avenged.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Not</span> long after the events here recorded came +a time that we all remember right well, when, +without note of preparation, the war-trumpets +sounded from the east and the north; when Europe +woke up, like a giant refreshed, from the +slumber of a forty years’ peace, and took down +disused weapons from the wall, and donned a +rusted armor. It was a time rife with romantic +episodes, and, as such seasons must ever be, +fraught with peril to the prudence of womankind. +There was perpetual recurrence of the +<samp class="pgmark">63</samp> +striking antithesis which happened at Brussels +before Waterloo, when the roll of the distant +cannon at Quatre Bras mingled with the music +of the duchess’s ball. The coldest reserve is apt +to melt rapidly, and the most skillful coquetry is +brought to bay, when opposed to pleading urged +possibly for the last time. Those were days of +rebuke and blasphemy to “the gentlemen of England +who sat at home at ease;” and even the +Foreign Office “irresistibles” could hardly hold +their own. What chance have the honeyed +words of the accomplished civilian against the +simple eloquence of the soldier, who speaks with +his life in his hand? Truly there were many +conquests then achieved of which the world knew +nothing, for the victor never came back to claim +his prize.</p> + +<p>When the funeral of the Great Duke went by, +it was easy to find fault with some of the details +of that pretentious pageant; but which of us +was cool enough to criticise, on the gray February +morning, when the Guards marched out? +There were practiced veterans enough to be +found in their ranks; and each of these perhaps +could number some who loved him dearly; but +none in the column won such hearty sympathy +as those “trim subalterns, holding their swords +daintily,” who went forth to their doom gayly +and gallantly, as if pestilence were not lying in +ambush at fever-stricken Varna, and lines of +hungry graves waiting for their prey in the bleak +Chersonese. Surely there were sadder faces at +home than any that lined the road; and the +anxious crowd at the station represented very +inadequately the “girls they left behind them.”</p> + +<p>When the first certain rumors of war prevailed, +Royston Keene was shooting woodcocks in +the Hebrides; he hastened back to town without +a moment’s delay. We know how quick and +unerring, on such occasions, is the instinct of +the Rapacidæ. His object was to get on the +active-service list as soon as possible. With his +powerful interest and high reputation, this was +not difficult; and he was soon gazetted to a +Light Cavalry regiment. But he did not go +out with the first detachments, and the summer +was far advanced when he reached the Crimea.</p> + +<p>There was great jubilation at his coming. +Many out there knew him personally, well; and +others rejoiced at having the opportunity of +judging for themselves if he really deserved his +fame. It soon became apparent that the Cool +Captain was strangely altered. To be sure, the +opportunities for general conviviality were few, +for mess-rooms and ante-rooms were phantoms +of the imagination, or only pleasant memories; +still, there was a certain amount of agreeable +though select <i>réunions</i>, where the vintages of +Bordeaux and Burgundy were sufficiently replaced +by regulation rum. At these Royston +appeared rarely; and when he did show there, +was remarkably silent, and apt to let a favorable +opportunity, even for a sarcasm, go by. He +seemed to prefer the solitude of his own tent to +the most tempting inducements of society. Men +remembered afterward how, if they went in and +found him alone, he was always busy with his revolver, +or playing with his sabre. He had refused +two advantageous offers of staff appointments, for +no apparent reason except the desire not to be out +of the way if any work were to be done: and +scarcely a day passed when he was not up at +head-quarters, trying to find out if there was +any chance of a break in the long inaction of +the cavalry. Whether it was that the old blood-thirstiness +had waked again in a congenial atmosphere, +or whether a great weariness weighing +on his spirits made him so impatient and +restless, none can know for certain. Again I +say, let us not sift motives too inquisitively.</p> + +<p>It is the morning of the 25th of October, and +a lull comes between the storm-gusts. The +“Heavies” have just taken up their position, +after that magnificent charge, in which the Russian +lancers were scattered like dead leaves in +autumn when the wind is blowing freshly. There +are murmurs of discontent running the ranks of +the Light Brigade; it seems as if <i>their</i> chance +was never coming. One of his intimates grumbles +as much to Royston Keene. The Cool Captain +straightens a stray lock of his charger’s +mane, and answers, with his old provoking +smile,</p> + +<p>“Don’t fret yourself, George. I have a presentiment +that we shall get rid of the ‘fidgets’ +before we sleep. See—<i>that</i> looks like business.”</p> + +<p>It seemed as if a spirit of prophecy possessed +him; for even while he was speaking, the aide-de-camp +came down at speed. There was a +pause while that message was delivered, the exact +words of which will never be known—for you +can not summon the dead as witnesses; then a +brief hesitation, and a dozen sentences exchanged +between the first and second in command; and +then—every trooper in the Brigade understood +what he had to do. Many drew true and evil +augury from the cloud lowering on the stern +features of the “Haughty Earl.”</p> + +<p>Keene had been under fire oftener than most +there, and his practiced eye took in and appreciated +every item of the peril; nevertheless, his +brow cleared, and all his face lighted up +strangely.</p> + +<p>“What did I tell you, young one?” he said +to the man who had addressed him just before; +“it will be warmer work than the old Phœnix +field-days; but one comfort is, it won’t last so +long.”</p> + +<p>Before the words were fairly uttered the trumpets +rang out; and with a gayer laugh on his lip +than it had worn for many a day, the Cool Captain +led his squadron gallantly into Aceldama.</p> + +<p>We will not describe the charge. Enthusiasts +are not wanting who would rather have ridden +in it than have won the highest distinction to +which civilians can aspire. Who dares to object +that it was not ultimately successful? Such a +taunt has never been weighed in the balance +against the glories of Thermopylæ. I frequently +meet in society one of the Paladins of that fatal +Roncesvalles. In private life he has few peculiarities, +except a tendency to engage in each +and every game of chance, and a perfect monomania +for waltzing. Yet I regard him with an +immense respect and reverence, that the object +of the feeling would be the last to understand. +I think of the awful peril out of which the delicate, +feminine face has come without a scar; +and I protest I would no more dream of speaking +to him angrily or slightingly, than I would +venture to discourse about the Derby to the +Bishop of O——, or to offer to that dignified +prelate the current odds against the favorite. +Rely upon it, in many homes of England (if the +<samp class="pgmark">64</samp> +Manchestrians leave them standing) there will +be one family portrait that our children will most +delight to honor. Pointing out to strangers the +crowning glory of their house, they will pass by +grave effigies of lawyers, ecclesiastics, and statesmen, +and pause opposite to a martial figure, +dressed in the uniform of a light dragoon. All +his ancestors shall give precedence to the simple +soldier, who rode that day in the van of the Six +Hundred.</p> + +<p>Yes, we will leave that charge alone. The +most hackneyed of professional <i>littérateurs</i> might +shrink from sitting down to his writing-desk, to +make merchandise of such a “deed of <i>derring-do</i>.” +Nevertheless, Royston Keene bore his part +in it manfully; and the troopers talk yet of the +feats of skill and strength wrought by his sabre.</p> + +<p>The immunity from dangers of shot and steel +for which he had been always remarkable, did +not seem to have deserted him; for he had come +out of the batteries without a scratch, and had +fought his way through more than one knot and +peloton of the enemy, with no scathe beyond a +slight flesh-wound. In one of these encounters +he had got separated from such remnants of his +squadron as still held together (you know even +regiments lost their unity in that terrible <i>mêlée</i>), +the only man who still kept near him was his +covering-sergeant. All this while the fire from +the Russian guns on the hill-side grew heavier +and heavier, while the cruel grape-shot ripped +through the mingled masses of friends and foes: +making sudden, unsightly gaps here and there, +just as may be seen in a field of ripe corn “laid” +by the lashing hail. The good horse on which +Keene was mounted had not been out from England +long enough to suffer materially in wind +or limb; he was in very fair condition, and had +carried his master splendidly so far, with equal +luck in escaping any serious injury. Five hundred +yards more would have placed them in safety, +within the position where the Heavy Brigade +was already moving up to cover the retreat of +their comrades, when the Templar, going at top-speed, +pitched suddenly forward, as a ship does +when she founders; and, after rolling once half +over his rider, lay still, with limbs just faintly +quivering. Two grape-shot, making one wound, +had crashed right into his chest and through the +heart.</p> + +<p>His covering-sergeant was within three lengths +of Royston when the latter went down: he pulled +up and sprang down instantly, and was by his +officer’s side in a second, trying to extricate +him.</p> + +<p>“Hold up, Major,” he said cheerily; “that’s +nothing. Take my horse. He’ll carry you in; +and I can manage well enough.”</p> + +<p>The strong soldier reeled, from sheer weakness, +as he was speaking; for the blood was +spouting in dark-red jets from a ghastly cut in +his bridle arm: yet he seemed to see nothing in +his offer but a simple act of duty; though men +have won a place in history for meaner self-sacrifice. +One of the most remarkable peculiarities +about the Cool Captain was the hold he maintained +over the affections and impulses of those +with whom he was brought in contact, without +any visible reason for such influence. He was +the strictest possible disciplinarian; and his demeanor +toward his subordinates was consistently +dictatorial; yet the present case was only one +instance of the enthusiasm with which they regarded +him.</p> + +<p>Keene looked up at the speaker wistfully, from +where he lay; and his face softened in its set +sternness.</p> + +<p>“You’re a good fellow, Davis,” he said; “but +I would not avail myself of your generosity if I +could. I can’t take much credit for refusing it. +My thigh is broken; and I am hurt besides. I +couldn’t keep the saddle for ten seconds. Draw +my right gauntlet off, and take my ring; you +deserve it better than the Cossacks. Keep it as +long as you like; it will always bring you a fifty, +if you get hard up. And take <i>this</i> too.” He +put his hand into the breast of his uniform; but +drew it back quickly. “No: it shall stay with +me while I live.”</p> + +<p>His tone and manner were just the same as if +he had met with a heavy fall, out hunting, and +were answering some good-natured friend who +had stopped to pick him up.</p> + +<p>The trooper took the ring; but he lingered +still. Royston saw a knot of the enemy sweeping +down on them, like ravens on a stag wounded +to the death; his voice resumed its wonted +accent of irresistible command.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear what I said? I told you to +go. Those devils will be down on us in less +than a minute. I have not fired one barrel of +my revolver, and I’m good for one or two of +them yet.”</p> + +<p>The habit of obedience, more than the instinct +of self-preservation, made Davis mount and ride +away without another word. He looked back, +though, as he did so. He heard three distinct +reports from Keene’s revolver: two of the enemy’s +skirmishers dropped to the shots, and the +third wavered in his saddle; the rest closed round +the fallen man with leveled lances. The stout +sergeant looked back no more; but he set his +teeth hard, and turned out of his way to encounter +a stray Russian, and laid the foeman’s face +open from eyebrow to lip, with an awful blasphemy. +The spot where Royston fell was so near +to the British lines that those who slaughtered +him dared not stay for plunder. Half an hour +later, Davis and two more volunteers went out +and brought in the mangled body of the best +swordsman in the Light Brigade.</p> + +<div class="ctr"><img src="images/tb.png" width="206" height="18" alt="Chapter division" /></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<p><span class="firstword">Not</span> dead yet!</p> + +<p>Though the bloody Muscovite spearmen thought +they had left a corpse behind them, and though +the surgeons who examined him decided that he +could not survive the night, the obstinate vitality +in Royston Keene still lingered on, refusing to +yield to wounds that might have drained the life +out of three strong men. It seemed as if some +strange doom were upon him, such as was laid +on the Black Slave in the <i>Arabian Nights</i>, loved +by the enchantress-queen; or a Durindarte in +the old romance, where the tortured spirit, enthralled +by potent spells, was withheld for a season +from departure, though its tenement was all +shattered and ruined. His case from the first +was utterly hopeless; and his bodily helplessness +at times almost resembled catalepsy; yet his faculties +were quite clear. He could recognize his +<samp class="pgmark">65</samp> +friends, and talk with them quite composedly; +cry or complaint never once issued from those +rigid lips. They sent him down to Scutari at +last, not with any hope of his recovery, but wishing +to insure him all available comforts in his +dying moments. It was a rough passage (even +on invalids the cruel Euxine had little mercy) +this, and the pain of transport through the few +hundred yards that were between the vessel and +the hospital almost exhausted the dregs of Royston’s +strength. When they laid him down on +the bed allotted to him, in a small room of the +main ward, of which he was to be the sole tenant, +none of the surgeons could have told if they were +dealing with life or death. Work was so heavy +on their hands at that dreadful season, that they +could not devote more than a certain space of +precious time to any one patient; so after trying +all means and appliances of recovery in vain, +they left Keene for a while in his swoon. It +seemed as if he would never open his eyes again. +They unclosed slowly at last, still dim with the +deathly faintness; his head was dizzy and confused; +and in his ears there was a dull, droning +sound, like the murmur of a distant sea. As +objects and sounds assumed more distinctness, +he became aware of the figure of a woman sitting +on the ground by the side of his couch—her head +buried in her hands—rocking herself ever to and +fro, and never pausing in her low, heart-broken +wail. If old tales speak truth, such a figure +might be seen in dark corners of haunted houses; +and such a wail might echo at dead of night +through chambers conscious of some fearful crime. +Instinct more than reason revealed to Royston +the truth.</p> + +<p>The lips that under the thrusts of Russian +lances, and through all subsequent tortures, had +guarded so jealously the secret of his agony, +could not repress a groan as they syllabled the +name of—Cecil Tresilyan.</p> + +<p>It was so. The brilliant beauty who for two +seasons had ruled the world in which she moved +so imperiously—insatiate of conquest, and defying +rivalry—the delicate <i>aristocrate</i> who from her +childhood had been used to every imaginable luxury, +and had appreciated them all—was found +again, here, in the gray robe of a Sister of Charity, +content to endure real, bitter hardships, and +to witness daily sights from which womanhood, +with all its bravery, must needs recoil. The motives +that had urged her to such a step would be +hard indeed to define. The same weariness and +impatience of inaction that have been alluded to +in the case of Royston Keene may have had much +to do with it; to this, perhaps, was added a feeling +of wild remorse, seeking to vent itself in self-torturing +penance, such as impelled kings and +conquerors in old days to don the palmer’s gown, +and macerate their bodies by fast and scourge; +there may have been, too, some vague, unacknowledged +longing to seize the last chance of +seeing her lost love once again. Might she not +tend <i>him</i> as she nursed the other wounded, without +adding to the weight of her sin? If she ever +entertained such an idea, her punishment may +well have atoned for her offense, when she came +suddenly and unprepared into that sick-chamber, +and looked upon the mangled wreck lying senseless +there.</p> + +<p>Royston spoke first. “What brought you +here?” If it was possible that he could feel any +thing like terror, surely the hollow, tremulous +voice betrayed it then.</p> + +<p>Cecil Tresilyan sprang to her feet as if an electric +shock had moved her, and stood gazing at +him with her great, desolate, tearless eyes; all +her misery could not make them hard or haggard, +nor dispel their marvelous enchantment. +Royston marked the impulse that would have +drawn her to his side; and threw out one weak +hand to warn her off; with the other he tried +to cover his own scarred, ghastly face. “Don’t +come near me,” he muttered; “I can’t bear it.” +Her woman’s instinct fathomed his meaning instantly: +he thought that even <i>she</i> must shrink +from him. She laughed out loud (for her brain +was almost turning) as she knelt down and raised +his head on her arm, and smoothed his matted +hair, and kissed the death-damp from his forehead, +murmuring between the caresses, “You +dare not keep me from you. Do you think that +<i>I</i> fear you, my own—my own!”</p> + +<p>The glory of a great triumph—grand, even if +sinful—lighted up the face of the dying man; +and intense passion made even his voice strong +and steady. “I believe this is better than the +paradise we dreamed of in the island of the +Greek Sea.”</p> + +<p>Without a moment’s pause the sweet, sad voice +replied, “Yes, it is better. <i>Then</i> I should have +died first, and hopelessly. <i>Now</i> there is no guilt +between us that may not be forgiven.”</p> + +<p>Silence lasted till Royston gathered energy to +speak again.</p> + +<p>“You remember the glove? See—I have +not parted with it yet.” He drew from his +breast a case of steel links hung round his neck +by a chain: it held Cecil’s gauntlet—stained and +stiffened with his blood. That was the treasure +he would not resign when he lay on the ground, +waiting for the Russian lances. “You did not +think that I should forget you, because I never +answered your letter?”</p> + +<p>As had happened once before, a portion of +his fortitude and self-command seemed transfused +into Cecil Tresilyan. She spoke quite +steadily now.</p> + +<p>“How could I misjudge your silence, when I +begged you not to write? I have been very miserable, +thinking how angry you would be; and +yet I could not help what I did. But I never +fancied you had forgotten me. Forgetting is not +so easy. Now tell me about yourself. I have +heard of that glorious charge. But those terrible +wounds—how you must have suffered!”</p> + +<p>Out of the dim, glazing eyes flashed for one +moment a gleam of soldierly pride. “Yes, we +rode straight, on the twenty-fifth—I among the +rest. I suppose I have suffered some pain, but +that is all past and gone. I am sensible of nothing +but the great happiness of holding your little +hand once more. See—I can hold it without +shame, for my fingers have not pressed those +of any woman alive since we parted.”</p> + +<p>She saw how the utterance of those few words +told upon him, and refrained from the delight +of listening longer to the voice that was still to +her inexpressibly dear. So she checked him +fondly when he would have gone on speaking. +Yet the silence that ensued was first broken by +Cecil.</p> + +<p>“My own! I fear—I fear that you are in great +danger. How long we may <i>both</i> have to suffer, +<samp class="pgmark">66</samp> +God alone can tell. But will you not see a clergyman? +He might help you though I am weak +and powerless.”</p> + +<p>A shadow of the old sardonic scorn swept +across Keene’s emaciated face, and passed away +as suddenly.</p> + +<p>“It is somewhat late for any help that priests +can bring. Besides, I can not dwell now on any +of my past sins, save one. All my thoughts are +taken up with the wrong that I have done to +you.”</p> + +<p>This was true. If there were reproachful +phantoms that had a right to haunt Royston’s +death-bed, the living presence kept them all at +bay.</p> + +<p>Cecil’s eyes had never been more eloquent +than they were then, but they spoke of nothing +but despair.</p> + +<p>“Ah, heaven! can not you see that all <i>I</i> have +to forgive has been forgiven long ago? What is +to become of me if you die hardened in your sin? +Must I live on, <i>hoping</i> that we are parted forever? +If you are pitiless to your own soul, have +mercy, at least, upon me!”</p> + +<p>All Royston’s former crimes seemed to him +venial by comparison, as he witnessed the misery +and abasement of the glorious creature on +whom he had brought such sorrow, if not shame. +The remorse that a strong will and hard heart +had stifled so long found voice at last in three +muttered words—“God forgive me!” A very +niggardly and inadequate expression of contrition—was +it not?—conceded to a life whose sins +outnumbered its years. Yet the slight thread +of hope drawn therefrom has been able since to +hold back Cecil Tresilyan from the abyss of utter +desperation. She forbore to press him farther +then, seeing his increasing weakness, and +trusting, perhaps, that a more favorable opportunity +would come.</p> + +<p>Indeed, there were a thousand things to be +said about the past, in which both had borne a +part, and the future, in which only one could +share; but Royston had estimated rightly the +extent of his remaining physical resources; and +when he found how each syllable exhausted him, +he became as chary of words as a miser of his +gold. His right hand still grasped hers firmly; +and her delicate cheek was pillowed on his +shoulder; the fingers of his other hand played +gently with a long, glossy chestnut tress +that had escaped from the prison of the close +cap she wore. So they remained, for a long +time—no sound passing between them, beyond +half-formed whispers of endearment: no one +came in to molest them: there was work enough +and to spare, that night, for all in Scutari. +The thought of interruption never crossed Cecil’s +mind for an instant. Always careless and defiant +of conventionality, or the world’s opinion, +she was tenfold more reckless now. Her head +was bent down, and her eyes closed; so that +she could not see how the hollows deepened on +her lover’s face; nor how the pallor of his cheek +darkened rapidly to an ashen-gray. But inward +warnings of approaching dissolution spoke plainly +enough to Royston Keene. He knew what +he had to do.</p> + +<p>He raised her head from where it rested, and +said, so gently, “If my time is short, there is +the more reason that I should be loth to lose +you, even for an hour. But you must have +rest; and I feel as if I could sleep. Do not try +to persuade me; but leave me now. When you +think hereafter of this evening, remember what +my last words were. <i>I loved you best of all.</i> +Darling—wish me good-night; and come to see +me early to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>He guessed, full well, how long that night +would last, and what sight would meet Cecil on +the morrow; but he was resolute to spare her +one additional pang, and so endured alone the +whole burden of the parting agony. His whole +life had been full of deeds of reckless daring; +but, in good truth, this achievement was its very +crown of courage.</p> + +<p>Now, as heretofore, Cecil was incapable of resisting +any one of his expressed wishes or commands; +besides this, physical exhaustion was +beginning to overcome her; and she, too, felt +that it was time to go. She leaned down, without +speaking, and their lips met in a long, passionate +kiss. So little of vitality lingered in +Royston’s, that they remained still icy-cold under +the pressure of these ripe, red roses.</p> + +<p>“I will come again, early,” she whimpered.</p> + +<p>The last relics of a strength that <i>had</i> been superhuman +passed into the lingering pressure of +the hand that bade her tenderly farewell. Half +an hour later the surgeon came to Royston +Keene. All that night, shrieks and groans, and +other sounds through which human agony finds +a vent, had been ringing in his ears, till they +were weary of the din; but the silence of that +chamber struck the visitor yet more painfully. +He looked for a second gravely at the motionless +figure; and laid his ear against the lips; +no breath issued thence that would have stirred +a feather; then he drew very gently the sheet +over the dead man’s face,—a quiet, steadfast +face,—that even in the death-throe had retained +its proud, placid calm.</p> + +<p>When Cecil Tresilyan saw that same sight the +next morning, she did not scream or faint. +Neither then nor afterward did she prove herself +unworthy of her haughty lover, by demonstrating +or parading her sorrows. Many others +besides her have taken for their motto, “The +heart knoweth its own bitterness;” and have +carried it out to the end unflinchingly. Verily, +they have their reward. If there is little comfort +on this side the grave, and only vague hope +beyond it, it is something to escape condolence. +We follow her fortunes no farther. It is needless +to give all the details of the hospital service +which occupied her till the conclusion of the war +set her free; and we will not seek to penetrate +into the retreat in the Far West where she is +dwelling still. The gray manor-house guards +its secrets well, though it has witnessed in its +time sorrows and sins that might have wrung a +voice from granite. Conscious of many broken +hearts and blasted hopes, is the home of the +Tresilyans of Tresilyan.</p> + +<p>I confess to a certain regret, as that graceful +figure vanishes from the stage that never was +worthy of her queen-like presence. Was it in +dream-land that I saw the original of the character +and face that I have endeavored, thus +roughly, to portray? Perhaps so. But there +are visions so near akin to realities, that one’s +brain grows dizzy in trying to disentangle the +two.</p> + +<p>It is unfortunate that the void created by any +<samp class="pgmark">67</samp> +man’s death is by no means proportionate to his +intrinsic merits. So it happened that the loss +of Royston Keene was felt more than he deserved. +Far and wide over the surface of the +world’s sea the circles spread from the spot where +his life went down. He was missed not only by +his old comrades in arms: men who scarcely +knew him by sight spared some regret to the favorite +hero of the Light Dragoons. Mark Waring, +in the loneliness of his dreary chambers, +gnashed his teeth in bitterness of envy; for he +guessed <i>who</i> would be the chief mourner. Arnaud +de Châteaumesnil’s remark was characteristic. +Hearing that his old opponent had fallen +in the front of the battle, he struck his hand impatiently +on his own crippled limbs, muttering—“Sang-dieu! +Il avait toujours la main heureuse.” +Harry Molyneux can not trust his voice +to speak of him yet; and other beautiful eyes +besides <i>La Mignonne’s</i> were dim with tears when +they read a certain death-gazette. Truly, +“great men have fallen in Israel,” and saints +have departed in the plentitude of sanctity, without +winning such wealth of regrets as was lavished +on the grave of that strong sinner. Only +two women alive—and these he had never +wronged—rejoiced over the news unfeignedly—Bessie +Danvers and his own wife.</p> + +<p>Shall we pass judgment on Royston Keene? +He had erred so often and heavily that even the +intercession of a penitent who never kneels +before Heaven without mingling his name in her +prayers must probably be unavailing. Yet will +we not cast the stone. All temptations, of +course, can be resisted, and ought to be overcome. +But there are men born with so peculiar +a temperament, and who seem to have been +so completely under the dominion of circumstances, +that they might well be supposed to +have been raised up for a warning. How far +are such to be held accountable? Let us refrain +from this subject, remembering how grave and +learned theologians, earnest opponents of Predestinarianism, +have been reduced to the extreme +of perplexity when confronted with the +ensample of Pharaoh.</p> + +<p>It would neither be pleasant nor profitable to +pry into the secrets of the black darkness that +lies beyond Royston’s death-bed; in it few would +be able to distinguish the faintest glimmer of +light. But we have no more authority to fix +limits to the long-suffering of Omnipotence, than +we have to dispute the justice of its revenge. +Let us stand aside, and hope</p> + +<div class="poesy"> +<div>That Heaven may yet have more mercy than man</div> +<div class="i2"> On such a bold rider’s soul.</div> +</div> + +<p>A strange doctrine, that; savoring perhaps +of heterodoxy, and perilous to be adopted by such +as can not fathom it thoroughly. But if there +be no germ of truth therein, it were better for +some of us that we had never been born.</p> + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + +</div> + +<div class='tnote'> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<p>Obvious spelling/typographical and punctuation +errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other +occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.</p> + +<p>Transcriber's notes in text—mostly detailing corrections—are +indicated by faint dotted underlining. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the note will <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> + +<p>Changes which have <i>not</i> been made (use your browser's search capabilty to locate +the words in the text) include:</p> +<ul> +<li>"dreamland" and "dream-land" (not at a linebreak) occur once each; both retained</li> + +<li>"Caramba" is clear and occurs only once in the book; "Coramba" + occurs once and with equal clarity; both retained</li> + +<li>"esprit de corps" and "esprit du corps" occur once each; both retained</li> + +<li>the archaic spelling "ladye" fits the context, so retained</li> + +<li>"pic-nic" occurs twice (not at a linebreak) and "picnic" + also occurs twice; both spellings retained</li> + +<li>"innuendoes" retained as archaic spelling</li> + +<li>"tranquillity" retained as archaic spelling</li> +</ul> + +<p>The following obscure English words used by the author need no correction:</p> +<ul> +<li>"tulwar" is a variant spelling of "talwar", a kind of Indian sabre</li> +<li>"glozing" means explaining away/glossing over</li> +<li>"teind" is a tithe</li> +<li>"pursy" means short-winded</li> +<li>to "aby" means to pay the penalty</li> +<li>to "lanch" means to throw or let fly</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr class="pg" noshade="noshade" /> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sword and Gown, by George A. 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